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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Note

hi! i have a prompt.. i don’t know if you’ve done this before but i kind of just thought of it and would love to see your version of this! idk if you just take random requests but here it is!

emily loses her wedding rings and she’s frantically searching and aaron finds her a mess on the bathroom floor and a sob breaks out when he asks her what’s wrong and he’s all patient and calm and it makes her more upset. but he gets her to stop crying and she calms down and he helps her tear the entire house apart. it’s only when the finally put jack to bed at night that they find them under his pillow! (idk how it got there—i think you could work that out)

hiiii friend!!

I love this prompt, and it immediately made my brain itch. It turned out a little differently than what you laid out, but I hope you enjoy it anyway <3

-x-

Threads of Gold

She puts the ring back onto its chain, and slips it over her head before tucking it back into her shirt. She presses the cool metal against her skin and closes her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath from lungs that felt stuffed with grief.

She wasn’t Emily Prentiss here.

Emily Prentiss was dead.

-x-

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: big feels, occasional cursing.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It was the silence that she hated the most.

The apartment she refused to call home was non-descript, the same as a thousand others in Paris. It had all the noise you would expect living in a big city. Neighbours who seemed to care very little for their possessions or the people around them. Mass-produced appliances that made noises that seemed to run like clockwork, the buzz of the refrigerator and the clunk of the air conditioning unit. The laughter of tourists as they walked the streets, happy and full of joy as they discovered the city of love.

Everything surrounding her apartment was full of noise, of life. The very thing that had been torn from under her feet, everything slipping away so quickly.

She was used to hearing Aaron walk around their house. His familiar footsteps part of the soundtrack of her life, a promise that he was never too far away. Jack seemed to be surrounded by noise, whether it was his laughter or one of his toys. He was only ever quiet in sleep, although even that would sometimes be interrupted by him walking suddenly in tears, memories of what happened to his mother warped even further by his subconscious, forcing him to seek out solace in her and Aaron’s bed. Safely tucked between the two of them.

They had just managed to start their lives again, joy the overriding emotion in their home for the first time in a long time, when she got the call that Doyle had escaped. Everything turned back on its head, another thing they had to overcome.

Only this time, they’d lost.

She knew if she had to do it again she’d change nothing. She wouldn’t involve Aaron, wouldn’t have brought him into the situation she’d found herself in. The one secret she had never shared.

She had vague memories of him visiting her in the hospital, dressed in all black from her funeral, his hand wrapped around hers as they both apologised for things neither of them could, or would, change. She’d saved his life by lying to him, by repeatedly saying everything was fine even though it clearly wasn’t.

He’d saved her life by taking it away.

Emily sighs as she pulls the door closed behind herself, and she checks the lock twice, a habit she had picked up from Aaron, before she moves further into the apartment. She places her bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, abandoning it for now, and walks the short distance to the couch. She sits down and tries to get her breath back. She was still recovering from what Ian had done to her, and even the smallest of tasks made her exhausted, her body pushed to its limit by something as simple as walking to the small store at the end of her street to buy some essentials.

Her hands automatically reach for the long chain around her neck and she pulls it loose from her shirt, pulling it off completely before she goes for the catch, opening it so she can take the ring off of it.

She holds the engagement ring in between her thumb and index finger, watching as she turns it, the low lighting in her apartment catching the diamond and making it sparkle. A flash of light across the dark night sky her life had become.

She could wear it here, she knew that. There would be no harm, or risk, to her identity by wearing an engagement ring that she carried everywhere with her anyway. But it felt wrong, something making her pause every time she considered slipping it onto her finger, the joy she’d felt when Aaron asked her to marry him burning in her chest, yet another thing in her life that was once good turned to ash.

She sighs, puts the ring back onto its chain, and slips it over her head before tucking it back into her shirt. She presses the cool metal against her skin and closes her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath from lungs that felt stuffed with grief.

She wasn’t Emily Prentiss here.

Emily Prentiss was dead.

___

They get married almost as soon as she gets home from Paris. Their wedding day a quick and desperate thing, an attempt to hold on to each other. To prove that everything would be ok. Their love for each other, and for Jack, never in doubt even in the hardest of moments.

It takes a while. She’s a little too keen for her independence and Aaron a little too protective after losing her, but after everything, she thinks they are happier now than they were before. The joy in their day-to-day lives deeper, something that felt all the more precious. They’d made it. They’d survived.

And now they were living.

She smiles at the sound of Jack laughing from the living room, his video game on in the background as he plays. She finishes rinsing out the wine glasses from dinner and places them on the draining board before she drains the sink, wiping her hands on a towel. The sound flowing from the living room comes to a stop and it’s quickly followed by Jack’s footfall, the noise dulled slightly by his socks. She turns just in time to see him in the doorway, a curious look on his face.

“Where’s Dad?”

She leans against the counter as she smalls at him, “He’s in his office, he had some work to finish whilst I did the dishes.”

“You do the dishes because Dad cooks!” Jack says, repeating back the words they’d told him more than once.

She hums and nods, “Exactly, although one day I might cook just so he has to do them instead,” she laughs as a horrified expression crosses the young boy's face, and she walks over to him, pulling him into a hug he gladly accepts, “Ok, I won’t cook.”

He sighs in relief and leans against her, and she holds him tighter, taking a moment to appreciate that she had this again. She hears her phone chime from the dining room and pulls back to smile down at Jack, ruffling his hair before she steps away from him.

“You go get ready for bed, ok?” She says before she kisses his forehead, “It’s your dad’s turn to tuck you in tonight.”

“Love you, Emily!” Jack says and it makes her heart swell, her smile so wide her cheeks ache.

“I love you too,” she replies. She hears her phone chime again and she heads to the dining room to pick it up. There are two text messages from Penelope on the screen.

Girl's night soon?

Sorry if I interrupted you and the boss doing some baby-making.

Emily shakes her head, “I’ve really got to stop telling her everything.”

She replies as she types out a response, ignoring the second text completely as she confirms her availability for a girl's night. Her friend's mention of her and Aaron’s plans to expand their family makes a mixture of anxiety and joy bubble in her stomach. Hope followed her around like a shadow these days, on the edge of everything she did, lingering in every corner as her future was laid out in two distinct paths.

One where they had more children, expanded their family and had the life both she and Aaron had always wanted but had been denied. The other where they didn’t. Where this didn’t happen for them for one reason or another.

She knew which one she wanted, that she’d be disappointed and heartbroken if the went the way she feared, but ultimately she knew she’d be happy with what she had in the end.

No matter what her future looked like, Aaron and Jack were there with her, and that had her feel luckier than she ever had before. ___

She’s just finishing up her nighttime routine, running her fingers over her skin as she rubs in a moisturiser that claims to slow down ageing, when she notices. Her eyes honing in on her left hand, her ring finger bare. Her chest seizes with fear, her breath catching against her ribs as she looks at her hand, her eyes fixed on the pale band of skin where her rings usually were.

“Fuck,” she whispers to herself, as she takes a step back, her eyes furiously scanning the bathroom counter as she desperately seeks out her rings. She pulls the products she’d used out from the spots she’d slipped them back into, showing no care for the usual order she tried to keep their home in.

She rushes into the bedroom with the clothing hamper in her hands, tipping the dirty laundry onto Aaron’s side of the bed. She tries to ignore the shake of her hands as she riffles through the clothes, taking the time to check the pockets of the pants she’d taken off before she started to get ready for bed.

“Fuck,” she exclaims again, more desperate this time as she runs her hands through her hair. She bites at her thumbnail as she tries to think, trying to remember when she was last wearing them.

They had become a part of her. As soon as it was safe when she came home, when Ian was dead and her photo removed from the memorial wall, Aaron had asked about her ring. She’d shown him the necklace, the cheap chain she’d bought on her first day in Paris, and he’d smiled. Taking it off her before he tipped the ring into his palm, and slipped it back onto her finger, the same reverence and love in his eyes as he’d had the first time. It was barely two weeks later when her wedding ring had been added alongside it and she’d put his on him. The gold rings a solid symbol of their love for each other when everything else still felt so unsteady.

They had become a part of her.

She rushes downstairs, sure she’d had them on when she got home, and walks into the kitchen. They aren’t in the usual place she leaves them near the sink if she ever handwashes anything, and her panic deepens, the room becoming blurry as her eyes fill with tears she doesn’t expect or understand. She pulls the dishwasher door open, steam escaping around her as she interrupts the cycle. She winces as she starts to pull the dishes out, the heat of them pressing against her skin as she stacks them on the counter, any hope that she had somehow accidentally slipped them in along the plates they’d eaten their dinner from disappears as she empties it completely. The familiar shine of her rings nowhere to be found.

She stands up straight and covers her mouth as a sob she can’t stop escapes. Grief and guilt and something she knows to be panic making her stomach churn. She’d never been a person who was too attached to material possessions. She’d moved too much when she was young for that. She remembered teasing Aaron when they moved into the house, softly calling him a hoarder because of his reluctance to let go of the simplest of furnishings. There were few things that she owned that could make her feel like this.

A photo of her and her dad from her high school graduation. A card Jack had drawn her for mother’s day.

Her wedding rings.

Her engagement ring was the only part of Aaron she’d had with her in Paris, and that was only because she’d been wearing it at the time. Ian had mocked her for it, compared it to the ring he’d once given her.

The ring had become so much more than what it initially met. It was a reminder of what she had at home, what she spent months dreaming out and hoping she’d have again.

And she couldn’t find it.

She leans back against the counter and covers her face with her hands, crying in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

“Sweetheart, is there a reason you dumped all of our dirty laundry…” Aaron trails off as he walks into the kitchen, his joyful tone turning serious as he strides over to her, his hand on her shoulder, “Emily, baby, what's wrong?”

He pulls her into a hug and she leans into him, her face buried against his neck as she wraps her arms around him, her hands grasping at his shirt. She tries to breathe him in, to remind herself that she has all of him now, that his love for her is more than a white gold band and a diamond that held them together across an ocean.

Aaron holds her close, his hand running up and down her back, and he looks around the kitchen. His eyes flick over the dishes that were still wet from the dishwasher haphazardly piled on the counter, water dripping down onto the marble. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, why his wife has torn their bathroom, bedroom and apparently their kitchen apart or why whatever it has her close to hysterical.

He places his hand on the back of her head and encourages her to tilt it back just far enough that she can look at him, her eyes red and shining with tears that were still tracking down her face.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asks, moving his hand to cup her cheek.

“No…I,” she chokes out, shaking her head at herself, fury at herself for not being able to control her emotions clear, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He asks, remaining endlessly patient despite his concern for her and the way it burned at his insides.

“I lost my rings,” she says, the words catching in her throat as she acknowledges it out loud for the first time, “I’m sorry I must have taken them off to wash the wine glasses and-”

“Em, sweetheart,” he cuts her off, digging his hand through his pants pocket before he opens his palm to her, her wedding rings shining in his hand, “Jack had them.”

It feels like every part of her has frozen in place, fear replaced by confusion and relief, “What?”

He smiles softly, “He picked them up from the counter and took them to his room,” he says, running his hand down her arm so he can hold her left hand, carefully slipping them back onto her finger, “Apparently he was planning on taking them to school for show and tell tomorrow,” he chuckles, shaking his head at his son, “We had a chat about taking things that don’t belong to us without permission.”

She nods, staring at her hand, her heartbeat returning somewhat to normal as she looks at her rings. She breathes shakily before looking up at her husband, smiling tightly at him.

“Thank you.”

“It’s ok,” he replies, wrapping his arm around her again to pull her closer. He waits a few seconds to see if she was planning on saying anything else, if she was going to give him an insight into why she’d been so upset, but she doesn’t. “Em-”

“My engagement ring was the only part of you I had in Paris,” she explains, cutting over him as she hugs him, her cheek pressing into his shoulder, “I wore it on that necklace every day and…for a long time I thought it was all I’d ever have of you. I lost it and I panicked.”

Aaron sighs sadly as he kisses the side of her head before he rests his chin on top of it, holding her tightly in the way he knew she needed whenever she was reminded of her time in Paris.

“I’m right here,” he promises her, “I’ve got you.”

She smiles and nods, pulling back so she can look up at him. She stamps a quick kiss against his lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her again. “Why don’t you head up, I’ll put everything back in the dishwasher and then come up to join you.”

She frowns, “Honey-”

“Go,” he says, cutting off her rebuttal to him re-doing her usual chore. She smiles and nods, kissing him once more before she disconnects from him to go back upstairs.

By the time he joins her, she’s put the laundry back into the hamper and is curled up on her side of the bed. He quickly changes and does his own nightly routine before he lays behind her in the bed. He wraps his arms around her and presses his chest into her back before he links their fingers together, the cold metal of her rings making them both smile.

“Tomorrow, I’m buying you rubber gloves.”

She frowns, turning her head to look at him, not entirely sure what he means, “What?”

“I’m buying you rubber gloves,” he repeats, kissing her cheek, “So you don’t have to take your rings off when you’re doing the dishes.”

She beams at him, her love for him threatening to overwhelm her as she turns in his embrace, kissing him fiercely as she cups the back of his head, holding him in place.

“I love you so fucking much,” she says, still kissing him as she talks until she’s practically laying on top of him.

“Because I’m buying you gloves?” He asks, raising his eyebrow as he follows her lead, his hands trailing under her t-shirt.

She pulls back to smile at him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “Because you love me enough to understand why it’s important.”

She kisses him again, and they lose themselves in each other, both of them trying to keep quiet, their love for each other just for them in their home.

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie

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#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanficiton #hotch x prentiss

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Text

This is Our Place, We Make the Rules

A collection of mini-fics and one-shots of Hotchniss being domestic idiots in love.

Chapter 1 - Decorating

-x-

Hi friends,

This is going to be a little series of fluffy one shots of our fav's just doing normal, regular couple things. If there is anything in particular (e.g. yard work, doing the dishes, cooking/baking) you would like to read in this series let me know <3

-x-

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: Pregnancy, a couple curse words because of who Emily is as a person

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“I’m bored.”

Aaron stops what he’s doing, and looks at his wife, his eyebrow raised as he smiles at her. She’s standing in the doorway to the room he was decorating, her arms crossed over her chest, partially resting on the top of her bump.

He carefully places the paint roller in his hand down, laying it against the tray, and walks the short distance towards Emily and slips his arms around her. He smiles as she immediately leans into him, her bump pressing into his stomach.

“Sweetheart-”

“I know, I know,” she says, cutting him off as she tilts her head up to look at him, “I shouldn’t be in here whilst you’re painting. But you have the windows open and it’s just a few minutes,” she looks up at him with wide eyes he both hopes their son inherits and also hopes he doesn’t, because it would just mean one more person in their home he couldn’t say no to, “I’m so bored. No one will let me do anything.”

The team were around helping them build furniture and decorate. All of them bribed with the promise of pizza afterwards, although Aaron knew they didn’t really need it. They were happy for them, excited that there would be another member of the BAU family.

“That’s because you’re busy literally growing our son,” he quips, and she raises an eyebrow at him. A silent warning that she had developed throughout her pregnancy that let him know he was close to pissing her, and her unpredictable hormones, off. “Ok,” he concedes, kissing her forehead, “Just a few minutes.”

She beams up at him, her smile wide enough that her cheeks ache, and she kisses him. A quick thing stamped against his lips before she takes a few steps further into the room.

“It looks so good in here,” she says, rubbing her hand over her bump, smiling at the sensation of the baby shifting under her skin, “Hard to believe this will be his room.”

It was the relator who sold them the house who first mentioned this room would make a good nursery. It was next door to the master bedroom and faced over the backyard instead of the, slightly louder, front of the house where the street was. The realtor had a sparkle in her eye as she winked at Emily as she said it, which had made her stomach mix with a mixture of nerves and excitement. When they first moved in they decorated it as a regular guest room, both of them too anxious to decorate it any other way, worried it would tempt fate.

It took a little too long for Emily to get pregnant. She’d been secretly worried, fear blooming in her chest as time went on, each negative test only allowing it to flower more, her hope wilting with each passing month. The relief and joy that had spread through her in equal measure when she finally saw a plus sign were so intense she’d burst into tears. Aaron had let himself into their bathroom, having only been standing just on the other side, ready to comfort her yet again, and she handed him the test because she hadn’t been able to form the words to tell him.

They’d settled on a sage green colour for the walls, a nice soft colour Emily could picture herself staring at as she fed her baby in the middle of the night. The furniture, that Derek and Spencer were currently building under JJ’s watchful eye, was a light oak. Emily didn’t want to wish away the early days of it all, but she was excited for when the room would be full of brightly coloured toys and books. Hunks of plastic that made noise, clearly not designed by someone who had kids themselves, strewn across the floor.

“Just two months to go,” he replies, kissing the side of her head as he places a hand on her stomach.

“Uh, no using the word ‘just’ unless it’s your bladder being used as a trampoline, honey,” she replies, her smile only getting wider, “By the way, Pen is currently helping Jack with his homework, and I’m fairly sure I overheard her offering to teach him how to code.”

Aaron groans, “I think I might have to set some ground rules about that.”

She chuckles and pulls back to look at him properly, “Don’t be a spoilsport, Dad.”

He shakes his head lovingly at her and leans in to kiss her. His intention is for it to be a quick thing, but she deepens it, her hands trailing upwards so she can run her fingers through his hair, holding him in place. He smiles into the kiss and pulls back a little, laughing when she chases him.

“Em, everyone is in the house.”

“I’m not saying we should fuck in here Aaron,” she says, stamping another kiss to his lips, “There’s a little bit too much of me these days to do that anywhere other than our bed with my mountain of pillows-”

“You’re beautiful,” he interrupts, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as she comments on her size as if anyone commenting on her looks, even her, in a negative way got underneath his skin. She smiles and kisses him again, her fingernails scratching at his scalp.

“Thank you, honey,” she replies, “I’m not saying we should do that,” she repeats, “But we could make out a little.”

Aaron smiles and fails to hide how it gets wider by clearing his throat. He’d never been one to tell her no, and he wasn’t about to start now.

“I’m sure I can manage that.”

She narrows her eyes, but her response is cut off as he leans in to kiss her, his hands on her lower back as he pulls her as close as he can with her bump between them. She allows herself to get lost in him, in the way his hands shift up to her face. It never failed to amaze her how he would hold her like she was made of something delicate, his thumbs pressing into her skin where her dimples lay, as if they’d been made precisely for this.

They lose track of time, the few minutes she’d claimed she’d interrupt him for passing them by as they explore each other in a way they had done countless times. He finally pulls back from here when he hears a creak on the staircase, the one floorboard he would never get fixed because it alerted him to someone being on the stairs. He smiles as she looks disappointed, her nose scrunching up slightly and he steps away.

“Someone is coming upstairs sweetheart.”

She pouts, something she would deny later, and steps backwards, her hand slipping from his ass the first moment she realised it had been there in the first place.

“We’re done with the crib, but…” Derek drifts off as he looks at them, a smirk spreading over his face as he looks back and forth between the two of them.

“What are you staring at, Derek?” Emily asks, frowning at him.

“You two were making out in here weren’t you?” He asks, his grin widening,

Emily isn’t sure she can explain why she feels embarrassed, why she can feel her cheeks burning, but she does, “No.”

“What’s going on in here?” Dave asks, appearing behind Derek, the rest of the team also pouring into the room. “Were you two making out again?”

Emily groans, but before she can reply Spencer is speaking, his mouth working faster than his brain.

“Based on the fact that Emily’s pupils are slightly dilated, and she’s breathing even heavier than she usually is at the moment, and the uh….handprint on Hotch’s back pocket, it’s fair to assume they have been.”

“The handprint?” Aaron says, turning to look at the back of his jeans, sighing when he sees a handprint in the same paint he’d been using all afternoon right over the material of his jeans. He reaches for his wife’s wrist and turns her hand over, revealing the sage green paint on her skin, “When did that happen?”

“I don’t know,” she replies, smirking as she shrugs at him, “I was distracted.”

“Gross, Em,” Derek says, gaining their attention, and she rolls her eyes at the slightly disgusted look on their faces.

“You do realise I’m pregnant, right?” she quips, raising her eyebrow at them, “We’ve kissed before. We’ve done more than kiss-”

“Ok, Princess, you’ve made your point,” Derek cuts over her, placing his hand on Spencer's shoulder as he goes to guide him from the room, “Let’s get you out of here kid before they scar you even more than they did at the holiday party last year.”

“That wasn’t our fault, Pen spiked the punch,” Emily calls after them, exchanging a smile with JJ as the team files out, leaving the two of them alone once again. Emily turns to look at her husband, “Sorry I ruined your jeans.”

“Nothing to apologise for, sweetheart,” he says, still gently gripping her wrist, “We should go wash this off your hand though.”

She lets him lead her out of the room, but she frowns, “I can wash my own hands, Aaron.”

“I know,” he replies, kissing the side of her head, “But, if we go to our ensuite, we’ll be closer to our bed and your mountain of pillows.”

She smiles, biting her lower lip as her body tingles, a shiver going down her spine that she knows her husband won’t have missed.

“I love the way you think.”

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceringtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie

Join my tag list here!

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

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Hey! I would like to request Hugs: 32. long lasting hugs. (Cause I'm a sucker for a good long lasting hug.) Congrats on the followers and thank you so so much for writing so many great Hotchniss fics!!🥹

Thank you so much!!

I hope you enjoy this. It is just pure fluff/Aaron simping over Emily (as he should.)

-x-

Words: 850

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

At first, Aaron isn’t sure what wakes him up.

He smiles as he stretches, increasingly aware of the warm weight up against him, of Emily in his arms, the familiar scent of her shampoo.

She’d been the one to ask him on a date. She smiled at him as she joked that if she waited for him to finally ask her it would never happen. They’d had dinner, their hands linked together on the table as they spoke about anything and everything. He’d taken her home, anxiety he hadn’t felt since he was young climbing up his chest as he leaned in to kiss her. Yet again, she’d been the one to take the step they needed. She’d grabbed him by his tie and pulled him into her apartment, the door slamming closed behind them.

She’d always been the braver one of the two of them.

They’d taken the time to map out each other's bodies. Fingers grazing over skin, over scars they had only ever imagined before, as they learnt how to take each other apart. When they’d finally fallen asleep, fresh from the shower, her still damp hair sticking to both of them as they laid down, he’d laid behind her, pulling her back into his embrace. She’d drifted to sleep content in his arms.

He was in love with her. It was something he’d known for longer than he cared to admit. He’d realised when she was in Paris, as far away from him as she had ever been since they’d met.

And now she was the closest.

Aaron had learnt two new things about Emily Prentiss since they curled up in bed together just a few hours ago. The first was that she snored. It wasn’t loud, or particularly disruptive, but it was definitely something. A slight catch in the back of her throat when she inhaled, a noise that he would never dare tell her was cute. He found it endearing. A sign that she was sleeping deeply.

A sign that she felt safe with him. A feeling that she had been denied for so long.

The second was that she was a snuggler.

He’d expected to wake up to find her on the other side of the bed having drifted out of his embrace as they both slept. Instead, she’s exactly where she was when he fell asleep. Her back pressed against his chest, her head tucked up underneath his chin. He had one arm over her, and the other under her.

That’s when he realises what had woken him up.

The arm that was underneath her had gone numb. His fingers tingled from the lack of blood flow, pins and needles spreading throughout his forearm. He tries to pull his arm from under her but is unsuccessful. He tries again, trying to use his other arm to lift her, but all he succeeds in doing is waking her up just enough to react. She groans, still fast asleep as she mutters something indecipherable. Aaron can’t help but smile and he kisses the top of her head.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, the nickname sounding right even though it’s the first time he’s said it, “I need you to move a little.”

She grumbles again, shifting enough to let him know she’s awake as she turns to face him, her eyes still closed.

“What?” She slurs, the word barely recognisable, and he can’t help but laugh.

“I just need my arm back,” he says, shifting her closer towards him, smiling as she ends up laying on his chest, freeing his arm, “Thank you.”

Aaron raises his arm and clenches his hand into a fist and out of it until the feeling returns to his fingers.

“You’re welcome,” she says, burying her face into his neck. Her hand drifts up to hook her fingers under the neckline of his t-shirt. “You’re comfy.”

“Go back to sleep, Em,” he says, even though he’s not entirely sure she was ever awake. He kisses the top of her head and runs his hand up and down her back. He drifts off back to sleep, the weight of her against him new and somehow achingly familiar, like this was something they’d been walking towards for years.

When he wakes up in the morning, she’s still on top of him and his arms are still banded loosely around her back. There’s a small patch of drool on his t-shirt he won’t mention to her, and he kisses the top of her head, smiling as she shifts against him.

“Morning,” she says, her voice thick from misuse. She shifts to look up at him, her eyes glassy with sleep.

“Good morning,” he replies, cupping the back of her head as he kisses her, the action lost in both of their smiles.

He was in love with her, and he was pretty sure she loved him too.

-x-

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Note

Can you do #48 kisses to shut them up?

Congrats on another milestone! 500 hotchniss lovers love you! Here’s to more stories this year and the following years to come. Thank you! 🥂 💖

Hi bestie!!

Thank you so so much <3 I really hope you enjoy this.

Details on how to submit a prompt can be found here, along with a list of ones that have already been requested

-x-

Words: 998 (STILL UNDER 1K)

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She was furious at him, but not for the reasons he assumed.

She’d fit the unsubs type perfectly, which is how they’d ended up deciding she’d be used as bait to draw him out. Jealousy seemed to be his trigger, so they’d planted her in public with Aaron posing as her boyfriend.

At first, she found his discomfort adorable, getting a kick out of it as he stood closer than he usually would to her. The smell of his cologne comforting in a way that still took her by surprise.

She’d felt him tense the moment it happened. The brief burst of joy at being touched by him as his hand squeezed at her waist, even if it was for the purpose of annoying the suspected unsub, disappeared as he tensed. His entire body rigid as he touched her carefully, the very opposite of how she wanted him to.

If she didn’t know him as well as she did, if she couldn’t read him like a book, she’d be offended. Sure he was so turned off by the mere idea of touching her that he could barely bring himself to do it, even if it was a ruse. But she did know him. She saw the barely restrained love for her in his eyes. How he held it back every day, sure he’d ruin their friendship that they both cherished if he pushed their hastily thrown together boundaries too far.

She knew because she felt the same way.

Somehow she’d fallen in love with him. It had happened so slowly, creeping up on her bit by bit, that she could no longer remember how it felt not to love him.

And she was done trying to hide it.

He’d gone to make coffee as soon as the jet reached cruising altitude on the journey home, and before she can think any more of it, or worse talk herself out of it, she stands up to join him. She’s pleased that the rest of the team barely acknowledges her movement, the most she gets is a flick of Derek’s eyes to her as she points over her shoulder and makes a comment about making a cup of tea. She walks into the small kitchenette, ensuring that the curtain is pulled close behind her, affording them a tiny amount of privacy.

He turns to look at her, and he tenses his jaw, clearing his throat as his eyes meet hers, “Look, Em, I’m sorry if I made you feel-”

She cuts him off before he apologises for something she doesn’t want him to be sorry for. She’s across the small space faster than she thought was possible, her lips pressing against his and her palms on his cheeks with a sense of urgency, of bravery, that she didn’t expect from herself. For a second, the longest of her life he doesn’t react and she’s worried she’s read it all wrong, that this had all been one-sided after all.

Then he touches her, his hands at her waist with a confidence he hadn’t shown earlier, pulling her closer to him. Her hands slip round to the back of his head, holding him in place. She sinks into the kiss, allowing herself to be overwhelmed by it, by him.

He pulls back first, resting his forehead against hers as he screws his eyes shut, his grip on her tight in a way she knew she’d crave to feel again as soon as he let go.

“Em.”

“Don’t apologise for something I don’t want you to be sorry for,” she says quietly, well aware of the rest of the team just on the other side of the curtain, “I want…” she drifts off, unsure how to put it into words, hoping the kiss had been enough.

“I know,” he says, one of his hands leaving her waist to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, a smile on his face that makes her stomach flip, “I want it too.”

“And I want a cup of coffee,” Dave says as he pulls the curtain open, a smug look on his face as they spring apart, “So are you two done making out in here?”

“Dave,” Aaron says warningly, his usual sternness lost by the situation they’d been caught in, and Emily avoids eye contact with the rest of the team who are all behind Dave. All sitting down with smirks on their faces.

“Shut the fuck up, Dave,” Emily says at the same time as Aaron speaks, ignoring the burning in her cheeks, and the way her fingers twitched to reach back out for Aaron.

“Or what, Prentiss?” He says, his smile not slipping even a tiny bit as she glares at him, “You’ll kiss me to shut me up too?”

“You wish, Rossi,” she grumbles in response, crossing her arms over her chest.

“We’re happy for you, don’t get me wrong, and I think this means I won the bet” Dave quips, turning to look at Spencer who nods in confirmation, “But you can’t hog all the caffeine.”

Emily blows out a breath and grabs the coffee pot, shoving it into Dave’s hands and getting a sick sense of enjoyment when he hisses at the heat of the glass before he holds the handle.

“Here,” she says, stepping forward to pull the curtains closed again, “Leave us alone.”

She ignores the laughter on the otherside of the curtain and turns back to Aaron, clearing her throat as she looks at him.

“Sorry,” she says, shrugging her shoulder slightly, “I didn’t-”

He surges forward this time, his lips against hers as he cuts her off, holding her close as if they’d never been interrupted. He pulls back, smiling as she chases his lips, stamping another kiss against them.

“Now who’s apologising for something they shouldn’t be sorry for?” He says, his dimples on display.

She beams at him, and leans back in, the rest of the world disappearing except for him.

-x-

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Text

Brush Strokes

She’d always found funerals strange, how they catered so much more to the living than they did the dead. Her mother hated them too, often saying no one ever said what they actually thought at them, the truth shrouded in pointed comments and false niceties. It was ironic, Emily thought, given that was how Elizabeth had lived most of her life.

-x-

Hi friends!

My insomnia is back in full swing, and we all know what that means - I write very sad things in the small hours of the morning and inflict them on all of you.

-x-

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Dementia, loss of a parent

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“The food here is terrible.”

Emily smiles and a wry chuckle escapes her. She looks at her husband next to her for a second before she looks back at Elizabeth.

“It is a hospital,” she says, “It’s not exactly going to be Michelin star quality.”

Elizabeth scoffs, rearranging the sheet of her hospital bed over her lap, eyeing it like she was in a five-star hotel.

“It’s the best hospital in DC, the President would come here if needed,” Elizabeth replies, raising her eyebrow, “You’d think there would be standards to maintain.”

Emily feels Aaron place his hand on her knee, gently squeezing the joint through her pants before she places her hand over his, linking their fingers together.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll make your feelings known.”

Elizabeth hums, a disapproving noise Emily was achingly familiar with, something she’d almost found herself missing in recent months. It makes her chest tight, a flash of what used to be filling the room.

“You remind me of my daughter Emily,” Elizabeth says, a smile that could be described as fond spreading over her face. Emily feels Aaron squeeze her hand tightly, his thumb rubbing over her pulse point, and she thinks it’s probably the only thing that keeps her grounded, “She’s a better mother than I ever was,” Elizabeth meets Emily’s eyes, and she finds herself missing the judgement she’d seen there for as long as she could remember, sure it was better than simply not being recognised, “Do you have children?”

It was slow at first. Small signs Emily could now see they had missed, hindsight both a blessing and a curse after Elizabeth’s diagnosis. It was the opposite of how Emily’s father had died when she was in college, a heart attack taking him in the middle of Thanksgiving break. This was slow and gradual as her mother disappeared in front of her. After it became clear that Elizabeth could no longer live alone, and that living with them wasn’t something that would be right for any of them, she moved into a nursing home. She’d signed everything over to Emily, including power of attorney, and declined sharply, as if on some level she’d been waiting for it all to happen.

The nursing home had moved her to the hospital after an issue with her heart. Emily was off work, spending half of her time at the hospital and the other half at home with Jack and Hazel, desperately searching for some normality as they waited for the inevitable end.

Despite how long it had been, how she was now used to seeing her mother like this, it still hurt. It still stung that she didn’t recognise her, that she didn’t remember the kids - the grandchildren she adored.

“Two,” Aaron answers for her, and Emily isn’t sure she’s ever loved him more, “Jack, he’s 12, and Hazel, she’s 4.”

Emily looks around the room, all of the drawings Hazel had done for her grandmother adorning the walls. Splashes of colour and scribbles that were supposedly pictures of them brightening up an otherwise dreary room. She wonders if her mother ever thinks about where they are from, if she wonders what child drew them for her, or if she was simply too far gone to think that way.

She knew there were framed drawings from Hazel, and from Jack from when he was younger, in Elizabeth’s home office. Brightly coloured and crudely drawn and mixed in among photos. Cartoon drawings and paintings of their home right next to a photo of Aaron and Emily from their wedding. It was physical proof of how much Elizabeth had changed since becoming a grandmother, or maybe how she’d always been capable of such care and had simply chosen not to portray it when Emily was young herself. She had no memories of anything she ever made for her parents being out on display. No paintings hung up on the fridge. No poorly made mugs leaking coffee out onto a desk simply to see a wide smile on her face.

She loved that her children would remember Elizabeth as a loving grandmother, as someone who listened to their endless stories, someone who shipped them gifts from anywhere in the world after an offhand comment about something they liked. In her worst moments it made her jealous, made her wish her version of her mother was the same as theirs and she hated herself for it.

“I bet they are beautiful,” Elizabeth replies, smiling at them and Emily swallows thickly before she nods.

“Yeah, they are.”

___

Aaron had never been more frustrated at the DC traffic. His nerves fraying even further as the minutes ticked by, highly aware of the fact his wife was alone at the hospital sitting at her mother’s bedside. When he arrives he barely puts the car into park before he is out of it, just about remembering to lock it as he walks away.

The walk to Elizabeth’s room was familiar now. Hallways they’d walked almost every day for weeks that he was sure he could navigate with his eyes closed. Aaron sighs sadly as he turns the corner, finding his wife sitting out in the hallway, her elbows on her knees as she leans forward.

“Em?”

She looks up at him, her lips set in a grim line, her eyes shining with tears he knows she won’t let herself shed.

“It happened about 10 minutes ago,” she says, looking back at the floor. He walks over to join her, sitting in the seat next to her, “It was a stroke. And she’d signed that DNR so…” she clears her throat, shaking her head at herself, “I held her hand. Not that she knew who I was anyway.”

“She would have known she wasn’t alone, sweetheart,” he says, placing his hand on her back. He’s grateful when she sits up straighter and leans into his side, her head resting against his shoulder, “She would have known she was loved.”

Emily nods, a sound neither of them can place escaping her, “Yeah, I guess she would have.”

Aaron kisses the top of her head and holds her closer, the arm of the chair digging into his side in a way he doesn’t care to stop.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it in time,” he whispers against her hair, and she shakes her head, pulling back to look at him as she smiles sadly.

“It’s ok, I know you would have been here if you could,” her smile twitches slightly, and she shrugs her shoulders, “Besides, we spend most of our lives just the two of us, I guess it’s fitting it’s how it ended too.”

Aaron doesn’t know what to say to that, how to respond, so he simply kisses her forehead, “Want to go home?”

“Can we just sit here for a little while?” She asks, swallowing thickly, her chest full of grief she doesn’t know how to process even though she’d known it was coming, “As soon as we leave here there will be so much to do and I…can we just stay?”

He nods and tucks her back into his side, rubbing his hand up and down her arm, “We can stay as long as you need to, sweetheart.” ___

As soon as she’s in the house, and Jessica has left, Jack hugs her. His arms tight around her middle and his face against her chest. She hugs him just as fiercely, rubbing circles on his back before he pulls away so they are looking at each other, almost face to face after his last growth spurt. He has a sad look in his eyes that she had seen countless times.

It felt strange to think this was something Emily shared with her son now - the loss of a mother, despite how different the circumstances were. Emily had decades with Elizabeth, albeit most of them tumultuous. Jack had Haley taken from him when he was young. His memories of her were few and far between. Most of the images he had of her had been painted by Aaron and Jessica. Stories that they told him again and again until it seemed as if he remembered them himself, pairing the descriptions of his mother with the hazy memory of how it felt to be loved by her.

“Mommy?”

She looks past Jack and looks at Hazel, the little girl’s wide dark eyes shining, “Hi sweetheart.”

She walks over and leans down so she can pull Hazel into her arms, the weight of her daughter against her comforting as she holds her.

“Aunt Jessie said Grandma died,” she says quietly, and Emily holds her tighter before she walks over to the couch, sitting down and keeping Hazel in her embrace, “Is that why everyone is sad?”

Aaron sits down next to her, Hazel sandwiched between them, “Yes, sweetheart, and it’s ok to be sad.”

Emily flicks her eyes to her husband, knowing his comment wasn’t just aimed at their daughter, before returning her attention to Hazel. Jack joins them, sitting on Emily’s other side, resting his head against her shoulder as she wraps her arm around him.

“Do you understand, sweet girl?” Emily asks, running her hand through her daughter’s hair, tucking a wild curl behind the little girl's ear.

“Grandma has gone to be with Jack’s other mom?” She asks, her eyebrows furrowing as she tries to process what she’s been told, what they’ve been preparing her for weeks, “And that means she can’t come back.”

“That’s right,” Aaron says from her other side, his arm around the two of them, “But it’s important to remember your grandmother loved you very much.”

Hazel nods, her confusion and sadness clearly mixing together as she turns to look back at her mother, “Did she like the picture I drew her?”

The way her little girl’s voice cracks makes Emily’s heart fracture even further, her daughter’s grief something she could latch on to, something she could try and help her through so she didn’t have to process her own yet, her relationship with her mother far more complicated than Hazel’s. She thinks of the neatly folded-up drawing in her purse, the piece of paper that she never got to hand over as she got to the hospital having arrived in the middle of a medical emergency. She’d never lied to her children, never anything beyond the childhood fantasies of Santa and the tooth fairy, but she sees no benefit in the truth here. A small lie something that can bring her daughter a tiny bit of comfort.

“Yes, baby,” Emily says, pulling her daughter closer, her eyes meeting her husband’s over the top of her head, “She loved it.”

___

Emily feels some of the tension in her chest ease as the door to her mother’s home office closes behind her.

It was only once her dementia was more advanced that Elizabeth started to be more outrightly honest. All of the social trappings she’d been part of her whole life, the very same ones she’d raised Emily in, fell away quickly, leaving her as if they had never been there at all. Emily had sat and listened as her mother talked about her daughter, not realising who she was talking to. She listened as her mother sounded proud, told her about her career and her family, how she’d made something of herself.

She hated that this is what it had taken to hear what she hadn’t realised she’d always needed. That her mother had lost everything that had made her her in order to say all the things Emily had spent a lifetime convincing herself Elizabeth didn’t feel or believe.

Emily steps further into the office, the noise from the wake dulled by the heavy wooden door. She sighs as she looks around the room, piles of paper on every surface, the usual regimented tidiness her mother had always lived by nowhere to be found. It was almost like it was a physical manifestation of Elizabeth’s decline, everything left out in the open - waiting for Emily to file it away, to put everything back in its place. She reaches for a photo on the desk, pulling it from amongst the paperwork spread around it, and she smiles. It’s a framed photo of Emily in her hospital bed just after she’d had Hazel. Jack was next to her, cuddled up to her side as he held his newborn sister. Initially, Emily hated the photo, seeing only her dirty hair piled up on her head, the bags under her eyes, and the clear exhaustion that was visible even through the camera. Now she loved it. She could only see the happiness, the tender way she held Jack to her with one hand whilst her other was cupping Hazel’s head, providing additional support as the newborn slept in her brother's arms.

She wondered if this is what Elizabeth had seen all along. If that was why she’d insisted Aaron print a copy after she saw it. If she’d seen the happiness that she knew Emily had been seeking most of her life.

There’s a knock at the door and then it opens, and Emily turns to see her husband walking into the room to join her, followed by a short burst of noise from the wake before he closes the door behind him. She smiles tightly at him, pressing her lips into a firm line to stop them from shaking.

“Are the kids ok?” She asks quietly, not looking as she places the frame back on the desk. She curses as she knocks a pile of paperwork onto the floor, files of paper spreading everywhere. “Fuck.”

Aaron is across the room in a second, kneeling down as she does to help her tidy up what she’d knocked over.

“They are ok,” he assures her, carefully rearranging some of the files, “Jack is showing Reid a game on his phone, Hazel is asleep in JJ’s lap.” Emily nods in acknowledgement, her eyes fixed on the papers she was gathering, “I’m mostly worried about you.”

She freezes for a second, her entire body seizing up before she clears her throat and carries on, her fingers shaking as she reaches for a piece of paper in between them. Aaron stops her, his hand meeting hers halfway, linking their fingers together.

“Aaron-”

“You haven’t given yourself a minute to just…stop since she died.”

“There isn’t time,” she says, gathering the last of the papers as she stands up, “Look at this place,” she exclaims, placing the files back down, “It’s a mess. And then we’ll have to list this place to sell it, and that’s without thinking about her properties abroad…”

She drifts off, her eyes fixed on a colourful piece of paper on the desk, previously covered by the files Aaron was still picking up. She picks it up, her eyes narrowing as she looks closer. The picture, clearly drawn by a young child, was a house with three stick figures standing outside, the smallest one in the middle.

“I don’t remember Hazel drawing that one,” Aaron says, now standing up behind her and looking over her shoulder.

“Me neither,” she says, frowning as she turns it over. She sucks in a breath and it feels like it catches in her chest, sticking on every rib as she reads the messy words on the back clearly written by a child, the letters mismatched and different sizes.

Emily Prentiss, aged 5. 02/23/1976

The laugh that leaves her borders on hysterical, and she shakes her head, gripping the drawing she’d inexplicably found in amongst her mother’s medical insurance papers and the deeds to the house even tighter. The paper creases ever so slightly as she turns it back over and looks at the drawing she had no memory of doing.

Her laughter turns into a sob, and it hurts. Her chest heaving with it as her spare hand covers her eyes, the grief she had held back since her mother died finally breaking free.

Aaron’s arms are around her in an instant, pulling her into his chest. He carefully takes the drawing from her, making sure it doesn’t get damaged, and she settles against him. She places her hands on his back, grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, and her face on his chest. He feels her sobs vibrate through him, and he holds her tighter, fiercely kissing the top of her head as he cups the back of it, holding her as close as he possibly can.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her temple again, “I’ve got you.”

He holds her as she finally let's go. As she finally feels everything she’d been keeping in for weeks and months. Years if she was honest for herself. Grief for losing her mother twice - once with her diagnosis, and the other when she died. Grief for a relationship that was never what she needed or wanted, for a version of her mother that had existed nowhere but in her imagination.

“She was my mom, Aaron,” she stutters, her words muffled by his shirt and her emotion.

“I know,” he says soothingly, his fingers buried in her hair, “I know she was,” he encourages her to move back from him just enough so he can look at her. He wipes his thumb under one of her eyes, wiping away a tear and a smudge of mascara, and he doesn’t have to look down to know he’ll have a matching stain on his white shirt, “I’m so sorry, Emily.”

She nods, her chin trembling as she wipes at her cheeks, “I wish things could have been different,” she says, her voice wavering, “I wish we could have actually talked to each other instead of…being polite like we were for years,” she looks at the drawing Aaron had carefully placed on the desk and she points at it, “I shouldn’t have to find out how much she cared because of a piece of paper she kept for 40 years,” she chokes out a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh, “I shouldn’t have to find this after she died.”

“You deserved better,” he assures her, cupping her cheek and pressing a kiss to her forehead, “And you are doing better,” he says, smiling softly at her, “Jack and Hazel never doubt for a moment how much you love them.”

She presses her forehead against his and stamps his lips with a kiss, “They know you love them too.”

They lapse into silence for a moment, the only sound the low murmuring from the other side of the door.

“Want to go back out there?” He asks, and she shakes her head, her forehead knocking against his before she presses her cheek against his chest.

“Not yet.”

“Ok, sweetheart,” he says, resting his cheek on top of her head, “Not yet.” He runs his hand up and down her back and looks at the drawing she’d done when she was just a little older than Hazel and it makes him smile. He tries to picture her, tries to think of what she would have been like at the time. If she was as quiet as Hazel could be sometimes, or if she’d always been as outspoken as she was now. “You know what’s crazy?”

“What?” She asks, letting herself relax in the comfort of his embrace, in the safety he always provided. He removes one arm from around her and picks up the drawing, turning it over to look at the words she’d written on the back all those years ago.

“Your penmanship hasn’t improved at all in 40 years.”

She laughs, loud enough that if someone from the wake heard it he’s sure they’d deem it inappropriate, and she pulls away to shake her head at him, a watery smile spreading across her face.

“How is it you always find a way to criticise my paperwork?”

He shrugs one of his shoulders, “Maybe one day it will sink in.”

She shakes her head again and her smile gives way to an adoring look. She leans in and kisses him, the taste of her tears on both of their lips.

“Thank you,” she says, her chest tight as she’s once again overwhelmed by emotion, “For loving me enough to make me laugh on a day like today.”

He kisses her once more before pulling her into a hug again, something she gratefully returns.

“You don’t have to thank me, Em. Loving you is the easiest thing in the world, no matter what day it is.”

Usually, she’d call him ridiculous. She’d roll her eyes and call him out for being cheesy, but she can’t bring herself to. Instead, she lets herself enjoy it.

A week later he frames the drawing for her and puts it in their home office along with drawings that Jack and Hazel had done for them.

When she looks at it, she thinks of her mother, and she smiles.

-x-

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Text

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Nineteen

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends!!

Thank you so much for the love on the last couple of chapters <3 I still have so many plans/ideas for this universe so as long as you guys continue to enjoy it I will continue to write it!

-x-

Words: 3k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along. Please note that more warnings have been added.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

December 2008

Aaron smiles as he watches Emily dance with Penelope and JJ. She laughs as JJ says something in her ear, her eyes flicking over to him, winking at him before she replies to JJ, their words lost in the music and conversations around them in the bar.

“Not like you to come out for New Year,” Dave says, smiling as Aaron looks up at him.

“I was convinced,” he replies, smiling as he thinks of his girlfriend's promises in return for him coming out with the team. Each one dirtier than the last.

Dave grins and shakes his head, a fond smile spreading over his face, “She’s good for you.”

Aaron tries, and fails, to hide his smile behind his glass of scotch. He was nursing his drink, well aware that he was the designated driver this evening. He didn’t mind, knowing that if he wasn’t here he’d be at home by himself, and he loved to watch Emily having fun with their friends, how a part of her that she had once considered long dead would come out. Safe to emerge from the very depths of her when surrounded by people who loved and cherished her.

“I know she is,” he replies, any further response cut off by a hand on his back, Emily pressing a kiss to his shoulder before she wraps her arm around his, her balance slightly off because of the alcohol buzzing in her system. Aaron smiles down at her, “You ok, sweetheart?”

Emily nods, “Come dance with me.”

He sighs lovingly, chuckling when she flips Dave off for laughing at the suggestion, “Em-”

“Please?” She all but begs, her eyes wide as she looks at him, “We never get the chance to dance.”

Aaron knows he’s fighting a losing battle and he shakes his head, draining the last bit of his scotch before he places the glass down on a nearby table. He looks at Dave and they share a smile.

“See you later Dave,” he says, his hand on Emily’s back as he guides her back towards the dancefloor.

He hates it. It’s hotter than where he’d been standing, his shirt sticking to his skin. There are people surrounding him, bumping into him from all directions as they finally make it back to JJ and Penelope, both of them smiling widely as they realise Emily is not alone. It’s louder, people shouting over the music to hear each other, and he considers telling Emily he’d find her at midnight before heading back to find Dave.

But then she turns and smiles, her joy unrestrained, all over her face for everyone to see. She wraps her arms around his waist and kisses him, the taste of tequila on her lips. He pulls away and smiles at her, pulling her closer as he places his hands on her lower back.

“Are you having fun?” He asks, leaning down to kiss her again, not caring for once that he knew the others were watching them intently. Penelope was close enough that he could hear her delighted commentary to JJ.

Emily nods, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “Even more fun now you’re here.”

He shakes his head at her and lets himself get led into something that was supposedly dancing to a song he had never heard of.

When the clock strikes midnight, she kisses him fiercely in front of all their friends, anything beyond the two of them disappearing.

He had a feeling 2009 was going to be a life-changing year.

___

It takes a moment for her brain to catch up with what the doctor has said, her eyes fixed on him as she finds herself unable to even blink. Everything frozen in place as processes what she’s been told.

Pregnant.

She was pregnant.

For a fleeting moment, she feels panic that is all too familiar. A sense of dread that visits her like an old friend from over half a lifetime ago. One hand clutching a positive pregnancy test whilst the other was over her mouth in an attempt to muffle her sobs, desperately trying to stay quiet in the public bathroom she was in, not wanting to alert anyone to her distress.

She shakes it off, lets the memory float back to where it came from. This was different. She wasn’t alone and 15 anymore. She was with a man she loved, in a relationship she saw forever in. This was something she could have. Something she could want.

Something she had been trying for, even though it had apparently happened much faster than either she or Aaron thought it would.

She tries to think about the last few weeks. Tries to recall if she had felt sick, or unlike herself at any point. If there had been any signs she’d willfully ignored despite this being something she so desperately wanted. Aaron squeezes her hand tightly, and that’s what brings her back to the room. She clears her throat and shakes her head, unsure she’s heard him correctly.

“What?” She chokes out, doing the math in her head, trying to remember if she had a period last month. She closes her eyes and attempts to picture the medicine cabinet at home. If there was a full box of tampons in there or if she’d put it on the list for the next time they went to the store, a magnetised pad of paper Aaron had bought and put on the fridge after one too many incidents when they’d made it home only for her to remember something critical.

“I’d estimate based on your HCG levels that you’re about six weeks along,” the doctor repeats, looking back and forth between her and Aaron. Emily can practically see him trying to figure out if this was wanted or news or not, “The OBGYN will be able to tell you more accurately with a scan.”

Emily nods, swallowing thickly. She shifts slightly, wincing as everything hurts, her entire body battered and bruised by the car crash. Fear twists in her chest, concerns that something could have happened to the pregnancy she’d known about for a minute threatening to choke her.

“Will the baby be ok?” Aaron asks, anticipating everything as always, his hand still tight around hers, pushing his own fears all the way down so he could support her, “She can barely move without it hurting her. What if…”

He drifts off, unable to put into words something neither of them wanted to think let alone say outloud. The implication alone is enough to make her squeeze his hand even tighter, the thought of losing this as soon as she found out she had it almost cruel.

The doctor smiles kindly, turning his attention to Emily, “Have you had any bleeding?” He asks, and she shakes her head, “Any cramping? It would be similar to period cramps?”

She shakes her head fiercely this time, her breath stuttering as she thinks of all those years ago in Rome. The pain she doesn’t think she’d ever forget, her face buried in her pillow as she tried to stay quiet, her bedroom too close to her mother’s.

“No, no cramps,” she says, placing her spare hand on her stomach, her thumb stroking just under her belly button.

“Then thats a good sign, but I do recommend you stay to see the OBGYN. I know you’re keen to get out of here-”

“No, I’ll stay,” Emily cuts him off, “I’ll stay.”

Aaron thinks that in any other situation, he’d find some humour in it. That he’d make a comment about the fact she was ready to leave against medical advice just five minutes ago, claiming nothing was wrong even though she could barely move an inch without wincing, but that now everything had changed. Her hand pressed into her lower belly as she squeezes his hand tightly with the other.

He wished she’d take care of herself as she did for those she loved, but that was an argument for another day.

“Excellent,” the doctor says, turning to leave, “I’ll make sure you’re seen as soon as possible.”

They sit in silence for a few moments once they are alone, both of them trying to figure out what to say.

“Six weeks,” she says quietly, looking at their joint hands instead of at him, unable to look at his face, not sure she’d be able to handle seeing anything close to disappointment on his face, “I only stopped taking my birth control about eight weeks ago,” she half laughs, the sound catching in her throat, “Good thing I’ve always been militant about taking it otherwise god knows when-”

“Em,” he says, cutting her off before she could start to spiral, his thumb rubbing at her pulse point on her wrist, “This is a good thing.”

She looks at him so quickly it hurts, her neck pulling as her eyes meet his. The relief feels palpable as she looks at him, a soft smile on his face, his eye shining.

“Yeah?” She chokes out, swallowing thickly, needing the reassurance in a way she didn’t fully understand.

“Yeah,” he replies, cupping her cheek to hold her in place as he leans down to kiss her. He pulls away just enough to speak, “It’s a great thing.”

She nods, smiling at him so widely the next kiss is lost in it, their teeth clashing against each other. She pulls back to lean her forehead against his, “What if something is wrong?” She asks quietly, the reason why they were here in the first place coming back to her, hitting her just as fast as the truck that had driven her off the road, “What if-”

“Let’s see what the doctor says, ok sweetheart?” He says calmly, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “One step at a time.”

If she didn’t know him as well as she did she wouldn’t know he had the same concerns himself, a slight tightness in his shoulders that gave him away for those who cared to look. She smiles at him, nodding so their foreheads bump against each other.

“Yeah,” she agrees, her chest warming from the inside out as he places the hand not linked through hers on her belly, “One step at a time.”

They stay like that, him hunched over her in a way she’s sure his back won’t thank him for later, until there is a knock on the door. Aaron stands up, his hand never leaving hers as a doctor walks into the room to join them.

“I’m Doctor Clifton, I’m the on-call OBGYN,” she says, a kind smile on her face that both Emily and Aaron would wager was a permanent feature of hers, “According to my colleague he very unceremoniously told you that you’re pregnant, Agent Prentiss?”

Emily chuckles dryly, nodding as Doctor Clifton joins in, “I think it’s safe to say it was a bit of a shock. And please, call me Emily.”

“Do you know when your last period was, Emily?”

She shakes her head, “No, I was just trying to remember but I can’t,” she says, her frustration at herself clear, “I only stopped taking the pill a couple of months ago.”

Doctor Clifton smiles, “Because we think you’re quite early on, it would be best to do an internal scan, so I’ll give you a second to take off your pants and then I’ll be right back.”

Emily smiles tightly at Aaron as Doctor Clifton pulls the curtain around them, giving them a moment of privacy that Emily felt was unnecessary given where she was about to look. Emily groans as she swings her legs over the bed, pain vibrating through her, and Aaron places his hand on her thigh, his skin warm even through her slacks.

“Do you want some help?” He asks softly, and she frowns at him, her tumultuous emotions coming out in frustration directed towards him.

“I can take off my pants, Aaron,” she grumbles, trying to force herself not to cry out as she stands, her ribs catching as she stands up straight.

“Just let me help, sweetheart,” he says calmly, “Besides, I have taken your pants off before,” he leans in and kisses her cheek before he bends down to take off her shoes for her, “It’s kind of how we ended up in this situation.”

“Aaron,” She says through her teeth, gently slapping his shoulder as she hears a laugh poorly covered by a cough through the curtain, Doctor Clifton clearly amused by them.

“What? It’s true.” He asks rising back up to unbutton her pants, pulling them and her underwear down her legs. He helps her stand out of them, “What about your socks?”

“What about them?” She asks, creasing her brow as she looks down at her feet, a pair of his socks on them that came almost halfway up her calf.

“Do you want to take them off?”

“I don’t think socks make a difference in a pelvic exam, honey,” she quips, allowing him to help her back onto the bed, pulling the small paper blanket she’d been given over her waist. She looks at the curtain pulled around the bed, “We’re ready.”

It is pulled open quickly and Doctor Clifton walks over, wheeling over an ultrasound machine that had come out of seemingly nowhere before settling onto the small stool next to the bed.

“Ok, Emily,” she says, smiling at her, “I’m sure you know the drill, please scooch down the bed.”

Emily gets into position, never letting go of Aaron’s hand for a second, and she grimaces as Doctor Clifton inserts the probe.

“Is this your first?” Doctor Clifton asks, her eyes fixed on the screen.

‘First baby, second pregnancy,” Emily says carefully, her head flat on the pillow her eyes fixed on the ceiling above her, suddenly terrified of seeing an empty screen, “I had an abortion when I was 15.”

Aaron lifts their joint hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles, a silent show of support that he knows is desperately needed.

“Any complications?” Doctor Clifton asks, her voice mercifully free of anything that could be called judgement.

“No,” Emily says, turning her head to look at Aaron, just seeing him enough to calm her down a little, “Everything was fine afterwards.”

Doctor Clifton hums in acknowledgement, and Emily hears the pressing of buttons, followed by a couple of seconds of silence that seem to last an age.

“Yes, I’d say you are six weeks along,” she says, and Emily turns to look, her eyes landing on a tiny blob on the screen that Doctor Clifton was pointing at.

“It’s ok?” Emily asks, barely recognising her own voice, the vulnerability in it unfamiliar on her tongue. She can’t help but wonder if this was how she felt now how she would feel when she had a baby in her arms, the thought of it still seeming so strange and far away,

“Everything looks perfectly fine, Emily,” Doctor Clifton assures her, moving where she was pointing, “See the flickering there?”

“Yes.”

“That is your baby’s heartbeat,” she says, smiling as she turns to look at Emily, “You’re not far enough along to hear it yet, but thats it.”

Emily chokes on a sound that is somewhere between a sob and a laugh, she turns to look at Aaron, who had been quiet since he’d offered to take her socks off for her, and is unsurprised to see his eyes shining. Unshed tears making them look like deep, dark pools of honey. Eyes she knows their child might inherit, something she is already secretly hoping for.

“We’re having a baby,” he says, looking at her as if she’d hung the stars herself, his love as obvious as if it had ever been. She smiles at him and nods, closing the gap between them to stamp a kiss against his lips.

“Yeah,” she chokes out, only aware she was crying when he reaches out to wipe a tear from her cheek, “We’re having a baby.”

___

Aaron smiles as he walks the short distance from the kitchen to the living room, pausing so he can watch Emily, all of her focus on the ultrasound picture in her hand.

The small piece of card with their future printed on it felt like it was burning a hole through her go-bag after she’d carefully placed it in a book so it didn’t crease. Her mind kept drifting to it, brief moments of distraction as they worked to re-capture Shrader, something she had put down to her concussion and the pain she was in if someone else from the team mentioned it.

Doctor Clifton had assured them everything looked good and sent them on their way, advising them to go to their local hospital if something changed. Emily was going to call her usual doctor as soon as the office opened in the morning to set up her routine appointments, the thought of it all, and everything else that was to come, a little overwhelming.

“Are you ok? Do you need anything?” Aaron asks, smiling apologetically as she jumps, completely unaware that he was behind her.

“No,” she replies, smiling at him, “I’m fine.”

“Not even painkillers? The doctor said-”

“I heard what the doctor said,” she cuts over him, smiling fondly despite the slight bite to her words, “I’ll take them, but it’s not time yet,” she says, holding her hand out to him, “Come sit with me.”

He doesn’t need asking twice and rounds the couch, sitting next to her and wrapping his arm around her in one movement. She rests her cheek on his shoulder and holds the scan so they can both look at it.

“It’s very small, for something so life-changing,” she murmurs, and he kisses the side of her head. “You’re happy, right?” She asks so quietly he almost doesn’t hear her, and she lifts her head to look at him, “I know this happened fast.”

“Em,” he says, cupping her cheek, “I couldn’t be happier,” he smiles and kisses her forehead and then her lips, “Although, I do wish the two of you hadn’t been in a car crash.”

She chuckles dryly, nodding as he places his hand on her belly, “Trust me, both me and every muscle in my body agrees with you on that one,” she places her finger over his lips to stop him from saying anything, seeing his offer to get her medication on the tip of his tongue, smiling as he purses his lips to kiss her skin, “I’m fine, I’ll take the medication Doctor Clifton gave me before bed.”

He nods, kissing her finger again before he gathers her into his side, “We’ll have to figure out what to do with work.”

“I don’t want to tell anyone yet,” she says, reaching out for his hand and linking their fingers together, “It’s still so early and…” she blows out a breath, unsure how to put it into words, “We so rarely have something just for the two of us. It will be nice to have this between us for a little while.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replies, love for her and their unborn baby threatening to spill out of him, so uncontrollable he thinks he might burst with it.

She chuckles and turns her head to kiss his neck, her eyes once again fixed on her ultrasound scan.

“Careful, honey,” she says warningly, her tone dripping with affection, “It’s going to be a long pregnancy for you if you start saying that now.”

-x-

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Text

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Sixteen

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends!

Thank you so much for the love on the last chapter, it is so encouraging to know so many of you are still enjoying this fic!

Karl is oddly fun to write, so I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Just a reminder that Foyet is no longer a concern in this fic thanks to Emily's excellent aim, and Emily never worked for Interpol.

-x-

Words: 3.7k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along. Please note that more warnings have been added.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

November 2008

“I’ve never seen that dress before.”

Emily smiles as she turns to face the doorway of the changing room, her eyes landing on her boyfriend standing there with his hands in his pockets. She looks back at the dress she’d hung on one of the lockers.

“I bought it for a date with you,” she says, toeing off her shoes so she can start to get dressed, “Although after this it might have to go straight in the trash,” she nods towards the door, “Can you close the door?”

Aaron steps further into the room and pulls the door closed, “Are you sure you’re ok with this?”

She nods as she undoes her slacks and lets them fall to the floor, “I’m fine, I’ve dated worse people than the Viper,” she comments, smiling as he raises an eyebrow, “Present company not included of course.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Thanks for the reassurance, Em.”

She winks at him as she haphazardly folds up her slacks before working on the buttons of her blouse. She raises an eyebrow at him as he walks over and picks up her slacks, refolding them for her.

“Are you ok with this?” She asks, handing him her shirt so he can fold it too, knowing that helping in any way would make him feel more useful. She watches him carefully as she pulls on her dress, barely hiding a smile as he pretends he isn’t watching her intently.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asks carefully his hands on her shoulders as he encourages her to turn around so he can zip up her dress, “What guy doesn’t love sending his girlfriend out on a date with another guy?”

She rolls her eyes and turns to look at him, “It’s not a date, Aaron. I’m going undercover for info,” she says, reaching up to cup the back of his neck, her fingers trailing through the short hair there, “And I won’t be alone, I’ll take Jordan.”

He groans, “Em-”

“You trust me, right?” She asks, and he nods, his eyebrows creasing as if not trusting her was ridiculous. As if he hadn’t spent the first few months they knew each other doing exactly that, “Then trust me on this.”

Aaron nods and she smiles, rewarding him with a quick kiss, “Now, the sooner I go out there, the sooner we can go back to our hotel room and you can help me forget all about that creep.”

He smiles at her and kisses her once more before pulling away, giving her space to finish getting ready.

“Em?” He asks, and she hums in response as she slips on her shoes, “Don’t throw the dress in the trash.”

She looks up and feels her body flush at the look in his eyes. The barely hidden hunger for her. She smiles and clears her throat.

“Yes, sir.”

___

“He’s going to try to get into your head,” Aaron says as the elevator reaches their destination, the doors opening as they follow the guard out, “He will try and get the advantage with me by mentioning my lack of wedding ring,” he explains, and it makes her twist her engagement ring around her finger, a brief thought that maybe she should have taken it off disappearing as quickly as it occurred, “Then he’ll turn his attention to you.”

“So that’s why you brought me?” She asks, the final pieces of the puzzle she’d been trying to solve the entire drive to the prison falling into place. Aaron had told her about Karl Arnold. Explained how he found the box of rings, how the question of if eight rings meant eight fathers or four families haunted him. She knew it was one of the cases that had affected him more than most did, the thought of it, of someone so successfully destroying a family, crawling under his skin.

“Your presence will throw him off guard,” he says carefully, blowing out a breath before he explains what Karl will want from them, how he will try to unsettle them her. Aaron wonders if he’s made the right decision bringing Emily here with him, knowing it was partially because of the comfort he found in her presence. A selfish need to have her close that he couldn’t put into words.

Emily hates that she jumps as a face she’d only seen on tv appears in her peripheral vision accompanied by a loud sound as he bangs on the glass separating them. A vicious man who had murdered over a dozen women purely because he could. She remembers watching the news footage of his trial, of the family members of his victims crying with relief when they finally got justice.

She clears her throat, “Is that…”

“Garret Pain,” Aaron answers as she drifts off, well aware of what she was going to ask, “But it’s reinforced glass.”

She scoffs and briefly looks down at the floor, desperately trying to ignore the man throwing himself against the glass, all of the things being yelled at her.

“That’s easy for you to say,” she says, her voice wavering just a little bit as she stares ahead, pointedly ignoring Garret’s behaviour, “He tore apart 14 women.”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, Em.”

It’s a flash of her version of him, of them. Of the life they have that exists outside of these walls, this place where people who had done awful things were left to rot. It’s ridiculous, she thinks, that he believes he’d be able to stop the other man. That he’d do what so many other people hadn’t been able to. But she knows he’d do it, that he’d put himself between her and any form of danger. She appreciates it, and she smiles, any response cut off by the guard letting them through the reinforced door, and the beeping that echoes around her pulls her back into the moment.

“Hello, Karl,” Aaron says as he approaches him, the door closing behind them. Karl stands up, his hands shackled and crossed in front of him. He smiles as if greeting a friend he hadn’t seen in some time, not the man who had caught him, who had stopped him from killing again.

“Agent Hotchner. I wasn’t aware you were bringing a…” he drifts off, his eyes shifting between Aaron and Emily, “They just said two Agents.”

“This is Agent-”

“Emily Prentiss,” he smiles, and she does her best to cover her shock. Her disgust. “I know all about you.”

Aaron sits down first, something she’s sure is an attempt to gain some control of the situation. She sits next to him, and she lays the files on the table, not missing how Karl looks at them, his eyes fixed on the manila paper that held the photos she did not want to show him. He brags about his fans, about the posts on the website that brought them here, the admirers who alerted him to the case they were working on. She hates his demeanour, how he’s so calm as he talks about the questions he is asked.

When she reaches over to grab his notebook from him he sits up, leaning in to smell her, something that sends a shiver down her spine that she won’t give him the pleasure of seeing. Aaron cuts in, leaning between them as he picks up the notebook and hands it to her, his fingers briefly lingering over hers in a way she knows is on purpose. It’s an apology for bringing her here, a silent sign he was there with her.

She isn’t sure which she needs the most.

She places the notebook down with more force than necessary, “Maybe later,” she says, clasping her hands together on the table in front of her, “Your admirer is taking wedding rings. Just like you.”

“But maybe not for the same reason,” Aaron adds, staring Karl down.

“Like how you took all of mine,” Karl says, looking between Aaron’s face and his hands, “You took mine, but I see you lost yours,” he looks over at Emily, tilting his head as he stares at her left hand, her engagement ring catching the dim light of the room, “And you have one,” he smirks, “It’s a shame really, all the good ones are always already taken.”

“Eight rings. Four families,” Aaron says, getting even tenser as Karl’s attention keeps landing on Emily. “Or was it one ring for each family?”

Emily wants to reach out for him, to place her hand on his leg to provide the comfort he would never ask for, but she knows she can’t. Karl would latch onto anything he considered a weakness, especially if he figured out they were each others. She flexes her hands slightly, just enough to stop herself from touching Aaron, and sits by as he and Karl go back and forth, each refusing to back down as they discuss why they are here. It’s only when Karl asks to see the photos, his eyes fixed on the folder in front of her again, that she speaks up, directing Aaron out of the room for a moment of privacy.

She makes a point of taking the folder with them, holding it to her chest as if doing so would delay the inevitable, as if she is protecting what little innocence Lucy has left. She wants to be furious as Aaron insists they need to show Karl the pictures, to use the dead child that was buried in her own backyard, a place where she should have been safe, as a bargaining chip. She has to stop herself from asking how he would feel if it was their daughter, a fictitious child that didn’t exist yet, knowing it would be nothing short of cruel to say that to him when they were both just doing their jobs.

She rarely struggled with the distinctions between Aaron her boss and Aaron her fiancee, the lines so blurry now she barely remembered what they were like before. But right now she hates that it’s him asking her to do this.

“Look I…” she hesitates, looking down at his tie to avoid his gaze, her eyes fixed on the tie pin she’d bought him for his birthday, “I’ve never done this before.”

“And you don’t have to now.”

Emily sighs, and she knows he means it. He’d pull her out of this situation if she asked him to. He’d switch tactics. But she knows this is their best chance, that whilst she can’t save Lucy, or the other victims, she can help stop this from happening again.

“Yes, I do,” she says, smiling tightly at him. He nods, and their eyes meet. She sees all the love and adoration for her that he could barely keep boxed up these days swimming in his eyes. If it wasn’t for Karl watching them, his gaze burning into her through the glass and the gaps in the bars, Aaron would reach out for her. Link their fingers together and squeeze as a promise for later, when he’d just be back to being the man she loved.

“When I feel he’s ready to talk, I’ll leave the room. You get him talking. Stay on script, we need to figure out his motivations.”

She nods, clearing her throat and she blows out a breath before she follows him back into the cell. Karl stands she they re-enter, his hands no longer cuffed, and Emily carefully lays out some photos from the scene, making sure to exclude any pictures of Lucy. She interjects occasionally as Aaron describes the events to Karl, who doesn’t even try to cover his enjoyment. The thrill he gets out of hearing how these innocent people were murdered would be obvious to anyone, not just those trained to see it. She stops him from grabbing the file, pulling it back towards her as she stops him from pulling out the photos of the bodies.

Aaron’s phone rings, and he looks down to see Derek’s name on the screen. He looks at Emily and nods before he answers it, both of them knowing that a call means only one thing - the unsub has struck again. She sits up a little straighter as soon as she’s alone with Karl, an expression fixed on her face that she knows her mother would be proud of in order to cover how she really feels. Karl tries to get a rise out of her, and asks if they’ll be notified of any other posts on his website, so she takes a deep breath, and does what she knows Aaron brought her here for.

“Your case was one of the first ones I studied,” she lies, watching the intrigue flash across his face, hooked in by his own ego, “I’ve been fascinated ever since.”

“With my case?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“With you,” she replies, smiling at him in the way that had always worked for, the guys she’d used it on before more sleazy than dangerous. Her old ways of getting free drinks in bars when she was underage and couldn’t buy them herself now used to coax information from a serial killer, from an abuser. She chuckles, the fake one she’d always used at parties, and she tucks some hair behind her ear.

“I can show you what I did to the children.”

“Tell me.”

Karl pauses for a moment before he leans forward, “Children are so very precious, don’t you think, Emily?” He asks, smiling at her. “Clean.” He looks down at her engagement ring before looking back at her face, “I suppose you and your fiancee will want some one day.”

She simply stares at him, not acknowledging his comment. Not wanting him to even think about Jack or any children she and Aaron may have, the very thought of it enough to make her stomach turn. She’s never been more grateful for the way she was raised, her political training proving its worth no matter how much she hated it.

“But children need guidance. Especially the girls,” he says, and she feels goose-pimples spread down her back, things they had assumed about him, that his profile had shown them, finally confirmed.

“Why?” She asks, staring at him, not wanting to let him know how much he was affecting her.

“Girls have so much more to lose than boys,” he adds, “It’s a fact that the female body can handle so much more pain than a male body.”

“What did you do to them?” She asks, even though she knows the answer.

“I showed them what men, their fathers and brothers, are capable of,” She hears the door click again and Aaron walks back in, his arms crossed over his chest as Karl carries on, “It never failed to surprise me how little the fathers fought death once their children were dead.”

“Karl, I never thought you’d be this honest,” Aaron says, staying where he was behind them.

“It takes an honest woman to make a good man, and let's face it, she’s prettier than you,” Karl says, smirking at Aaron, “Which, I guess you know. Considering you’re the one who put that ring on her finger.” She tenses and she flicks her eyes to Aaron, watching as he briefly crosses his arms a little tighter. Karl laughs at the two of them and leans back in his seat, “You think I didn’t notice? You smell like each other. And not just the kind of scent you pick up from sitting in a car on a long drive. It’s what families smell like. People whose lives are so intertwined it takes someone like me to unpick them bit by bit.”

Emily looks at Aaron and he nods at her, seeing her silent request in her eyes before she turns back to look at Karl, her hands once again linked in front of her.

“Karl, do you know why you killed all those families?” She asks, and he tries to deflect, sensing he’s losing the control he so desperately craved, but Aaron stops him, and tells him in no uncertain terms that his motivations are different to their current unsubs, “Motivations you learnt from your father.”

“You really did do your research on me, Emily.”

“You’re also filled with extreme self-hatred.” She adds, the facade she’d worn here all day finally slipping away, her true feelings shining through.

Karl tenses, the first sign of frustration he’d shown in all of their time here, and he looks at Aaron, “I can see how you ended up engaged to her, it must be distracting working with someone so beautiful. Tell me, Agent Hotchner, was your wedding ring from your ex-wife even off your finger before you started fuc-”

“You forced those men to watch their children die. And here's why you are what you are.”

“What I wouldn’t do to you-”

Aaron takes one step forward, and she stops him in his tracks with nothing but raising her hand, and she carries on as if Karl hadn’t interrupted, “By killing those fathers last you were killing your own father, and ultimately yourself, over and over again.”

They fall into silence and she tilts her head at him, allowing a self-satisfied smirk to spread over her face, and she falters for a second, something they hadn’t considered before crossing her mind.

“Aar-Hotch,” she turns to look at him, ignoring Karl smirking at her slight slip up, “For him, it was all about the fathers, with this unsub it’s all about the girls. If we apply that same logic…”

“It’s something we hadn’t considered.”

“It’s rare.”

“What’s rare?” Karl says, irritation at no longer being the centre of attention obvious.

“The killer is a woman,” Emily says, and she stands up, gathering the photos together and placing them back in the file, “I’ll call Morgan on the way.”

“On the way, where?” Karl asks, sitting up in his chair, “Where are you going?”

“This was a red herring,” she says, looking back at him as the guard prepares to open the doors, “We no longer need your help. You can tell your admirers on your website that they were wrong.”

“Although you won’t have much of a chance,” Aaron says, picking up his briefcase and following Emily to the door, “I have a technical analyst poised to take down your site as soon as I am out of this prison.”

He calls after them, held back by a guard as he’s chained up again, and they ignore him and the yells of the other inmates. As soon as they are in the elevator she breathes out, her lungs aching with everything that had happened in the last few hours.

“Em-”

“Not now,” she says, shaking her head, her lips set in a firm line, “Later, when we’re at home, ok?”

He clearly disagrees, but he nods, “Ok.”

___

“Garica said the website is down,” Aaron says, placing his cell phone down on the kitchen counter. He looks over to where Emily is sitting on the couch, and she barely acknowledges him, “She said she also set up an algorithm that will prevent other ones from being created. Karl Arnold should eventually disappear into insignificance.”

“Good,” Emily says, clearing her throat as she nods, “That’s good.”

They fall back into silence and he feels tension in the air that he isn’t used to here in their home.

“Do you want a drink?” He asks, and she shakes her head, “Em-”

“He said he wanted to show me what he did to those children,” she says, swallowing thickly, his choice of words swimming around her head ever since they’d left the prison after her rushed call to Derek about the unsub being a woman, “Not tell me. Show me.”

Aaron blows out a shaky breath and walks over, joining her on the couch but not sitting as close to her as he usually would, “Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologise to me,” she says, slightly firmer than she intended to, “I know we did what we had to today but…it doesn’t make me feel any better. And it doesn’t make me any less angry at you as my boss for putting me in that position.”

He nods and he watches her closely, itching to reach out for her as he sees tears shining in her eyes.

“How can I help?”

She chuckles humourlessly, “Maybe just be my fiancee for the night?” She asks, shrugging as the words sound ridiculous even to her own ears.

Aaron nods again and pulls her towards him, relieved when she doesn’t shy away from his touch, tucking herself neatly into his side. Sergio shifts from his place on the armrest, stretching before he walks over, settling into Aaron’s lap.

“I can do that,” Aaron promises, kissing the top of her head as he runs his hand up and down her arm, “So this boss of yours,” he starts, hiding a small smile in her hair, “He sounds like a complete jerk.”

She laughs around a sob, shaking her head as she wipes a tear from her cheek, “Yeah, he can be,” she says, reaching for his hand and squeezing it, “But he’s hot so he mostly gets away with it,” she jokes and he laughs into the top of her head. They lapse into silence for a moment before she speaks again, her heart still heavy in a way she knows will take a few days to shake off, “Tell me something good.”

He holds her impossibly closer, “We don’t have work tomorrow, so we can do whatever we want.”

The relief is palpable. Some time away from work with the man she loves is exactly what she needs. She turns her head to kiss his neck, lingering there to feel his pulse.

“So, we can just stay here all day, have lots of sex and order in incredibly unhealthy food?”

He hums, acting as if he has to think about it, “I’m sure if it will make you feel better, I can manage that.”

She pulls away to look at him, narrowing her eyes, “You’re lucky I love you,” she leans in and stamps a kiss to his lips, offering him a half smile before she pulls back, “I could go for that drink now.”

Aaron smiles and kisses her before he stands up, disconnecting himself from her and lifting Sergio to place in her lap before he walks towards the kitchen.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

-x-

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Note

Can I request a fix where Jack has to do a family tree and asks Emily why he doesn’t know hotchs parents(if this makes any sense😂)

Hi anon!! I LOVE this idea

This got really fluffy.

Happy Friday!

-x-

As We Grow

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or under the cut

If there was one upside to not being able to go away on cases it was spending more time with Jack.

Emily had sprained her ankle a few prior, and whilst she was now mostly back to normal, Aaron had insisted she sat one last case out so she didn’t cause herself further injury. She’d rolled her eyes at him, but agreed, knowing it wasn’t worth the argument.

Whilst she missed him, their bed far too big and empty without him, she was enjoying one on one time with the little boy she loved more than life itself.

“Emily, I need help!”

She sighs and closes her eyes briefly.

She loved him, even though he’d often pick the exact moment she was sitting comfortably on the couch to ask for help with homework he’d previously claimed he could do alone.

“Coming honey, just one second.”

She stands, wincing slightly as her weight goes through her still tender ankle and she walks towards the dining room. She smiles at him as she walks in, and walks over to see what he is working on.

She looks at the paper on the dining room table, a brightly decorated tree that Jack had clearly created himself. A mix of colourful leaves and places to write names that had been pre-made by the teacher, each with a title of mom, dad or other relatives up to grandparents on each side. Emily suppresses a sigh and makes a mental note to talk to Jack’s teacher, again, about family projects like this. It wasn’t that she and Aaron wanted Jack to be left out, or for more work created so he had his own project to do, they simply wanted a heads-up. Time to prepare him that he’d have to think about something like this, about the mother he’d now spent time more time without than he’d ever had with her.

She smiles at Jack and pulls out the seat next to him, joining him at the dining table. He’d already filled out Haley and Aaron’s names along with his own.

“What do you need help with, sweetheart?” She asks, slinging her arm around the back of his chair to lean in closer.

“I realised I don’t know what grandpa’s name is,” he says, looking at her with his brows furrowed, a serious look on his face that was 100% Aaron, “Aunt Jessie calls him Dad and you and Daddy don’t really spend time with him.”

Emily hums in her throat, making sure she doesn’t react physically at the mention of Haley’s father. If she had her way, she’d have told him exactly what she thought of him years ago, but out of respect for Aaron, and for Jessica and Jack, she never had.

“That’s ok,” she assures him, encouraging him to pick his pen back up, “His name is Roy,” she explains, and watches as he fills in the box above Haley’s name, and she smiles to herself when he hesitates over the space for his grandmother’s name, “And your grandma’s name was Pamela.”

Jack writes it out, pausing as he spells it out in his head, “I’ve never met her.”

“You did, sweetie,” she says, kissing the side of his head, “But she passed away when you were very small.”

Jack had only been a few months old when Haley’s mom died, something that Aaron had told Emily about after they got together. How he regretted that he didn’t take more time off work back then to support his wife as she navigated losing her mother after just becoming one herself.

Jack hums in interest before looking at the other side, frowning again at the blank spaces above Aaron’s name.

“I’ve never met Dad’s parent’s either,” he comments, looking up at her, “Why? Are they dead too?”

Emily smiles sadly at him, and she moves her hand to run through his hair, brushing it away from his forehead.

“Yes, they are.”

Jack’s frown deepens as he thinks about it, his mind wondering. “Dad never talks about them.”

She takes a moment to think about her answer. Even if Aaron’s parents were alive, they would be in Jack’s life. Whilst his father had died when he was in college, Aaron hadn’t seen his mother for years before she died, making a decision for himself to take a step away from the memories of a childhood that he had deserved better from.

It wasn’t her place to explain it all, and Jack was too young to understand everything his father had gone through at his age and even younger. Whilst Jack had been through a lot at his age, he had always known love.

Something that Aaron couldn’t say he had.

“Well, sometimes remembering hard things makes people sad, doesn’t it?” She says gently, smiling encouragingly when he nods.

“Sometimes I get sad when I think about Mommy.”

“Of course you do,” Emily says, running her fingers through his hair again, “But then you remember the good times right? All the fun you had with her? And it makes you happy even though she’s not here?” Jack nods again, more enthusiastically this time, “Well…your dad doesn’t have those happy memories.”

“Oh,” Jack says, frowning as he looks back down at the tree, “Do you know their names?”

Emily can’t help but smile at the change in topic, the conversation over, for now, in a way that only a child could manage.

“Yes,” she confirms, “Your grandpa was called Charles,” she waits for him to write it out, “and your grandma was called Rose.”

Jack writes it out and sighs, “Everyone on here is dead apart from me and Daddy,” he comments, but then he frowns, cutting her off before she can offer some comfort, “There isn’t space for you! Or Aunt Jessie,” he exclaims, “Or even Grandma Liz.”

She smiles at the thought of it, of her mother’s name written on a family tree that would be hung up in Jack’s classroom, and she knows Elizabeth would get a kick out of it too, and she leans in to kiss his cheek.

“That’s ok, honey,” she says, “Our family doesn’t look like a lot of families do,” he still looks sad, and she cups his cheek, knowing she’d do anything to cheer him up, “Your dad will be home tonight, so how about we go get some chicken nuggets before he comes back and tries to make us eat all healthy?”

He smiles so widely, she thinks she somehow loves him a little bit more than she had only seconds before.

___

Aaron yawns as he walks down the stairs, stretching his arms above his head as he reaches the ground floor of the house. He’d got home late last night, and he felt like he’d barely slept. Emily had been in bed when he got home, greeting him with a kiss and a sleepy smile.

He’d missed her when he was away, and he was hopeful her ankle would heal soon so she could go back to working on cases.

He hears a noise coming from the tv in the living room, the familiar sound of morning cartoons, and he smiles before he makes his way there.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, smiling at his son as he turns to look at him.

“Dad!” Jack exclaims, throwing his arms around him as he joins him on the couch, “I missed you!”

“I missed you too,” Aaron replies, kissing his son’s temple as he pulls back, “Did you have fun with Emily?”

Jack nods enthusiastically, but something flashes across his face, and for once Aaron isn’t sure he can place it.

“We had so much fun,” Jack says, resting his head on his father’s shoulder as he returns his attention to the tv, “She let me eat nuggets.”

Aaron shakes his head, aware that his wife would also have partaken in whatever take-out fest had taken place in his absence.

“Of course she did,” he says, wrapping his arm around his, “You ok? You don’t quite seem yourself.”

Jack shifts so he’s looking at him, a thoughtful look on his face that never failed to remind Aaron of Haley.

“I did a family tree for school.”

“I know, Emily told me last night.”

She’d let him know that Jack asked about his parents and that she’d given him the best answer she could. Aaron had seen the concern in her eyes, her exhaustion and the naked honesty she always had around him now making her even easier to read for him. The way she loved him, and his son, was something that always blew him away, a type of love he hadn’t had an abundance of in his life.

“At school, the teacher talked about all the different family members, and what they do,” Jack explains, looking down at his lap and picking at his thumb in a way he’d picked up from Emily, “And I realised that everything she said a mom does, Emily does for me,” he pauses, and Aaron gives him a half smile, encouraging him to carry on, “she looks after me when I’m sick, and she helps me clean my room. She went to school when Brayden was being mean last year,” Aaron has to suppress a smirk at that, memories of having to talk his wife down from yelling at a stranger's child flooding his brain, “And last night she helped with my homework.”

“Emily loves you, buddy,” Aaron says, “She loves you more than she loves anyone else.”

“I know,” Jack replies, returning his attention to his thumbnail, “I love her too, I love her just as much as I love you and Mommy.”

Aaron nods, pulling his son closer to him, “I know, and so does she.”

“I…I was thinking I might start calling her Mom.” Jack says, quietly enough that Aaron almost misses it.

He feels a rush of love run through him, affection for his son, and the woman he loved still asleep upstairs, thrumming just under the surface of his skin. Emily had thrown herself into looking after Jack the moment she and Aaron had started dating, having no qualms at all about the realities of dating a single father. She’d made sure Jack was involved in every step they took as a family. He helped them look at houses, and was involved in planning their wedding.

He’d even helped Emily pick out her dress, the two of them teasing Aaron mercilessly for weeks in the lead-up to the big day.

Emily loved Jack as her own and never had any expectations of her ever being more to Jack than his friend, and then his stepmother.

This, Aaron knew, would mean everything to her.

“I think she’d love that, buddy,” Aaron says, his smile wide as he looks at his son, and he’s relieved as some of the tension seeps out of Jack’s shoulders. But some still remains, and Aaron reaches out, tilts Jack’s head up to look at him, “What is it?”

“Do you think it would make Mommy sad?”

Aaron sighs sadly, and immediately shakes his head at his son, “No, Jack. She would have been happy for you, for us, that we found someone who loves us enough for you to want to do this.”

Jack looks like he considers it for a second before he nods, beaming at his father, “Ok.” Aaron gathers his son against his side and they both focus on the tv for a few seconds, before Jack speaks again, “Daddy?”

“Yes?” Aaron says, looking down at his son to find the wide smile still on his face.

“Can you help me with something?”

___

“Jack, Aunt Jessie is here, hurry up!” Aaron calls up the stairs before shaking his head at his son as he walks back towards the kitchen, “I don’t know where he gets his timekeeping from,” he says, dropping a kiss to the top of Emily’s head as he walks past her, “It certainly isn’t me or Haley.”

Emily looks up from her cereal, and narrows her eyes at her husband as he stands next to where is sitting at the kitchen counter.

“Why do I feel like that's a not-so-subtle dig at me?” She asks, unable to stop her smile when he leans in to kiss her.

“Not a dig. It’s just one of the many wonderful things he’s picked up from you.”

She hums, “Nice save.”

They hear the thundering of Jack’s feet against the stairs, and then the hardwood of the hallway before he appears in the kitchen. His backpack is haphazardly over one shoulder, and his hair is a mess from where he’d pulled his sweater on over his head.

“Where’s Aunt Jessie?” He asks, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“In the car waiting for you,” Aaron says, his hand on his son’s shoulder, “Because you’re late.”

“Come here, honey,” Emily says, tugging Jack towards her and fixing his hair for him before leaning in to kiss his forehead, “Have fun.”

“Ok, Mom,” he says as if he’d said it a thousand times before, as he turns around and runs out of the kitchen, “Love you, see you tomorrow. You too, Dad.”

Aaron casts a look at his wife, who was sat frozen, her arm falling to her side as she stares at where Jack had just been standing. He follows his son to the front door, waves at Jessica in her car, and then closes the door. He walks back to the kitchen to find Emily still exactly as he had left her.

“Sweetheart,” he says, approaching her, “Are you ok?” He places a hand on her shoulder and it makes her jump slightly, her eyes shining as she looks up at him.

“Did he just…”

She drifts off and he smiles, tucking some hair behind her ear, “Yes he did.”

“And you…”

“Knew, yes,” he finishes for her, wiping away a tear he knew neither of them would address from her cheek, “Although, admittedly I did think he’d talk to you about it first.”

Emily lightly slaps his chest with the back of her hand before she pulls him towards her, her face pressing into his t-shirt.

“You jerk, you could have warned me,” she says, her voice muffled, but he can feel her smile, the happiness flowing through her.

“He only spoke to me about it this morning,” Aaron says, pulling back from her to kiss her, stamping another one against her lips before he carries on, “There wasn’t exactly time.”

“He wants to call me mom?” She asks, a crack to her voice that he expected, but that still makes him ache, his chest so full of love for her he thinks he might burst.

“Em,” he says, cupping her face in both his hands and leaning down to kiss her forehead, “You are his mom,” she turns her head to kiss his palm, another tear from her cheek warm against his skin as she moves. “Jack and I finished the family tree this morning, it’s still in the dining room if you want to see it.”

She pulls back, sniffing as she wipes her cheek, “We finished it last night,” she replies, confusion colouring her tone, and he simply smiles at her as he steps away, taking her abandoned breakfast bowl with him, and he shrugs.

Emily narrows her eyes at him and stands up from the stool she’d been sitting on, walking towards the dining room without further comment. She rounds the table to where Jack had been sitting last night, and chokes out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob as she looks at it, her hand over her mouth to try and capture the sound.

On Haley’s side of the tree, a line had been drawn out of her parent's to lay next to hers, the word ‘Aunt’ in handwriting that was clearly her husband’s below Jack’s that said ‘Jessica.’

On Aaron’s side, was a new column entirely. A box that said ‘Grandmother’ in his scrawl, with Jack’s messy writing spelling out ‘Elizabeth’ above it.

What makes Emily’s breath catch in her throat, and makes her wonder if she could ask the teacher to give this project back to them when it’s complete, is the box that is directly connected to Aaron’s and her mother’s. Both words written out by her son.

Emily.

Mom.

-x-

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Note

the 48 "kisses to shut them up" in any situation you want 'cause i love all your works

hiiii freind!!

Thank you so much!

I wrote this on my lunch break, and am posting it now too because I am hoping to get the next chapter of SGW out later <3

-x-

Words: 1k

Warnings: None!

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily sighs as she unzips the small backpack on the dining room table, slowly putting all the items around it into it.

“Spare change of clothes, indoor shoes, our info, snacks,” she says out loud, ignoring the slight shake to her voice, “her lunch and water bottle are in the fridge.”

“I’ve watched you pack your go-bag countless times,” Aaron says, and she looks up to find him standing in the archway leading to the dining room. He’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he smiles at her, “And I’ve never seen you put this much care into it.”

She smiles tightly at him before she looks back down at the backpack, ensuring the card with her and Aaron’s contact details were secure in the front pocket.

“Lexie only has one first day of kindergarten,” she replies, zipping the bag back up once she’s happy everything is inside, “I want to make sure everything is perfect.”

She couldn’t believe that her daughter was 5. That the once tiny baby who was so small she practically fit into one of Aaron’s hands was about to go to school. Lexie was excited, to the point where it had taken some time to convince her to go to bed this evening. Emily found it bittersweet. She loved watching her daughter grow up, her sweet personality developing, but it was hard. The world was getting bigger for Lexie, and Emily worried she couldn’t protect her from all of it.

Aaron crosses the room and wraps his arms around her, pulling her back into his embrace as he rests his chin on her shoulder.

“I still can’t believe she asked for a Batman backpack,” He says, turning his head to kiss his wife’s cheek, his eyes fixed on the black Batman emblazoned backpack stuffed full of her, otherwise very colourful, belongings.

Emily chuckles, linking her hand with Aaron’s, smiling as she remembers standing in the aisle at Target, Lexie on her hip as she helped her pick out school supplies.

“She said she wanted to be like Jack.”

Aaron feels the tension in his wife’s body, the way she holds herself tightly, and he turns her around in his embrace, his hands gentle at her hips. She was the strongest person he knew, something he told her often. He had seen her stare down serial killers without blinking, but this, the final preparations for their daughter's first day at school, was close to undoing her.

Jack and Lexie had always been able to chink her armour. Her protective nature making itself known over the tiniest things. He often wondered what he’d have to do when their kid's hearts were broken for the first time, if he’d literally have to hold her back from hunting the person who did it down.

“Are you ok?” He asks, his hand cupping her cheek. She sighs, her breath stuttering as she exhales.

“Yeah,” she replies, and he raises his eyebrow at her. A silent request that she tries again. She bites the inside of her cheek to try and stop her smile, a pleasant buzz in her stomach at the reminder of just how well he knew her, “No. I don’t know,” she sighs again, shaking her head at herself, “It’s just I can’t protect her at school,” she says, “And kids can be mean. So mean. And everyone always says Lexie is just like me, and -”

“Em-”

“And what if she never makes any friends?” She says, carrying on despite his attempt to stop her, all of the concerns she’d kept bottled up inside escaping now she’d opening the floodgates, “I never had any friends. And we all know what happened to me. My life spiralled and I hung out with the wrong people, and I ended up pregnant at 15-”

“Sweetheart-”

“I just want things to be better for her. She deserves better, and-”

He finally cuts her off by leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers. A quick kiss that stops her from spiralling any further. When he pulls back he makes sure she is looking right at him, her dark eyes meeting his hazel ones, and he smiles softly at her as her eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“You were spiralling sweetheart,” he says, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone, “Lex is going to be fine,” he says reassuringly, not missing how she tenses slightly again, “I understand that you’re worried, it’s totally normal. You should have seen me on Jack’s first day at school, Jess had to stop me from parking outside all day,” he smiles when she chuckles at that, “But she’s 5, baby. We have plenty of time to worry about all the other stuff.”

She groans and leans forward to press her forehead into his chest, “I know I’m crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” he says, kissing the side of her head, “You’re her mom. And you love her.”

“I really do,” she replies, choking out a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a chuckle.

“Mommy?”

They both turn at the sound of her daughter’s voice, and Emily quickly wipes a stray tear from her face as she does so the little girl doesn’t see it.

“Lexie, sweetie, what are you doing out of bed?” Emily says, disconnecting herself from her husband and walking towards the 5-year-old.

“Had a bad dream,” she replies, her eyes wet and shining.

“Oh come here baby,” Emily says, reaching out for her and lifting her onto her hip, “Let’s get you back to bed ok?”

“Mommy stay?” Lexie asks sleepily, resting her head on Emily’s chest, reaching out to play with her necklace.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” she promises, looking over at Aaron as they have a silent conversion, a promise they’d meet upstairs in their room soon, “Say goodnight to Daddy.”

“Night Daddy,” Lexie says, waving at her father.

“Night my little sasquatch,” he replies, winking at his wife who glares at him. Her feelings on the nickname that he’d settled on once Spencer explained Sasha was another nickname other than Lexie for Alexandra were incredibly clear.

Aaron watches as they walk away and looks at the bag his wife had packed for their daughter, a small card poking out the front pocket. He pulls it out and chuckles at his wife’s handwriting spelling out their names, and their credentials - making it clear to the poor kindergarten teacher that they both worked for the FBI.

It was going to be a long school year.

-x-

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Note

hellooooo

for the prompts: kisses 42 - kissing away tears and kisses 47 - tummy kisses

Ahh this one is cute!

Details on how to submit a prompt can be found here, along with a list of ones that have already been requested

Tomorrow is the last day you can submit a prompt! <;3

-x-

Words: 997

Warnings: Pregnancy

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Damn it.”

Aaron frowns at the sound of his wife’s voice travelling through from the living room, and he makes quick work of getting them both drinks. He grabs his bottle of beer and her soda from the kitchen counter and leaves the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, freezing in place when she comes into view. She’s sitting on the couch, an open pizza box on her lap and an utterly devastated look on her face. She was rubbing her hand back and forth over her stomach, a sign their baby was shifting around under her skin.

“They got the pizza wrong,” she says, looking up at him with tears shining in her eyes, some already falling onto her cheeks.

Pregnancy had utterly destroyed her ability to control her emotions. He knew it was her least favourite part of all of this. She’d taken the near-constant nausea in her stride, ginger ale and chewing gum were now always at the top of their grocery list, two things he would never dream of leaving the store without. She seemed to enjoy the changes to her body, the slight bulge in her stomach that had recently turned into a bump, her pregnancy no longer something that could be mistaken for bloating or a heavy meal.

Her emotional control was something she’d always worn like armour. Something she’d put together piece by piece throughout her childhood, a level of protection her mother had somehow forged and knew how to pierce at the same time. It had served Emily well throughout her chosen career at Interpol and now at the FBI. Allowing her to deal with people who had the worst a person could, her ability to compartmentalise rivalling even Aaron’s.

But it was gone. Left somewhere behind them in the weeks just before she found out she was pregnant, her fury at Derek for taking the last cookie that Penelope had brought in both disproportionate and the first sign something was different.

“Oh sweetheart,” he says, placing the drinks down on the coffee table and sitting next to her, “It’s ok-”

“It’s not ok, Aaron,” she replies, cutting over him, wiping furiously at her cheeks, “They put pepperoni on it. I can’t eat that.”

He looks down at the pizza in question, something she would have happily eaten 6 months ago, and then back up at her. Not only was it processed meat, something that she wasn’t supposed t to eat anyway, but the smell of it alone was enough to make her nausea increase.

“It’s ok, baby,” he says, closing the box and taking it from her lap, placing it on the coffee table, “I can just go out and get another one.” His hope that his offer would cheer her up dies as quickly as it had appeared, her face screwing up as her tears only fall faster, “Sweetheart-”

“I’m sorry,” she cries, leaning into his side, her face buried in his shoulder, “I don’t know why I’m crying,” she pulls back, shaking her head at herself as she furiously wipes tears from her cheeks, “It’s only fucking pizza.”

“Don’t curse in front of the baby,” he replies, smiling at her as she rolls her eyes at him. He grabs her hand and links their fingers together, “Emily, you’re growing a person. You’re allowed to be emotional.”

She groans, “It’s just so stupid,” she complains, frowning at herself.

“Hey,” he says, playfully narrowing his eyes at her, “That’s the love of my life you’re calling stupid.”

She shakes her head at him, fighting a smile as she does so. A battle she eventually loses.

“You’re ridiculous,” she replies, wiping at her cheeks, almost growling in frustration as they get immediately replaced, “Why am I still crying?”

Aaron leans in and kisses her cheek, tasting the salt on her skin as he kisses the tears away before moving to her other cheek. He stamps a kiss to her lips before pulling back, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

“Want me to go out and get some more food for you?”

“No it’s ok, I can eat something we have in the freezer,” she says, an expression on her face that he didn’t need to be a profiler to see through. He leans in and kisses her forehead, before kissing her stomach, his hand over hers on her bump.

“Em.”

She sighs, “Yes I would like that very much.”

“I’ll go get it now,” he says as he stands up, “Pizza again, or something else?”

“Pizza would be great, just-”

“No pepperoni,” he finishes for her, patting his pockets to see if he still had the car keys with him, before spotting them on the table. “Text me if you want anything else, I’ll let you know when I’m on the way home.”

“Thank you, honey,” she says, clearing her throat, her eyes shining again, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Both of you.”

He’s out the door and barely in the car when his phone chimes in his pocket, the specific tone he had set for his wife. He pulls it out and smiles at the photo he has set as his wallpaper. It was a photo of him, Emily and Jack together with wide smiles on all their faces.

It was exciting to think they’d be adding a new face to their family within a matter of months. He opens the text and chuckles, shaking his head at his wife.

Baby wants ice cream too

He moves to put his phone down, his hand reaching to turn the ignition on when it chimes again, another message appearing in the conversation with Emily.

Don’t laugh at me.

He looks back at the house and sees his wife standing in the living room window, waving at him with a smirk on her face. He waves back and puts his phone down, determined to go and get her food.

The sooner he left, the sooner he’d be home.

-x-

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Text

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Two

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: discussion of addiction/alcoholism

Full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along

-x-

Thanks so much for the love on chapter 1, I hope you enjoy this chapter too <3

-x-

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

June 2008

“You’re an idiot.”

Aaron casts a glance over to Emily, her hands tight on the steering wheel as she focuses on the road and he sighs before looking forward again, his head aching in a way he was struggling to ignore.

“So you keep saying,” he replies, an edge of sarcasm to his voice that she picks up on, scoffing at him in return.

“You’re lucky you can hear me call you an idiot, you know that right?” She says, looking at him briefly before she carries on looking where they are going. “L'idiot têtu aurait pu perdre l'ouïe et il me donne de l'attitude.”

“I may not be able to speak French, Emily, but even I know what ‘l’idiot’ means,” he grumbles, butchering the pronunciation in a way that makes her smile despite her annoyance.“And keep in mind I am your boss.”

“No, right now you’re my friend who took a ridiculous risk with his health,” she replies, tightening her grip on the steering wheel again as she blows out a steady breath, the frustration and concern she’d felt towards him since he’d reacted to the loud sounds at the cemetery finally bubbling over now they were alone, “I asked you, Aaron. I asked if you were cleared to return to work and you said yes.”

Ever since her visit to his office after he’d been served papers in front of the team, they’d become closer. Emily had even insisted on helping him find his apartment, talking him into the 12-month lease so at least he’d have somewhere to live near Jack and Haley, a sparkle in her eyes as she joked it also wasn’t that far away from her place. They’d become each other’s cornerstone, their friendship a place of strength they could both draw from when needed.

It felt like she was walking a fine line sometimes, her feelings for him blurring almost beyond recognition. Somewhere along the way of helping him stitch his life back together she’d fallen in love with him. Everything had become clear, almost scarily so, as she watched the footage of him thrown from the exploding SUV in New York.

Sometimes she liked to think he felt the same way about her, get lost in overanalysing the way she’d catch him looking at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, but most of the time it felt like a fantasy. Any hope snuffed out, blown away like a flickering flame, when she saw the look on his face when someone mentioned Haley or Jack, the hurt still obvious.

“I’m sorry, Em,” he says, genuinely sounding remorseful, “I didn’t…” he sighs, “I needed to get back to work.”

She hums in response, knowing this wasn’t something they’d agree on, not yet anyway, so she looks at him again, sees how he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, and tilts her head to indicate her purse on the backseat.

“There are painkillers in my purse,” she says, smiling when he reaches for it immediately, “We’ll stop soon, make sure you can get some rest.”

“You didn’t have to come with me, you know,” he says, smiling at the sight of the candy strewn amongst her essentials in her purse as he pulls out the painkillers, “You could have flown back with the others.”

She shakes her head at him, “Absolutely not, I think we’ve proven you can’t be left to your own devices,” she says, and it feels too real, too honest, so she chuckles, “Although, I do wish we’d brought those brownies with us.”

“At least we have your supply of peanut butter cups to keep us going,” he quips, holding up her purse, and she glares at him. He laughs, before turning serious, his hand reaching out and squeezing her shoulder. “Thanks, Em. I appreciate the company”

She has to swallow down the treacherous hope that spreads up her chest, the taste somehow bitter and sweet at the same time in the back of her throat as she shrugs, his hand slipping from her shoulder and leaving her feeling cold.

He never called her Prentiss when it was just the two of them anymore, and her full name often gave way to Em. Something no one had called her since her father had left when she was young. It sounded better when Aaron said it, something about the way the single syllable fell from his lips.

“You’d do the same for me.” She replies, flashing him a smile she hopes he can’t see through.

She knows it’s true, whether he loved her like she wanted him to or not.

___

They stop in a small town overnight due to Emily’s insistence that they do so, claiming he needs a rest.

The small lodge they find is beautiful, and it’s nice enough they decide to accept the one remaining room they have instead of risking going to the next town over in the hopes of finding a place with two rooms.

The room is basic, with two double beds and a vanity with an adjoining bathroom, but it was good enough for one night. They decide to go to a bar just up the street, not quite ready for bed yet.

Aaron watches as she waits for their drinks, a smile on his face as he sees the bartender clearly attempting to flirt with her as Emily turns him down at every chance. He feels jealousy lick at his insides at the mere sight of another man talking to her like that, and he shakes his head at himself.

Emily walks over, a glass in each hand, and joins him at their table. “That guy was… persistent,” she comments as she sits down, a joking tone to her voice.

“He’ll have a restraining order if he isn’t careful,” Aaron quips, looking at the man over Emily’s shoulder and glaring at him, getting some satisfaction in the speed that he pretends to look busy.

She laughs, drawing his attention back towards her, and she’s looking him up and down, “It’s not too loud in here for you, is it?” He shakes his head, grateful that she’d asked. It was mostly quiet, just a few locals and a jukebox in the corner. She smiles at him, her eyes sparkling with something close to mischief, “You not going to drink that? It’s the finest scotch you’ll find in the middle of nowhere Virginia.”

He chuckles half-heartedly, staring at the drink she’d handed him. Whilst he’d never had a problem with it himself, he had a complicated relationship with alcohol and didn’t want to fall into the same traps that had ruined his childhood. Scars, both physical and mental, that had never truly faded. Left behind by a man who had never truly cared about anyone other than himself.

“Aaron?”

He looks up at her and sees the concern in her eyes, and realises he must have drifted off, his thoughts blocking out anything except his past. He sighs, his jaw tight.

“My dad was an alcoholic,” Aaron admits, the words escaping from nowhere, unaware he was going to say them until he sees her reaction. It’s tiny, a slight raise of her eyebrows as her eyes stay fixed on his, but it’s enough to encourage him to keep on going, wanting nothing more than to bask in her comfort. He looks at his untouched scotch, and a bitter laugh leaves his lips, “I keep waiting for the day when I can have a drink without thinking of him,” he looks up at her, “I always ask myself if this is the one that will turn me into him, if in 40 years Jack will be sat in a bar somewhere wondering the same thing.”

“That won’t happen,” Emily says, sounding so confident even though she’d never met the man that he wants to believe her. She reaches over and puts her hand over his, their long-standing embargo on touching each other clearly broken. He finds that he doesn’t want to go back, doesn’t want to forget how it feels to have her skin over his, “You’re an amazing father. Jack loves you and worships the ground you walk on.”

“I don’t know,” Aaron sighs, finally taking a sip of his scotch, and placing the glass back down, “Don’t we all turn into our parents eventually?” He sees her flinch, a momentary thing that flashes across her face and she withdraws her hand from him, offering him a tight smile before she has a sip of her wine. He winces, realising what he’s said, the pain in his head making him slower than usual, less cautious. “Emily, I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head at him, lets him know he has nothing to be sorry for and she looks down at her hands.

“If I have a really bad day,” she starts, licking at the corner of her lip as she sighs, a humourless laugh escaping her, “And I mean a terrible, it feels like the world is ending kind of day, I won’t have a drink. I’ll order in some take out, smoke a cigarette from my secret stash,” she says, and he smiles at her, something endearing about the admittance that warms his chest, “And maybe make a hot chocolate. But I’ll leave the scotch, or the wine, to a different day.”

He looks at her curiously, taking another sip of his drink as he waits her out. He knew she was like him, that she needed time to process things, to say what she wanted to say. Everything she said was measured, and she rarely spoke with an emotional reaction. A side effect of the training she’d had as a child, taught from an early age that everything she said, and felt, would be the target of scrutiny.

“My mother started to drink after my dad left,” she says, looking down at her hands, shaking her head at the memory, “It was always a part of her life, part of her work. But it got worse. And by the time she stopped a decade later there was enough damage to her liver that she needed surgery,” she looks up at him, her lips in a tight line, “Did you know if you have had a drinking problem you won’t always qualify for a transplant?” She asks, and he nods, “Well, I didn’t before then. I was a match so…I gave up one hell of a job opportunity with Interpol to donate her some of my liver.” He stares at her, unsure what to say, unsure if there was anything he could say, and she carries on, the words seemingly spilling out of her now she had started, “We both recovered and have barely spoken about it since. She never drank again though, which is the closest she’s ever come to saying thank you,”

She’d never said it out loud, never spoken about this with anyone who wasn’t her mother, the surgeon who did the procedure or her doctor, and she knows it's because she trusts him. That this conversation will go no further, that he’ll never talk about it again unless she wants to. He was a fortress of his own secrets, and now he was starting to keep hers safe too. Locked up and tucked in next to his.

“I had no idea,” he says and she smiles sadly at him, watches as he clearly goes over the interactions he’d had with her mother in the few times he’d met her.

“You wouldn’t,” she replies, “She was very high functioning, and now she acts like it never happened,” she blows out a steady breath, shaking her head at herself, “It’s probably for the best, we’ve never had the kind of relationship where we could just talk.”

Emily remembers how she had, naively, hoped the surgery would change that. That by literally giving a part of herself to her mother, things would improve between them. She still had stitches in her abdomen when it became clear that wasn’t true, her mother’s damning comments about how awful she looked one of the very few times she could class Elizabeth as cruel. After that she’d shut herself off, got a job at the FBI that she knew would piss off her mother and moved to the mid-west, making her life smaller until she was ready for it to be big again.

“You’re an amazing person, Em,” he says, and her head snaps up to look at him, her neck twinging with the movement. Her eyes meet his and there is nothing but naked honesty and admiration in his eyes, and he smiles at her, “It’s true.”

She blushes, unable to control it as she lets the compliment, something he rarely gave out to anyone, wash over her. It was warm, comforting.

Something she wanted more of.

“Well, thank you. Maybe you could tell my mother that one day,” she replies, clearing her throat, before looking around the now mostly abandoned bar, “We should get head back to our room,” she says, standing up, “And try and get some sleep, we’ve got to get up early to finish our drive.”

___

The ringing in his ears keeps him awake, a near-constant sound that was slowly driving him insane.

He knew part of it was his fault. His stupidity in forcing himself back to work, back to something close to normal, partially fueled by his desire to get out of his empty apartment. The last time he’d been sick or hurt enough to stay off work was years ago, his marriage still working, his wife on hand to look after him.

The quiet in his apartment had almost been as loud as the explosion that could have killed him, his only reprieve was when he had visits from Jack or Emily, who came over whenever she could to keep him company. He turns his head to look at her, smiling at the sight of her fast asleep in the other bed. She’d made him take the bed closest to the door, insisting he could be the first line of defence if someone broke in in the night to kill them both, damaged ear or not.

He watches her in the low light of the room, allowing himself to be captivated by her in a way he never would when she was awake. On a basic level, he had always known she was beautiful, even when he was still trying to save his marriage as it crumbled around him, but as he got to know her beauty only deepened for him. She was smart, thoughtful, and empathetic in a way he could only dream of being. He valued her opinion more than almost anyone else at this point, and he would do anything to make her laugh, to see the smile he was sure would convince him to move mountains if she asked.

He knew what he felt for her was more than friendship, the emotions deeper in a way than they were for anyone else on the team, or in his life. Somehow, apart from Jack, Emily had become the most important person in his life.

He sighs as he sits up in bed, making his way to the bathroom in the hopes that when he climbs back into bed it will reset his brain. The flush of the toilet makes him wince, the sound loud enough to make the ringing briefly worse.

When he walks back out of the bathroom he has to walk past her bed, and he almost misses it, doesn’t hear anything because his bad ear is facing her, the ringing blocking everything else out. He only catches the movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turns to look at her fully. She’s shifting in the bed, the peaceful sleep she had been experiencing just minutes ago gone as her hands grasp at the sheets. He walks over, sitting on the edge of her bed, and it’s only when he’s closer that he hears her muttering, and he’s sure he would have missed it entirely if he’d stayed in bed.

“Em,” he says gently, his hand on her shoulder as he shakes her, “Em, wake up.”

She jolts awake, sitting up so quickly he has to move back to stop their heads from colliding, and he holds her shoulders, one of his hands briefly drifting to her cheek to make her look at him, her eyes wild.

“Aaron?”

“Yeah,” he assures her, “It’s me,” he smiles at her, “Nightmare?”

She nods in response, taking another deep breath as she holds the sheet over her in her hands, her fists tight. “Yeah…nightmare.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, and he’s unsure what to do, only used to comforting his toddler in these moments and he flashes a wry smile at her.

“I would have woken you up sooner, but I didn’t hear you.” She nods a tight movement that makes him wonder if he’s said the wrong thing, again. “Want to talk about it?”

She swallows thickly, looking up at him from the bedding over her lap, “It was New York,” she replies, clearing her throat, “The bombing.”

“Oh sweet-, Em,” he corrects himself, tripping over his words in an attempt to stop her from catching the term of endearment that had almost slipped free, “I’m ok.”

He pulls her into a hug that she gratefully returns, her arms wrapped tightly around him as she reminds herself that he was really here. That the twisted vision of her nightmare was simply that, something her brain had conjured up to torture her.

“You almost weren’t though,” she says, her forehead against his shoulder, “A few paces closer to the car and…” she drifts off, pulling her head back to look at him, “You could have died.”

“I’m right here,” he says, reaching for her hair and straightening out her bangs, his fingers trailing down her cheek until he’s cupping her jaw, “I’m here.”

Later, when she’d ask him why he kissed her then, he wouldn’t able to answer, to say anything other than it just felt right. He leans forward and presses his lips to hers, something he was sure he should have done long ago.

For a moment, she lets herself get lost in it, the feel of his lips against hers. The taste of his toothpaste on his tongue, but then she pulls back, her hand on his chest, fingers curling slightly into his shirt, as she heaves in a breath.

“We can’t.”

“Em-”

“I won’t be your rebound, Aaron,” she says, her voice sounding stronger than she felt. He frowns as if her comment was ridiculous, and she feels his hand on her lower back, his skin warm through her shirt, “You got divorced 6 months ago, and you’re still…recovering from that.”

He rests his forehead against hers, cursing himself for not making himself clearer, for letting her think, even for a moment, that he’d use her in that way.

“Emily, you could never be a rebound,” he says, pulling back to look at her, his hand more insistent at her lower back as he sees the look in her eyes, the uncertainty he had put there, “My marriage to Haley was over long before we got divorced.”

“I know, but-”

“No buts,” he says, cutting over her, his free hand cupping her face, his thumb pressing into her lower lip, testing the fullness of it, wanting nothing more than to surge forward and kiss her again. He sighs as his hand drifts from her face to push hair behind her ear, “I don’t know how to prove that to you, but would you let me try? If you trust me.”

She stares at him for what feels like an age, emotions tumbling through her chest, tangling together in a way she was sure she’d never be able to fully unpick. This wouldn’t be simple, she knew that it would never just be the two of them. He had an ex-wife and a son, and the team would no doubt also have opinions, but she wanted this. Him. And apparently, he wanted her too.

“Ok,” she replies, the tightness in her chest easing at the relief on his face, the way he holds her a little tighter, “I trust you.”

He smiles, nodding at her as he frames her face in his hands, pulling her into another kiss. She lets herself enjoy this one, her hands slipping from his chest to up around his neck, holding him in place. They only break apart when they have to, foreheads pressed against each other as they both heave in oxygen, their lungs burning in the most delicious of ways.

“I trust you too,” he says, the words whispered against her lips, his breath skipping across her face, and she smiles.

They weren’t the three words either of them wanted to say, both aware it was far too soon for that, but they would do for now.

___

May 2009

She counts the pairs of shoes twice.

It’s what she has to do in order to believe what she’s seeing. To be sure that it isn’t some cruel trick her mind is playing on her, or that she was exaggerating it somehow.

Her mother had always said she was prone to that.

Eighty-nine pairs. Eighty-nine people.

People who had just disappeared, missed by no one or missed by people who weren’t taken seriously. It had, after all, taken a man driving through a cross-border checkpoint to get listened to about his missing sister.

It makes her think of Jack like most cases did these days. The little boy, that she knows she couldn’t love more if she’d given birth to him herself, sleeping safely in his bed at Haley’s house. She knows she’d tear the world apart to find him, as would Haley and Aaron, never stopping until they an answer.

Part of her wishes they’d never gotten this call. That they were with Jack as they’d planned, helping him settle into the place he’d now call home when he was with them. But she knows this is where they need to be, that despite the horrors, the things she knows she will never unsee, they will get closure for the people who had died here.

It was the last thing anyone would do for them.

Emily sighs, shaking her head as she watches the crime scene techs line up the shoes. A hand lands on her shoulder and she jumps, turning to see Aaron standing behind her, an apologetic look already written on his face.

“Fuck, Aaron,” She exclaims, her shot nerves evident by her reaction, she wasn’t usually as easily spooked, “I need to get you a bell or something.”

He smiles tightly at her, appreciating her attempt at humour, no matter how much it falls flat. The rancid evil in the air, that he’s sure will cling to them like a bad smell long after they return home, destroying even her ability to cheer him up.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, squeezing her shoulder as he leads her away just enough that they can talk without being overheard, a few moments of privacy they both desperately needed, “Are you ok?”

“No,” she answers honestly, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers, their position enough to hide it from those around them, not that anyone would judge them for it here, “Are you?”

“No,” he replies, squeezing her hand before dropping it, taking comfort in her proximity instead, “I don’t think anyone is.”

He looks around, sees his team scattered around the farm, spots Dave still sitting inside with Mason, and he wonders how much longer they can all do this. There was always another case, another person hellbent on destroying the lives of others with a justification only they could understand.

“This place is just…” she blows out a breath, a humourless chuckle escaping her as she shakes her head, “They must have all been so scared,” she turns and looks at the shoes again, rows and rows of them, before she looks back at her boyfriend, “We’ve got to find Kelly,” she says, an edge of desperation to her voice she’d never let the others hear, “She can’t…we’ve got to find her.”

“We will,” he assures her, even though he knows it’s a promise he can’t keep. They all need this, to rescue someone from this hell on earth. They needed something to make all of this, and the burdens they’d all carry afterwards, worth it.

“Alive?” She asks, biting the inside of her cheek as her eyes stare into his. It isn’t fair, that he can’t promise her that, but she needs something, anything, to make this feel better, even if just for a moment. She knows she’s been harsher than she meant to be when she sees the hurt briefly flash across his eyes. “Sorry.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “Don’t be, I get it.”

It was something that made his relationship with Emily different to the one he’d had with Haley. They both saw the same things, experienced the horrors that came hand in hand with their work. He didn’t have to hide this bit of himself from her, worried that he’d say too much.

Emily smiles at him, a silent promise they’d talk about it all when they got home. Safe in the apartment they’d soon be sharing, away from anything that could possibly hurt them. She gathers herself and lets the Prentiss mask fall back into place.

“Did you need me for something?” She asks, and he flashes a smile at her, her ever-practical nature something he loved and admired in equal measure. “Derek and I were about to walk the perimeter again.”

“I actually wanted to show you something,” he replies, digging his phone out of his pocket before he unlocks it and hands it over, “I thought you could do with it as much as I did.”

She takes his phone and smiles when she sees it’s his message history with Haley, the most recent only a couple of hours old. The latest message from her is a photo of Jack, playing with the train set Emily had bought for him a couple of months ago. It makes warmth briefly spread through Emily’s chest, something she hadn’t thought she could feel, and she’s once again reminded of just how much she loves the little boy. The photo is accompanied by a message from Haley that makes her smile too.

‘Saw the farm on the news, and thought you could do with this. Make sure Emily sees it too. As soon as you get back I’ll bring him over.’

“That’s nice of her,” Emily says, passing the phone back to Aaron, exchanging a small smile with him, “Thank you for showing it to me.”

He shrugs, like it wasn’t everything, like this small reminder of the life that existed beyond this awful place wasn’t enough to get her through the rest of their time there.

“If I didn’t show you, she’d only ask about it and then I’d be in trouble with both of you.”

She rolls her eyes at him, “That was one time. And you forgot to tell her I’d scheduled his haircut, and he ended up with two appointments.”

He shakes his head at her, his smile fading as he looks around them, his attention needed elsewhere “You’ll be ok?”

She nods, “Yeah, I will be.”

“When we get home,” he says, taking a step closer, “I’ll make us hot chocolate whilst I ignore you having a cigarette.”

It’s a promise she knows he’ll keep and she nods at him, swallowing back her first genuine smile in what felt like days, knowing it wouldn’t be appropriate where they were.

“I’d like that.”

He smiles at her once more before heading off in the direction he’s being called to. Emily sighs and grabs her phone from her pocket. She sends a quick text to Haley to thank her for the message, and to ask her to give Jack a hug for her before she puts it away again.

“Prentiss,” Derek says, and she turns to look at him and he tilts his head towards where he’s standing, “You coming?”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” she replies, already walking over, ready to get the job done. To hopefully save a young girl from the fate that so many people had fallen victim to.

They’d be home soon, and then they could put this behind them.

-x-

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Note

I would like to request: Touching 25: stroking the other’s arm soothingly. Thank you! And congrats on the 500+ followers :-)

Thank you so much bestie <3

I hope you enjoy this!

Details on how to submit a prompt can be found here, along with a list of ones that have already been requested

-x-

Words: 982

Warnings: Nightmares

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She wakes up suddenly.

At first, she’s not sure what’s done it. It’s still dark in their bedroom, and it’s too early for the alarm to have gone off. It only takes a few seconds for the mattress to shift, for the all too familiar groan to echo around the otherwise quiet room.

Emily turns on the lamp on her nightstand as she sits up. She turns to look at Aaron and she’s not surprised to find him in the middle of a nightmare, a sadly regular occurrence in their home.

“Oh, Aaron,” she says out loud, her fingers twitching to reach out for him.

She waits him out, knowing from past experience it was best to let him wake up naturally. A lesson learnt by a bruise on her wrist from where he’d grabbed her in his sleep that took weeks to fade. His guilt had lingered even long after the fingerprints on her skin, her misplaced jokes about how he’d done worse during sex falling flat.

Her heart twists in her chest as she watches him closely, every second an eternity as she waits for the moment he wakes up so she can comfort him. So she can slowly bring him back to her. Remind him what his subconscious so often tried to make him forget.

That he’d survived the very worst a person could. That he’d made it through.

That they had a life together now.

He sits up suddenly, a gasp leaving him as he does so, and she’s immediately on him. One hand on his shoulder and the other reaching for his face, the cold metal of her engagement ring against his skin. She tilts his head so he looks at her, his eyes still slightly wild.

“Hey, you’re ok,” she says, keeping her voice quiet and calm despite the way her heart hammered in her chest, “You’re ok, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

“Em?” He chokes out, his breathing still ragged, and she nods, shifting closer to him so she is all but sitting in his lap, her forehead against his. He wraps his arms around her tightly, as if she was his anchor. The thing that kept him grounded.

“Yes, it’s me,” she replies, wrapping both arms around him so she can cup the back of his head, her fingers tangled in his short hair as she holds him in place, “I’m here.”

His breathing slowly evens out, and his grip on her loosens. He swallows thickly, pulling back just enough so he can look into her eyes, a shaky smile spreading across his face.

“I’m sorry.”

She smiles softly at him, idly pushing his hair off of his forehead as she shakes her head. It was a common occurrence, unnecessary apologies that they both uttered as they came back to themselves. Free, for now, of their long-dead monsters and the pasts they would never quite escape.

It felt like a privilege to care for him like this, that he allowed her to. And she knew he felt the same when he did it for her.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she leans forward and kisses his cheek and then his lips, “Shall we lay back down?”

Aaron nods, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth as they lay back down. They do so like it's a well-practised dance, a routine neither of them wishes they had to know. He lays behind her, his chest firm against her back as he holds her close, his arm tight around her waist. It’s what he needed in moments like this - to hold her. Just like she needed to be surrounded by him when it was her waking them in the middle of the night. The weight of him against her enough to remind her she was safe.

She places her hand on his arm, stroking her hand up and down it, allowing herself to feel the muscle underneath. The strength that was always present lingering under his skin, always ready to protect her and Jack. She carries on doing it, a soothing pattern from his elbow to his wrist that she knew he loved, another reminder that she was there, as she begins to speak.

“Did I tell you Mother called about the wedding again today?” She asks, and she tilts her head back to look at him, exchanging a small smile as he shakes his head. She rests her head back on her pillow, “It was about the table settings this time,” she says, continuing with her fingers up and down his skin, “She brought up babies breath again even though I’ve told her, repeatedly, I refuse to have flowers at my wedding that smell like cat piss.”

When he chuckles into the top of her head, she smiles, pleased that she’d achieved what she had set out to. She can’t remember how it started now, at what point they’d started to exchange little stories in the aftermath of a nightmare, but it had become part of their ritual. Little reminders of what they had to come, of the good things they had ahead. An essential part of living with what they’d had to survive.

“I thought you settled on dahlias.”

Her soft smile widens, something easing in her chest as he speaks for the first time since his apology as he tore through the haze of his nightmare.

“I did,” she replies, “Mother just hasn’t quite accepted that yet.”

They fall into silence after that, and he briefly removes his arm from around her, reaching over to turn the lamp back off before he curls around her again. She starts stroking his skin again as if she had never stopped, aware she’d carry on until he fell asleep.

“I love you,” he says, kissing the side of her head, and she briefly squeezes his arm, holding him closer.

“I love you too.”

-x-

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Text

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Thirteen

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Sorry it's been almost 2 weeks since I last updated this one, I hope you enjoy it <3

-x-

Words: 3.5k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along

Read over on Ao3, or the below the cut

September 2008

Emily yawns as she looks at the clock on the nightstand, sighing as she looks at the time. They’d just been about to settle down for dinner when Strauss called, demanding Aaron went back to the office for some paperwork that apparently couldn’t wait until Monday. He’d turned down Emily’s offer to buy a burner phone and leave Strauss some very colourful voicemails and headed back to work. It was taking longer than they’d hoped and she decides to try to get some sleep.

She’s just about to turn over, to switch off the lamp, when the door creaks open and she hears a tiny voice.

“Daddy?”

She sits up and looks over to the door and is met by the sight of Jack in his rumbled pyjamas, his hair a mess from where he’d been sleeping. He had his favourite stuffed animal, a bear she’d given him the first time they’d met, hanging from his hands and tear tracks on his face that make her heart twist.

“Hi sweetie,” she says softly, “Daddy had to go back to work for a little bit.”

“Why?” He asks, looking unsure as he gazes around the room, and she’s suddenly very aware this is the first time it’s been just the two of them alone together.

“His boss needed his help with something.”

He sniffs, wiping at his nose, “The dragon lady?”

Emily covers a laugh with a cough and makes a mental note to make sure she was more careful about how she spoke when Jack was around. She decides to change the subject, hoping he doesn’t notice.

“Are you ok, Jack?”

He looks down at the ground as if he’s embarrassed, “I had a bad dream.”

Her heart twists again, and she feels overwhelmed by the need to make it better for him. To cheer him up and fight off anything that wanted to hurt him, even if it was his own imagination.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey,” she says, itching to reach out for him but knowing it had to be his call. He stands there staring at her as if he wasn’t sure what he wants, and she smiles at him, “Did Daddy ever tell you about my magic hugs?”

He furrows his brows, looking so much like Aaron it makes her smile, “Magic hugs?”

She hums in response, nodding at him as she sits up even further in bed, enthusiasm injected into her voice as she softly encourages him.

“Remember when Daddy was sick a few weeks ago, he had a cold?” She says, and Jack nods, taking a tentative step closer to the bed, “What do you think made it better?”

“A hug?” He asks, stepping closer again, and she nods in response even though she knew it was more likely the Tylenol she’d made him take. Although Aaron would argue it was the 12 hours he’d spent with his face buried against her collarbone.

“Of course.”

Decision made, Jack finishes his journey across the room and climbs into bed with her. She pulls him into a hug and kisses the top of his head, the ache in her chest easing as he settles into her embrace.

“Do you want to tell me about your dream?” She asks, and he shakes his head, burying his face into her neck, reaching out for her hair and wrapping his fingers into it, “You just want to cuddle?” He nods, and she kisses his head again, rocking him slightly in her arms.

“Emmy?” He says eventually, and she looks down at him, smiling as their eyes meet.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“You pretty,” he says, still playing with her hair, “Like a princess.”

She’s surprised by the way she blushes. How the compliment from the almost 3-year-old means more to her than most of the things any romantic partner had said to her over the years. She clears her throat, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“Thank you, Jack.”

___

When Aaron gets home the apartment is quiet.

He makes quick work of making sure the door is locked before he abandons his briefcase over the back of the couch. Any frustration he felt towards Strauss for taking an evening with his family away from him is gone the moment he opens his bedroom door.

Emily and Jack are fast asleep on her side of the bed. The toddler is curled up around her, one hand grasping her pyjama shirt and the other his favourite teddy bear. It makes him smile, love for both of them almost knocks him off of his feet.

He does a quick version of his nighttime routine before climbing into bed with them. The dip of the mattress wakes up Emily, and she groans, blindly reaching out behind her for him.

“Aaron?”

“It’s me, sweetheart,” he replies quietly, “Go back to sleep. Sorry I was gone so long,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to her head, wanting to make sure he didn’t wake her up entirely. “Although, I’ve been gone a few hours and there is already another man in your bed.”

She chuckles, the sound hoarse with sleep, and she shifts to look at him, her eyes barely open.

“He had a nightmare,” she explains, sleeping reaching for him and patting his cheek when she sees his face fall, “He’s ok, I fixed it,” she says, not a trace of her earlier anxieties anywhere to be found.

Aaron can’t help but smile at the way she’s phrased it, or the sleepy smile on her face. He gathers her into his arms, shifting them so they were closer to Jack, the little boy just within reach.

“You fix a lot of things,” he replies, running his hand up and down her back to lull her back to sleep.

“You say the cheesiest shit,” she mumbles, “Although you might have some competition Agent Hotchner, according to your son I’m pretty like a princess.”

Aaron chuckles, shaking his head as he presses a kiss to the top of her head, “He’s not wrong, sweetheart. Go to sleep.”

“Love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, and he feels her get heavier against him, her breath evening out against his neck, “More than you know.”

___

“Is it bad that I’m hoping for a case?”

Emily chuckles and turns in her chair to look at Derek, smirking at the pile of paperwork on his desk.

“Last time I said something like that to Aaron he threatened to make me go to a psych eval,” she quips, and he laughs too, leaning back in his chair as he shakes his head at her.

“How did you get out of that one?”

She raises an eyebrow at him, biting her lower lip as she tries to contain her mischievous smile, “I don’t think you want to know the answer to that.”

“Oh gross,” he says, grimacing when she simply laughs louder at him, “I don’t need to know about what you and Hotch get up to.”

She rolls her eyes, swinging back and forth in her chair, “We’re both adults. And besides,” she winks at him, “You asked.”

Derek narrows his eyes at her, and opens his mouth to respond, something she was sure would have been inappropriate on the tip of his tongue, but he’s cut off by Aaron.

“Em?”

The use of her first name in the office makes concern spark in her belly, and when she turns to face him, her smile slips away entirely at the look on his face.

“Aaron, what’s wrong?” She asks, already standing up, rounding her desk to stand next to him. She has to put her hands in her jacket pockets to stop herself from reaching out for him.

“That was Jack’s school, he fell off the jungle gym,” he says, his jaw tight, his emotions ready to snap, “They think he broke his arm.”

She feels a physical ache in her chest at the mere thought of Jack being hurt. It briefly makes her freeze, but she snaps out of it - knowing she had to be there for Aaron. She gives in to her instincts and reaches out for him, placing her hand on his arm and squeezing.

“Did they take him to the hospital and call Haley too?” She asks, and he nods in response, “Then we’ll go meet her there. Go to your office and get your things.” She says, turning to look at Derek, “Morgan-”

“I’ll keep things running here, and if Strauss sticks her nose in I’ll say it was a family emergency.”

She sighs gratefully, offering him a smile, “Thanks, Derek,” she says, reaching for her bag, “I owe you one.”

“All I ask is that you stop telling me stuff about your sex life,” he deadpans, winking at her to let her know he was just trying to make her feel better.

She laughs tightly, the brief flash of levity desperately needed, and she’s already walking away when she responds. “I will when you stop reacting.”

She meets Aaron at the glass doors and walks to the elevator with him. She spots the keys to his car in his hand, and she takes them from him, before slipping her fingers between his. He looks at her, his eyebrows furrowed.

“If you think you’re driving, you’ve got another thing coming,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him as the elevator doors open.

He concedes with a sigh and a brief nod. Grateful that she was here, that she knew how to quietly look after him.

“Come on,” she says gently, squeezing his hand as she leads him into the elevator, “The sooner we leave, the sooner we get there.”

___

The nurse makes her wait in the waiting room.

They’d arrived at the same time as Haley and approached the desk together, all of them saying Jack’s name in unison at the slightly startled-looking nurse at the reception desk. Emily had been poised to use her badge if necessary, her hand already reaching for it when the nurse allowed Aaron and Haley to pass before stopping her.

“Mom and Dad only I’m afraid.”

The words kept going around in her head. As did the look on Aaron’s face as he narrowed his eyes, ready to yell at anyone who would listen that she needed to go through too. She’d simply squeezed his hand and told him to go, that she’d be fine. It had taken a second but he’d listened, following the nurse with his ex-wife next to him.

She wished she could have gone with them. That she could have seen Jack herself, the quick text Aaron had sent her to assure her the little boy was fine doing nothing to make her feel better. Instead, she sits in the hallway, her leg bouncing up and down as she twists her engagement ring around her finger.

It doesn’t help that this was the same hospital Aaron had stayed in after Foyet’s attack. That this was the same waiting room she’d sat in, covered in his blood, as she struggled to come to terms with the fact she could lose him.

She has no idea how much time has passed, seconds feeling like hours, by the time she hears her name being called out.

“Emmy!”

She stands up at the sound of Jack’s voice, relief she doesn’t think she’s ever felt before flooding through her as he runs towards her, slowing down to a walk at Haley’s insistence, a broad grin on his face and a bright purple cast on his left arm. She looks just past him and Aaron and Haley are behind him, struggling to keep up with the little boy.

“Hi, sweet boy,” she says, leaning down to scoop him up into a hug. She’s as careful with his arm as she can be as she settles him on her hip. She cringes as the hard cast connects with the side of her neck, but he doesn’t react, and it settles some of her anxiety. She kisses his cheek, “Were you brave for the doctor?” He nods enthusiastically, using his good hand to reach out for her hair, tangling his fingers in the dark locks as he so often did when he needed comfort. “Look at your cast.”

“I got to choose the colour,” he says as Aaron and Haley catch up with them. He frowns slightly, “You weren’t there.”

She tenses, his innocent observation enough to make her chest tight. An accusation she knows he doesn’t mean as she has taken it finding space to take residence near her heart.

“You saw how busy it was back there Jack,” Aaron says, walking over to them, his hand gentle at the small of Emily’s back, “There wasn’t room for all of us, so Emily stayed here whilst me and Mommy went back with you.”

“I wish Emmy was there. Emmy’s hugs make everything better,” Jack says, “Like magic!”

Emily chuckles at that, kissing the side of his head, “I think my powers aren’t quite strong enough to fix broken bones.”

Haley smiles as she watches the three of them, pushing down the pain she feels, how she feels on the outside of this moment. She knows that Jack doesn’t mean he wishes Emily had been in the treatment room with him instead of either her or Aaron, but with them. He didn’t understand the complications or see the broken pieces that were all slowly slipping back into place. He just saw his family. Three adults who loved him and made him feel safe.

Jack had been infatuated with Emily as soon as Aaron introduced them, something that seemed to be mutual. Emily had a natural talent for making children feel comfortable around her and it turned out Jack was no different. It was something that Aaron had mentioned after Emily had joined the team, a half-hearted compliment as he complained about her presence when he still didn’t trust her.

It wasn’t what Haley imagined when she finally found out she was pregnant with Jack. Months, years, of waiting for the test to come back positive leading up to that moment. When she looks back at it now, it was clear that things between her and Aaron were already starting to fracture even then. Cracks appearing across the landscape of their marriage until they could no longer ignore it. And then it broke entirely.

It wasn’t what she’d imagined, but it’s what she had. She was glad Aaron had someone who loved him as much as Emily did. That he was with someone who understood him, who was able to draw out the parts of him Haley had once thought were lost.

Maybe it was time she found someone who could do that for her too.

She clears her throat, holding back a smile as Aaron and Emily look at her, seemingly only just remembering she was there.

“It’s the weekend,” she says, adjusting the strap of her purse over her shoulder, “So as long as you’re ok with it and leaving work early didn’t cause an issue, he can still go with you?”

Aaron nods, tightening his hold briefly on Emily, “Yeah, that would be great Haley. We’ll let you know how he’s doing.”

“Thank you,” she replies, walking over and kissing Jack on the cheek, not wanting to go to the effort of having to shift him into her arms for a hug and then back into Emily’s with the added complication of his arm cast, “You be good for Daddy and Emily, ok?” She says, cupping his cheek and kissing his forehead, “No falling off of anything else this weekend.”

“Yes, Mommy,” he says, nodding in agreement, as if he’d had plans to free dive off of their stairs and would simply rearrange, “Love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” she steps away, smiling at Aaron and Emily as she does, “You’ll drop him home at the usual time on Sunday?” They both nod in agreement and she takes one last look at her son before exchanging goodbyes and heading out of the emergency room.

They stand in silence for a moment, broken by Jack sighing as he rests his head on Emily’s shoulder.

“We should go home,” Aaron says, smiling down at them. He doesn’t miss how tightly Emily is holding herself, the tension that had formed when she’d had to stay behind at the nurse's insistence almost visible. “Get this one to bed after his long day.”

She knows what he hasn’t said, that they’ll talk once Jack is asleep. Go through the things she isn’t sure she knows how to put into words but knows she has to.

“Yeah,” she says, turning and letting him guide her towards the door, “Let’s go home.”

___

Jack falls asleep before they get home, worn out by his injury and the drama of the afternoon. Aaron successfully gets him back into the apartment and up the stairs without waking him. He puts his son to bed, his broken arm resting on a pillow, before heading downstairs to find his fiancee.

He doesn’t have to look far.

Emily is sitting at the kitchen counter, a glass of wine in her hand that she’s sipping, and another on the counter next to her that is clearly intended for him.

He joins her, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before he sits on the stool next to her.

“Are you ok, love?” He asks, picking up his glass of wine with one hand, and placing the other on her back.

She chuckles humourlessly, “Surely I should be asking you that question. Your son got hurt today.”

“Em,” he sighs, “I saw your face when the nurse wouldn’t let you through with us.”

She licks her lips, turning so she’s looking at her wine instead of him. “Being a step-parent is hard,” she chuckles again, shaking her head at herself, “Not that I’m even officially his step-mother yet,” Emily says, smiling sadly at him, her lower lip trembling with the force of the emotions she tries to hold back, “I love him.”

“I know you do sweetheart.”

“I love him so much I know I couldn’t love him more even if he were mine,” she says, shaking her head at herself as a tear falls onto her cheek. She wipes it away furiously, “When we have our own kids, I won’t love him differently to them,” she adds, and he reaches out for her, wiping one of her tears away much more delicately than she had, “It’s all just so complicated. And for once I wish it wasn’t.”

He runs his hand up her back and gently massages the back of her neck, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” She turns to look at him, before sighing, reaching out to place her hand on his leg, “No, honey that’s not…you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I love you and Jack so much, and fuck by extension I love Haley too. But, there’s always going to be something to consider. I grew up having to consider everything. Every interaction I had, every word I said. Was it the right thing to do? Would my mom or dad get mad,” she chuckles slightly bitterly and shakes her head, “I wouldn’t trade our life, or you, for anything. Today was just a rough day.”

He nods in agreement, “When we’re married, we’ll figure something out.” He promises, “It would be crazy if we went somewhere and you could do something for our kid but not him.”

She smiles at him and it shakes again, “And if Haley doesn’t agree?”

“He’s my son too, Em,” he says firmer than he means to, closing his eyes to steady himself before he tries again, “We’ll talk about it. But I’m sure Haley would agree that Jack having more people that love him, who can look after him, isn’t a bad thing.”

“I guess you’re right,” she says, sounding more sure than she feels. She still feels unsteady, the impact of the day, of Jack’s injury and then the firm reminder of her place in his life, enough to make her feel on edge. “This is going to sound juvenile,” she says, her lips set in a firm line, “But can I have a hug?”

Every time he thinks he can’t fall more in love with her she proves him wrong. He smiles at her, standing up and turning her on the stool she’s sitting on so she’s facing him.

“You never have to ask,” he replies, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace. She loops her arms around him as do her legs, and she buries her face in his chest. “I love you, sweetheart,” he says, frowning slightly as she makes tight fists in the back of his shirt, “Everything will be ok.”

She closes her eyes tightly, desperate not to cry any more than she already had that evening.

“I know,” she replies, hoping he doesn’t hear the shake to her voice, “I love you too.”

-x-

Tag list:

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sequinsmile-x · 2 years

Text

Assurance

Just some pointless fluff, because I'm hungover and frankly we all deserve the happiness.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: none

Read over on Ao3 in my collection of mini fics, or below the cut

Let me know what you think <3

Emily was tired, the exhaustion seeping into her bones in a way she had never experienced. She thought she knew how it felt before. She’d never had a 9-5 job, didn’t have a solid routine that ever allowed for a normal sleeping pattern. She slept more in Paris than she thought she would, her physical recovery from what Ian had done to her long and stretched out, and the loneliness not letting her do anything else. She still remembers feeling tired though, as if she could sleep forever and it would still never be enough.

None of that had prepared her for how it felt to have a baby that didn’t seem to like sleep.

Mia Rose Hotchner was 8 weeks old and a mini Emily through and through. Aaron often joked that he wondered if she had somehow cloned herself, claiming that their little girl had none of his features.

Emily can’t help but suppress a yawn as she paces the living room in the early afternoon, Mia curled up against her chest, the infant only ever really calm if she was close to her mother. Aaron was away on a case, his first one since he returned to work after his paternity leave. The first 6 weeks of Mia’s life were spent at home, just the three of them and Jack adjusting to being a new family together.

She missed him, even though he’d only been gone four days.

Emily yawns again and sits down on the couch, leaning her head back as she holds Mia against her, little fists tangled in her hair. She leans down and kisses the top of the baby’s head, deeply breathing in the scent she’s not sure how she ever lived without.

She’s half asleep, her eyes drifting shut despite her best efforts to keep them open, when her phone rings. It shocks her back to being awake, the movement making the baby curled up on her chest whine slightly.

“You’re ok, Mia.” Emily soothes, her lips pressed to the top of her daughter's head, her hand rubbing circles on her back. The baby fusses some more before settling back down on Emily’s chest, her favourite place to be. “You’re ok.”

Emily reaches for her phone on the side table and smiles when she sees her husband's name on the screen. His contact picture is one of him and Mia the day she was born, impossibly tiny in her father’s arms.

“Hey.” She rasps out as she answers the phone.

“Hi sweetheart.” Aaron replies. He sounds ragged, sad in a way he’d only let her hear, and she can picture him taking a moment away from the team to call her, just to hear her voice. “You sound tired.”

Emily laughs. “That’s because your daughter seems to have made it an aim of hers to never let me sleep again.”

“I’m sorry, Em.” He says, his sympathy like a balm down the phone, soothing her in a way she hadn’t realised she needed. “I’ll be home tonight, try and give you a night off.”

“You caught him?” She asks, joy spreading through her chest at the thought of seeing him.

“Yes.” He says, something close to defeat in his voice that stops the joy immediately, concern for her husband replacing it. “We caught him.”

They lapse into silence and she can sense his tension over the phone. In the four days he’d been away he’d called her every day, taking five minutes wherever he could to have a taste of home. To close his eyes and picture his wife and children. A small reprieve from a horrible case that she knows he hasn’t told her the worst of.

“Are you ok, honey?” She asks, already knowing the answer he’d give her over the phone wouldn’t be the truth.

“Yeah, I’m ok.” He clears his throat and she hears Dave in the background, catching Aaron’s attention for a moment. “Sorry sweetheart, I’ve got to go. I’ll be back tonight, we’re leaving soon but have to head to the office first.”

“Ok.” She says, knowing she’d have to wait to get him to admit how he was. Wait until he was home with her, safe in the house they had bought together. Their safe space. “Text when you’re on the way.”

“Will do.” He replies. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Emily sighs as she hangs up, her phone placed back on the table. She looks down at Mia, wide dark eyes looking up at her, somehow still awake. She strokes the baby’s cheek, love spreading through her entire body when she smiles up at her. She’d only started doing it a few days ago, managing to smile at Aaron before he left for work, something Emily was grateful that he hadn’t missed.

An idea forms in her head and she smiles back.

“What do you think, sweet girl?” Emily says, reaching for her phone to call Penelope. “Shall we go cheer up Daddy?”

Mia squeals in response, loud and happy, and Emily takes that as an answer.

______

She is barely out of the elevator, Mia’s car seat in hand, when Penelope appears, her excitement rolling off of her.

“There she is.” Penelope exclaims, entirely bypassing Emily and leaning down to greet Mia. “Hi princess, you just keep getting cuter.”

“Nice to see you too, Pen.” Emily says sardonically, her eyebrow raised in jest when her friend looks at her, straightening back up.

“Sorry, Em. She’s just so cute I can’t resist.” Penelope replies, pulling Emily into a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Good to see you too.” She laughs as they pull apart, readjusting her hold on Mia’s car seat. “Are they on their way?”

“They should be landing as we speak.” Penelope says, linking her arm through Emily’s spare one and leading her towards the bullpen. “They’ll be glad to see you.”

“Are they ok?” She asks delicately, not wanting to give away how wretched Aaron had sounded on the phone, knowing that was a part of himself that he kept just for her. “From the bits and pieces Aaron told me it sounds like a rough one.

Penelope opens the door to the conference room and lets Emily walk through first. “Cases with children are always tougher,” she says almost absentmindedly, “and poor Hotch found the last victim.”

Emily falters slightly as she lifts a now slightly fussy Mia into her arms, holding the baby before she could start to cry.

“He did what?” She asks, her eyebrows creased in concern. It’s Penelope’s turn to falter, staring at Emily as she tries to figure out what to say next.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No.” Emily confirms, shaking her head slightly at the thought of her loving, stupid, husband trying to protect her from this. “Tell me everything.”

_____

She hears him before she sees him. His voice carries throughout the office as Penelope leads the team to the conference room, his irritation obvious. She wonders what he thinks is happening, if he’s worried that they’ve somehow picked up another case already.

“Garcia, can’t this wait. I...”

He trails off when he sees her, the look of relief on his face clear as he takes in the sight of them, Emily sitting on the edge of the table, Mia in her arms.

“Hi.” She says, standing up and walking over towards him.

“Hi,” he replies, “what are you doing here?”

“We thought we’d come see you.” She says, smiling as she transfers Mia into his arms. “She was insistent she didn’t want to wait until tonight.”

He kisses the side of Mia’s head, holding her securely to him. “Oh she was, was she?” He asks, smiling at his wife.

“She demanded it.”

The rest of the team are in the room before they can say anything else, or greet each other properly. Emily smiles and laughs as they all greet her, pulling her into hugs and asking her how she is, telling her they miss her like they weren’t at the house as often as they could be. Eventually Penelope manages to wrangle Mia out of Aaron’s arms, claiming that he’d get more time with her at home, and they all gather around, talking in high pitched voices they’d all deny as they looked at the youngest member of their unusual family.

She smiles as she watches the team argue about who gets to hold Mia. Derek finally manages to get the baby out of Penelope’s arms, smiling as he looks down at the little girl.

Emily feels arms wrap around her waist and she places her hand over Aaron’s as it settles on her stomach. She leans back into him, sighing contentedly as she breathed him in, glad to have him back after only a few days apart.

“I missed you.” He says, his lips against her temple. The public display of his affection for her was unusual, especially when they were in the office, but he clearly needs this. Needs her.

Emily turns her head enough that she’s looking up at him and she smiles, leaning up to kiss him, her hand coming up to cup his cheek.

“I missed you too.” She says as she pulls away, looking back over to the team all fawning over her daughter. She wasn’t able to have Mia out of her sight yet for too long, fear clutching at her throat if she didn’t know where the little girl was, even here. Surrounded by people she knew would put their lives on the line for them. “So did she.”

“She looks different.”

Emily chuckles and squeezes his hand. “It’s been 4 days, love.”

“She’s bigger.”

“Because she never stops eating.” Emily replies, her words punctuated by a yawn. He squeezes her a little tighter.

“You’re tired.” He says, smiling as he lets her lean further back into him. “Straight to bed when we get home.”

“Agent Hotchner,” she says, faking scandal as she turns to look at him again, “what’s got into you? Propositioning me like that in front of everyone.”

Aaron frowns at her like he always did when she teases him, but any response is cut off by Derek.

“Come on, Em. There are children in the room.” Derek says, indicating the baby in his arms and nodding towards Spencer.

“Hey.” Spencer says looking up from where he’d been talking to Mia, regaling her with how well she was doing for an 8 week old, keeping up with all of the milestones that she should be.

“Derek, it can’t surprise you we have sex.” Emily says, a smirk on her face. “You’re holding the evidence.”

She can’t help but laugh at the look on his face, Aaron’s soft admonishment in her ear as Derek quickly hands Mia back.

_____

Emily waits until they are in bed. Jack settled in his room after he regaled them with his stories from school and the fun he had with Jess before she dropped him home, Mia gently settled into her bassinet. Freshly fed and sleeping for once, allowing her some time alone with her husband, something that felt rare these days, somehow even more precious than she’d found it before.

He settles in next to her and she curls into him, her head on his chest as his hand trails under her pyjama shirt. His palm warm against her spine.

She considers waiting him out. Letting him tell her what she already knew, the details Penelope had given her earlier were still floating around her head.

But she knows him. Better than she’s ever known anyone, and he won’t do it. Won’t do what he still sees as burdening her, despite all that they share.

“Pen told me.” She says, her words muffled by his t-shirt.

“She told you what, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice quiet, aware that the baby would wake at anything.

“That you found the last victim.” She says softly, feeling her heart clench when his hand stills on her back. “That they all looked like Jack.”

“Em, I’m fine. I promise.”

She pulls back from him, her hand against his chest as she props herself up.

“You aren’t.” She replies, smiling softly at him. “And you don’t have to pretend you are.” She moves her hand to cup his cheek, her thumb gentle against his skin as she rubs soft circles. “I wouldn’t be.”

He stares at her for a moment before he sighs, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head, his fingers trailing through her hair. He nods, relenting, and she feels relief spread through her.

“We got there only slightly too late to save the last boy.” He says, shaking his head at himself. “His name was Andrew. His mother…” he drifts off for a second, gathering himself before he continues, his eyes meeting hers again, “she said it was my fault. That I could have saved him.”

“Baby,” she says, moving so she could press her forehead against his, “you know that’s not true. And so does she.” She pulls back to palm his cheek and presses a kiss against his lips. “People say all sorts of things they don’t mean when they are grieving.”

He nods at her, a sad smile on his face. “It just seems unfair that I get to come home to you, to our family, and her life won’t ever be the same.”

“Yes.” she says softly, a wry smile on her face as she scrapes his hair off of his forehead, slightly longer than usual. The business of parenting a newborn meaning he’d had no time to go and get it done. “Because our lives have been a walk in the park up until this point.” It makes him smile, a real smile that she knows belongs to her, and she can’t help but return it before she becomes serious again. “Because of you, of the team, that woman will have justice for her son. It’s important. Even if she doesn’t know that yet.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

He shakes his head at her before kissing her, his thanks whispered against her lips, and she settles back down against him.

She sighs as his hand starts up and down her back again, lulling her to sleep, her exhaustion almost overwhelming.

“Em?” He says quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head when she hums in response. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replies, pressing her face into his chest, “but please shut up. I’m trying to sleep and the baby will be awake again soon,” her hand comes up to his face, blindly patting his face, “and sadly you lack the equipment to feed her.”

“Ok, sweetheart.”

He lays there, sleep not finding him as his wife drifts off pressed up against him, her soft snores filling the room.

She’s woken up just less than an hour later by Mia’s cries, and as he watches them together he knows he’s the luckiest man alive.

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