rawr-jess

She was running late. 

Usually, she could appreciate the beautiful chaos that was her home in the morning. She’d smile to herself as Hazel took a little too long in the bathroom, remembering the days when she was 15 and unsure of herself, and she’d tell Issac to use the ensuite in her and Aaron’s room instead, preventing an argument between the 13-year-old and his older sister before the sun even rose. Aaron would make her coffee and get started on breakfast for the kids, and she’d leave him with a kiss on his lips, doing it again if the kids made too much of a fuss, making a point of tasting her husband’s smile before she left for work for the day, grateful for the life she had to come home to. 

It was something she’d always done, but something that had become a ritual of sorts since Will had died almost a year ago. His loss had shifted something in her, reignited a part of her that had long calmed down. The flames of fear and preemptive loss had been dampened by years of comfort and life being normal, or as normal as it got for them. Will dying so suddenly, so out of nowhere, had shaken her to the core, a reminder she hadn’t needed or wanted about how fragile life could be. How random and unfair it all was. 

She felt guilty over how much it made her cling to her own family when JJ’s had been so torn apart, how grateful it made her feel for what she still had. 

This morning, she’d overslept. She’d hit her alarm one too many times and went from blearily checking the time to jumping out of bed in a matter of seconds the moment she realised it was almost the time she’d usually be leaving the house. She tears herself from Aaron’s arms, cursing him for sleeping in too, as if she hadn’t been the one to convince him they needed just five more minutes, and she jumps in the shower while he goes to wake up Hazel and Issac. 

He still has coffee and a couple of slices of toast ready and waiting for her by the time she’s finished rushing to get ready, and he kisses her goodbye as she runs out the door. 

The traffic is, for once, kind to her, so she makes it just in time for her first meeting. The morning disappears after that, the hours lost to bureaucracy and the parts of the job she hated the most, and before she knows it, it’s lunch time. 

She remembered vaguely a conversation Penelope had about a new deli nearby that she wanted to try for lunch, so she’s not surprised to walk back into the bullpen and find it almost empty. She sighs, and idly wonders if she’d be able to catch up with them, but then she spots JJ sitting at her desk, her head in one hand while the other pokes a fork at the salad she’d brought in, her air around her so heavy Emily could almost see it, the weight on her shoulders visible even across the bullpen. 

“JJ,” she says, smiling apologetically when the other woman jumps, her eyes a little wild as she looks up at her, “You okay?” The question feels stupid as soon as she says it, and JJ shrugs in response, because Emily knew she wasn’t okay. She hadn’t been since Will died, and even when she was, it was brief. A flash of happiness that was then snuffed out by guilt, the gravity of what she and her sons had lost almost suffocating. She points towards her office, offering privacy that would be too short-lived if they stayed in the bullpen, “Want to talk about it?” 

JJ hesitates for a moment before she stands up, flattening out creases on her pants that weren’t there as she tries to keep her hands busy, the weight of her wedding heavier than it had ever been, “Are you sure? Do you have time?” 

“I always have time for you,” Emily says as she wraps her arm around her shoulders and encourages her towards the stairs leading up to her office. JJ sits on the couch, and Emily shuts the door, stepping towards her desk and opening the bottom drawer, “I’d usually offer scotch, but since it’s barely lunchtime…” she holds up a large bar of chocolate and a bag of Cheetos, “Snacks will have to do.” 

JJ smiles, an edge of sadness pressed into the corners of it that makes Emily ache, and she takes the Cheetos from her, “These aren’t laced with weed, are they?” 

Emily chuckles and sits on the couch next to her, “I didn’t get them from Pen, so no,” she says, shaking her head as she thinks of that incident, of the way Will and Aaron had looked at each other when they picked up their wives from Penelope’s apartment, fondness and love shining through their amusement as they discussed how they’d stop the kids from finding out their mothers were high, “They’re clean.” 

JJ nods and opens the bag, popping a couple of them into her mouth before she sits back, slouching on the couch a little as she stares up at the ceiling, counting the tiles to distract herself. Emily waits her out, sits patiently next to her as she figures out what she wants to say, how to explain how she was feeling. 

“I was asked out on a date last night.” 

Emily almost chokes on a Cheeto, the dust of it catching at the back of her throat when JJ finally speaks, saying the last thing she thought she was going to say. She coughs and hits her sternum lightly to shift it, clearing her throat as her friend continues to look anywhere other than at her. 

“Oh?” she says, keeping her voice as even as she could, “By who?” 

JJ sighs and finally looks at her, sadness shining in her eyes as she shrugs, “Some guy at my gym,” she says, “I see him there all the time. Last night he came up to me, we made conversation and he…just asked me,” she says, looking down at her lap to fiddle with her wedding ring, twisting it around her finger, “He knows I’m a widow but I guess he wanted to shoot his shot.” 

Emily nods, watching her friend carefully as grief and confusion fight it out to be what she is feeling the most, the two of them raging a war inside of her that JJ could never win, “What did you tell him?” 

“I said no,” she says, furrowing her brow, “I didn’t even really think about it. I just said no, that it was too soon,” she smiles sadly, “He took it well,” she look at Emily again, seeking out answers that she wasn’t sure she had, “But then it got me thinking, will I ever be ready?” 

Emily sighs, “JJ..”

“I mean, I don’t feel ready now,” she says, “But will in another year, or two? Will I always feel guilty over the thought of even going on a date with someone? Is there ever a right time when your husband just…drops dead on you?” She asks, twisting her ring around again and again, stroking her thumb back and forth over the metal as she does so, as if somehow, if she did it enough, she’d get the answer she was looking for. Even if she didn’t know what answer that was. “And we both know, even if I woke up five years from now and decided to try, Will’s mom would never be okay with it.” 

Emily hums, “I’ll happily talk to her for you when the time comes,” she quips, her teeth clenching when she thinks of the woman’s behaviour at Will’s funeral, how she’d acted like grief was a sport you could win a medal in, as if her loss was heavier than Will’s wife or children. Emily reaches out and places her hand over JJ’s, squeezing gently as she draws her attention back to her, “I think this is just one of those things that you have to figure out as you go. There is no right or wrong answer.”

JJ nods, “If it were Hotch, how long do you think you’d wait?” 

There’s an edge to her voice that Emily had become a little too familiar with over the last year, one that JJ would turn to whenever Emily came close to giving her advice. She knew it came from a place of hurt, of something close to jealousy that Emily still had everything that she didn’t, but she still wasn’t used to it. Wasn’t used to something that had once made them closer, now being the one thing that seemed to slowly be pulling them apart. 

The worst part was that Emily couldn’t even blame her. She knew if their roles were reversed, if she had lost Aaron, had her friend’s life carried on just as before, that watching it would have made her feel sick. Envy poisoning her from the inside out, staining everything she touched until it had left its mark on everything and everyone she held dear. 

The question knocks the air out of her, an almost physical blow that has her letting go of JJ’s hand, just the thought of losing her husband enough to make her pause, the world spinning on its axis as she feels frozen in place, “I…”

“Shit, Em,” JJ says, suddenly realising what she’d asked, “That wasn’t fair, I’m sorry.” 

Emily shakes her head, “It’s okay,” she says, finally getting her breath back, her smile tight as she squeezes her friend’s hand again, “I…I don’t know what I’d do. Maybe ask Aaron?” She suggests, “I know it’s different, but he’s lived through it.”

They fall into silence for a moment, the air thick with grief and loss that they were still struggling to live around, a feeling that followed them wherever they went. Sometimes it was all-consuming like this, overwhelming and cloying as it made it hard to fill their lungs. Other times, it was smaller, something that would linger in the corner of a room on a birthday or a holiday, filling the gap where Will used to be. His absence something that could never go unnoticed. 

JJ sighs, “This really fucking sucks,” she says, laughing humourlessly, “We were supposed to have years, decades, together, and now…I have to face that all alone. Or move on, and that just feels wrong.” 

Emily squeezes her hand again, “No matter what, you’re not facing this alone, JJ,” she says, “You have all of us.” 

She smiles, the sadness still lingering in the corner of her lips, and she replies, her platitude something they both know is more for Emily’s benefit than her own. 

“Yeah,” she replies, “I have all of you.” 

___

Aaron knows something is wrong the moment she gets home. 

At first, he thinks she might still be annoyed by the rushed start to the day, and he makes sure to set the following morning's alarms on multiple devices so it can’t happen again, but the more the evening goes on, the more unsure he is about the root of her mood. 

She seems more dejected than normal when Hazel and Issac brush her off to talk to their friends. Usually, she was the one to remind him that it was part of them growing up, a sign that they’d been raising them right, but he sees the way her smile slips, and her shoulders slump the moment they leave the dining table after they’ve eaten. 

He does what he can to cheer her up. After close to two decades together, he knew not to pry, knew that she’d come to him when she was ready, but he also knew what always made her feel better, no matter what was wrong. He runs her a bath and pours her a glass of her favourite wine, and when she’s relaxing, he texts Jack and suggests he calls her just to talk, something that works the moment she sees their eldest’s name flash up on the screen of her phone. 

Her melancholy sets back in as they go to bed, and she lingers even closer than normal, her hip bumping against his as they brush their teeth next to each other in the bathroom, and her arm looped through his as they walk the short distance to the bed. She kisses him goodnight and tells him that she loves him just like normal, a little more desperation behind them than usual, and she falls asleep against him, her grip on him not loosening as she drifts off. 

It’s his concern for her that keeps him awake, the worry fizzing under his skin, and he’s still lying there wide awake the first time she twitches against him. 

Neither one of them was a stranger to nightmares. At the start, when they were new to each other, they happened a lot more frequently, their scares decades fresher than they were now, and the monsters that lingered in every corner not quite as long dead. These days, they were rarer, usually brought on by sickness or too many late nights, but they still happened. A sign of what they’d endured to make it here to each other. 

She shifts against him again, and he turns the light on, sitting up just enough to see her eyebrows furrow in her sleep.

“Aaron.” 

The pain in her voice, the way grief he isn’t privy to tears itself from her throat, has him ready to wake her up, but just like always, she was one step ahead of him, sitting up so quickly their heads almost collide as she sucks in a sharp breath. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, making a point of keeping his voice quiet and his smile reassuring as she turns to look at him, her eyes wild as they meet his calm ones. He reaches out for her, his hand wrapped tightly around hers as he runs his thumb back and forth over the thundering pulse in her wrist, “You’re okay.” 

She nods and then throws herself at him, her arms tight around his neck as she rests her forehead against his chest, breathing him in as she tries to calm herself down, “Sorry.”

The apology is a reflex, something she does without truly meaning to. She’d stopped being embarrassed by nightmares in front of him a long time ago. He knew all of her, even the very worst parts, and he loved her anyway. Not despite those things but because of them, because of how strong she was. 

She knew that because it was the same reason she loved him. 

“Never apologise,” he says, running his hand up and down her back, “Want to talk about it?” 

She chuckles dryly at the question, the very one she’d asked JJ that afternoon, and she nods, letting him encourage her to lie back down, her head on his chest as she curls herself around him, “JJ and I talked about Will today.” 

Aaron sighs sadly and starts to run his hand up and down her back again, pressing comfort from his skin to hers, “It’s coming up to a year.” 

“Some guy at her gym asked her out,” she says, “She said no, but then she started to wonder if she’d ever be ready to date again.” 

He holds her a little tighter, thinks of the days when this, when loving someone as much as he’d loved Haley, would have felt impossible. Like a betrayal of everything they’d ever had together, instead of the way it now felt like it honoured it. His ability to love again, to be the man Haley had known and loved herself, a true reflection of how what they’d once had together had been good.

“It’s hard,” he says, “You never know when the time is right until the time is right,” he says, smiling as he kisses the top of her head, “Or until your best friend just kisses you out of the blue one day.” 

She hums and pulls back to look at him with a raised brow, “I never knew you and Dave were that close,” she deadpans, smiling when he rolls her eyes at her, “Besides, you kissed me first.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her forehead, “Whatever you say,” he adds, and she smiles, resting her head against his chest again. “I can talk to her, if she wants.”

“I suggested that too,” she says, sighing sadly, “I wish I could help more, but I’m also grateful I can’t help,” she says, chuckling humourlessly, “Because if I could…” she clears her throat, dislodges the feeling that had settled there earlier in her office, “She asked me what I’d do if it was you.” He closes his eyes and holds her a little tighter, and the evening they’d had makes sense. Her desire to cling to what she had, to remind herself of it all, was suddenly as clear to him as what her nightmare had obviously been about. “I didn’t know what to say and…I can’t stop thinking about it. I don’t think I’d be able to move on if I’d lost you, but if it was the other way around…I wouldn’t want you to just be by yourself forever.”

“Hey,” he says, pulling away to look at her, his hand cupping her cheek, “Neither one of us is going anywhere.” 

She laughs, the sound a little desperate as it clings to her lungs, and she shakes her head, “This time last year, Will and JJ would have thought the same thing,” she says, wiping a tear from her cheek, her fingers skimming over his, “And now she’s being hit on by gym bros and her wedding ring is anchoring her to a past she can’t have anymore,” she says, blowing out a slow breath, and she looks at him, sees the sadness shining in his eyes and she shakes her head at herself. “Sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he assures her, leaning in to kiss her, his lips stamped against his, “Nothing about this is easy. And I wish I had an answer for you,” he says, stroking his thumb back and forth over her cheekbone, “It took a long time after Haley to feel ready, and…I don’t think I could do it again,” he says, sucking in a sharp breath at the thought of it, the edge of it catching on old scar tissue, “There’s only one of you.” 

She chuckles at that, the sound wet as it lodges itself in her chest, “There’s only one of you, too,” she says, resting her forehead against his, “So you can’t die on me. Not for a very, very long time, okay?” 

It’s a promise that they both know he can’t make, but he makes it anyway, because he means it, and they both hope that, if the worst were to happen, she’d find some kind of comfort in that. 

She’s already awake when he sits on her side of the bed. She’d woken up before him for once but hadn’t moved, had stayed still with her eyes closed until he woke up. She’d laid there as he got out of bed, as he stamped a kiss against her forehead before he got ready for the day, pottering around their bedroom in silence as he let her rest as long as he could. He knows she’s awake. She can tell he does by the way he doesn’t run his hand up and down her arm to slowly draw her out of sleep like he usually would. Instead, he just rests his hand on her shoulder and squeezes gently, the warmth of his palm a stark contrast to the cool air of their bedroom. 

“Sweetheart, we need to get ready,” he says, and she opens her eyes to look up at him, making no attempt to get up. “Our appointment is at 9.” 

She hums, but still doesn’t attempt to move, held in place in the safety of their bed by anxiety and preemptive grief that she’s been carrying around for weeks now like a cloak. A way of protecting herself from what she was already sure she’d be told, as if having her worst fears confirmed wouldn’t devastate her, as if she wouldn’t grieve the life she could have had. 

Very early on in her relationship with Aaron, they’d spoken about kids. The conversation had happened by accident, a question he’d asked without thinking one evening after a tough case with children at the very centre of it. He’d apologised immediately, a rare occurrence where he stuttered over his words whilst she smiled at him like he was the most adorable person on the planet. She’d kissed him and told him she wanted kids, that she always had but that she’d been waiting for the right person, and she made it clear that she was talking about him. 

It all seemed so easy in theory. She knew she could get pregnant; she knew Aaron could have kids, so it seemed like a foregone conclusion. Like something that would just happen for them after they moved into the house they bought together and got married. She booked an appointment with her OBGYN before they started trying so she could have all the information she needed, a little too aware of her age to not talk things through with her doctor first. She had what felt like an endless number of tests, and it was only when her OBGYN referred her to a general surgeon, stating she wanted someone a little more specialised to look at her abdominal scarring, that it occurred to Emily that it might not be as easy as she’d hoped. Today’s appointment was a follow-up with the general surgeon, Doctor Norton. Her office had called and asked them to come in to discuss the results of the scans and tests she’d had the previous week, and Emily had been worried ever since, convinced it could only be bad news.

Ian had wanted to take from her what she’d taken from him, and she was starting to wonder if he might just have achieved it, if he had the final laugh after all, the sound of it echoing out from his unmarked and untended grave to fill the home she shared with Aaron. 

“What are you thinking, sweetheart?” Aaron asks, his thumb running back and forth over the top of her shoulder, and she sighs, shaking her head at herself as she tries to sink further into the bed.

“It sounds stupid,” she says, avoiding eye contact with him as she looks past him, her eyes fixed on the wall as she tugs the covers even higher around her shoulders, trapping his hand underneath it. “But I’ve half convinced myself that if I don’t get out of bed, if I don’t go to the appointment, they can’t give me bad news,” she huffs out a breath, “They can’t give me good news either, however unlikely that feels.” 

“Schrödinger's appointment,” Aaron quips, and she hums, smiling softly when she looks back at him and nods. 

“I always forget that you’re a nerd too,” she replies, grateful when he smiles at her. It’s a flash of them, a moment of lightness in the dark, a beacon of hope she would desperately cling to for as long as she needed to. 

“I’m just better at hiding it than you are,” he says, stroking his thumb back and forth over her shoulder again. “It could be good news.” 

Anger she knows he doesn’t deserve swells in her gut, feels it takes up so much space that she can barely breathe, her lungs cramped with it as she does her best to swallow it down, to not take everything out on the one person who was always on her side. 

“They don’t call you and give you no information over the phone if it’s good news, honey,” she says, her lips pressed together as she tries to control the shake in them, unwilling to fall apart even in the sanctuary of their bedroom until she had all the information. She sits up, forcing the covers and his hand to fall away from her, and she looks at him. “Will you…

She drifts off, unsure she really wants the answer to the question she can’t bring herself to ask. Too afraid of the answer, of what he might say. Before him, no one had ever loved her without condition before, without some part of it hanging on what she could give them. Even her own mother hadn’t, not really. She knew her mother loved her, but it never came with disappointment or anger when she couldn’t be who she wanted her to be. Even now, with everything they’d been through and everything they promised each other, a part of her still doubted her worth to Aaron, and she worried that if she couldn’t give him this, couldn’t give him something they both wanted so much, that he’d end up resenting her for it. 

“Will I, what, Em?” He asks, cupping her cheek to make her look at him. He touches her with such reverence, such love that she isn’t sure if it’s the thing holding her together or the thing that will break her. 

“Will you…still love me if I can’t give you a baby?” 

The question hangs in the air around them, and she watches as he sucks in a breath that looks painful. Her doubt floods his lungs, filling his chest as hurt flashes in his eyes, and she wishes she could take it back as he swallows thickly, pushing down the bitter taste of it as he does what he always does - he puts her first. 

“Sweetheart-”

“And I don’t mean now,” she says, cutting over him, seemingly unable to stop now she’d started, all the very worst things she’d been thinking tumbling out of her now she’d unlocked the box she’d stuffed them all in. “I mean in 20, 30 years from now, when you realise someone else could have given you everything you wanted.” 

“Emily, there is nothing that would make me stop loving you,” he says firmly, and she sighs, opening her mouth to reply, but he stops her. He cups her cheeks, his jaw tight as he rests his forehead against hers, his voice as stern as it ever was with her. “I mean it, Em. We could have our own football team worth of kids, or it could be you, me and Jack for the rest of our lives,” he pulls back to look at her, his hands still on her cheeks. “I love you,” he wipes a stray tear from her cheek, “And you’ve already given me so much. Anything else would be a bonus.”

She swallows thickly, her throat so stuffed full of guilt that her voice croaks when she speaks, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” 

He pulls her into a hug, one she returns fiercely, her hands in tight fists around the material of his shirt as she anchors herself to him. “You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” he says, kissing the side of her head, “No matter what the doctor says, we’ll deal with it together, okay? Just like everything else.” 

She nods against him and pulls back just enough to kiss him, her lips stamped against his for a moment before she presses her forehead against his. 

“Okay.” 

___

She knew she was right the moment they walked into Doctor Norton’s office. The doctor’s smile was kind, too kind, and there was a box of tissues on her desk that hadn’t been there during their last visit. It made Emily curse her ability to notice small details, a skill that had saved her life countless times, that had this time dashed the small amount of hope she’d managed to cling on to.

She listens as Doctor Norton tells her that the amount of scar tissue in her abdomen was a concern and that, after discussions with Emily’s OBGYN, they believed that it would inhibit her ability to stay pregnant. It guts her, makes her grab Aaron’s hand so tightly she’s sure it hurts, but he doesn’t flinch. Instead, he sandwiches her hand between both of his, providing silent comfort as he asks the questions she can’t think to ask, so caught up in trying not to fall apart. 

She’d never considered a middle ground. Never thought that there would be something wrong, but that there would be an option to fix it, so when Doctor Norton says they could remove some of her scar tissue laparoscopically to provide some relief, it surprises her. It’s not a guarantee, Doctor Norton is clear on that, but it’s something. Their best chance to give them something they wanted so desperately. 

Any hope it gives her is fleeting, stamped out by feelings she thought she’d long since overcome.  The memory of the long, hard, lonely recovery she’d had in France suddenly overwhelming her as everything around her fades away as if she’s underwater, the conversation around her, about her, muffled and out of focus as she has to remind herself to breathe. If she were asked, she wouldn’t remember the end of the appointment or what Doctor Norton said to her, nor would she remember the drive home. Instead, all she can think of is the scar on her abdomen, of all the damage behind it that she couldn’t see, the damage that might well stop her from having everything she wanted. 

Aaron knows her well enough not to push, and they go through their day like it’s any other one. They work, they pick Jack up from school, and then they spend the evening with him. Emily isn’t sure if her friends don’t notice that something is wrong, if she really is that good at hiding from them, or if they know her well enough to know she wouldn’t tell the truth even if she was asked. Jack senses something, innocent and sweet in his attempt to cheer her up as he snuggles against her on the couch before it’s time for him to go to bed. 

As soon as he’s upstairs, with Aaron in tow - something she’s sure her husband does to give her a little space - she finds herself on the back porch, sitting on the top step as she looks out over the backyard. The yard was part of what had made her fall in love with this house. The realtor had left them right where she was sitting to give them some time alone after their tour, and Aaron had wrapped his arms around her from behind, his lips against her temple as he whispered about watching their kids play in the yard. He’d painted such a beautiful picture of them sitting in the porch swing behind her as the children would run around playing, he talked about a swing set and a kiddie pool they’d pull out of the garage each summer, laughing against her hairline as he quipped they’d always misplace the pump for it and argue over who had packed it away the summer before. It had all seemed so clear then, vivid and bright and beautiful. It was dulled now, ripped and faded like it had been torn to pieces, just like she had been, and she hates that she’s been left to make a choice. Hates that on paper it seems so simple, like the answer would be obvious. 

Her recovery had been brutal last time. Hard enough that more than once she’d wished Ian had simply killed her, that she’d died and the pain was gone along with her. It had taken her to the edge and back more than once, her anger and hatred all focused on a physical therapist whom she’s sure she was awful to. She had no one else. Dead to almost everyone who knew her, forced to recover a continent away from all the people she loved. The loneliness had been as hard as the rest of it, and she wondered when she’d stopped being someone who thrived on her own company, when she became someone who needed other people. 

Her scar aches in a way it hasn’t in years, painful and raw and tingling in a way she knows isn’t real, but it doesn’t stop her from feeling every pull in her abdomen whenever she moves. She rests her hand on it but lets it drop, imagines for a fleeting second how she’d feel to do the same thing if a baby lay beneath her palm, and she sighs, resting her elbows on her knees as she covers her face with her hands. 

She doesn’t know how long she has been sitting there by herself by the time she hears familiar footsteps behind her, and she uncovers her face just in time to see a hot chocolate come into her line of sight. She smiles when she takes it, when she smells the whiskey mixed in with the chocolate. The warmth of it is a nice distraction, the slight burn of the ceramic against her palms something she can concentrate on instead of the ache in her gut. 

“Do you want to be alone?” Aaron asks, his hand on her shoulder, and she shakes her head immediately, turning to look at him as she answers.

“No,” she says, “I don’t want to be alone.” The relief makes her suck in a breath as he sits next to her, initially giving her a little space between them, but she shuffles closer, lets her shoulder knock against his. She hums as she looks at his empty hands, and she holds up her drink. “You didn’t make yourself one?” 

He smiles, and it’s soft and comforting, and she thinks she falls even more in love with him right there and then, “I was hoping I’d get to share yours.” 

She chuckles dryly and sips the hot chocolate before she passes it to him. She coughs a little at the burn of the alcohol, “You didn’t shy away from the whiskey.” 

“Thought you could use it.” He replies before he sips it himself, spluttering a little, “Although, I may have been a little heavy-handed.” 

She laughs, a real, genuine laugh, but the joy fades quickly. Turning to ask in her mouth as she swallows thickly. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“I know,” he says, and he places his hand on her knee, his palm warm even through her jeans, and she grabs it, sandwiches it between both of her own as she runs her thumb back and forth over his wedding ring. “It’s not an easy choice. No matter how obvious it might seem.”

She hums, “If you were anybody else, I don’t think you’d understand that it isn’t easy.” 

He places the hot chocolate down on the porch step and uses his free hand to cup her cheek, encouraging her to look up at him, “Good thing I’m not anybody else then, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, it is,” she nods, and her chin trembles, everything she’d been holding back all day rushing to the surface, a tidal wave of emotion pulling her under as she sobs. But he’s there, wrapping his arms around her as he pulls her as close as he can, holding her against him as if her life depended on it, and right in that moment, she thinks it might. 

“I’m right here, Em,” he says, running his hand up and down her back as he stamps a kiss against the top of her head, “I’m right here.” 

“I’m so angry,” she says, shaking her head as she pulls back, furiously wiping tears away as they splash down onto her cheeks, burning tracks into her skin she thinks might be permanent, “I’m so mad that this is my choice. That it isn’t easy.” 

“It’s not fair,” he replies, and she thinks it should sound childish, like something a kid would say if they didn’t get their way, but it doesn’t. It wasn’t fair. She’d been through enough, they’d been through enough, and it seemed cruel that life wasn’t quite done kicking them yet. 

“What…what do you want me to do?” She asks, and it’s only as she asks it that she realises it’s just another way of asking what she’d asked of him that morning. A rephrasing of the question that she knew hadn’t been fair even as she asked it. 

Will you still love me if I don’t do this?

He tucks her hair behind her ear, and he sighs sadly, his eyes swimming with tears as he looks at her like she’d hung the stars in the sky. “Em, I can’t tell you or ask you to do something to it that you don’t want to do. I meant it this morning when I said I’ll love you no matter what. Nothing has changed,” he says, wiping another tear from her cheek, “It’s your body.” 

She chokes on a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “Matthew said that to be back in Rome,” she says, her eyes drifting shut as she thinks of it, how young she’d been, how young her friend had been too. When she opens her eyes, she sees the lines on Aaron’s face, the age and the wisdom that was woven into them, and she shakes her head, desperate to stop herself from making comparisons she didn’t want to make. “My recovery in Paris…it was hard. And I know this will be different, that it’s nowhere near as invasive, but every time I think of it…I feel like I’m right back there in that bed in Bethesda, in so much pain I wished I was dead for real.” 

He tightens his hold on her, and she almost apologises for it, but she doesn’t, because she knows that’s not what he expects from her. 

“No matter what you decide, sweetheart, you won’t be alone. I’ll be right here by your side.” 

She hums sadly as she runs her fingers through his hair, “Where you always are,” she says, and he nods. For a reason she doesn’t entirely understand, that makes her decision for her, the confirmation of something she already knew, the final tick on her mental checklist that lets her know she’s ready for this. “I want to do it.” 

He furrows his brow for a fleeting second before he attempts to hide it from her, “Em-”

“I do, I want to.” She says, using the heel of her hand to wipe her cheeks, “I really want a baby with you, Aaron. And I know the surgery doesn’t gurantee anything, and I know it’s going to suck and it’s going to make me a miserable person to live with,” she says, choking on a laugh when he shakes his head at her, “But I want a baby with you and if this gives me the slightest chance then I want to do it. I just need you to promise not to leave me alone in any of it, okay?” 

She knows he won’t, that he’d be there every step of the way just like he had been so far, but she needs to say it. Needs to get her worst fear off her chest so she can breathe a little easier. 

He nods and he pulls her into a hug, his arms tight around her as he kisses her cheek, her temple, anywhere he can reach, his love for her a delicate stamp across her skin. 

“I’ll be right here, sweetheart. Forever.”

___

The first thing she’s aware of is his hand wrapped around hers.

The second thing is the pain, sharp and familiar in her abdomen, and she opens her eyes, blinking a few times as the slightly too bright lights of her hospital room make her groan. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” Aaron says, and she turns to look at him, smiling at the sight of him sitting in the chair next to her bed, the hand not wrapped around hers securing a tiny bundle to his chest, their son. “Are you feeling better after sleeping a little?” 

“Better is a strong word,” she says, huffing out a breath as she tries to sit up but fails, “Can you help?” 

He nods and stands up, his hand tight around hers as he helps her sit up, wincing with her when the movement pulls at her new scar. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” she says, catching her breath as he rearranges the pillows around her. “I did have major surgery this morning,” she quips, smiling softly as she adjusts the hat on the newborn's head when Aaron sits on the edge of her bed. “Can I have him?” 

Aaron leans forward to kiss her forehead, “Of course, Em. He’s yours.”

She feels something she can only describe as relief when her son is back in her arms. She studies his face, a face she’d imagined for 9 months, for much longer than that if she was honest with herself, and she tries to commit it all to memory, well aware he’d change and grow quicker than she’d ever be happy with. 

“He still needs a name,” she says, stroking her knuckles back and forth over his impossibly soft cheek, “Nothing feels…” 

It was hard to put into words, hard to even think of a way that described it. It had been 18 months since the surgery she’d had to remove her excess scar tissue. The surgery had been harder on her mentally than it had been physically. But Aaron had been there. He’d held her hand and brought her snacks and fussed over her in a way she thinks would have annoyed her just a few years prior. It’s what she’d needed, his enduring, limitless love for her, the very thing she needed to recover from things she hadn’t even known she needed to recover from. She thinks that was why the idea of a c-section, something her OBGYN had said was the best option for her from the start, hadn’t made her panic like the suggestion of the scar revision had. 

She wasn’t alone, and she never would be again. 

As soon as they found out she was pregnant, it felt like everything was finally falling into place. Every hard thing worth it when she found herself staring at a test with two lines on it. She took every moment of her pregnancy in her stride, even when it stripped away every single thing that made her feel like herself. And again, Aaron was always there. Wiping away tears when she’d cry over wanting a particular type of food she couldn’t eat, or holding her hand through every appointment. He was there and he was hers, and she couldn’t imagine doing any of this with anyone else. 

They knew they were having a boy from about halfway through her pregnancy, so she’d scoured every book she could find, every website, to try and find something that would suit her son. Now she was looking at him, it felt even harder, impossible even to do something like name a person who she’d love for the rest of her life. 

“Big enough.” He finishes for her, and she nods, forever in awe at how well he knew her. 

“Yeah,” she says, lifting the baby to kiss his forehead, “But we need to think of something. Baby Boy Hotchner might be cute now,” she quips, looking at the hospital band around his ankle, “But I don’t think he’d thank us for it when he has to write a resume.” 

“I don’t think kids at school would be kind about it either,” he jokes, and she shakes her head lovingly at him. He wraps his arm around them both and rests his cheek against the top of Emily’s head. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart,” he says, smiling at her when she tilts her head to look at him. “One day, when we’re so used to saying his name that we forget how hard it was to chose one,” he says, reaching out and cupping the back of the baby’s head, “I’m going to tell him all about his brave mom and all the things she went through just so he could be here.” 

She sucks in a breath, feels it catch on all her ribs as she shakes her head at him, “Aaron…”

“I mean it, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to kiss her, his hand on her cheek as he pulls back, “I’m so proud of you.” 

She chokes on a sound she can’t name, her control over her emotions and her ability to name them lost months ago, and she nods, her forehead knocking against his for a moment before she looks back at their baby boy. 

Whenever she imagined her wedding when she was younger, it never looked like this. She always pictured it as a big affair, something her mother would have more of a say in than she would. The guestlist largely made up of friends of Elizabeth, the dress something Emily would have liked but not loved, a compromise she would have taken as a win because she knew her mother wouldn’t have loved it either. A society wedding through and through that would have led to a life that would have bored her as much as she’s sure the man she’d have married would have. 

She never imagined this, never thought her wedding would be small and intimate, hosted in the backyard of her friend's home, and that she’d wear a dress she bought off the rack. She never thought she’d find friends who would become family and a partner she’d love more than she ever knew was possible. The kind of love she’d only ever read about and scoffed at in books she pretended she didn’t like. 

It was better. Infinitely better, and she had to keep reminding herself that it was real, that after everything, she’d finally made it here - dancing with her husband on the evening of their wedding. She couldn’t say if any of their guests were still there, she knew her mother had already left - her genuine happiness for her daughter mostly outshining her distaste for the simplicity of the wedding. Emily couldn’t even really say if the music was still playing. All she knew was that she was with him, swaying back and forth on the makeshift dancefloor in Dave’s backyard, their clasped hands trapped between them as they danced to a tune she was sure must be Aaron’s heartbeat.

“You okay, sweetheart?” 

She pulls back to look at Aaron, her husband, and she smiles, leaning in to stamp her lips against his, a kiss that’s more of a smile pressed against a smile than anything else. The only thing that made her even happier was how happy he was, joy flowing from him like a cologne as he smiles more than she’d ever known him to before. 

“I’m more than okay,” she says, leaning in to kiss him again, “I’m…”

“Perfect?” Aaron finishes for her, his smile turning into a playful smirk, and she rolls her eyes at him, “Finally, you come round to my way of thinking.”

“You’re being sappy again,” she says, squeezing his hand, and his smile only gets wider as he leans in to kiss her, his smile pressed against her cheek as they continue to sway.

“I just married the love of my life,” he mutters against her skin before he pulls back, “I’m allowed to be sappy today.” 

She hums as if she’s thinking about it, as if she’d deny him anything today, and she nods, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “I think I can allow that.” 

He laughs, the silly, goofy laugh that she loved more than he hated, and he kisses her again, another smile pressed against a smile before he speaks, “I’m so glad we finally made it here.” 

She nods and rests her forehead against his, “Me too.”

They’d been engaged for over two years. They never intended to have a long engagement, it’s something she’d wanted the moment she said yes, her lips pressed against his and her arms around his neck as she said she wanted to marry him as soon as possible. 

Things had changed when she found out she was pregnant just a week later, and their priorities shifted. They’d considered eloping, but Emily wanted to get married with their friends present. She wanted to celebrate her and Aaron’s love with the people closest to them, and if she was honest, have champagne at her own wedding, so they waited. They waited until their little girl, Violet, was born, and then they waited a little more. Life and love and everything in between had got in the way, and before they knew it, over two years had passed and Violet was 18 months old. Emily had never believed in everything happening for a reason, but as she’d walked down the aisle earlier that evening with Violet on her hip as they walked towards Aaron and Jack, she couldn’t help but think that everything had turned out exactly like it should have. 

Even if she had still ended up not being able to drink champagne on her wedding day. She was five months pregnant and excited to meet the little boy growing beneath her skin, the final piece of their family. Aaron had asked her if she wanted to postpone the wedding again when they found out she was pregnant, but she’d said no, joking they’d never find time to get married with three kids if they’d struggled when they had two. 

Plus, she couldn’t pretend she didn’t get a bit of a kick out of how her being a visibly pregnant bride had scandalised her mother. 

“I think it’s almost someone’s bedtime.” 

Emily and Aaron turn at the sound of Jess’s voice, and they sigh sympathetically at the sight of Violet in her arms, wiping at her eyes as she pouts, exhausted and clearly trying to pretend she wasn’t. Jack is standing next to Jess, also looking worn out by the excitement of the day, the tie he’d worn long gone and likely left somewhere in Dave’s yard for one of the staff he’d hired to find. 

“Come here, sweet girl,” Emily says, reaching out for Violet and kissing the side of her head as she settles her in her arms, “You excited to spend the night with Aunt Jessie?”

Violet shakes her head and presses her face into Emily’s neck, “Stay Mama.” 

Emily exchanges a look with Aaron, and she smiles, kissing the top of the toddler's head, “You’ll have fun, baby,” she says, looking down at Jack and winking, knowing he loved to be in on helping with Violet, “And Jack will be there too.” 

“We’ll have fun, Vi,” Jack pipes up, reaching for his sister’s hand and beaming as she wraps her fist around two of his fingers, “And Aunt Jess makes the best breakfast.”

Violet grumbles but nods, and Emily kisses her cheek, “I love you, sweet girl,” she says, kissing her cheek again, “Say goodnight to Daddy.”

As soon as she passes Violet over to Aaron, Jack has his arms wrapped around her waist, and she hugs him back, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. 

“I’ll look after Vi, Mom,” he says, pulling back to look at her, and she runs her fingers through his hair, sucking in a breath to make sure she doesn’t burst into tears, her love for the little boy who had become hers overwhelming, “I promise.” 

“I know you will, sweetie,” she says, hugging him tightly, “Love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

Aaron says goodbye to the kids, too, and they watch them leave, smiling when Violet is already asleep in Jess’s arms before they even leave Dave’s backyard. Emily hums contentedly as she looks around, wondering when their guests had dwindled down to just Dave, JJ and Will, but she shakes it off, turning back to look at Aaron. 

“More dancing?” She says, wrapping her hand around his again, and he squeezes her hand, worry flashing in his eyes as he looks her up and down, his gaze lingering on her belly. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” He asks, “It’s our wedding, we can leave when we want.” 

“Not yet.” She smiles at the offer and she cups his cheek to hold him in place as she leans in to kiss him, resting her forehead against his briefly before she encourages him to start dancing again. 

“You’re not tired?” 

She laughs, “Oh, I’m exhausted,” she says, squeezing his hand when worry flashes in his eyes again, “But I don’t want this to end quite yet. Don’t worry though,” she winks at him, “Soon enough I’ll let you whisk me away to our hotel so you can have your way with me.” 

He hums, “And by that you mean eat leftover cake in bed?” 

“You know me so well,” she says, unashamed in the way she giggles when she steals another kiss, another smile against a smile. 

“Well,” he says, pulling her closer, “You are my wife. It would be sad if I didn’t know you.” He stamps his lips against her cheek. “How long do you want to dance?” 

She was starting to think that Penelope Garcia could talk her into just about anything. All it took was a pout of her lower lip and a ‘but we never get to spend time together anymore’, and Emily would find herself agreeing to whatever she was suggesting. It’s how she finds herself at a hoedown of all things on a Friday night, dressed in a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, wishing she were almost anywhere other than where she was. 

It was supposed to be date night. It was something she and Aaron had established early on. Their relationship had moved quickly, quick in a way she thinks would have freaked her out if it were anybody else she was doing it with, so it felt like they never got the chance to date each other properly. Within a year of their first official date, they were already living together and engaged; within two years, they were married, and she was pregnant with their little boy. Life moved quickly around them, a blur of work and family and love, and they made sure to take the time to slow down. One evening a month when they were just Emily and Aaron. Not Mom and Dad, or Chief Prentiss and Agent Hotchner. Just the two of them and the way they loved each other, the makings of the very foundation of their family 

When Penelope originally told her about the hoedown, she’d said no when she saw the date it was on. Date night was circled on her desk calendar - something Clyde would make endless fun of her for when he came to visit Interpol’s DC office - so she always knew when it was. A countdown to a quiet moment with her husband that had started to feel like a sanctuary of sorts, something she’d draw energy and love from to get her through until the next time. Aaron had encouraged her to go out with JJ and Penelope. He knew she was stressed with work and everything else, so he’d kissed her and told her to go and have fun with their friends. Date night could, just this once, be rearranged for a reason that was not case related. 

Now she was here, as much as a hoedown was not her thing, she knew she’d needed something like this. Something different and new. She thinks she’d hate him for knowing her better than she knew herself if she didn’t love him so much for it. 

“Isn’t this amazing?” Penelope says, appearing by Emily’s side, a beer in one hand and a cocktail of sorts in the other. Emily gladly takes the beer and smiles at JJ on Penelope’s other side. They both smile, shaking their heads lovingly at their friend’s excitement. 

“It’s something,” Emily grumbles as she looks around the club, sighing to herself as she watches the band set up. She sips her beer and hopes that the alcohol will get her in the mood, that it will loosen her up just enough to enjoy herself. 

“How did you even find out about this?” JJ asks, and Penelope beams at them, her excitement flowing from her like a sweet perfume, straying into Emily’s senses and infiltrating them, her joy catching. 

“I was looking for ideas for girls' nights and this came up,” she says, “And we so rarely get to have them anymore,” she looks at JJ, “You’ve got Henry and Michael,” she turns to Emily, “And you’ve got Jack and Leo. And you and bossman are trying again-”

“Enthusiastically,” Emily says as she sips her beer again, smirking at the mixture of delight and mild horror that crosses her friend’s face. “What? You know we have sex. You’ve bought the proof of that enough toys to fill my house.” 

Leo was 18 months old. He was beautiful and perfect and a mini version of Aaron through and through. Motherhood was hard. Difficult in ways she could never have imagined when the idea of raising two little boys with the love of her life felt nothing more than a fantasy. It was hard, but it was the best thing she’d ever done. It brought her more joy and happiness than she ever thought possible. She loved being Jack and Leo’s mom, and she wanted more than anything to add to their family - to let her heart grow even more, to make room for a piece of the puzzle that felt like it was missing, the face of a person she’d love more than life itself just slightly out of reach. 

She’d been strangely nervous when she spoke to Aaron about it, somehow worried that they wouldn’t be on the same page, but he’d made it clear he agreed before she even finished her list of reasons of why they should have another baby, his lips pressed against hers before he told her he’d have half a dozen children with her. The thought of it made her smile, because she’d want the same with him too if time wasn’t a factor, if the ticking of her biological clock wasn’t getting louder with each passing month. Maybe, in another life where things had been different, that could have been something they’d had. 

“Please don’t call my sweet little nephew proof of your sex life,” Penelope grumbles, her eyes still sparkling with happiness despite her tone. “Anyway, you’re trying to have another adorable baby, and we’ll just have less time. So I wanted to look for something new to do, something that wasn’t just drinking margaritas in a bar somewhere.” She reaches out and squeezes Emily’s arm, “And I know you gave up date night for this, so I appreciate it.” 

Emily hums, “You owe me,” she says, winking playfully, “And Aaron said he’ll make it up to me.” 

Penelope and JJ smile as they both look past her, both of them failing to contain their excitement.

“Oh, I’m sure he will.” 

She furrows her brow and turns to follow their line of sight, and she sucks in a breath when she sees him, her chest catching with it as she tries to stop herself from reacting in a way her friends will tease her for. 

Aaron was standing just a few feet away in her favourite pair of jeans that he owned, a brown leather belt, a white t-shirt and a brown cowboy hat she’d never seen before. 

It’s almost ridiculous how good he looks in a cowboy hat. It pisses her off for a reason she doesn’t entirely understand, her mouth suddenly dry as she stares at him. She’s furious that somehow, after all this time, he still manages to make her feel like this, that all it takes is a smile from him and a wink from under the cowboy hat she didn’t know they owned to have her stomach flipping and her blood rushing in her ears. A continuous beat of arousal so loud that she swears the people around her must be able to hear it too. 

“Is she okay?” Penelope stage whispers to JJ, leaning in but still talking loudly enough for Emily to hear. 

“I think she’s just discovered something new about herself,” JJ replies, and they both smile widely and unashamedly in their teasing as she turns to look at them. Her cheeks burn with embarrassment at being caught out for checking out her husband, and she finds herself praying to a god she wasn’t entirely sure she believed in that they can’t see the pink flush to her cheeks in the low light of the club. 

“Shut up,” she says, looking back and forth between her friends and her husband. He walks over, more swagger in his step than usual that she knows he’s putting on just for show. “I don’t understand.” 

“Well,” JJ says, smiling conspiratorily with Penelope as they look at each other, “We know how important date night is to the two of you, so we spoke to Hotch and brought date night to the hoedown.” 

Emily smiles, and a surprised laugh escapes her before she can try and pull it back in. Aaron places his hand on her back as he makes it to her side, his smile wide and full of something she’d call mischief if he were anybody else. 

“Surprise, sweetheart,” he says, leaning down to kiss her cheek, the rim of his cowboy hat knocking against her forehead. She places her hand over his as it slips to her hip, and she links their fingers together. She looks over at her friends and shakes her head ever so slightly, guilt flooding her lungs and washing away any joy she’d felt at seeing her husband. 

“It was meant to be girls' night,” she says, squeezing Aaron’s hand so he knows she’s not mad that he’s here, that she appreciates it. It was just another balancing act - separating out time for her friends in her increasingly beautiful, but busy, life. 

“It was meant to be your date night,” Penelope says, “And now it can be both,” she scrunches her nose up slightly, “Just no baby making on the dance floor, please.” 

Emily laughs, and she feels Aaron go tense behind her, his shoulders wound tight with embarrassment that she knew she could undo in a second. Penelope and JJ give them some space, making the excuse that they were going to look for dancing partners, and Emily turns in Aaron’s arms, looping her arms around his neck the moment she looks at him. 

“Speaking of babies,” she says, smiling when he tugs her closer, his hand on her lower back as he arches her body against his, “Where are ours?” 

“9 and 18 months old is old enough to be left alone, right?” He quips, his smile getting wider as she rolls her eyes at him, “Don’t worry, I only left them with half a pack of matches. I’m not entirely irresponsible.” 

“Aaron,” she says, shaking her head at him as she cups his cheek, pressing her thumb into one of his dimples. 

“Jess is with them. She arrived 5 minutes after you left.”

Emily hums, “So, everyone was in on this little surprise.”

He nods, and doubt flashes in his smile, carves itself out in his dimples in a way that makes her ache, “Was this okay? Me coming along?” He looks over to where Penelope and JJ are standing, and she nods, her hand on his cheek as she makes him look at her. 

“It’s a very nice surprise,” she says, smiling as she looks up at his hat, “As is the cowboy hat,” she tilts her head curiously, momentarily distracted by the sight of him in it again, by the way it seemed to perfectly frame his face, “When did you get it?” 

“I…bought it specifically for tonight,” he admits, his lips pressed together in embarrassment. “Do you hate it? Does it look stupid?” 

“No,” she answers a little too quickly, clearing her throat when he raises an eyebrow at her, “Definitely not stupid.” 

He furrows his brows, and she sees the moment it registers, the moment he realises just how much she doesn’t hate the hat. His smile turns playful, an edge of confidence to it that just makes him impossibly more attractive, and he leans in to kiss her, pulling back just enough to speak. 

“So you like the hat.” 

She sinks her teeth into her lower lip as she pulls back to look at him, “I really like the hat,” she says, turning the tables on him as she strokes her hand over his chest, letting her fingers trail under the neckline of his t-shirt, smiling when he shudders, “What’s that saying? Save a horse…” 

“Ride a cowboy,” he finishes for her, his grip on her tightening as he leans in to stamp his lips against hers, but they are interrupted before they can kiss, the voice of the host crackling through the speakers. It’s a stark reminder that they aren’t alone, dousing the fire between them that they’d briefly built up as they got lost in each other. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are about to start, so find your dancing partner and come to the dance floor.” 

Emily laughs and looks at Aaron, “Later?”

He nods and squeezes her hand, “Later.” 

Despite her reservations, she has fun. She laughs and she dances and she enjoys herself. Aaron is surprisingly good at it, something that Emily knows will be endlessly fascinating to Penelope and JJ. Another fact about their boss that they could store away for later, another part of the stern facade he wore like a mask, suddenly gone. 

By the time the hoedown is over, she’s sad to be leaving, but she doesn’t let Penelope know as they say goodbye, just in case she tries to arrange coming to another one. Emily waves her friends off before she climbs into her and Aaron’s car, sighing contentedly as she buckles her belt and looks over at him, smiling as he starts the engine. 

“So…” she says, her eyes fixed on the cowboy hat as she bites her lip, “Do you think the boys will be in bed by the time we get back?” 

“Jack will be,” he replies as he starts to drive. “Leo tends to try to fight sleep until he sees you,” he quips, and he smiles when she doesn’t try to deny it, their toddler's obsession with his mother well known. She knew if they got what they wanted, if they had another baby, Leo would have to learn how to share, but for now, she revelled in it, loved that she was her son’s safe space.  “But it shouldn’t take too long for us to have some alone time.” 

She hums in agreement, “Aaron?” 

“Yes, sweetheart?” he replies, purposefully speaking in a drawl, and she has to clench her teeth to hold back a groan, the combination of the accent and the hat unlocking something in her that she hadn’t known existed.

“The hat stays on.” 

-x-

...ride a cowboy!

She was nervous. 

She wasn’t used to it. It made her feel like a teenager again, like she was young and unsure of herself, anxious when he smiled at her, as if she would find happiness somewhere in the curve of his cheek or in the dip of his dimples. It made her feel stupid. Foolish. And if she didn’t love him so damn much, she thinks she’d hate him for it.  

She’d waited for him. Waited for him to ask her on a date, because she knew it was important for him to be the one who asked, and when he finally did, when months - years, if she was honest - gave way to their friendship tipping over into more, it was a relief. Like she could breathe for the first time in a long time, her head above water as if he was her dry land.  

The only thing that made her feel better was that he was nervous too. He was just as anxious as she was, just as aware of how important this was. The last first date. The last first kiss.

The last time they’d fall in love, the thrill of it just as addictive as she remembered. 

It takes a couple of weeks for them to find the time, for work and for everything else to line up so they go on their date, and it’s perfect. She’d worried it would be awkward, that they’d overhyped it, made it more than it should be, but it’s just like any other time they’ve spent together. They talk about anything and everything, but this time, as he tells her about Jack and what he’d done at school, they aren’t sitting on opposite ends of his couch, but snuggled up together in a booth in a restaurant, her hand in his as he runs his thumb back and forth over the heel of her hand. 

Aaron is sweet, kind, and annoyingly gentlemanly, and he’s everything she knew he would be. He shows up at her place with flowers and a nervous smile, and she doesn’t fight him when he gets out his wallet to pay for dinner, doesn’t insist that she pays for half, because she knows it’s another thing that’s important to him. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip to try and contain her smile when he helps her put her jacket on as they leave the restaurant, his fingers chasing the shiver he causes when they skim her shoulders. A taster of what she hoped was to come.

He drives her home, their hands linked over the centre console, the press of his palm warm against hers, and she feels the same nervous excitement she’d had before he picked her up bubbling in her stomach again. He walks her to her door, because of course he does, and she smiles when she turns to look at him, her lips pressed together as their eyes meet. 

“Want to come in?” She asks, nodding towards her front door, losing her nerve a little when his eyes flash with something close to anxiety, “For a drink?”

He smiles, and clears his throat, “I…I don’t want you to think I’m expecting something if I do come in-”

She kisses him, her hand on his cheek as she holds him in place, cutting off his adorable apprehension with a simple press of her lips against his. She pulls back just enough to talk, her lips pressed together as she chases the taste of him still lingering on them.

“I want you to come in,” she says, stroking her thumb back and forth over his cheek, knowing he’ll catch the double meaning, “As long as you want-”

He kisses her this time, gently and all too briefly, before he pulls back and smiles at her, taking his turn to be the one doing the reassuring. It was a give and take. A perfect example of what their relationship always had been and always would be, their love for each other laid out in how they cared for the other. 

“You said something about a drink?” He says finally, his eyes soft as he looks at her as if she hung the stars in the sky herself. She nods and she digs through her purse for her keys, the warmth of him at her back overwhelming as she turns to unlock the door. 

They step into her apartment. He helps her take her jacket off, purposely running his fingers over the same spot on her shoulders he’d accidentally discovered in the restaurant. She gasps, narrowing her eyes at the delight in his eyes, the way they sparkle in a way she would have once thought they couldn’t. 

“Scotch or wine?” She asks, swallowing thickly to pretend her voice isn’t shaking, and he leans in to kiss her cheek. 

“Whatever you want,” he replies, his tender teasing giving way to open affection as she leads him to the kitchen, neither one of them sure who had reached for whose hand. She pours them both a glass of wine, and they go to the living room, snuggled together on one end of the couch as they exchange kisses like the sweetest candy. She isn’t sure how it happens, but she ends up in his lap, her arms around his neck and his around her waist as they explore each other, hands skimming hills and valleys they’d only ever imagined before. She hums his name against his lips, her forehead against his as she pulls back, her breath skipping across his face. He squeezes her hips, “Em…”

“Bedroom?” She asks, and she doesn’t know how he has this power over her, how he can make her so nervous, but then she pulls back to look at him, and she can see he’s nervous too, that he’s just as aware as she is about what this means to them. It wasn’t just sex, it never could be between them. It was the start of the rest of their lives together, the night they’d look back on fondly for the rest of their lives, the night they’d tell their children a PG version of if they ever asked about their first date. 

She presses her thumb against his lower lip, and he kisses it, smiling softly as he nods at her, “Bedroom.” 

He follows her, his hand wrapped around hers as she leads him down the hallway, only breaking away from her when she picks Sergio up off of her bed and leaves him out in the hallway, both of them smiling when the cat meows at them from the other side of the closed door. 

They take things slowly, exploring each other and skimming gentle fingers over scars they’d only ever read about in each other's files. She thinks with anyone else, she’d be self-conscious, that she’d be all too aware of the starburst of scar tissue on her abdomen and the brand mark on her breast, but it’s different with him. She sees the beauty in his scars, sees how they are made of him, that they are evidence that he’d survived to make it here to her, and for the first time, she knows hers aren’t any different. 

Afterwards, as they lay together in her bed, his chest against her back and their linked hands tucked under her chin, she sighs contentedly, dropping a kiss to his knuckles. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, and she hums, turning her head just enough to look at him.

“I’m more than okay,” she replies, stamping her lips against his, chuckling when it turns into a yawn, “Tired though. You wore me out.”

He laughs, but his cheeks go red, a blush rushing down his neck and chest, and he kisses the corner of her mouth, “We should get some sleep.” 

She nods and kisses him again, her nose rubbing against his jaw, “Goodnight.” 

He kisses her cheek, then her brow, before she rests her head on her pillow again, another yawn lost into the peaceful darkness of her room. 

“Goodnight, Em”

___

They were the last two left in the office. 

Aaron had told them all, including her, that they could go home a couple of hours ago, but she’d stayed, not wanting to leave him alone. She’d stayed, had used the excuse that she had paperwork to catch up on when the others had asked her if she wanted to go for a drink with them, as if they didn’t know she was staying to keep an eye on her boyfriend. She looked up at his office now and again, her heart clenching in her chest every time she did so, his stress obvious even through the window and partially closed blinds. 

Eventually, when her own exhaustion creeps up on her, when she can no longer deny just how tired she is, she walks up to his office, determined to see if she can convince him to leave with her. He smiles when she knocks on the door and opens it, the first smile she’d seen skip across his face all day, and he puts his pen down, his tired eyes meeting hers as she walks over to perch on his desk.

“You heading home?” He asks, his hand heavy and warm on her thigh as he squeezes, and she nods in response, placing her hand over his and linking their fingers together. 

“I was wondering if I might be able to convince you to come with me,” she says, stroking her thumb back and forth over his hand. Home was, as of a month ago, the house they’d bought together. It was perfect. Everything they’d been looking for and more in the months they’d been searching, and she loved it. She loved that after all this time that she finally had somewhere to call home, although she knew that more to do with the man and the little boy she loved than it did the five bedroom, three bath house on Dupont Circle they now lived in. She reaches out and runs her fingers through Aaron’s hair, her eyes flicking to the dark circles under his eyes, “You look tired, honey.” 

He chuckles dryly, “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

She rolls her eyes lovingly at him and stands, smiling when he doesn’t need encouragement to roll his chair back just enough for her to join him, and she climbs into his lap. They usually weren’t affectionate at work, usually respected the firm boundaries they had in place, but they were the only two left in the office, so she was allowing herself this, a moment of him before she knew she’d inevitably head home alone. 

“You know what I mean,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck, scratching her nails against the base of his scalp, catching against hair that was a little longer than usual. “It’s been a long day.” 

“It has been,” he replies, his eyes drifting to his desk and the pile of paperwork, “I still have a lot to do.” 

She knows him, knows he wouldn’t be saying it if he wasn’t true - that he didn’t use work as an excuse to stay here if he didn’t need to. She also knew it was something that weighed heavily on him, that every time he had to stay late, he felt like he was letting her and Jack down, a weight that he’d carried from his marriage to Haley and what he perceived as his failures heavy on his shoulders. 

“I’ll go get Jack from Jess’s,” she says, “And I’ll get something for dinner and make sure I leave you some.” 

He nods, looking down at their linked hands in her lap. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no,” she says, cupping his cheek to make him look at her, “You don’t have anything to apologise for.” She rests her forehead against his, “If anything, I should probably apologise - I think I’ll be asleep by the time you get home. I’m so tired, I think I’ll fall asleep the second I lie down.” 

Aaron chuckles and kisses her, “I’ll do my best not to wake you up when I get back.” 

She frowns as she pulls back to look at him, coming the closest she thinks she’d ever come to pouting, and she reaches out to touch his tie, focusing on adjusting it unnecessarily rather than him, somehow still shy about her love for him after all this time. 

“You have to wake me up,” she says, as if they both don’t know she’d grumble at him if he did, “Otherwise we won’t have our goodnight kiss.” 

He smiles at her, love and affection flowing off of him like a cologne, sweet and enticing, as she leans in towards him as if drawn like a moth to the flame. “Well, you know how we can avoid that, don’t you?” 

She presses her lips together in an attempt to hide her smile from him, and she hums, “Enlighten me.” 

He stamps his lips against hers and pulls back just enough to speak, “We have our goodnight kiss now.” 

She smiles, no longer able to hide it, and she cups his cheek, dragging him into a kiss, tasting coffee and the candy she’d hidden for him in his drawer on his tongue, “I guess that’s acceptable.” 

She kisses him again, and then once more before she pulls away, standing up and extracting herself from his embrace, the chill in the air of his office replacing the warmth of him. 

“Goodnight, honey,” she says, kissing him one last time before she steps back, throwing him a wink that makes him smile.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he replies. “I love you.” 

She turns to look at him, “Love you too,” she grasps the door handle but looks at him one more time, “I wouldn’t be mad if you woke me up when you get home anyway,” she says, and he smiles, “I can never have enough goodnight kisses from you.” 

He nods, unable to fight his smile despite his exhaustion, her love for him the balm his weary soul always needed. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

___

He stops her the moment she has the key card in their hotel suite door. His hands are insistent on her hips as he turns her in his arms, his arms tight around her waist as he draws a laugh out of her when he leans in to kiss her. 

“Honey,” she says, mumbled against his lips, laughing again when he pulls her closer, holding her so tightly he almost lifts her, “What are you doing?” 

“Trying to carry you,” he says matter of factly, his smile softened by love and the champagne they’d been drinking all evening. “It’s tradition.” 

“Maybe if we were 20 years younger,” she hums as she pulls back, the sound turning into a full bodied laugh and then a squeal when he manages it, her arms tight around his neck as he hooks her arms around his neck, securing herself to him, “Careful of your back.” 

“Like I said, it’s tradition.” He walks into their suite, kicking the door closed behind them and replies, “I’m carrying my wife into our hotel room on our wedding night.”

She can’t help but smile, her cheeks aching with it, before she leans in to kiss him, humming at the taste of champagne and the expensive chocolate dessert Dave’s caterers had served them lingering on his tongue. It was strange to think it was all behind them now, that the day they’d planned was over, the rest of their lives together laid out in front of them. It made her giddy, made love and everything she couldn’t find a name for swirl in her gut. 

Everyone always joked that she could talk him into anything, that all it would take was a flutter of her eyelashes and a smile, and he’d be putty in her hands, but no one ever seemed to realise that it worked both ways. That all it took was a flash of his dimples and the crinkle of the smile lines around his eyes, and she’d give in to anything, every part at his mercy as he was at hers. 

She thinks that must be why she simply holds on tighter despite her concern for his back, because she wants to live in this moment for as long as she can, to bask in his affection and adoration of her. 

“I love you,” she says, kissing him one more time, not missing how he readjusts his gait, how he tightens his hold on her, “So much. But you should put me down now.”

“I love you, too,” he replies, kissing her once more before he sets her down, not letting her drift too far, his arms tight around her back as he holds her close. She yawns and he laughs, gently stroking his knuckles down her cheek, “Want to lie down?”

“Oh God, yes,” she says, toeing off her shoes before he leads her over to the bed. She immediately lies down and he sits next to her, untying his laces and leaving his shoes neatly by the bed, and then he lies down with he. She snuggles up against him, her face pressed against his neck as she sighs contentedly, “I’m so tired.” 

He hums and kisses the top of her head, “It’s been a long day.” 

She pulls back to look at him and smiles, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together. Her smile gets wider when she feels the cool metal of his wedding ring pressing against her skin, and she runs her thumb back and forth over it. Ever since she’d slipped it on his finger a few hours ago, she’d been obsessed with it, seeking it out by touching it or staring at it - something that had made Penelope make fun of her when she caught her doing it. It was a sign for the rest of the world that he was hers, and she didn’t think she’d ever tire of seeing it. 

“It’s been a good day, though,” she says, lifting his hand to kiss it, her lips catching the edge of his ring. 

“The best.” 

The wedding had been small, much smaller than she ever would have imagined her wedding when she was young, but she didn’t think she’d have ever imagined him either. It was perfect, just them and the people who meant the most to them, and she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Staying in the hotel for the night was his idea, something to make the night special, to make it stand out from every other night of their lives. 

She yawns again, and she thinks any plans she may have had for their suite for the night might be short-lived. 

“You’re not going to be mad if I fall asleep, are you?” She asks, settling against him again, humming contentedly, “I know wedding nights are meant to be for sex until we fall asleep from exhaustion.”

He laughs and kisses the top of her head, “Wedding nights are meant for whatever we want them to be for,” he says, running his hand up and down her back, “Haley and I ate leftover cake in bed and fell asleep.”

She chuckles against his neck, the vibration of her joy warming him from the inside out, “I like the sound of that.” 

She’s falling asleep already. He can tell from the sleepiness in her voice, in how she gets heavier against him, and he knows they likely won’t even change out of the clothes they married each other in, the satin of her dress soft and cool beneath his palm as he runs his hand up and down her back. 

“The cake is here somewhere,” he says, looking around the room to see if he can spot the belongings that the concierge had brought up for them. “I’ll find it later.” 

She hums, “Okay.” 

He smiles and stamps his lips against her forehead, “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

There was no such thing as a quiet, calm morning in the Hotchner household. Either Jack would be up and a little too loud despite his best efforts to be silent, or Lucy would crawl into Emily and Aaron’s bed, her little hands pressed against one of their faces as she not-so-delicately pulled them from sleep. In the three weeks since Poppy had been born - throwing them back into the throes of having a newborn - the littlest Hotchner would wake them up every couple of hours. Crying out to be fed or changed, or even just for comfort, seemingly never finding it unless she was laying on Emily’s chest. 

It was loud, and exhausting and so very far away from the days when Emily lived alone, but it was hers, and she loved every second of it. So when she wakes up naturally, gently drawn from sleep instead of abruptly pulled from it by one of her children, she panics. She places her hand on Aaron’s side of the bed as she sits up and feels nothing but cool sheets, and she looks over at the bassinet to find it empty. Any anxiety is brief, falling away the moment she hears laughter downstairs. She shakes her head at herself, her hand on her chest as her breathing slows down again. The hammer of her heart against her palm an echo of when her life had been full of fear, and monsters had been lurking in every shadow, ready to take everything she held dear away from her. 

It was what had led them to London in the first place, why they’d decided to make the move across an ocean to somewhere new. Somewhere where their pasts weren’t waiting around every corner, everything they’d been through seemingly in the cracks of the sidewalks in the city they’d once called home. It was safe here. A new place where they’d started again and grown their family, where Jack wasn’t the kid whose mom had died but simply the new kid - a title that had long since faded. It had been an adjustment, a change that she’d welcomed with both hands, and whilst she missed her friends, it made the time they spent with them when they came to visit, or when she and Aaron would go back to the States, all the more precious. 

Emily shrugs on Aaron’s robe, sighing contentedly as she breathes in the smell of him lingering on the terry fabric, and she heads downstairs to seek out her family. She can hear their whispered conversation as she gets closer, and she pauses outside the kitchen, taking a moment to watch them all together. Jack is helping Lucy stir pancake batter, his arm around her as he keeps her safe on the spot she’s sitting in on the kitchen counter, and Aaron is pacing the kitchen, Poppy against his chest as he rubs his hand up and down her back. 

Emily loved to watch them together. She loved to watch the love she’d helped create bloom. To watch the love she curated and cherished every day flower and grow until it wrapped itself around the very foundations of the place they called home. The love that was as much of a part of their house as the walls decorated with pictures that were snapshots of their life together. She’s tempted to watch a little longer, to linger in the doorway and stare at the family she once convinced herself she’d never get to be part of, but then Lucy looks up at her, her smile and eyes wide as she calls out for her. 

“Mummy!” 

Jack, who helps Lucy down to the ground, and Aaron both look over at her and smile as Lucy runs over, her arms open wide as she barrels into Emily. 

“Remember to be careful with Mommy, princess.” 

Emily looks up at him and raises her eyebrow as she lifts Lucy into her arms. “She’s fine,” she says, clenching her teeth to cover the smallest wince as she straightens back up. She smiles as she looks at Lucy, and she tickles her belly, smiling when the three-year-old giggles and presses her face against her neck. “Hi, sweet girl.” 

“Hi,” Lucy replies, her eyes sparkling as she pulls back to look at her, her tiny fingers already tangled in Emily’s hair. 

“Remember what we have to say to Mommy today?” Aaron prompts, walking over to stamp a kiss against Emily’s lips, staying close by so she can cup the back of Poppy’s head, tracing the swirl of her dark hair with her thumb. Lucy nods enthusiastically, leaning in to kiss her mother’s cheek, her lips sticky with pancake batter.

Lucy pulls back and smiles at her, “Happy Mummy Day!” 

Emily chuckles, love sparks in her chest, the flames of it filling the gap there that she thinks might have always been waiting for her, for all of them, and she feels something close to ridiculous when she feels tears press at the back of her eyes. She runs her fingers through Lucy’s hair and clears her throat, “Thanks, baby.” 

Jack wraps his arms around Emily too, abandoning his task of mixing the pancake better, and he smiles up at her, “Happy Mother’s Day!” He says, nodding over towards the kitchen counter covered in all of her favourite breakfast foods, “We’re making you breakfast.”

“I can see that,” she says, kissing his forehead. “Thank you, Jack.” 

Poppy cries out in Aaron’s arms, and Emily chuckles, unhooking her arm around Jack to stroke the newborn’s cheek. “And thank you too, Miss Poppy,” she looks up at Aaron. “She’s probably hungry.”

“Swap?” He suggests, and she nods. They maneuver their hold on the girls expertly, transferring Lucy into Aaron’s arms and Poppy into Emily’s. As soon as the baby is against her chest, she starts to root and Emily chuckles, stamping a kiss against her head. 

“I feel like my boobs could burst anyway,” she quips, smiling when Jack grumbles, his embarrassment tinging his cheeks a shade of pink she always found delight in, “I’ll go feed her and leave you to finish what you started.” 

Aaron nods and leans in to kiss her. “Of course, sweetheart. We’ll be here when you’re ready,” he says, and she turns to leave before he stops her, “Em? Happy Mother’s Day.”

She presses her lips together in a failed attempt to contain her smile, finding herself still prone to try and hide her happiness from him after all this time. It was a failed attempt, one he’d see through in a second if her face hadn’t split into a wide smile, and she clears her throat, once again overwhelmed by her love for him and their family. 

“Thanks, honey.” 

___

“Are you sure I can’t help?” She asks, pacing the kitchen with Poppy fast asleep against her chest in the baby carrier, worried that if she stopped and stood still for even a second, she’d wake up. 

“It’s Mother’s Day; your job is to relax,” Aaron says as he raises his eyebrow at her, briefly stopping from making the lunches he was packing for the park. 

She sighs, “Honey-”

“It’s the rules, I’m afraid,” he says, smiling as she rolls her eyes at him, her fake irritation dulled by the way she drops a kiss to the top of Poppy’s head, “Especially because you only had a baby three weeks ago.” 

She smiles even as she shakes her head at him. “I’m fine.” 

“I know you are,” he says, “But please just let me spoil my wife and the mother of my children on today of all days.” 

“Okay, fine.” She chuckles, her reply punctuated by the doorbell ringing. She narrows her eyes playfully at him as she turns and heads for the front door. “If that’s a massive bunch of flowers, it’s your responsibility to look after them. It’s taking all of my energy to feed your youngest these days. I’d probably put her in water and try and breastfeed the sunflowers if I was responsible for both,” she says, already out of the room before he can reply, and she kisses Poppy’s temple. “Right, sweet girl?” She kisses her temple again. “You’re worth it, though.” She pulls the front door open without looking through the peephole, and instead of seeing a stranger clutching a bouquet she’d need to sign for, she comes face to face with the last person she was expecting to see. “Mom?” 

“Hello, Emily,” she replies, clearing her throat as she raises her eyebrow at her. “Are you going to let me in?” She pulls her jacket tighter around her. “London in March leaves a lot to be desired after you’ve spent five months in Morocco.” 

Emily steps back to let her in, closing the door behind her as she follows her into the house. “Mom, what are you doing here?” 

“Well, I had a layover between my flights, and I thought, why not have it here so I can come and meet my new granddaughter,” she says, tilting her head to try to get a better look at Poppy’s face. “I’m assuming this is her?” 

“No, this is just a spare baby we keep around the house.” She quips, sighing when Elizabeth does nothing more than raise a brow at her, “Yes, this is Poppy,” she adds, narrowing her eyes when her mother makes a disapproving expression that she was all too familiar with. “What’s wrong with the name Poppy?” 

Elizabeth sighs, “Nothing is wrong with it, Emily.” 

Emily clenches her teeth and swallows thickly, pushing back everything that she wants to say. She wants to tell her that even if they had the relationship she so desperately wanted with her children, it wouldn’t be appropriate for her to just show up here when she has a new baby. She wants to tell her that she’d managed to separate Mother’s Day here in her head from Mother’s Day back in the States, that she would get through the day without thinking about her and their complicated relationship - saving it all for a Sunday in May that wouldn’t impact her day with her kids - and that by showing up she had ruined that. The walls she’d built around this day to protect it cracking, all the feelings she’d hidden behind it like a dam flooding through. Memories of cards she’d made as a child that were barely looked at or trinkets and paintings she made in school that were never framed or displayed hitting her all at once, making her suck in a breath that catches in her chest. 

She doesn’t say any of it. She doesn’t even try, because she knows it won’t achieve anything. She’d learnt a long time ago that things with her mother were as good as they were ever going to get, and that hoping for anything more - for anything that went further than the surface level relationship they’d wordlessly agreed on - would only break her own heart. 

“You really should have called to let us know you were coming. We have plans,” she says, smiling tightly, knowing it was only a matter of seconds now until the kids realised her mom was here, their version of Elizabeth, a loving and involved grandmother despite living in a different country, so different to the one Emily had, “It’s Mother’s Day.” 

Elizabeth frowns at her. “No, it isn’t, Emily. Mother’s Day isn’t until May.” 

Emily has to stop herself from rolling her eyes, and she smiles politely instead. “Not here, it isn’t. Here it is today.” 

Elizabeth clears her throat and presses her lips together, a brief expression passing across her face that was the closest she ever came to apologising, “Well, I’m here now.” 

Emily sighs, but is cut off as Aaron walks out of the kitchen, already talking before he turns the corner, “Emily, who was at the door? I swear I heard your…” his eyes briefly go wide as they meet hers before he slips into polite, son-in-law, mode and smiles at her mother, “Elizabeth, we weren’t expecting to see you.” 

One of the many many reasons Emily loved Aaron was because he understood this part of her life. He understood her complicated relationship with her mom and why she never said anything to her unless she was pushed to her limits. She knew he struggled to toe the line sometimes, that he wanted to tell Elizabeth exactly what he thought about her and the way she treated Emily, but he never broke the promise she’d made him make at the start of their relationship. 

“I was just telling Emily that I happened to be in town,” she says, “And I thought I’d come and meet Poppy.” 

Aaron nods, his arm around Emily’s waist as he holds her close, “Well, I wish you’d called. We have-”

“Grandma Liz?” 

They both turn at the sound of Jack’s delighted voice and see Lucy toddling just behind him, her excitement just as clear as her brother's. Elizabeth smiles when they both hug her, their arms tight around her middle, and she hugs them back as tightly. 

“Well, look at you two,” she says, smiling down at them. “You’ve both got bigger since I last saw you.” 

“Dad says I’m going to be taller than him one day.” 

Elizabeth chuckles and looks over at Emily and Aaron briefly before she looks back down at her grandchildren, “I think you might be.” 

“We’re going to the park,” Jack says, “Can you come with us?” 

Aaron feels Emily tense against him, and he squeezes her hip, “Jack, buddy, I’m sure your grandmother has other things to do.” 

Lucy frowns, her eyebrows pinched together in a way that never failed to make Emily ache, “Gran’ma not coming?” 

Emily sighs, and she’s talking before she can stop herself, “No, it’s okay. Grandma can come,” she says, looking up at her mother, making eye contact with her and ensuring she was making it clear that she didn’t have a choice, “Right, Mom?” 

She’d never gone to the park with her, or pushed her on the swings. Nannies and au pairs and even her father used to do that for her, assuring her that her mother was on the way, even though she never was, and that she was at work. No matter how much it hurt to see how Elizabeth was with the kids, no matter how much it made her jealous in a way that made her feel guilty, she never wanted to deprive them of it. She wanted them to have as much love in their lives as possible, even if it was sometimes to her own detriment. 

Elizabeth nods and runs her fingers through Lucy’s hair, tucking it behind her ear. “Right,” she says, looking back down at the kids and their delighted smiles, “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” 

The worst thing, Emily thinks, is that her mother means it, and it breaks her heart.

___

“Is she okay?” 

Aaron looks in the stroller and smiles as he looks at his wife. “She’s fast asleep.” 

Emily hums and looks around the park, smiling wryly as she takes in the sounds of the park - children’s laughter and the din of conversation from crowds that could only come with the first sunny day of the year. “Here she’ll sleep, but in our bedroom? Not a chance.” 

Aaron wraps his arms around her shoulder and tugs her closer, stamping a kiss against her temple before she settles against him. “I’ll stay up with her tonight,” he promises. “You need the sleep more than I do.” 

She turns her head and kisses his shoulder through his jacket. “Thanks, honey,” she says, suppressing a yawn as she pulls back, her gaze settling on Jack, Lucy and Elizabeth over by the swings. She sighs sadly and reaches for his hand to sandwich it between both of hers, seeking out the love and comfort she now had in abundance directly from the source, “She never did that for me.” 

He holds her tighter, the hand on her shoulder running up and down her arm. “Em-”

“I’m glad she does it for them,” she says, cutting over him before he can offer her platitudes she knows he means, “I love the relationship they get to have with her, especially because they don’t get to see her that often, but…” she drifts off, the rest of her sentence stuck in her throat, held in place by tears she doesn’t want to shed her. She blows out a breath, and it shakes, and she has to blink to try not to cry. 

“But you wish she’d done it for you too,” he finishes for her, and she turns to look at him, her chin trembling as she nods. 

“Yeah,” she says, wiping away a tear as soon as it slips onto her cheek, “Because if she can do it now, if she can do it for them…” she says, her attention drawn back to her mother and the kids as Lucy laughs, delighted as she’s pushed on a swing by Jack and Elizabeth, both of them with a hand each on her back. She swallows thickly and starts again, “If she can do it for them, it means she always had the ability to be what I wanted her to be,” she shrugs sadly, “She just didn’t want to do it for me,” she wipes away another tear, “And I think that’s what hurts the most.” 

He cups her jaw and makes her look at him, her thumb on tracing back and forth on her cheekbone, the familiar callouses rough and soft all at once against her skin, drawing her back to the present from the past that had never quite been what she’d wanted it to be. 

“Do you want me to tell her to leave?” He asks, wiping away a tear the second it slips past her lashes, “Because I’ll tell her to go. Today is supposed to be about you.” 

The offer makes her smile, makes her love him even more, and she turns her head to kiss his palm, “It’s okay,” she says, resting her head on his shoulder as she looks over at Jack and Lucy again, “Look at them, they’re happy and that’s all I really ever want anyway.”

“I guess I should return that necklace I got you with all their initials on it,” he jokes, knowing that’s what she needed right now, that the kids would run over soon demanding their lunch and she’d want to be put back together by them, all the pieces of her where they needed to be so her mother wouldn’t see the cracks that had formed. 

She laughs and shakes her head at him, “You’d better not,” she says, poking him in the chest, “One of your kids tunneled out of me less than a month ago.” 

He leans in to kiss her, stamps his lips against hers, a simple touch that says everything they can’t say here. Everything they’d say when they were home and Elizabeth was gone and the kids were in bed. He rests his forehead against hers as he pulls back.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Em,” he says, and she smiles, any sadness she’d felt dampened out, the flames of it smothered by his love for her, and she kisses him, pulling back just enough to reply. 

“Thanks, honey,” she says, bumping her nose against his as she closes her eyes to breathe him in, letting herself settle in this feeling for as long as she can, focusing on the sound of her two eldest children laughing before she carries on, “And thanks for offering to tell my Mom to leave,” she offers him a half smile, “You must really love me.” 

He beams at her, a smile that she hopes Poppy will share with him and her siblings, a smile Emily knew she could never get enough of, no matter how many times she saw it.

“I love you and the kids more than anything, sweetheart,” he promises, “You know that.” 

Emily sighs contentedly as she steps out of her bedroom, rolling her neck against the ache that always seemed to come after sleeping on thin hotel mattresses and pillows that weren’t hers. The team had just landed back in DC a couple of hours ago after three days away on a case, and the first thing she’d done was jump in the shower the second she got home - standing under water that bordered on too hot as she washed away the horrors they’d seen the last few days.

She smiles as she walks past her couch, pausing to pet Sergio as he stands on the back of it, delighted to see her after putting up with the neighbour who called in to check on him whilst she was away. 

“What should I get for dinner, buddy? Chinese food or pizza?” She says, grimacing as she thinks of eating takeout again, but aware of the fact she had no energy to go grocery shopping. Her phone chimes with a text, and she pulls it out of the pocket of her FBI hooded sweatshirt, Aaron’s sweatshirt, and she smiles when she sees a text from the man in question. 

Fancy coming over? Jack keeps asking why you aren’t here. We both miss you.

It had been a month since their first date, since she’d finally kissed him and then tugged him into her apartment by his tie, and she knew she’d never been happier. No one on the team knew about them yet, and they were figuring out a way they could tell them about the shift in their relationship, so when the jet landed there wasn’t a chance to discuss anything beyond ‘see you at work on Monday’ like they were simply colleagues, not a couple who were still very much in the phase of their relationship where they couldn’t get enough of each other. He was the first person she’d been with since the damage Ian had left behind, and she knew she was the first person Aaron had been with since Foyet. It made it oddly comforting, made her feel less self-conscious, knowing he was in a similar situation too. Like they were starting all over again, just the two of them, as if anything or anyone that had come before them happened to somebody else. 

Even this early on, she knew that wasn’t something that would really go away. It would change, it would grow and mature along with them, would shift from taking the time to memorise every bit of each other and creating mental roadmaps of each other's hills and valleys, to something more settled. Something built on the strong foundation of knowing another person as well as possible. No less comforted or in need of the other’s presence, but more used to, more reliant on it. 

She calls him instead of replying via text, and she sits on the couch. Sergio immediately climbs into her lap, headbutting her hand for the attention he’d missed from her. She scratches his head and smiles as he curls up against her, purring so loudly he practically vibrates with it. 

Aaron answers the phone on the second ring, and she doesn’t have to be looking at him to know he’s smiling, “Hi sweetheart.”

“Hi,” she replies, letting her eyes drift closed at the comforting sound of his voice, “I miss you too,” she says before she can stop herself, her cheeks warm with embarrassment she doesn’t fully understand, “I don’t want to intrude, though.” 

“You’re never intruding,” he replies, “And I wouldn’t have invited you over if you were. Jack wants you to come over too.” 

“Yeah, Emily, come over.” 

She sinks her teeth in her lower lip in an attempt to contain her smile at the sound of Jack in the background, as if her happiness was something she wanted to hide even from herself. She’d made it clear to Aaron from the start that she didn’t want to overstep, that she never wanted to get in the way of his time with Jack, but for every part of her that wanted to spend all of her time with Aaron, there was an equal part that wanted to do the same with Jack. She’d fallen in love with the little boy long before she’d fallen in love with his father, drawn in by his dimpled smile and his bright eyes from the moment she’d first met him when he was a tiny thing balanced on his mother’s hip. 

“It’s a tempting offer,” she says, but her heart pangs when she looks at Sergio, guilt for leaving him alone again after only just getting home burning her from the inside out. 

“You can bring Sergio over too,” he says, anticipating her needs as always, “Even if he does hate me.” 

Emily rolls her eyes, “He doesn’t hate you,” she says, unable to stop her smile from getting any wider as he chuckles down the line, “Are you sure?” 

“I didn’t buy all those things for him just for fun, Em. It’s because we love having you both here.” 

She laughs, “Well, I guess we’re coming over then.” It warms her from the inside out when she hears Aaron tell Jack that she’d agreed to come over and she hears the little boy celebrate, “I’ll grab dinner on the way over. Pizza? Do you guys want the usual?” 

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” she replies, “If you’re providing bed and breakfast for Sergio and me, the least we can do is provide dinner.” 

“Okay,” he says, knowing better than to argue any further, “We’ll see you soon?” 

“I just need to pack a bag for me and get Sergio sorted, and then I’ll be on my way over,” she says, and she can hear his smile again, and she finds herself almost desperate to see it.

“See you soon, sweetheart.” 

She has to press her lips together to stop three little words from escaping, purposely keeping them in her chest where they belonged for now, “See you soon, honey.” 

___

The moment she arrives, she’s almost knocked over by Jack. He runs at her, his arms tight around her waist as he hugs her and talks at a million miles an hour about everything he’d done at school since he last saw her. She’s got her bag over her shoulder, Sergio’s carrier in one hand and two pizza boxes in the other. 

“Buddy,” Aaron says, his smile wide as he watches from a few feet away, looking relaxed and happy and hers as he stands there in a t-shirt and sweatpants that match the sweater she’s wearing, “At least let Emily into the apartment.” He says, taking the pizza boxes from her whilst he winks at her, “We need to help her with all her things.” 

Jack nods, his expression serious as he steps back from her, “Right, sorry, Emily.” 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she says, running her fingers through his hair. “Want to take Sergio?” She offers, handing over the carrier, smiling when she hears a discontent meow from inside, “You remember how to open it up, right?” 

Jack smiles and nods enthusiastically, taking the carrier to the couch to set it down so he can let the cat out. “Hi, Sergio.” As soon as he unzips the carrier, Sergio bolts across the apartment, and Jack frowns, his expression nothing short of adorable. 

“Don’t worry, Jack,” Emily assures him, her bag and shoes now on the floor so she can tug him into a hug “As soon as he remembers it’s safe here, he’ll come out and say hi.” 

“Jack, will you go get some plates, please?” Aaron says, placing the pizza boxes down on the coffee table, and the little boy runs off, giving Emily and Aaron their first moment alone all day. Aaron wraps his arm around her waist the moment the pizza is no longer in his hands, and he tugs her closer, smiling as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Hi.” 

She hums contentedly and leans in to kiss him. “Hi,” she replies, kissing him again, “I miss you.” 

His hand slips under the hem of the sweatshirt she’d stolen from him and the t-shirt underneath, his palm warm and wide against her bare skin, “We spent most of the day together.” 

She scrunches her nose up and kisses him again, “It’s not the same, though. I can’t just kiss you in front of everyone.” 

He pulls her in for a hug, and because she’s barefoot apart from a pair of socks, also stolen from him, she can tuck herself right against him, his chin on top of her head as he continues to run circles on her back. 

“We’ll tell them at Dave’s next week,” he assures her. “Then we don’t have to keep it a secret anymore.”

She pouts in a way she wouldn’t if she wasn’t exhausted and ruined by him in a way no one else had ever been able to come close to, “I still won’t be able to kiss you at work, though.” 

“True,” he laughs, the sound punctuated by a kiss against her lips as Jack runs back into the room, “One step at a time, sweetheart.” 

Jack hands her a plate, and they sit on the couch. Emily is boxed in by both Hotchners, and she tilts her head curiously as she notices open photo albums stacked on the corner of the coffee table, “What’s all this?” 

“We were looking at pictures of Mommy and Daddy when they first met,” Jack says, smiling appreciatively at Aaron as he places a slice of pizza on his plate, “Did you know they met in high school?” 

She nods as she holds out her plate to Aaron, smiling when he puts some pizza on there for her, “I did know that.”

Jack takes a bite of his pizza, but doesn’t let a mouthful of bread and cheese stop him from talking, “Mommy was so pretty. And Daddy was…well, Daddy.” 

“Thanks, Jack,” Aaron quips, and Emily hums sympathetically, placing her hand on his knee as she squeezes the joint. 

“I’m sure your dad was very handsome, just like he is now,” she says, winking when Aaron’s eyes meet hers. 

“When we’ve eaten, you should look at the pictures too, Emily. Daddy says we can’t look whilst we are eating because we’ll get the pictures dirty.” 

She doesn’t mean to freeze, but she does, her body briefly tense before she can stop it because this was something she didn’t know how to handle. She wanted to be part of it, to sit here squished between the two of them as Jack learnt more about the woman he’d had stolen from him when he was so young, but she didn’t want to intrude, to insert herself into memories that she was not meant to be a part of. Aaron notices, because of course he does, and he places his hand over hers on his knee, linking their fingers together briefly, his eyes soft when she looks up at him again. 

“That will be nice, Jack,” he says, assuring her with nothing more than a flicker of a smile that he was okay with it, “But we should eat first and then-”

“Wash our hands,” Jack says, rolling his eyes, “I know.” 

Aaron leans in to whisper to her, “That’s all you, you know. He never used to do that.” 

She smiles, any anxiety she’d briefly felt forgotten, and she shrugs playfully. “What can I say? I’m an excellent influence.”

___

They spend some time flipping through the albums after they’ve eaten, Emily leaning against Aaron and Jack against her with Sergio on his lap as she lets the little boy point out who is who to her. Aaron needs to correct him a couple of times, his voice soft and loving as he reminds him of what he’d told him the last time they’d flicked through these photos - pictures of the little boy’s mom and dad as kids themselves, moments frozen in time and kept safe behind plastic, both of them young and unaware of everything that was to come. 

Eventually, it’s time for Jack to go to bed, and he hugs and kisses her cheek and tells her he loves her before Aaron shepherds him down the hallway, followed by Sergio, who would inevitably end up sleeping on the end of Jack’s bed. She finds herself alone on the couch, still flicking through the photo album, finding herself unable to stop looking at pictures of the man she loved when he was a lanky teenager - all limbs and height he hadn’t quite grown into yet. She flicks onto the next page of pictures, and something catches her eye immediately. 

Aaron and Haley are standing in the middle of a group of friends, people she’s sure they hugged at graduation and promised they’d stay in touch with before their friendship faded - worn away with time and distance - and they are both smiling widely, but that’s not what she’s looking at. She holds the album closer, a gasp escaping her as it finally clicks what she’s looking at, and she chuckles to herself. 

“No fucking way.” 

Aaron, her stern, very serious, all sharp edges and pressed suits, boyfriend used to have an earring. 

“He’s curled up with Sergio and a book,” Aaron says as he walks back into the living room, “Do you want a glass of…” he trails off when he sees the look on her face, the mix of delight and shock as she looks up at him and lets out a surprised laugh, “What’s wrong?” 

She turns the album to face him, and his eyes go wide because he’d forgotten those photos were in the album he’d left her with, “You had your ear pierced?” 

He sighs, “Em-”

“Come here,” she says, reaching for his hand and tugging him down to the couch, placing the photo album carefully on the coffee table before she climbs onto his lap and grabs his right ear, “I can’t believe I never noticed…” she gasps in delight when she spots it, a tiny scar in the lobe of his ear that she immediately presses her thumb against, “You really did have your ear pierced,” she smiles as she pulls back, pressing her lips together when she sees the pink tinge to his cheeks, feels the way he squeezes her hips, “Sorry, honey,” she says, clearing her throat, “I just never…expected you to have your ear pierced.” 

He smiles, completely unable to stop himself in the face of her excitement at learning something new, something so unexpected, about him, “You’re not going to let it go until I tell you about it, are you?”

She shakes her head, her smile so wide it makes him ache before she leans in to kiss him, fully settling into his lap, her arms around his neck and her thumb and finger still pressed to both sides of the tiny scar on his ear. 

“Tell me everything.” 

“Haley dared me to do it,” he says, wrapping his arms around Emily to secure her to him, her side pressed against his chest as his hand once again sneaks under the sweater she’s wearing, “And I was a teenage boy in love for the first time and entirely unable say no to her,” he says, smiling as he thinks about it, “So we went and got it pierced in a studio that makes me shudder when I think about it now, and I let her pick out the earring. I had it for a few weeks. I took it out for high school graduation and forgot to put it back in, so it healed over. I tried to force it back through, but it wasn’t happening.” His eyes meet hers, and any embarrassment he’d felt is long gone, replaced with warm nostalgia and the joy of sharing this part of himself with the woman he loves. “Haley was disappointed, I was not,” he chuckles, and Emily does too, her hand finally slipping from his ear to his neck as she makes him look at her again, “She said it made me look cool. As you saw, it did not.” 

“I don’t know,” she says playfully, running her thumb back and forth over his jaw. “I think it looked pretty cool, too,” she says, leaning in to kiss him quickly, “Between your single diamond earring, and my Siouxsie and the Banshees phase, we would have made quite the pair in high school.” 

He chuckles at that and turns to kiss her palm, “I dread to think what you could have talked me into,” he says wryly, “I probably would have got my lip pierced or something to impress you.” 

Emily laughs and shakes her head at him before she kisses him again and then snuggles into his chest, her forehead tucked into his neck, “I like learning new things about you.” 

From the moment Aaron proposed, Emily wanted to plan the honeymoon.

She wanted to get away from everything with him. To have a rare, uninterrupted week or two with the man she loves. There was something endlessly romantic about it, a side of her that only Aaron could bring out - his smile and the way he’d look at her forever making her stomach flip like she was a teenage girl in love for the first time, not a woman in her 40s in love for the last. 

Aaron lets her plan it. He doesn’t say anything - baring a quick raise of his eyebrows when he sees how much it’s cost her - and he doesn’t ask any questions, seemingly aware of how important it was to her that it was a surprise. More than once in the lead up to their wedding, a beautiful simple day that cost significantly less than the 10 day vacation they left on the following day, she wanted to tell him her plans. Wanted to show him the pictures of the private beach villa she’d booked in the Bahamas and see the delight in his eyes at the beauty of it, but she’d kept it to herself, waved off any playful attempts he made to pull the information out of her, her teeth sinking into her lower lip every time he tried to coax the information out of her during sex. 

It was worth it when they got to the airport and he learnt where they were going. It was worth it again when she told him they were flying business class, and once again when he saw the villa they’d called home the last 10 nights. It was beautiful - an almost perfect start to her married life with the man who was absolutely perfect for her - and she would miss every part of it when they went home. 

She smiles at Aaron, briefly taking her eyes off the road as she turns to look at him in the passenger seat, her eyes flicking to the immobiliser on his left arm. 

She’d miss almost every part of the honeymoon. 

When they get back to the villa, they head straight to the bedroom, both tired and achingly aware of how early they had to leave for the flight home. She smiles at him as he sits on the bed, and she opens the sliding doors that lead out to the porch and the ocean view before she joins him. She slips onto the bed next to him, sighing contentedly as her shoulder bumps against his good one. They usually slept on the opposite sides, but they’d switched as soon as they came back from the hospital, the doctor’s warning that he should refrain from strenuous activities ringing in her ears as she slumped onto the side of the bed he usually slept on.

If she couldn’t have sex with her husband, she was damn sure going to snuggle with him. 

He rests his hand on her thigh as soon as she’s settled, his sigh content as he kisses her temple, “I’m going to miss that view.” 

“Me too,” she nods, her eyes fixed on the moon and its reflection on the water. Her eyes drift shut as she listens to the crash of the waves on the shore, her head on his shoulder as she wraps both of her arms around his good one, “I’ll miss this.” 

He takes the opportunity to look at her. To study her tanned skin, the patch of freckles on her shoulder that she’d told him she got one summer when she was a teenager and less diligent with sunscreen, and how she seemed to just glow here. How the beauty he’d always been drawn in by - even before he was hers and she was his - seemed more ethereal in their own little bubble of paradise. She was all long limbs, tanned skin and flowing dresses he’d never seen before but would buy her a thousand of if it meant he got to see her in them more often, no matter how impractical they would be in DC.

He runs his hand up and down her thigh, his palm disappearing under the olive green linen, the slit in her dress giving him access to her skin. He feels her thigh tense beneath his palm, and she turns her head to kiss his jaw, her lips catching on his beard.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Mr Hotchner,” she mumbles, kissing him again before she pulls back, a sparkle in her eyes that he’d always been powerless in the wake of, “We both know what the doctor said.” 

“It’s our honeymoon,” he says, gripping her thigh even tighter, his fingertips pressed against sunkissed skin that somehow looked even more gorgeous than normal. Impossibly softer and smoother because of her almost pathological insistence on sunscreen and aftersun. She’d spent days rubbing it into his skin as well as her own, diligently making sure she was covering every part of him that was exposed as she joked about the tan lines the immboilser would leave him, “I want to have sex with my wife.”

She hums sympathetically at him, linking her fingers through his as she lifts his hand to her lips, stamping a kiss against his knuckles, “You’re hurt.” 

He sighs, his forehead against hers as his disappointed exhale skips across her face. She’s not unaffected either. He looks good with a tan, and he’s grown out his beard on her request. He looks like he did when she returned from Paris, although a little thicker around the waist - no longer bordering on being too thin after months of neglecting his own needs in a subconscious attempt to punish himself for the choices he’d made for her. When she’d seen him as she stepped into the conference room, standing there in his casual linen clothes and his arms crossed over his chest, the sharp pull of desire in her belly had been the first thing other than fear that she’d felt for months. She’d had to shake it off, pretend she didn’t keep looking at his beard and the way it spread down past his jaw onto his neck, that she didn’t wonder how it would feel scratching against her skin. There were more important things to worry about, and by the time Ian was dead and she was thrust back into her life months after dying to save it, Aaron had shaved, and he was back in a suit - a stark but much needed reminder that he’d already slot back into his normal life and she had to try to find a way to do the same. 

Since then, since their relationship moved from friendship, to partners and now to husband and wife, she’d told him more than once how much she’d liked the beard. She’d press her palm to his cheek to feel the first appearance of his stubble against her skin before he’d shave in the morning, and she’d playfully lament his desire to be neat and tidy - even though she loved that too. It meant he was hers to undo, hers to see at the end of the day when he took off his tie and rolled his sleeves up to make them dinner.

He looks the same as he did in the conference room close to two years ago, but he’s happier and healthier - except for the immobiliser holding his left arm to his chest - and he’s hers. She doesn’t have to imagine how it feels to feel his beard scratch against her skin, and she knows exactly how it feels to sink into his embrace. 

She just wished more than anything that her amazing, handsome, stupid, husband hadn’t attempted surfing a few days ago and dislocated his shoulder as a result. She’d watched from the shoreline - keeping to her word that on this vacation she’d simply sunbathe, read her books, drink cocktails and have sex with her husband - as he fell from his surfboard, disappearing into a wave that had made her nervous the moment she’d seen it. 

His instructor had pulled him out of the water, and she knew the moment he was close enough to the shore to stand that he’d hurt himself, his left arm held delicately against his chest with his right. He was embarrassed, and she knew that, which was why she was already preparing herself to defend him to their friends when they get home, to stop any mocking in its tracks as soon as they found out that he - their fearless leader - had attempted to surf for the first time in his life for no reason other than to try and impress his wife watching from the shore. 

“We could be careful,” he says somewhere near her hairline, and she pulls back to look at him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she feels her resolve start to crumble, “It’s our last night here.” 

She smiles, and he knows he’s won, knows that she wants him just as much as he wants her, and she kisses his jaw again before she hikes up her dress and hooks her leg his. She settles against him, her nose knocking against his as she settles in his lap, her hips bracketing his. She hooks her arms around his neck and kisses him, moaning into it when he wraps his arm around his, his palm wide and warm through the thin material of her dress. 

She pulls back, her forehead resting against his. She tries to catch her breath, her hand on his cheek as she scratches his beard, the rasp of her nails against it rolling through her chest, “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

He smiles at her - all dimples and charm she would have once thought he wasn’t capable of - and she knows whatever meagre attempt she was making at fighting this was already lost. 

“You never could.” 

He surges forward, his hand insistent on her back as he pulls her closer. She feels warmth crackle between the two of them, a summer storm she’d never get enough of as his thumb and pinky finger somehow skim both sides of her waist at the same time. She wraps both of her arms around his neck, tasting the delicious groan that escapes him as she rolls her hips against his. The kiss turns into a mashing of teeth and lips as she smiles too widely as his hand drifts down to her ass and squeezes, pushing her hips closer to his. She chuckles as she pulls back just enough to speak

“Insatiable,” she mutters, as if she’s any better, as if she isn’t reaching between them to undo his pants and help him get them and his boxes down far enough for him to spring free of them. She swallows down his moan by kissing him as she wraps her hand around him, the way he clenches his teeth and grunts out her name enough to make goose pimples spread across her skin. 

“Em,” he mutters, frustration at only being able to use one of his hands, at not being able to touch her in the way he wanted to chasing the arousal around his blood, “Sweetheart.” 

She shushes him, the sound comforting and soft as she kisses his cheek and then his jaw, leaving a trail down his neck until she reaches his bare skin just above the collar of his shirt. He grasps at her, his blunt nails digging into her flesh through the thin material of her dress as she pumps him up and down. He tugs at her dress, desperate to feel more of her as he pulls it up over her thighs until it’s gathered around her hips. He groans again, his forehead against her collarbone when his fingers are met by nothing but her, his fingers pressed against paler strips of soft skin that had been hidden from the sun by her bikinis. 

“No underwear?” He asks, his voice rough and gravelly, and she smiles at him, her eyes darker than usual as she shakes her head. 

“I didn’t want panty lines.” 

It’s only a half-truth, and they both know it, but it doesn’t matter because he’s running his fingers through her, his thumb catching on her clit as she leans forward, her forehead against his good shoulder as she tenses, pleasure and desperation crackling up her spine. She lifts her head to kiss him, on edge after days of not doing this even though she’d wanted to, and she raises her hips, using the hand she still has wrapped around him to guide him into her. She gasps at the familiar stretch of him, her breath chattering against each of her ribs as it shudders out of her, and her eyes drift closed. 

“Fuck,” she mutters, opening her eyes - unaware she’d closed them in the first place - to look at him, “Fuck you feel good.”

He kisses her cheek as he rolls his hips up against hers. He trails his lips down her neck, his beard rough against her skin as he gently tugs at the thin straps of her dress down just enough so he has full access to her collarbone. He stamps a kiss there before he presses his face against her skin, breathing in the sun and the sea and her. 

“You’re perfect,” he says, unaware he’s even speaking, his trail of thought pressed somewhere between her collarbone and her heart - the place he called home. “So perfect.” 

They get lost in each other, fall into a rhythm they’d perfected a long time ago. It’s intimate and soft and everything she’d tried to avoid in sex before him. With anyone else, she’d feel exposed even though she was still fully clothed, but with him, it’s like he actually sees her for who she is, not who he wants her to be. It’s empowering. Makes her feel loved and safe and secure in a way she’d spent a lifetime chasing, unsure she’d ever catch it up until she was standing toe to toe with it. 

She gasps, every nerve ending starting to fizz as she feels herself getting closer. He looks up, sees her framed in the moonlight filtering in from outside, and he rolls his hips into hers, his hand sneaking between them as he runs his thumb over her clit. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he whispers, his cheek nuzzling against hers, well aware of what the feel of his beard against her skin did to her, “Come for me.” 

It’s a combination of everything, of him and the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore and the reverence of his touch. She can feel him everwhere, can feel his love passing from his chest to hers, and she gasps silently as she tips over the edge, her mouth open against his cheek as he follows her seconds afterwards, his one good hand firm on her hip. 

She pulls back to look at him, her smile beautiful and soft before she kisses him, her fingers trailing through his hair. She hums as she rests her forehead against his, “I should go to the bathroom.” 

He nods and kisses her one more time before slipping out of his lap and walking the short distance to the ensuite. She snags one of his shirts from their half-packed suitcase on the way past, and she changes into it as she cleans herself up. Once she’s done in the bathroom, he’s waiting outside, his hand on her hips briefly as she passes him in the doorway, her eyes flicking to his shoulder.

“Need help?”

He shakes his head at her and kisses her forehead, “I’ll meet you in bed.” 

She slips under the covers and makes a mental note to try and find out where the resort buys their sheets, determined to get them for their bed at home. It doesn’t take Aaron long to join her, and once he’s lying down, she snuggles up against him, her head on his right shoulder. She looks up at him and cups his cheek, dragging him in for a kiss.

“You’re okay, right?” She asks, “Your shoulder-”

“It's fine,” he assures her, resting his cheek against the top of her head, “You realise when we get home, you’re going to have to help me shave?” 

It was one of the first things she’d thought about once she knew he was okay and they were back at their villa, her eyes fixed on his injured left shoulder and his dominant arm strapped to his chest. 

“Yes,” she grumbles, “It’s like having to be responsible for the modern day burning of Alexandria.” 

He laughs, loud and beautiful, and she looks up at him, her fake grumpiness gone the moment she sees his smile. He kisses her quickly, “I’ll miss this.” 

“Me too,” she replies, “And not just the beard,” she looks out at the view of the beach, “I’ll miss all of it.” 

“I’m looking forward to going home though.” 

She tilts her head to look at him again, and something about the wistful look on his face makes her bite the inside of her cheek, sure her face would ache if she smiled any wider, “Yeah?” 

He nods and looks down at her, “I’m looking forward to starting our married life together. To raising Jack. To having a baby or two with you. I’m just…looking forward to it all.” 

It warms her from the inside out, and it’s like she can see it all laid out in front of her. Images of her future with him - with Jack and children whose faces she couldn’t quite picture yet - dancing across the surface of the water with the moonlight. Bright and beautiful and theirs, and all of a sudden, she doesn’t mind that their honeymoon is coming to an end because it’s just the start. A wave crashing on the shore of their life together before it’s pulled back out to mix in with the rest of it, a memory they’d always have to look back on fondly. 

She likes to think they’ll come back here at some point, with Jack and a baby in tow, and create new, different memories. Her long days in the sun spent rubbing sunscreen into her children’s skin and stopping tiny hands from trying to eat handfuls of sand, instead of reading her favourite book and drinking frozen cocktails. 

“I’m looking forward to it too,” she says, stamping her lips against his, “All of it.” 

She settles her head on his shoulder and sighs contentedly, eager to soak up these last few minutes before she’d have to get up to close the sliding doors so they could sleep. Their flight was early, and she wanted to make sure they weren’t rushing so Aaron didn’t hurt himself any more than he already had when he inevitably tried to insist he carried their bags. A thought occurs to her and she chuckles, the sound muffled against him, and he runs his hand up and down her arm. 

“What’s so funny, sweetheart?” 

At first, Emily tells herself that she’s imagining things. 

She puts the exhaustion down to the beautiful chaos she lived in. To chasing around after four kids - two of them toddlers and one an infant - and balancing her and Aaron’s careers with their family life. She puts the ache in her breasts down to the fact she’d recently dropped one nursing session a day now Ivy had started solids. She puts the nausea down to a sickness bug the twins had brought home from daycare, flu-like symptoms leaving both Violet and Hazel glued to Emily’s side for days until their fevers passed. 

It’s only when she’s sitting on the closed lid of the toilet in the ensuite bathroom, a positive pregnancy test in her hands, that she can no longer deny it. 

She was pregnant. Again. 

She sighs, conflicting feelings swirling in her gut and adding to her nausea. She closes her eyes, tries to picture a new addition to their family, a fuzzy image that disappears entirely when there’s a gentle knock on the door. 

“Em?” 

She opens her eyes and presses her lips together, irritation she knows her husband doesn’t deserve licking through her chest, “Come in.” 

He walks in, his shoulders tense and his demeanour nervous. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and stares at her, waiting for her to speak first before he finally relents, “Sweeetheart-”

“It’s positive,” she says, standing up and passing him the test, “I’m pregnant.” 

It isn’t the first time she’s said the words and not been delighted, it’s not the first time her voice shakes as she tells someone, but it’s the first time it’s happened with him. It’s always been a moment of happiness, something she’d been planning, excitement and giddiness rolling in her belly as she took a test. This time, she’s anxious. Worried about how this will change their family dynamic again, how it will mean she’ll have even less time with her husband. 

Aaron, who understood her more than anyone else ever had, looks at the test before he places it down on the counter. He tugs her into the hug she won’t ask for but needs, and runs his hand up and down her back, stamping a kiss against her temple as she leans against him. 

“We can do whatever you want to do, Em,” he says, pulling back to look at her, “If you don’t want to do this-”

“I don’t want an abortion, Aaron,” she says, her firmness surprising even her, “I…we have the means and I don’t…” she blows out a shaky breath, “This just isn’t what I planned, what we planned.”

He tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “I know it isn’t, sweetheart.” 

They were done. They had agreed they were done when she was pregnant with Ivy. It was a decision they were both happy with, but one that she’d doubted when Ivy was born. They hadn’t found out what they were having, had left it to be a surprise - something they hadn’t done with the twins because Emily said knowing two babies were growing inside of her was surprise enough for one pregnancy. She’d worried that Aaron would be disappointed, had let the exhaustion and the rush of hormones convince her that everything she knew about him, his kindness and unshakeable love for them family, fade into the distance.

He hadn’t even let her doubt phase him, the way she looked up at him with shining eyes as she held their newborn daughter against his chest as she asked if he’d wanted another son doing nothing other than to make him love her more. He’d kissed her forehead, and then the top of Ivy’s head, and he told her that he and Jack only ever wanted to be surrounded by more of her, and that he’d have a hundred girls with her if he could. Something that she was starting to wonder might be a possibility. 

She chuckles, the sound sticking to a sob on the inside of her ribs, wet and painful as she’s overwhelmed by everything she doesn’t know how to name. “I always wish we’d met when we were younger, that we could have had more time together” she says, sniffing as she runs her fingers through his hair, “But now I’m starting to think if we had we’d have a football team at the rate you get me pregnant.” 

He laughs too and leans in to kiss her, “We’ll make it work, sweetheart,” he stamps another kiss against her lips, “And we’ll love this baby just as much as we love the rest of them. 

“I know we will. I already do,” she smiles, but it fades, something else she hadn’t considered finally dawning on her, “Oh my God, what if it’s twins again.” 

___

She’s excited. Of course she is. 

She feels flickers of it, feels it warm her from the inside out during her first ultrasound when she sees her, thankfully one, baby on the screen. She feels it when they tell the kids, when the twins and Jack are excited - all of them asking for a baby brother this time as if Emily’s womb was an order your own sibling service. Ivy doesn’t understand, she’s too young to, and Emily tries her best to not feel guilty when the baby snuggles against her, her tiny hand curled around the collar of her shirt as she naps in her arms. 

Her excitement, and sparks of the fire of it that she feels, are firmly smothered when they tell the team. Their friends are happy for them, but it doesn’t take long for the congratulations to turn into jokes about them needing a new hobby. Derek asks if their television is broken, a smirk on his face that makes her furious. Aaron draws the taunting, no matter how good-natured it is, to a close with nothing but a clearing of his throat and the raising of his eyebrow. She doesn’t think she’s ever loved him more. He winks at her when the others aren’t looking, his touch soft as he squeezes her knee under the table. 

She’s excited, but she doesn’t realise how much she wants this, how much it would break her heart if she didn’t, until she wakes up in the middle of the night to pee and finds blood in her underwear. It makes her panic, the grip of it so tight around her throat that can’t breathe let alone shout out for her husband. Her hands tremble as she pulls her pants back up and walks into the bedroom, shaking Aaron’s shoulder with more force than she realised she’d be capable of. 

“Em?” He grumbles as he wakes up, his brows knitting together in a way she usually finds adorable. He sits up the moment their eyes meet, his tiredness melting away as soon as he realises she’s in distress. Her pain had always been his Achilles heel, the chink in his armour that she’d put there herself years before they were even together, the echo of her getting beaten by a sociopath as he listened in forever bouncing around his head, “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m bleeding,” she says, her eyes skipping over to her side of the bed, to the darker spot on their sheets that she hadn’t noticed when she got up, “Something’s wrong.” 

“Are you in pain?” He asks, and she shakes her head. He swallows back his fear as he stands up, his hand grasping hers as he smiles in a way he hopes she finds some encouragement in, “We’ll go to the hospital, okay? Get you both checked out.” 

She presses her lips together, tries to hold back grief that feels preemptive, forcing it down into her lungs, the way she swallows it painful. He passes her a pair of her underwear and some leggings. 

“You get changed, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her forehead, pressing enough love into her skin that she knows if it could fix everything bad that had ever happened to her it would, “I’ll call Jess and ask her to come over.” 

Emily changes in the bathroom, dumping her underwear and pjyamas in the trashcan because she knew she’d remember this night every time she looked at them even if there was nothing wrong with her baby. She places a sanitary towel she’d found at the back of the cabinet in her underwear, ignoring how her tears splash onto it as she sticks it down. 

Jess is achingly kind to her when she arrives and it makes Emily furious, her fists tight at her sides as she does everything in her power to not be rude to the woman who had never treated her anything less than kindly, who treated her daughters as if they were her nieces, her love for them no different to how she loved Jack. Aaron ushers Emily out to the car, their street eerily quiet as he opens the passenger door for her. She doesn’t say anything to him as they drive to the hospital the girls had all been born in, her hand on her stomach, on the small bump that had only just made an appearance, as she prays to a God she wasn’t sure she believed in. Guilt creeps up her neck, makes it itch and feels like it could burst open, like she’s tearing apart at the seams, every single stitch of her being torn open as she’s punished for not being excited enough. For her first reaction to this pregnancy, and everything she’d felt ever since, being mixed with an anxiety she hadn’t felt since she was only a handful of years older than Jack. 

When they get to the hospital they are sent to a small room with a bed and an ultrasound machine and told to wait for a doctor to see them. Aaron is mercifully quiet, always somehow exactly what she needs him to be, and he holds her hand, the press of his skin against hers the only reassurance he provides. She didn’t need or want words that would feel empty, assurances he couldn’t make that he’d hate just as much as she would. 

She jumps when there is a knock on the door, her hand briefly tighter around Aaron’s as the door opens and the doctor walks in. 

“Hi, my name is Doctor Browne,” she says, her smile kind and infuriating as she walks in, “I understand you’ve had some bleeding?” 

Emily nods, clearing her throat before she speaks, “Yes, not a lot, but enough.” 

Doctor Browne smiles as she sits down next to Emily’s bed, “It’s always best to get these things checked. Any pain?” She asks, and Emily shakes her head, “Previous pregnancies?”

“An abortion when I was 15, twins who are three, and a 9-month-old,” Emily rattles off, used to explaining it all by now. A sentence she said without thinking now she’d said it countless times at countless appointments.

Doctor Browne chuckles, “Wow, you have your hands full.” 

“All girls too,” Emily smiles nervously as she pulls her t-shirt up over her bump, “Our eldest, from Aaron’s first marriage, is our only boy,” her smile fades, “So far,” the words stick in her throat, caught on the grief she both doesn’t want to feel if she doesn’t have to but also wants to prepare herself for, “We’ve decided we don’t want to find out this time.” 

“I’ll make sure not to give anything away.”

She closes her eyes as she feels the gel hit her stomach, the coolness of it barely registering as she makes a point of staying perfectly still, focusing instead on the feel of Aaron’s hand in hers and not the press of the ultrasound probe as it rolls over her skin. 

“The baby is looking good,” Doctor Browne says, smiling kindly when they both look at her quickly, almost matching expressions of disbelief in their eyes. She smiles and turns the screen to show them, switching on the sound so they can hear the heartbeat as they watch it flicker on the screen, “Baby looks perfect for 18 weeks.” 

“Then why is she bleeding?” Aaron asks, both of his hands now wrapped around one of Emily’s, dragging it up to his lips to kiss her knuckles as she continues to stare at the screen. 

“Your placenta is very low, Emily. It’s covering the opening of your uterus,” Doctor Browne explains, placing the probe back on the machine and handing Emily some tissue to wipe her belly, “This would have been noticed in your anatomy scan in two weeks, but mother nature seems to have wanted to make you aware earlier than that.” 

“Is it dangerous?” Emily asks, her voice shaking as she tries to find something close to peace between her relief and her fear. 

“Most people who experience this go on to have a healthy baby, you’ll likely need a c-section, but that’s something your doctor can discuss with you when you next see them,” Doctor Browne smiles and stands up, “I’ll go sort out your discharge paperwork for you. And see if our printer is working so I can get a couple of pictures for you.” 

Emily nods and Aaron thanks Doctor Browne, his grip on Emily’s hand tight as he sees the tension in her shoulders. He knew her, knew that she was teetering on the edge and that she wouldn’t let herself fall until they were alone. He’d always be there to catch her, to hold on as they fell together. 

The second the door closes between Doctor Browne, Emily crumbles. Collapsing in on herself as her chest feels like it concaves, her hand covering her mouth as she tries and fails to capture a sob. Aaron is immediately on his feet, holding her against him, his fingers trailing through her hair as he kisses the top of her head. 

“I’ve got you, Em,” he says, kissing her again, “I’ve got you,” he rubs a circle on her back, “You heard her, sweetheart. The baby is fine.” 

She sucks in a shuddering breath as she pulls back to look at him, “I was so worried. I…know I haven’t always been excited, but I do love the baby, Aaron. If something was wrong…”

The way she’s trying to convince him, the desperate sincerity in her voice, breaks his heart. He cups her cheek and makes her look at him, “I know, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her forehead, “I know.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He rests his forehead against hers, “You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?” He says, smiling as he kisses her, his lips briefly stamped against hers, “And everything is going to be fine.” 

She nods and rests her head against his shoulder, blowing out a shaky breath as she tries to relax against him, “Of course it is, you’re here with me.” 

___

“She’s beautiful.” 

Emily hums and rests her head on Aaron’s shoulder as she reaches out to stroke her finger down her newborn’s cheek, desperate to have her back in her arms but content, for now, to watch Aaron hold her. 

“Just like her sisters.” 

Aaron tears his gaze away from their little girl to look at Emily, his eyes full of love and adoration she still didn’t feel worthy of even after all this time. He leans in and kisses her, his lips catching the corner of her lips, “And her mommy.” 

She chuckles and shakes her head at him, “You’re sweet,” she says, kissing him before she turns her attention back to their sleeping baby, “We need to think of a name,” she says, adjusting the hat on her daughter’s tiny head, “I can only think of boy names.” 

As soon as their little girl was born, as soon as the doctor held her up for them to see her over the partition between them and the medical team carrying out Emily’s c-section, she knew it was how it was always supposed to be. Her with a band of girls and Aaron and Jack, a family bigger than she ever could have anticipated, their presence somehow undoing the loneliness of her past. The love and everything that came along with it filtering backwards into her history, leaving behind invisible unbreakable threads to follow that would always bring her right back here. 

“I have an idea,” Aaron says, passing the baby back over, noticing the twitching in his wife’s fingers as she unnecessarily adjusts the baby’s hat again. Emily smiles as she lays their daughter on her chest, a picture of contentment he’ll commit to memory. 

Emily looks up, her smile turning into a smirk as she realises she’s staring at them, that he’s finished half a thought before he’s been distracted by her and their youngest, “What’s your idea?” 

He looks at her, his confused eyes meeting hers as he tilts his head, “What?” 

She rolls her eyes at him, “For her name. What’s your idea?” 

“Oh,” he says, clearing his throat to shift the embarrassment that had collected there, “Daisy,” he says, trying it out. He’d thought about it weeks ago, sure that they would have another girl from the start - a thought he’d never shared with his wife. He would have been happy either way, but something about this felt right, as if it had always been his and Jack’s lot to end up surrounded by strong, confident women. He just hoped he still appreciated it when all four of his girls became teenagers within the space of three years.

“Daisy,” Emily says, looking down at the baby in her arms, feeling the weight of the name on her tongue. She’d say it so many times throughout her life - she’d yell it and whisper it and everything in between. She would write it down countless times too. On paperwork for schools and the doctor’s office, Daisy Hotchner, and she can picture it, can picture her as she grows up with her brother and sisters, “I love it,” she says, looking up at Aaron, “What made you think of it?” 

“Well,” he says, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, settling down as he makes sure he has his girls in his arms, “It fits with the flower or plant name theme we have going on,” he says, smiling softly as their eyes meet, “Plus, daises grow in unexpected places. Sometimes you don’t even realise you want them in your yard until they are there.” 

She hums, her lips pressed together to try and contain her smile, his love for her, and their children, as overwhelming as it always was, “I’m fairly sure daises are weeds.” 

He rolls his eyes goodnaturedly at her joke, “If you don’t like it-”

“No,” she says, moving one of her hands from the baby’s back to capture his chin and pull him into a kiss, “I love it. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her again before he places his hand on their daughter’s back, “And we both love you, Daisy.” 

Emily kisses the top of the newborn’s head, “I hope you enjoy the peace and quiet we have right now whilst it lasts, Daisy-girl,” Emily says, “Between your brother and all your sisters I don’t think you’ll ever have a minute's peace again.” 

“Jess said she’ll bring them by tomorrow,” Aaron says, kissing his wife’s temple, “Apparently Vi said she’s looking forward to meeting her, even if she did want a brother.” 

Emily laughs, “Good,” she says, resting her cheek against the top of Daisy’s head, “I know I only saw them this morning, but I miss them.” 

“They miss you too,” he says, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering on her cheekbone, “But they’re fine, and Jess said something about letting them watch Frozen again.” 

“Better her than us, I guess,” Emily quips, and they fall into contented silence, listening to Daisy breathe, the hustle and bustle of the hospital muffled by the closed door, “Aaron?” 

“Yes, sweetheart?” He asks, placing his hand over hers on Daisy’s back, tilting his head so he can make eye contact with his wife. He furrows his brow at the way she smiles at him, a mix of soft and threatening in a way that was so deliciously her, a perfect example of the contradictions that make up his wife. 

Emily doesn’t remember a single moment of the drive from the office to the hospital. She’d been on autopilot the entire time, her hands so tight around the steering wheel her knuckles were stark white, her skin so taut over bone she was surprised it didn’t split open as she desperately tried to think back to first thing that morning, to go over her interactions with Jack again and again to see if there was anything she could have missed. 

It had been a busy morning, like most mornings were in their house, and Jack had seemed fine. He’d been a little slower than he usually was in the morning, more tired, but when she and Aaron had both asked if he was okay he’d nodded. She wished she’d pushed, that she’d asked again, but her phone had rung, and so had Aaron’s and the day started in a hurry as work pulled them in different directions. She’d left the FBI shortly after she and Aaron got together, had grabbed the opportunity that Clyde offered her of going back to Interpol with both hands, any doubt she had about it gone as soon as he told her she didn’t need to leave DC for the offer to stand. She hadn’t regretted it for a moment, had always known it was the right thing for her and her relationships with the people she loved, but right now she wished she still worked with her fiance so she knew where the hell he was. 

The school had called her because they couldn’t get hold of Aaron. It was only after she was in her car and had got hold of Dave after leaving Aaron two voicemails, that she remembered he said he was going to a prison to conduct some interviews. He wouldn’t have his phone for hours, which meant she was all Jack had for now. Dave had promised her that he’d do his best to get hold of Aaron, even if it meant going to the prison and dragging him out of the interview room himself, and it had helped calm her down a little. 

She just about remembers to lock her car behind her as she marches into the hospital, still every part of the Interpol agent that she had been when she left the office, her gun and badge still on her hip, but with an undeniable air of a concerned parent too. She walks up to the nurse's desk and clears her throat, barely waiting for the nurse to look at her before she starts speaking. 

“I got a call about Jack Hotchner,” she says, sounding less anxious than she feels, “The school nurse called to say that he has suspected appendicitis. He was fine this morning, I don’t-”

“Mrs Hotchner,” the nurse replies, her smile annoyingly kind as she cuts over her, “These things can come on very quickly in children. Your son is currently being looked over by the doctor.”

“I’m not…” she clears her throat, stopping herself before she says too much that might get her nowhere fast, “My name is Emily Prentiss. I…live with Jack.”  

The nurse furrows her brows, “Are you his mother?” 

She clenches her jaw, cursing herself for correcting the other woman in the first place, for letting her worry fluster her to the point where she didn’t even think about letting the half-lie slip by her. She can see where this is going already, and it makes her tense, her shoulders so tight she thinks she might snap in half.

“I’m engaged to his father,” she says, digging out her wallet from her purse, slamming her driving license on the counter with more force than necessary, “Look, we have the same address.”

“Be that as it may, Miss Prentiss-”

“Agent Prentiss,” she corrects, again with more force than she means to, her desire to see Jack, to see the little boy she knows she couldn’t love more if he was hers, overriding her need to be polite. She sighs and looks at the nurse's name badge, “Look, Sophie, I poured his cereal this morning. It’s me he wants when he’s sick. Can you please just let me through?” 

Sophie smiles politely, clearly sorry that her hands are tied, “I’m sorry Agent Prentiss, but we can only let a parent or a legal guardian see him.”

She thinks of the paperwork they’d filled out, the paperwork to make her his legal guardian that was currently with the courts, and she curses herself for not doing it sooner. They’d waited until the purchase of the house had been finalised, until both her and Aaron’s names were on the deeds, to organise it. Their lawyers had told them it was better if their lives were more obviously intertwined, that family court would look on the addition to her in Jack’s life in a legal aspect more favourably if they were living together permanently. 

“His dad is at work,” she says, “I’ve tried to get hold of him.” 

“And his mother?” 

“His mother is dead,” Emily replies, half shouting it, and she sighs at herself, pinching the bridge of her nose when she realises she’s drawn the attention of more people around her. “Sorry,” she chokes out, blowing out a slow breath, “Is there really no way? He’s back there by himself.” 

Sophie shakes her head, “Not until his father gets here. But a nurse is with him, he isn’t alone I promise.” 

Emily considers pulling her badge from her belt, the weight of it almost pulling her down, and waving it around until someone lets her through. She considers doing what her family had always done - throwing money around, offering to buy the hospital a new wing until she was told she could see her little boy, but she knows it won’t help her. That it won’t help Jack. So she nods and heads towards the waiting area, swallowing back the emotions she won’t set free here, letting them sink into the lowest parts of her chest as she settles into an uncomfortable plastic chair. She twists her engagement ring around her finger and sucks in a breath. It’s bitter when she blows it back out, makes her feel nauseous as she thinks of Jack in a room just out of her reach with only strangers for company. 

“Damn it,” she says, wiping away a single stray tear from her cheek, determined it will be the only one she lets slip free before she goes home. She pulls her phone from her purse and groans when she has no missed calls from Aaron, “Where the hell are you?” 

___

Sophie takes pity on her about 30 minutes after she arrives and comes to tell her that Jack needs surgery. She still can’t let her see him, something is even harder to swallow now she knows the little boy needs an operation, but Sophie says she’ll tell Jack that Emily loves him and that she’ll see him later. 

Emily watches the clock, each minute a lifetime until she gets a call from Aaron. She has to be the calm one, has to tell him everything is okay, that Jack needs his appendix taken out but that he will be fine. He says he’ll meet her at the hospital and she makes him promise that he’ll drive safely, wryly jokes that she can’t deal with both of her Hotchner boys in hospital at the same time if he gets himself into an accident. 

At least, she thinks sadly to herself, if Aaron was in hospital she’d be able to see him. 

Almost two hours after she arrived, two hours of sitting in a hard, uncomfortable chair, the ache in her back nothing in comparison to the ache in her chest, Aaron finally arrives. She hears him before she sees him, his voice calling out for her the second he spots her. 

“Emily?” 

She stands up, her purse slipping from her lap to the ground, but she doesn’t pay it any attention. Instead, she lets Aaron pull her into a fierce hug, and she hugs him back just as tightly, her hand running soothing circles on his back. 

“He’s in surgery,” she says, cupping the back of his head as she pulls back, hoping that her smile is comforting, “He should be done soon.” 

He nods, and he looks older than he usually does. Anguish and fear pressed into the lines on his face, making them and the bags under his eyes deeper, “Why are you out here? Is something wrong-”

“No, honey,” she says, cupping his cheek, making him look at her as his eyes dart around the room, “They…” she clears her throat, tries to make sure her voice is even and doesn’t give way to her sadness and stress. He was the one she had to focus on for now, him and Jack. She could fall apart later when they were both okay, “I’m not his mom. Or his legal guardian yet,” she says, pressing her lips together to stop them from shaking, “They wouldn’t let me see him.” 

His eyebrows furrow, the line between them so deep she can’t stop herself from pressing her thumb into it, trying to soothe the anger she can see building there, “What?” He says, his voice low and stern as he looks around as if trying to find someone, anyone, to tell them exactly what he thought of that, “They wouldn’t let you see him? He was alone-”

“Aaron, baby, look at me,” she says, grasping his chin, “It’s okay,” she says, even though they both know it isn’t, even though she knows he can see how much it’s upset her too, “Jack is the most important thing right now, okay?” 

He nods sharply, his breath stuttering across her face as he presses his forehead against hers, desperately trying to seek out her strength and comfort. It’s enough to let her know just how stressed he is. Their displays of affection, their need for each other, were usually kept just for the safety of their home. The walls that surrounded them were the sanctuary neither one of them had had in years, or, in her case, ever. They sought each other out constantly, always pressed up against each other in one way or another whilst they were at home, as if they were storing up the love they had for each other for when they were apart. It felt like theirs, so it was rare for them to seek it from each other in public, to let other people - especially strangers - in on what felt so precious. 

She cups the back of his head to keep him close, gives him what he needs with her forehead pressed against his. She’d let him take all her strength if he needed it, would let it leech from her skin into his, because she knew when it was her turn, when she needed his strength, he’d give it to her in return. It was a give and take that they’d had since they simply friends, a cornerstone of their relationship that she knew made them as strong, that she knew allowed them to weather whatever storm life threw at them. 

“Come on,” she says, stamping her lips against his and smiling softly as she pulls back just enough to grab her purse from the floor before she sinks into his side again, her hand tight around his, “Now you’re here, they’ll tell us more.” 

They are shown through to the pediatric ward so quickly it feels absurd. Jack is already back from surgery and in a room, and the doctor tells them that he’ll be awake soon. It’s a relief, a weight off of both of their shoulders, when they see him. He looks smaller than usual, drowning in the starched sheets in a bed made for an adult, but other than that he looks like he’s sleeping. Aaron sits in the chair closest to the bed, and Emily sits next to him, their hands still linked together as they look at the little boy.  

“We’re going to have to fill the freezer with ice cream,” Emily says, resting her cheek against Aaron’s shoulder, “We both know he’ll ask.” 

Aaron chuckles dryly and turns his head to kiss her temple, “We both know you’ll give him anything he asks for.”

She gasps in fake outrage and pulls back to look at him, “Like you’re any better at saying no.” 

He hums and leans forward to kiss her, “We’ve got to get better at it before we have any more kids,” he quips, “Otherwise they’ll run rings around us.” 

The thought of it makes her smile, just like it always did. A baby that was half her and half him, physical proof of their love for each other out in the world for everyone else to see. The happiness doesn’t linger like usual, it fades as she looks at a sleeping Jack, as she rests her hand on his leg, because she wonders if, even when she is legally his guardian, the wider world would view him any less her son than any other children they may have. 

Jack groans, pulling her out of her thoughts, and she and Aaron both turn to look at him. 

“Jack, buddy,” Aaron says, standing up so he can sit on the edge of his bed. Emily stands up too, her hands on Aaron’s shoulders as she smiles down at the little boy, “How do you feel?” 

“My tummy hurts.” 

“You had to have an operation,” Emily says, breaking away from Aaron to sit on the edge of the other side of Jack’s bed, her hand reaching out for his, smiling when he holds her hand as tightly as he can, “Your tummy will feel sore for a few days but then you’ll feel better.”

He nods, “The nurse told me that you were here but you didn’t come to see me.” 

It’s like a knife to the heart, his innocence, the lack of understanding shining in his eyes, each a fresh wound that makes her want to take back her decision to sit peacefully in the waiting room. 

“I know, sweet boy,” she says, leaning in to kiss his forehead, “I’m sorry. I would have been here if I could. But she told me that she’d let you know that I love you.” 

He leans into her hand as she strokes his cheek, “I always know you love me,” he says, and he looks between her and Aaron, “Can we go home now?” 

“You have to stay here tonight,” Aaron says, running his fingers through Jack’s hair, “But if you’re feeling better tomorrow, the doctor said you might be able to go home. I’ll stay here with you tonight so you’re not by yourself.” 

Jack looks at Emily, “Are you staying too?” 

She shakes her head, and feels Aaron’s gaze burning into her cheek, “I can’t, honey. Only one of us has to stay and it has to be Daddy.” 

It was something else the doctor told them, that one parent or guardian could stay overnight, and it had been another kick in the gut. 

Jack furrows his brows, “But then you’ll be alone at home.” 

She sucks in a breath, covering it with a smile as she looks up at Aaron for a moment before she looks back at Jack, “I’ll be okay,” she says, not sure which one of them needs to hear it the most, “And I’ll come back tomorrow with some clothes for you and Daddy.” 

“And you’ll bring Rupert?”

“And of course, I’ll bring Rupert.” She smiles as she thinks of his favourite toy, a stuffed rabbit that Aaron told her had once been bigger than Jack, and she nods, Aaron reaches over Jack for her, seeking out the hand that wasn’t in Jack’s, and she takes it, squeezing his palm against hers in an attempt to comfort them both. “I’ll be okay.” 

This time, when she says it, she thinks she might be trying to convince herself. 

___

She gets takeout on the way home. 

She eats it in the kitchen, the house unbearably quiet around her, and as soon as she puts food down for Sergio, she heads upstairs. She showers quickly, the rush of the water a welcome distraction from the emptiness of her home, and then changes into a pair of Aaron’s sweatpants and one of his swearers - cuffing the pant legs so she can walk without tripping over - settling for trying to seek comfort in the clothes of the man she loves since she can’t be in his arms. 

Before she gets into bed, she goes into Jack’s room. She picks up Rupert from his bed, buries her face in his worn fur and breathes in. She takes him with her to the master bedroom, and she sneaks under the covers, the vastness of their bed bigger than ever without Aaron next to her. She was used to sleeping without him when he was on cases, but having to do it when he was just across town felt different - especially because Jack wasn’t here to sneak into bed with her. She sighs as she pulls the covers around her, smiling sadly when Sergio jumps onto the bed with a muted thump, his meow loud in the otherwise quiet room, she reaches out to scratch between his ears.

“It’s just the two of us tonight, Serg,” she says, sighing sadly, “Just like it used to be,” he meows again, “I know, buddy. I don’t like it anymore either.” 

She jumps when her phone rings, and she sits up, scrambling for her phone, panic she’d pushed down earlier making a quick return the second she sees Aaron’s name on the screen. She answers quickly, her hold on Rupert against her chest tight. 

“Aaron? Is everything okay? Did something-”

“Em, he’s okay,” he assures her, his voice low and quiet as he cuts her off before she can spiral any further, “He’s asleep. I thought I’d call to check on you.”

She chokes on a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh, and she shakes her head at herself as the tears she’d been suppressing all afternoon spill down her cheeks, “I’m okay.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says, “I’m not okay. Today was a lot. It’s okay if you’re not okay too.” 

She hums, almost mad at him for how well he knew her, and she wipes her cheek before she rests it against the top of Rupert’s head, her tears dampening his fur, “I just…I forget sometimes.” 

“You forget what, baby?” 

“That I’m not his mom,” she says, unable to stop the sob that tears from her throat, the sound turning into a wet laugh as Sergio nudges at her hand, his head tilted to the side as if he’s trying to work out what’s wrong, “God, I’m sorry,” she says, sniffing, “Your son’s in the hospital and I’m the one crying.” 

“He’s our son, Emily,” he says, his voice firm and loving, “He’s yours just as much as he is mine and Haleys,” he laughs wryly, “I think we both know if given a choice, he would have wanted you to stay with him.” 

“That’s not true,” she replies automatically, “You’re the centre of his world and you know it.” 

“And you’re the sun,” he says, and she scoffs, shaking her head even though he can’t see her, “It’s true. We Hotchner men are unable to stop being drawn to you.” 

She chuckles and wipes her cheek, “If Reid were listening in, he’d remind you that the planets orbit the sun because its mass is bigger, and therefore it creates a gravitational pull,” she scrunches her nose up, “If I didn’t know better, or if you were my mother, I’d think this was a very creative way of telling me I’ve put on weight.” 

“Never, Em. You know that.” He laughs at her joke, the sound music to her ears, a far cry from the strain in his voice earlier when he’d shown up at the hospital, “Sometimes I forget I’m marrying a nerd.” 

“You love it, and you know it.” 

“I love you,” he says, and he sighs, “We’ll get the paperwork fast-tracked, Em. I know a guy who can help. This won’t happen again.” 

She hums, “Well, his appendix can’t get inflamed for a second time anyway.” 

“You know what I mean, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah,” she says, swallowing thickly as she wipes a tear from her cheek, “I know. I love you too, by the way,” she looks over at his empty side of the bed, “Our bed is cold without you.” 

“We’ll be home tomorrow night, Jack seems to be doing well.” 

“And until then, I have Sergio and Rupert for company.” She says, and she can practically hear his smile down the phone and it’s a comfort she hadn’t known she’d needed. She sinks into the bed, pulling the covers around herself again, and she sighs contentedly. 

“Want me to stay on the line until you fall asleep?” He asks, and she almost tells him no, almost shakes off the offer and tells him she’ll be fine, but she wants this. Wants him. And until she can have him and Jack back with her, she’ll make do with what little bits of him she can have. 

“Yeah,” she says, tucking Rupert against her chest, “I’d like that.” 

He was just going to buy eggs. He was making her breakfast. He was just buying eggs so his gun was still in her safe. 

Her thumb lingers over Penelope’s contact in her phone. She knows if she sounds the alarm, if she calls her and asks her to contact everyone else, that she’ll be doing more than letting them know Aaron is in danger. She’ll be letting them know about the relationship none of them knew about yet. They were planning on telling the team soon. Dave was hosting dinner in a week and that felt like the perfect time, mutual ground to explain to their friends that they were together now, both of them ready to take on the inevitable questions together.

She shakes off the thought and calls Penelope, knowing she’d much rather deal with all of her questions by herself rather than not have their help.

“Peaches, what are you doing calling so early on a Saturday?” 

When Aaron first wakes up, it takes a moment for him to realise he’s not in his bed. 

He smiles as he opens his eyes, overwhelmed by the presence of her. The smell of her pressed into the sheets covering him, her back against his chest, their legs tangled together, the warmth of her soft skin against his more than he could have ever imagined. Any fleeting thought that this could be a dream disappears, gone with the acknowledgement that his subconscious had never done her justice, that it had never lived up to the reality of being with her. 

Emily had been the one to ask him out. A huff escaping her lungs as she rolled her eyes at him, her hands tight in the lapels of his jacket after too close a call on a case, a smile spreading across her face, her dimples carved deep into her cheeks as their eyes met. 

“Are you ever going to take me on a date?” 

The ridiculous thing was, he’d been trying to. 

They’d been closer since she came back from Paris, spending almost all their spare time together ever since she’d agreed to tell him about her bad days. He’d known he was in love with her for a long time, for longer than he cared to admit, and he wasn’t an idiot. He knew she felt the same way, could see it in her eyes whenever she thought he wasn’t looking, in the way she would look after him and Jack. Joy and love and everything in between shining in her eyes when she would read Jack a bedtime story, none of the fear he’d seen when they’d sat opposite each other on the jet on the day that started to change things between them. 

He wanted to ask her out but would choke on it every time. The invite stuck in his throat as he worried maybe he was imagining things, letting himself see things that weren’t there because he wanted to be with her so much. The relief he’d felt when she asked was palpable, washing over him as he nodded in response, something that made her smile impossibly wider and more beautiful. 

The date had been perfect. Dinner and wine in a restaurant she’d recommended. Conversation had been easy, none of the nerves that both of them were feeling showing themselves until he walked her to her front door. She’d smiled at him, her hand wrapped around the tie she’d made fun of him for wearing as she tugged him into a kiss and then into her apartment. They’d spent hours exploring each other, learning peaks and valleys they’d imagined for years, before eventually falling asleep tangled together. 

He trails his hand up and down her back, her skin impossibly soft against his. He draws patterns over her shoulders, unable to stop himself from smiling as she grumbles, shifting against him as she arches her back before she turns to look at him.

“Should have known you’d be allergic to lay-ins,” she says, blinking sleepily at him, her smile contradicting the grumpiness in her tone. She leans up to kiss him, her lips soft against his as he pulls her closer.  

It would be lying to say she’d never imagined this. That she’d never let her mind wander and think about what it would be like to be with him, to wake up pressed up against him, to fall apart as she was aware of nothing but him. At first, she thought it was because he was unavailable. Married and seemingly unable to be in the same room as her, something close to irritation in his eyes every time he looked at her. It was inappropriate, but she’d always had a thing for inappropriate men. Nothing she tried had scratched the itch. Her own fingers and toys and other men never enough to come close to what she wanted from him. What she knew she would get from him. 

It was only when he was almost killed by Foyet, their relationship something closer to friendship by that point, that she realised it was because she was in love with him. It felt ridiculous. Stereotypical. And after she left him at the hospital, the last to leave after Haley and Jack had gone into hiding, she’d gone home and cried - so sure that she’d never get a ch

Things kept getting in their way. Including them. Both of them so damaged, so fractured by what they’d been through that it left them unsure. Gun shy in a way that was out of character, making them lose even more time that made her furious now they were on the other side of it. Now that she knew what it was like to be with him. 

Any irritation is temporary, a flash of a thing that is lost as she melts into his arms, sighing into the kiss as she chases his touch, his palm landing on the small of her back as he pulls her closer. She moves close enough to share his pillow, their chests pressed together as the kiss eventually comes to an end, her forehead pressed against his as she heaves in a breath.  

“Morning,” he mumbles, smiling when she rubs her nose against his, the rumble of his voice making her stomach flip.

“Morning,” she replies, kissing him again, humming into it, “What time do you have to get home to Jack?”

“I don’t have to,” he says simply, smiling when she frowns at him, confusion knitting her brows together. He chuckles and kisses the tip of her nose, and then the space between her brows, “Jack is with Haley’s dad this weekend,” he kisses her cheek, “So I don’t have to be home until tomorrow evening.” 

She smiles, hope and want sparking in her gut as she sinks her teeth into her lower lip, “So…”

He grins as she trails off, pulling her closer and pressing his lips against hers as she hooks a leg over his waist, her hand tangled in his hair. His hand shifts from her lower back and hooks around her thigh as he moves them, trapping her between him and the mattress, “I’m yours all weekend,” he says, his hand drifting to her waist, “If you want me.” 

She chuckles, the question itself ridiculous as she rocks her hips against his, tasting the groan he lets out, pressed against her lips as she wraps her leg around his back.

“I could take you or leave you,” she jokes, nipping at his lower lip, “You might have to prove you’d be useful if you stayed though-” he moves so quickly that she squeals, a sound she’d later deny, lost to laughter as he hovers over her, his hands on either side of her head, his grin wide, “What are you doing?” 

He kisses her, fierce and overpowering as he licks through her mouth, letting her settle into it for only a second before he pulls away, stealing away her breath as he dares to wink at her, “Proving my usefulness.” 

He kisses her once before he starts his journey downward, his lips, teeth and tongue working in tandem to draw noises from her he’d only heard the night before for the first time. A new addiction of his, something he knew he wanted to hear as often as possible for the rest of his life. He pauses to lick over the hickey he’d left on her left breast next to Doyle’s brand, his claim over her new and fresh, blooming and beautiful against her pale skin. He soothes the mark with his tongue, smiling against her skin as she moans, arching her back as she presses her chest closer to him. 

“Aaron.” 

“I’ll never get enough of this,” he mutters, shifting downwards again, kissing the scar that bloomed under her ribcage. Raised, silver skin that showed where she’d been torn apart and put back together. She was nervous about his reaction to it last night. He’d seen the uncertainty in her hands, how they paused for the first time as she pulled her dress up over hips, her fingers twitching as her brain caught up with the rest of her. He’d taken over, told her every inch of her was beautiful and he’d kissed her until she believed him, “Never get enough of you.” 

She chuckles breathlessly as she rests her head back on her pillow, her eyes drifting closed as he kisses her pubic bone. She hadn’t expected him to be so talkative. He was reflective usually. Quiet. Everything he said throughout and purposeful but this was different. A stream of consciousness that never stopped, praise and something close to love pressed against her skin as he learnt everything about her, about what brought her over the edge. 

He pushes her thighs apart, smiling as he presses his thumbs into bruises he’d left there, flashes of how he’d gripped her skin the night before making him groan, his hips pressed against the bed, “You’re fucking gorgeous.” 

She tenses, her breath caught in her chest as she waits for him to move, waits for him to do something. But he stops, teasing touches to her thighs, so close to where she wants him but so far. She groans in frustration and sits up just slightly, her elbows on the mattress as she looks at him. 

“Aaron, I swear to God-” Her threat is cut off as he licks through her, his tongue insistent on her clit as he pushes two fingers inside of her, “Fuck.” 

He smiles against her, turns his head to nip at her thigh before he buries his face in her again, his tongue and fingers working together in tandem to take her apart, words she can’t hear but can feel instead, slowly bringing her towards the edge. She hooks her leg around his back, her heel digging into his shoulder as she rolls her hips against his face, her thighs getting tighter around his head. 

“I’m so close,” she mutters, her hips stuttering, her cheeks warm as she grips the sheet beneath her, wondering how he has her this close already after only one night together, “Fuck I’m close.” 

“I know, baby,” he says, pulling back just enough to speak, “I can feel how tight you’re getting around my fingers,” he curls them inside of her, hitting just the right spot, and a noise she could only describe as guttural escapes her, “Come for me.” 

She screams his name, not thinking about her neighbours, or the fact it was still so early, the morning light only just filtering in through her curtains. He doesn’t stop even as she shudders against her. Instead, he carries on, gentle touches of his tongue and fingers as he drags her orgasm out. She eventually chuckles, her thighs twitching on either side of his head. She moves her foot just enough to kick at his shoulder. 

“Jesus, fuck,” she laughs breathlessly, “okay,” she breathes out, laughing as she shakes her head, “Very useful,” she smiles widely at him, her lips pressed together as she forces herself to stop herself from saying the three words it felt far too early to say, settling instead on three others, “You can stay.” 

He climbs back up her, burying his face in her neck, the smell of herself pressed against her skin, “Oh sweetheart,” he drawls, kissing his way up her neck, “We have two whole days,” he kisses her, “I’m only just getting started.” 

___

She wakes up slowly, a rarity in her life these days - slow, sleepy mornings a thing of the past. 

She groans as she stretches, blinking against the low light in the room, the first signs of a new day pushing themselves through the gaps in the curtains. She sighs when she checks the time on the clock on her nightstand. 

5.30 am. 

Emily flops onto her back and huffs, aware that no matter how tired she is she won’t fall back asleep. Early mornings were hardwired into her now, a part of her routine even on her days off. Brought on by her sons and her husband, and their apparent genetic inability to sleep much past dawn. She looks at the baby monitor on her nightstand and smiles softly at the sight of Oscar still fast asleep, the 6-month-old happy and content for now - something she knew wouldn’t last long. 

The house was quiet for once. Jack was away with Roy and Jessica for the weekend, and Elliot was worn out from spending the day before with the team. He’d fought sleep every second until he finally succumbed to it, the 3-year-old’s face pressed against Emily’s neck as she paced his bedroom with him in her arms, his favourite place to sleep since he’d been a newborn, her lips against his temple as she sang him to sleep. 

He’d be awake soon. His tiny feet thundering against the hardwood floor of the hallway, inevitably waking up his little brother as he ran past his nursery and into Emily and Aaron’s bedroom. He loved snuggling in the big bed, and would often sleep in it too. She knew she shouldn’t encourage it, but one day that would come far too soon for her liking this time of her life would be gone. The boys would grow up and suddenly be too cool for their parents and as excited as she was to see who they were becoming, she wanted it like this for as long as possible. 

She may miss her lay-ins, the lazy weekend starts that had always been rare anyway, but she wouldn’t trade them for anything. 

She turns to look at Aaron and smiles. He was still asleep, lying on his back with one hand next to his head and the other on his chest. She smiles and shifts towards him, pressing herself against his warm body, her face buried in his neck as she breathes him in. He smells like home. The remnants of his cologne still hanging on from the day before, mixed in with sleep and him and something she can never name. 

He moans sleepily, the arm that had been near his head shifting, wrapping around her as he pulls her into him, “Morning.” 

“Morning,” she replies, kissing the juncture of his throat and he pulls her closer, his fingers skimming the hem of her pyjama shorts, drawing idle patterns just under the curve of her ass. She smirks against his skin, nipping lightly at his pulse. She feels the rumble of his laugh more than she hears it, his happiness passing from his chest to hers. 

“What’s got into you?” He asks, his voice delightfully rough, his throat thick with sleep and misuse. 

She hums, pulling her face away from his neck as she looks up at him, her hand on his cheek as she drags him in for a kiss, “Hopefully you.” 

He laughs again, the taste of it against her lips as she kisses him again, her leg hooking over his waist. His hand travels up from her thigh, squeezing her ass as it passes, before sneaking under her shirt. The press of his palm is warm on her back, his hand almost wide enough to span the back of it, his fingers ghosting both sides of her waist, chasing the shiver he creates as he makes them chest to chest. 

“Oscar is asleep,” she says, glancing back at the baby monitor on her nightstand, smiling at the video feed of her son still fast asleep in his crib, one of his tiny hands above his head and the other on his chest just like Aaron’s had been just before he woke up. She turns back to her husband and tugs him towards her so she ends up partially underneath him, “We don’t have a toddler in our bed,” she kisses him, his smile pressed against her lips as he sneaks a hand under her, his palm pressing against her lower back, “And Jack is on his annual camping trip with Roy,” she sinks her teeth into his lower lip for a second, soothing the slight sting with a kiss, “This is a rare opportunity.” 

He hums and rests more of his weight on her, the hard length of him pressing against the juncture of her thighs. He smiles when she groans, taking a moment to roll his hips, to taste the sigh that escapes her lips. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, grasping her thigh, hiking it higher around his hip, “You don’t ever have to convince me to have sex with you,” he kisses her throat, the beat of her pulse against his lips an addiction he knew he’d never be rid of, “If you ever find yourself having to, kill me - I’m already dead.” 

She laughs, the sound swallowed by his lips against hers. She rakes her fingers through his hair, blunt scratching against his scalp in a way that never failed to make him moan. She pulls away from the kiss, her forehead against his, “We need to hurry, you know what Eli is like.” 

He smirks, a glint in his eyes that he only ever got when they were doing this. A part of him that was just hers, something she never took for granted. 

“Well it’s good you wore these cute little shorts to bed then isn’t it,” he says, trailing his fingers over the hem again, smiling when her thighs twitch when he passes over the slick of her as he pushes the shorts aside, “Easy access.”

She hums, pushing his sweatpants down with her foot just enough to let him spring free, her laugh catching in her throat when he notches against her, “Why do you think I wore them?” 

He groans as he pushes forward, his forehead resting against hers. The warm, tight heat of her always enough to make him moan, the punched-out noise muffled against her collarbone as he stops when he’s fully seated inside of her. 

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” he mumbles, kissing everywhere he can reach, thrusting against her when she clenches around him. 

“You too,” she replies, grasping for purchase at the back of his t-shirt, her nails scratching at the soft material as she rolls her hips, wordlessly encouraging him to move, “You feel so good.” 

When their new life settled down around them, when the roaring fire of their relationship settled from the exciting newness into something calmer, a flickering flame that always remained in the background, she worried about it. She loved him, their life together, but as they moved from boyfriend and girlfriend, to being engaged, to getting married, to having more children, she worried this part of their life would change. That they wouldn’t have time for each other. 

Things had changed, but not in the way she’d feared. Their endless need for each other hadn’t faded, it had just adapted with them as their life did. The days of laying next to each other naked all day, only stopping to eat in between rounds to get their energy up, were behind them. But somehow this, slow, lazy, morning sex with her husband had become her favourite. A moment in time when they could just be Emily and Aaron, not Mom and Dad or Agent Prentiss and Agent Hotchner. Just two married people in love with each other, and showing it in the most basic of ways. 

“It’s like you were made for me,” he says, kissing up her throat to capture her lips, “Fucking made for me.” 

“Made for you,” she replies, her breath skipping over his face, her hips stuttering as she gets closer to the edge. She doesn’t have to say it, doesn’t have to tell him that she’s close. He reaches between them and draws circles over her clit, slow and purposeful as he draws her closer to orgasm, “Aaron…” 

“Come for me, baby,” he says, the strain in his voice clear, “Let me feel it.”

She tips over the edge and drags him with her, the hot pulse of him inside of her makes her groan, something he swallows with a kiss, his hand on her cheek as he holds her in place. He smiles when he pulls back from the kiss, his love for her written all over his face.

“Happy ‘first date’ Anniversary, Em.” 

Her smile widens and she pushes his hair from his forehead, smiling at the salt and pepper flashes she can see shining in amongst the dark brown, “You remembered.”

He stamps his lips against hers, “I remember everything about you.” 

She holds him in place, her leg still hooked around his hip, her lips insistent on his, “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” he replies, cut off as they hear a cry from down the hall. They both look at the baby monitor and see Oscar wide awake, tears streaming down his face as he demands attention, “Duty calls,” Aaron says, kissing her one last time before he climbs off of her, pulling his sweatpants back up as he goes, “I’ll go get him.” 

She nods and watches him go, stretching as she stands up, grimacing as she feels the mix of them drip down her thigh. She smiles to herself as she walks to the bathroom, the sound of a door opening and Elliot’s excited voice as he spots his father travelling down the hall. She gets in the shower and makes quick work of cleaning herself up, wanting nothing more than to go downstairs to join her family and start another day in the life she never thought she’d have.

-x-

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She was furious at him.

Emily knew it mostly stemmed from embarrassment, churning in her gut whenever she looked at him, convinced that she had somehow read every interaction between them in the last few weeks incorrectly. That her skills as a profiler had failed her, and there was nothing more between them than friendship. Then she’d remind herself that he was the one who asked her on a date. He’d been the one who nervously spat out the invitation as he stumbled over his words in a way that she’d found endlessly endearing, the love she felt for him threatening to bubble to the surface as she pressed her lips together to hold it back, simply nodding her confirmation instead. 

The date had gone well. Or, at least, she thought it had. There hadn’t been any awkwardness like she’d worried there would be. No moments where the transition from friends to something more felt forced. It had felt like any other night they’d spent together, both of them smiling and laughing as they exchanged facts about their pasts - slowly pulling back the protective layers they’d both wrapped around themselves a long time ago. 

It had gone well, right up until he dropped her back at her place. He’d walked her to her door, his hand hovering over the small of her pack, the heat of his palm making her shiver even without actually touching her. She’d invited him in, looking up at him through her lashes, and she watched as he froze, his eyes going wide before he choked out an excuse about getting home for Jack and leaving with nothing more than dropping a kiss on her cheek. 

She got the call from Penelope about a case only hours later as she sat on her bed, the underwear she’d bought and worn for him already shoved deep in her hamper so she didn’t have to look at it and a pint of ice cream in hand. Aaron had smiled tightly at her when she got on the jet, and she stopped any attempt he made at talking to her, humiliation lingering under her skin every time he tried. 

She was angry at him, but she was mostly angry at herself. Furious that she’d let herself get carried away with the fantasy of it, with the idea of finally being with the person she’d loved a lot longer than she cared to admit even to herself. Embarrassed that for a moment she’d let herself believe he felt the same way about her. 

Life had after all rarely been that kind to her. 

She’d get over it. She knew that. She just needed some time to recalibrate, to be able to look at him again and not feel her cheeks burn with fury and grief for something she never had in the first place. 

Aaron seemed opposed to giving her that time. 

After she’d rebuffed all of his attempts to talk to her he’d partnered them together on the case, insisting that she came with him to speak to a suspect that ran the local diner. She wanted to fight him on it, insist that she stayed behind and he took someone else, but she knew any kind of insubordination would only draw attention to her sour mood. No one on the team knew they’d been on a date, and she hadn’t wanted them to know yet even when she thought it was going to go well. She definitely didn’t want them to know now.

She’d simply nodded and climbed into the SUV instead, her gaze purposely fixed out of the passenger window as they drove in silence. It’s only as the car pulls to a stop that he even attempts to speak to her.

“Prentiss.” 

She sighs and looks at him, her brows furrowing when she sees what he’s spotted, the ‘closed’ sign hung in the entrance of the diner, “Weird time of day for the diner to be closed.” 

“Weird for a 24-hour diner to be closed at all,” he says, unclipping his seat belt, “We need to be careful.” 

She bites back a sarcastic comment as she climbs out of the car, her hand on her hip as she reaches for her gun. She looks down the alley next to the diner and nods towards it, “The back door is propped open.” 

They walk towards it, moving in tandem until they reach the door. He opens it and walks in first, his gun raised as he enters the diner's kitchen. 

“Mr Ramsey?” He says, throwing a look back at Emily as she enters behind him, her gun also raised, “It’s the FBI we just need to ask you a few questions.”

Emily scopes out the kitchen, its quietness almost eerie, and something catches her eye. She walks closer to the nearby counter and curses under her breath when she sees newspaper clippings about the murders they were investigating, the faces of the victims scribbled out - black ink blocking out their faces. She’s about to call out for Aaron, to show him what she’d discovered, when she hears the click of a gun’s safety going off just behind her. 

“Put your gun down.”

She does as she’s asked, raising her hands after placing her gun on the counter, “Mr Ramsey-”

“Be quiet,” he says, pressing the barrel of the gun into the back of her head, “Call for your partner.” 

She clenches her teeth, “I’m not-”

“Call for him now or I’ll kill you and then I’ll kill him.”

She closes her eyes, holding back the breath she knows will be shaky, not wanting to give him any more of an upper hand than he already had, well aware from experience that any sign of fear would be like signing her death warrant. 

“Hotch,” she shouts, her jaw tight as she hears his footsteps in the next room, “Come here.” 

The look that passes over his face when he steps back into the kitchen and sees her standing there with a man behind her, a gun pressed against her head, breaks her heart. It’s quick. Undetectable to anyone who doesn’t know him as well as she does. He grips his gun even tighter, aiming it past her, but anything he is going to say is cut off as Ramsey starts to talk. 

“Put your gun down.” 

Aaron shakes his head, “We both know I can’t do that.”

She feels the gun get pressed even firmer against the back of her head, leaving a mark she’s sure will bruise, and she can feel the tension radiating off the man behind her. 

“Put your gun down, or I’ll blow her head off.” 

Her eyes meet Aaron’s and she knows what he’s going to do before he does it, the very real prospect of her dying in front of him pushing any fight out of him as he nods and puts his gun down, “I’ve put it down. Let her go.” 

Ramsey shakes his head, and he chuckles darkly, “So you can arrest me? I don’t think so,” he says, looking around, a sense of wildness about him that tells Emily he hadn’t thought this far. He looks at the industrial sized freezer in the corner and grabs her, moving so quickly it pulls a grunt out of her. 

“Get your hands off of her,” Aaron growls, his hands in tight fists by his side, his eyes fixed on the gun still pointing at her head.

Ramsey pulls the door to the freezer open and then pushes Emily into it, his gun once again trained on her as he turns to look at Aaron, “Get in.”

Emily watches as Aaron does as he’s told, taking his place next to her, “This isn’t going to end well for you Ramsey,” Aaron says, his glare stern as he looks at the other man, “People know where we are. They know who we came to see.” 

Ramsey nods and chuckles darkly, his hand on the door as he shrugs, “Maybe. But by then I’ll be long gone. And you two…well, I guess it depends on how long they take to find you.” 

He slams the door shut, plunging them into darkness. ___

A small LED light in the far corner of the freezer switches on, and it’s just enough light for him to see Emily, her eyes wide as she looks around them, her arms crossed over her chest as she shivers. 

“Do you have your phone?” She asks him, “I left mine in the car.” 

He nods and digs through his pocket, cursing when he sees he doesn’t have any service, “It’s not working.” 

“Damn it,” she replies, blowing out a breath he can see, the ghost of it spreading out between them, “Well, the team knew we were coming here,” she says, her smile tight, “Hopefully they’ll figure out when we’ve been gone too long for a standard interview,” she grimaces slightly, “Do you think he kept the bodies in here?” She asks, turning up her nose, “Right alongside the food?”

He can’t help but smile at the look on her face, the rare show of utter disgust that somehow didn’t diminish her beauty, “I guess you can add diners to your list.” 

She frowns as she looks at him, her eyebrows furrowed together, “What list?”

His smile slips slightly, the awkwardness that had settled between them since their date a few days ago returning, her reluctance to talk to him unless it was about the case coming back in full force, “The list of things this job has ruined for you. Like roadside motels?”

“Oh,” she says, forcing a smile as she nods, “Yeah. Diners are on the list now too I guess.” 

They fall into silence and he watches as she paces back and forth, her hands rubbing up and down her arms as she tries to get warmth into them. He could feel the cold too, the way it makes a shiver pass through his spine, but he knew he ran warm. His body a furnace that Jack took comfort in when he had nightmares. Haley had always lovingly complained about it, especially in the summer. A wry smile on her face as she told him the room was warm enough without him in it. 

“Are you cold?” 

She glares at him, “We’re standing in a freezer Aaron,” she exclaims, wrapping her arms even further around herself, “Of course I’m fucking cold,” she spits out. He moves towards her as if by instinct, his body moving of its own accord as he tries to pull her into his arms. She pulls away from him so quickly she almost slips, a look he can only call furious passing over her face, “What are you doing?” 

He frowns at her, “Trying to warm you up.” 

She scoffs, her jaw tight as her eyes meet his, “I can manage perfectly fine, thanks,” she says, her voice dropping as she carries on, words he’s sure she doesn’t mean to escape filling the air between them, “You didn’t want to touch me the other night so I won’t put you through it now.” 

His hands fall to his sides and he huffs out a breath, shaking his head as her words register, “What do you mean?” 

She presses her lips together and shakes her head, turning her back on him as she replies, “Nothing. It’s not important.” 

“Everything about you is important to me,” he says, the naked honesty he so rarely showed anyone enough to make her turn back to look at him, her eyes shining as she licks her lower lip, shaking her head at him again as she chokes on a laugh.

“The other night, after our…date,” she says swallowing thickly, “I invited you in and you ran away like you’d been burned. You didn’t…” She looks down at the floor, another shiver passing through her as she wraps her arms around herself, “You didn’t even kiss me.” 

He sighs and closes his eyes, the guilt that had been simmering low in his gut for days coming to a full boil as she realises how he’d made her feel. It felt nothing short of ridiculous that she’d think he was anything less than completely in love with her, let alone disgusted at the thought of touching her, but he’d panicked in the moment. A combination of not wanting her to think it was all about sex for him and not wanting to let her down forcing him to bolt, his lips pressed against her cheek whilst she still had her keys in her hand, his body pushing him towards the elevator in her building before he could stop himself. 

He’d wanted to go to hers the following morning, breakfast in hand and his tail between his legs as he apologised and did his best to explain it to her, but a case had got in the way. Any attempt he made to talk to her the last few days had been rebuffed and now he knew why.

“And I get that you probably aren’t attracted to me, and that’s fine, I just need some time-”

He laughs humourlessly, the thought of not being attracted to her so absurd that he can’t stop it, and she looks furiously at him, anger and upset flooding her expression in a way that stops him.

“Em, it’s not that,” he assures her, stepping closer, “It could never be that.” 

She frowns at him, her breath caught in her chest as her eyes meet his, “Then what is it?” 

He sighs and reaches out for her, grateful when she doesn’t flinch this time, his hand on her back as he encourages her closer, “I didn’t want you to think it was about sex for me,” he says, clearing his throat, “It never could just be that. And…I didn’t want to let you down.” 

Her frown only gets deeper, her breath a fleeting piece of warmth as it skips across his face, “What do you mean let me down?” 

“I married my high school sweetheart, Em,” he says, and he knows if he wasn’t cold, if he wasn’t standing in a goddamn freezer, his cheeks would go warm with embarrassment, “ You’re the first person I’ve dated since. You do the math.” 

Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead as it registers, “Oh,” she says, her lips pressed together as she nods, “So Kate Joyner…”

He smiles at her, running his hand up and down her back as she shivers against him, “We never liaised.”

She laughs and shakes her head, his careful choice of words letting her know that he’d heard her all those years ago, “Considering what we do for a living, we suck at communicating.” 

He nods in agreement, “We do,” he confirms, hooking his finger under her chin so she looks up at him, “But we can learn to get better at it together. If you’d like.” 

She looks between his lips and his eyes and she nods ever so slightly, barely distinguishable even though she’s this close to him, “I’d like that.” 

He’s the one to close the gap, to press his lips against hers, and he sinks into it. His grip on her tighter as she wraps her arms around his neck, the tip of her nose pressing against his cheek as she deepens the kiss. He’s sure on some level that it should be strange that their first kiss, the kiss she’s sure is his last first kiss, was taking place in a freezer an unsub had locked them in. A freezer he’d likely stored the bodies of his victims in. But Aaron can’t bring himself to care, his focus only on her and the way she sighs contentedly, the sound passing from her mouth to his.

When she pulls back she rests her forehead against his, her nose rubbing against his as she smiles, “Your nose is cold.” 

“Yours is too,” he says, tucking her closer to him, his chin on top of her head as he tries to keep her as warm as he can, “Someone should be here soon.” 

She hums, her face pressed against his shirt as she sought out the fading warmth of his skin, “I hope so,” she says, tilting her head to look up at him, “It would suck if that the only time we ever got to kiss was in a fucking freezer the unsub used to store bodies.” 

He can’t help but smile and he leans in and stamps his lips against hers, “It really would suck.”

___

By the time the team find them, they are huddled together sitting on the floor, both of them close to passing out. 

Aaron tries to fight it when the EMTs separate them and put them in different ambulances, and he can hear Emily doing the same, her demands that she was fine diminished by the way her jaw was chattering when she spoke. He barely pays any attention to Dave’s assurances that they’d caught Ramsey, that he was in police custody, all of his focus on Emily and how cold she’d been when they’d taken her from his embrace. 

They get taken to the local hospital and they are separated there too. Dave keeps him company whilst JJ does the same for Emily, both providing frequent updates about the other to keep Aaron and Emily in their respective beds. 

Aaron sits up straighter when he sees Dave walk back into the room, his request to know how Emily is doing cut off before he can even start speaking. 

“She’s fine,” Dave says as he sinks into the chair next to Aaron’s bed, a wry smile on his face, “Just like she was 10 minutes ago. And I told her that you’re fine,” he adds, raising his eyebrow, “Just like I did 10 minutes ago.” 

“Thanks, Dave.” 

“No problem,” he says, waving him off, his smile too close to a smirk for Aaron’s liking, “You’re somehow both more annoying now you’re together though.” 

Aaron frowns as his head snaps towards his friend, “What…who…who said we’re together.” 

Dave laughs and leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as he shakes his head at his friend, “We did find you huddled together in that freezer,” he says, raising his eyebrow, “And before you try and say it was for warmth, you’re both asking about each other in a way only a panicked partner would,” he smiles, “Plus we found you with her lipstick on your lips.”

Aaron groans and rests his head back on the pillow, any hopes of secrecy about his relationship with Emily as they got used to the change in it without outside influence.

“We…had time to figure things out whilst we were in there,” he says diplomatically, and Dave hums thoughtfully. 

“I might have to make sure they go easy on Ramsey in that case,” he says, winking at his friend, “He was able to achieve what the rest of us have been trying to do for years.” 

__

When she wakes up, she feels cold. 

The only thing that feels warm is her hand, and not one part of her is surprised when she opens her eyes to see Aaron sitting next to her bed, both of his hands wrapped around her hand. 

“Hi,” she says, smiling softly when he looks up at her, the relief in his eyes palpable. He’s wearing a hospital gown and a robe, “Should you be in here?” 

He smiles and lifts her hand to press a kiss against her knuckles, his lips warmer than she thinks they should be, “My body temp got back up to normal,” he says, kissing her knuckles again, “I charmed one of the nurses into letting me in here.” 

She hums, “And here I thought that charming smile was all for me.” 

He stands and sits on the edge of her bed, smiling at her like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen, “Everything is for you, sweetheart.” 

She can’t help but laugh. The way her cheeks heat up at the use of the nickname makes them sting, the contrast to the rest of her body almost too much to take. When she first met him she never could have imagined him like this - soft and kind and hers. She reaches up and cups his cheek, dragging him in for a kiss, his nose warm against her cheek. 

“Your nose is warm,” she says as they pull back just enough for her to speak. He smiles and kisses her again. 

“Yours is still cold.” 

She rubs her nose against his for a second before she pulls back, “You should get in here with me,” she says, throwing back the heating blanket over her waist and shifting in the bed, “Warm me up.” 

“Em…”

“Please?” She says, patting the bed next to her, “You’ve got all that body heat and I’ve got none.”

He lovingly shakes his head at her but stands up and climbs into the bed anyway, tugging her into his side as he pulls the blanket back over them both, “Better?”

She nods against him, tucking herself as close to him as she can, sighing contentedly as she feels his warmth seep from his skin to hers, “Much better.” 

He kisses the top of her head and runs his hand up and down her arm, “When we’re home I’ll take you on another date,” he says, smiling at her when she tilts her head to look up at him, “Make sure it ends properly this time.”

She smiles at him and kisses the underside of his jaw, taking a moment to breathe him in before she replies, “I’d like that,” she says, kissing him as he turns his head, “I’d like that a lot.” 

-x-

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“Mom, I’m ready.” 

Emily smiles as her daughter yells up the stairs for her as she tugs her shirt over her head and pulls her grey hair from the neckline, letting it fall naturally over her shoulders. 

“I’m coming, Evie,” she replies, checking her reflection one more time in the mirror before she heads out of the bedroom, almost walking straight into her husband in the hallway. She smiles as he stops her from getting any further, placing his hands on her hips to hold her in place, “Hi.” 

“Hi,” he replies, stamping a kiss against her lips, making her chuckle when he rubs his cheek against hers as they pull away, the scratch of his beard against her skin making her scrunch her nose up, “You look beautiful.” 

She presses her lips together and shakes her head, she reaches up and runs her fingers through his hair, smiling softly at the salt and pepper flecks that shone in the light of the hallway. 

“You don’t look bad yourself.” 

He’d aged like a fine wine. He had a slight thickness he had to his waist now, his large frame somehow deliciously larger, something she loved. She’d been self-conscious about getting older herself, and had carried on dying her hair for longer than she thought she would. Eventually, it was Aaron who convinced her to stop. A soft smile on his face as he assured her he’d find her beautiful no matter what, something he’d taken the time to prove to her again and again as she grew it out. 

When they first got together she worried that the love they had for each other would fade. She’d never been loved unconditionally before him, never believed that love could last forever, convinced from her own experiences that it was doomed to fizzle out. Sure that nothing lasted forever, but, if anything, she was more in love with him now than she was when they got married 17 years ago. 

The life they’d shared, the things they’d enjoyed and endured together, had only made her love him more. 

“I should have known I’d find you two making out up here.” 

Emily smiles at her 15-year-old daughter over Aaron’s shoulder and then she looks back at her husband and winks at him before she steps away. 

“Sorry, honey,” she says, stepping towards Evie and tucking some of her hair behind her ear, willfully ignoring the ache in her chest when she shies away from her touch.

Emily missed the days when Evie would seek out her affection, when she had to be convinced to go to sleep in her own room instead of in their bed pressed up against her mother. She loved watching her grow up, loved that their little girl was turning into a strong and self-assured woman, but sometimes she longed for when she was little, when she actually needed her. 

“Shall we get going?” Emily asks, but before Evie can reply her phone chimes in her pocket. Emily pulls it out and sighs when she sees Penelope’s message on the screen, “Shit.”

Sorry, Em. I know you had a day planned with Mini Peaches, but the Deputy Director is insisting all the SC’s come in for a last minute meeting 

“Please don’t tell me you have work,” Evie says, crossing her arms over her chest and throwing Emily a look that was all Aaron. 

Emily sighs and looks between her daughter and her husband, “I’m sorry, I have to go in,” she says, guilt climbing up her throat at the look of disappointment flashing across Evie’s face, “It should only be for a couple of hours-”

“You promised we’d go to the mall.” 

She closes her eyes for a moment as she sucks in a sharp breath, and feels her husband’s hand ghost her lower back. She hated breaking promises, hated when she felt like she was repeating history, her mind immediately equating missing a day of shopping with her mother missing her college graduation. 

Logically she knew it wasn’t the same, that she’d done better raising Jack and Evie than her mother had done with her, but it still picked at an old insecurity. Pulling the scab off a wound that she’d had ever since she’d found out she was pregnant with her little girl. 

“Why don’t I go with you,” Aaron suggests, “Then Mom can meet us when she’s done at work.” 

Evie sighs and clenches her teeth, irritation licking at her insides as she looks back and forth between her parents, “Dad you hate the mall. And shopping.” 

“I can put up with it for a day,” he says, winking at her, “Mom might even let me have the credit card.” 

Emily rolls her eyes at her husband and throws him a look over her shoulder, a wry smile on her face, “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy being a kept man.” 

He’d retired a few years ago. It suited him in a way neither of them had anticipated, the slower pace of life something he both needed and deserved after everything he’d gone through. He kept trying to convince her to join him in retirement, only half joking whenever he brought it up, but she wasn’t quite ready yet.

She still, even after all this time, felt like she had something to prove. 

“Okay, fine,” Evie says, sighing as her shoulders sink slightly before she looks at Aaron, “Please don’t embarrass me though. And don’t be all…weird about the clothes I want to get.” 

“Of course,” he says, his expression serious as he agrees to her terms, “Why don’t you meet me in the car?” 

She nods and flashes a smile at Emily, a hint of disappointment still tainting it, “See you later Mom.” 

“See you, sweetie,” she replies, “I am so sorry.” 

Evie shrugs as she turns and heads down the stairs, “It’s okay, it happens.” 

She disappears from view, and they stand in silence until the front door opens and closes. Emily blows out a shaky breath and closes her eyes as she dips her head forward, trying to re-centre herself before she leaves for work. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Aaron says as he wraps his arms around her and turns her around, encouraging her to look at him when she opens her eyes, “And it’s not true,” he says, his smile encouraging as he pulls her closer, “You’re an excellent mother.” 

She chokes on a laugh and leans forward, resting her head on his shoulder as she hugs him back, “How do you always know exactly what I’m thinking?” 

“We have been together for close to 20 years, sweetheart,” he says, turning his head to kiss her forehead, “And I was a profiler for most of my career. I wouldn’t be a good husband if I didn’t know what you’re thinking.” 

She hums as she pulls back to look at him, “You should get going,” she says, kissing his cheek before she pulls back, “Our daughter has a very famous lack of patience.” 

He chuckles and squeezes her hand before he steps away, “I wonder where she gets that from.” 

She narrows her eyes, “It’s a mystery,” she says innocently and then smiles at him, “I should put on one of my suits,” she says turning back into their bedroom as he heads towards the stairs, “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Em.”

When she gets to work she can’t help but wonder why the meeting was so urgent, nothing about it seeming like it couldn’t have waited. It makes irritation bubble under her skin as the room full of mostly men all talk at each other without listening to each other. She blows out a breath as she checks her watch, wishing she was with her daughter and husband. 

Her phone rings, the sound making her jump slightly as the screen lights up from where she’d put it on the table. She flashes a smile of apology at the Deputy Director before she looks down, her heart seizing in her chest when she sees Evie’s name on the screen. Her stomach twists and her heartbeat thunders in her ears, worst-case scenarios overwhelming her as she looks at the picture of Evie and Jack on her screen, their arms wrapped around each other and wide smiles on their faces. 

Evie never called her when she was at work. She never called her at all, claiming that calling someone was what ‘old people’ did. 

“I’ve got to take this,” she says, picking the phone up and leaving the conference room without looking back. She’s barely out of the room before she answers, not wanting the call to ring out, “Evie? Honey?” 

“Mommy,” Evie sobs, her voice thick as she answers, heightening any concern that Emily had been feeling into panic, the moniker of Mommy that she hadn’t heard in years sending ice through her veins, freezing her in place. 

“Evie, what’s wrong?” Emily asks, already walking back towards her office at speed to pick up her purse, desperate to get to wherever Evie was, “Where’s your Dad?” 

The question only makes her daughter sob more, the sound muffled slightly as if she was covering her mouth, “I’m at the hospital, Dad…” she chokes out, “Dad collapsed. The paramedic thinks he had a heart attack.” 

___

As she arrives at the hospital Emily realises she doesn’t remember a single second of the drive. The entire way she’d been worried about her husband, her grip on the steering wheel tight as she desperately tried to remember if she’d told him that she loved him that morning. 

She’d struggled to say it at first, the words always dying in her throat in those first few weeks and months even though she knew she felt it. She’d never been one to throw the words around, to say them to people because she knew they wanted to hear it, but every time she tried she found she couldn’t. Looking back on it all these years later, when I love you was something they’d exchanged countless times, the three words never enough to truly express how they felt about each other, she knew it was because she’d been afraid of something like this. Of loving him so much that just the thought of losing him would destroy her.

She knows she can’t break. Not now. Not when Evie needed her, not when Jack would when she’d call him when she had spoken to the doctors. She didn’t want to tell him until she had something concrete to say, not when she knew he’d immediately jump in his car and drive the 8-hour journey home from college - midterms be damned. 

Emily walks up to the nurse's station the second she’s in the emergency room, poised and ready to intimidate whoever she needs to with her badge in order to find her husband and her daughter as fast as possible, but she doesn’t even have a moment to get anyone's attention before she hears Evie call out for her. 

“Mom!”

Emily turns to look at her, and her heart breaks for her little girl. Evie’s hair was a mess from where she’d clearly nervously run her fingers through it, the locks she knew she would have carefully curled that morning frizzy and out of control. Her eyes were swollen from crying, bright red and shining as she runs towards her, her face sticky and hot when she presses it into Emily’s neck as she throws herself at her.

“I’ve got you, sweet girl,” she says, holding her tightly, pressing a fierce kiss to the side of her head as she runs a hand up and down her back, Evie’s sobs hiccuping from her chest into her mother's. Emily looks around and sees some chairs just a few paces away and she leads Evie over, sitting her down without breaking their embrace. She pulls back just enough to look at her daughter and she wipes the tears from her skin, her knuckles softly running up and down her cheeks in a soothing pattern, “I’m right here, okay,” she says, clearing her throat to hide the shake in it, “Mommy’s right here.” 

Evie nods and tries to suck in a deep breath, and Emily can’t help but think how young she looked in that moment. She was confident and brave and everything a parent could be proud of, and Emily often thought that she was looking at who she could have been if her parents had been half as supportive as she and Aaron were, and it was sometimes easy to forget that she was just 15 years old. 

It was only when Evie had turned 15, her face bright and full of excitement as she opened her presents, that it really struck Emily how young she herself had been when she was in Rome, forced to make choices that most adults would struggle with. 

Emily smiles encouragingly at the teenager as her breathing calms down a little, and she tucks some of Evie’s hair behind her ear, “Can you tell me what happened, baby?” 

Evie nods and swallows thickly as she sniffs, “Yeah, we were in the food court, and he was taking so long to decide what he wanted,” she says, her voice shaking, “And I was impatient so I turned to get my food, and he said my name…” her lower lip trembles, “And as I turned around I kind of yelled at him but he had this look on his face and then he just…collapsed.” 

Emily briefly closes her eyes in an attempt to gather herself but it fails when she sees a flash of it in her mind, an image as clear as day of her husband collapsing painted on the back of her eyelids. She smiles and squeezes Evie’s hand, “Did the doctor say anything when you got here?” 

She shakes her head, “Just to call you,” she says, her face crumbling as she’s hit by another wave of emotions, “I’m so sorry, Mom.” 

She frowns as Evie presses her face into her neck again and she cups the back of her head, holding her close as she tries to soothe her, “What are you sorry for, baby?”

“I was such a bitch to him all day,” Evie says, her voice ever so slightly muffled until she pulls back, “I was grumpy because you weren’t there and he’s Dad so he was being embarrassing,” she shudders, more tears slipping onto her cheeks, “And I was so mean and what if it’s my fault.” 

Emily is sure that she can feel her heart break in her chest and she has to stop herself from falling apart right there, covering her fracturing emotions by leaning forward and kissing her daughter’s forehead. 

“Evie, you didn’t cause this,” She says as she pulls back, a hand on each of her daughter’s cheeks, “And no matter what your dad knows you love him, okay?” 

Evie nods, “Okay.” 

Emily smiles and pulls her into a brief but tight hug, “I’m going to find the doctor, you wait here just for a second-”

“No,” Evie says, tightening her hold on Emily, wrapping her hand tightly around one of hers as they stand at the same time, “I want to come with you.” 

She can the desperation in it, the same shine to her daughter’s eyes that she used to have as a little girl when she had a nightmare. Her monsters real to her even though they never left her dreams as she stood next to her parent’s bed seeking out their comfort. 

“Okay,” Emily says, squeezing her hand, “We’ll go together.” 

___

She can’t help but think of the first time she sat by his hospital bed. 

They hadn’t been together then, not even close, but it was when she’d realised she was in love with him. The panic she’d felt when she couldn’t find him suddenly giving a name to how she’d felt around him for months. 

It was hard to think that was so long ago, that they’d both lost and gained so much since then. She sits next to his bed, her hand wrapped around his as the beep of his heart monitor soothes her, a repetitive reassurance she needs that he’s okay. That she hadn’t lost him. 

Emily has no idea how long she sits there before he wakes up, his hand twitching in hers drawing her out of her seat, her eyes fixed on his face as he slowly opens his eyes. 

“Hi,” she says quietly, not wanting to startle him or wake up Evie who was asleep on the couch in the corner. He frowns in confusion as he realises where he is, something that’s immediately replaced by concern, “Evie’s okay,” she assures him, nodding towards the couch, “I managed to convince her to get some sleep.”

“What…what happened?” He asks, his voice gravelly, and she reaches for the small cup of water, holding the straw so he can take a sip. 

“Well,” she says, placing the cup back down when he’s done, wrapping both of her hands around one of his as she sits on the edge of his bed, “You had a heart attack,” she says, squeezing his hand, using the warmth of it to remind herself once again that he was okay, “The doctor put a stent in,” she says, her gaze drifting to his chest, to the place where he had a new scar she hadn’t seen yet, a new part of the pattern that she’d memorised so long ago, “He said you’ll be okay,” she smiles sadly when she looks back up at him, “Although, no more unhealthy eating for you.” 

He chuckles humourlessly and looks back over at their daughter, “Evie…”

“She saw it happen,” Emily says, pushing his hair from his forehead, “She’s…upset, obviously. But she’ll be okay. She thought it was her fault,” she says, pressing her lips together, “She said she was giving you a bit of a hard time.” 

He smiles fondly, “Well, if that caused heart attacks I would have had one years ago between her attitude and yours.” 

She narrows her eyes, her breath catching in her chest as she leans forward and presses her forehead against his, “Not funny.” 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, stamping his lips against hers, “Let’s just blame the meds they’ve got me on,” he says and she hums as she pulls back, concern still lingering in her eyes, in the tightness of her jaw, “How are you?”

She blows out a shaky breath, “I’ve had better days,” she says, running her fingers through his hair, “Jack is coming in the morning. I told him to wait until then, to get some sleep before he drove here.” 

“Good,” he says, thinking of his son, grateful not for the first time that he’d seemingly inherited his inability to say no to Emily. 

“When I was driving here,” she says, her voice shaking a little, her shoulders tight as she refuses to let herself fall apart “I couldn’t remember if I’d told you that I loved you this morning.” 

He sighs sadly and lifts his arm to wrap it around her, his body heavy and uncoordinated, “We’ve never needed the words, Em,” he says, encouraging her in for a kiss, “I know.” 

She nods and presses her forehead against his again, letting herself feel his breath skip over her face, the weight of his heavy hand on her back. 

“I love you,” she says anyway, unable to fight the soft smile that breaks out across her face to match his. 

“I love you too.”

___

As she walks through the front door to their house, it feels like a lifetime since she’d last been there, not just that morning. She can’t bring herself to think about how it would have felt to walk back in here having lost him, anything that made it a home dead and gone with him. 

“Ok, sweetie,” she says, turning to look at Evie as they step into the house, “Why don’t you go get ready for bed and I’ll make us some hot chocolates,” she suggests and Evie nods, shrugging off her jacket and placing it on the hook, “I’ll call the school in the morning and say that you won’t be in for a few days.” 

“Thanks, Mom,” she says, wrapping her in a brief hug, any usual distance she liked between them these days currently nowhere to be found, “Can I have-”

“Extra marshmallows,” Emily says, smiling as Evie nods, “Of course.” 

Evie goes upstairs and Emily takes a moment to suck in a breath, abandoning her shoes just inside the door as she walks to the living room just to have a few minutes to process what had happened. She sits down on the couch and as soon as she’s settled her eyes land on a photo from her and Aaron’s wedding. They were sitting together at their table, his arm slung over the back of her chair as Dave told an inappropriate story during his best man speech. Both of them were laughing at whatever he was saying, their eyes fixed on each other, love radiating out of both of them. 

She feels herself break, her chest folding in on itself as she sucks in a breath, an implosion that makes her shudder as she slumps forward, almost folding in half with the weight of what did happen, and how much worse it could have been.  

“Fuck,” she says to herself, the tears she’d been suppressing all day breaking free of the dam she’d forced them behind, the wave of emotion so intense that it takes her breath away, the sob she fails to conceal catching in her chest and hurting as she tries to swallow it down. 

She could have lost him today. 

She covers her face with her hands and cries into them, feeling everything she hadn’t allowed herself to since Evie had called her now she was in the safety of her own home, the assurances of the nurses and the doctors that Aaron was out of the woods on a loop in her head. 

“Mom, is it okay if I…” Evie walks into the room and drifts off, and Emily jumps, wiping her tears from her cheeks as she looks up at her, “Oh my god, did the hospital call? Did something happen? Do we-”

“No, Evie, no one called,” Emily says, her smile shaking as she tries to force it, tears still falling onto her cheeks, “Dad’s fine, I promise. I’m just…” she blows out a trembling breath, “so glad he’s okay.” 

Evie frowns and sits next to her on the couch, “You were scared.” 

Emily chuckles wryly and nods, wiping a tear from her cheek, “I was so scared.”

“I was scared too,” Evie says quietly as if it was a secret and she stares at her for a moment before she hugs her tightly, all but ending up in her lap like she was to when she was small, “I love you, Mommy.” 

Emily feels more tears press at the back of her eyes and they drop into Evie’s hair, she rests her cheek against the top of her head. 

“I love you, sweet girl,” she says, taking a moment to breathe her in, “What were you going to ask me?” 

“Oh,” Evie says as she pulls back, a slightly sheepish look on her face, “I wondered if I could sleep with you in your bed tonight?” she asks, her cheeks going pink, “I don’t want to be by myself.” 

“Of course you can,” she smiles and nods, tucking some of her daughter’s hair behind her ear, “I don’t want to be by myself either.” 

Evie smiles and snuggles back into her side, content to sit with her on the couch for a while, “Mom?”

“Yes?” Emily replies, running her fingers through Evie’s hair. 

“I hope that one day I meet someone who I love so much it grosses out my kids, just like you and Dad.”

She smiles, the first true smile she’d had since that morning, and she kisses her daughter’s temple, “I hope you do too.” 

-x-

Tag List:

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When he wakes up alone, he knows where he’ll find her. 

It was a pattern they’d fallen into over the last couple of weeks. Usually, he’d be the one who woke up first, Emily’s face still pressed into his chest, a tiny patch of drool on his shirt underneath her open mouth. He’d always wake her gently, running his hand up and down her back in a way he had done on their first night together, a habit that had carried them through from boyfriend and girlfriend, to fiances to now husband and wife. He liked it, enjoyed the predictability of how much she hated the mornings and waking up, the way she’d grumble as she slowly opened her eyes, never quite able to fight a smile as their eyes met. 

The last two weeks had been different. She’d woken up before him every morning, the sheets on her side already cool to the touch. It made him worry she was barely sleeping, if she was sleeping at all, and it only added to the concern already pooling deep in his gut, seeds that had been planted days ago blooming and taking up all the space in his chest. He blows out a steady breath and stands up, rolling his neck as he steps towards the ensuite, the light streaming out from under the door confirming what he already knew.

He doesn’t say anything as he steps into the room. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms over his chest, giving his wife the lead in how they move forward. It was a grim pattern they’d fallen into, one he didn’t know how to get out of, and it broke his heart. 

“It’s already fading,” she says, the only indication she’d noticed him walking into the room. She turns to look at him, a positive pregnancy test in her hand, a tight forced smile on her face, “I have to tilt it in a certain way to see the result now,” she clenches her teeth and sighs, shaking her head at herself as she places the test back in the draw she had taken to keeping it in, “Soon there won’t be anything…” 

She trails off, but he already knows what she’s going to say, and he steps forward, his hands on her hips as he tugs her into a hug. She wraps her arms around him tightly, her hands in fists in the back of his shirt as she buries her face in his neck, anchoring herself to him as if he was the only thing keeping her upright. 

They’d been trying. Meticulously planning to have a baby that they’d both wanted for a long time. There was a box of ovulation tests in the cabinet that Emily started her days with to keep track, and a thermometer in her nightstand that she used to track her basal body temperature. It was something they’d wanted desperately, and when after a few months they got a positive result from a pregnancy test Emily had taken because she felt a little off they were overjoyed. Aaron had run into the bathroom the moment he heard her crying through the door, ready to comfort her but she’d beamed at him, the very same test he’d just found her holding clutched in her hand. 

Their joy was short-lived. 

The scan Emily had excitedly scheduled that morning, the only one they ended up having for that pregnancy revealed two things. Emily had been a week further along than she’d calculated, closer to 9 weeks than the 8 she’d estimated, and there was no heartbeat. The air had been sucked out of the room when the doctor told them, Emily’s hand slack in his as she nodded along when she was given instructions on what came next. It was a conversation she’d had once before in wildly different circumstances when she was a child herself. 

When they made it home from the hospital she’d finally broken down, cried the tears she refused to shed in front of anyone other than him. She’d deleted the app on her phone that was tracking her cycles, the one she’d only just switched to ‘pregnant’ mode, and tearfully told him the fruit for 9 weeks, a gimmick they’d both unexpectedly loved, would have been a strawberry. 

The pregnancy test was the only evidence they had that the baby had existed, and watching it slowly fade was devastating, another type of loss he hadn’t anticipated. 

“We should get ready for work,” she mutters against him, not loosening her grip, and he sighs, taking a moment to press a kiss to the top of her head before he pulls back, his hands on her lower back as he smiles encouragingly at her. 

She hadn’t been back to work since the miscarriage, but today was supposed to be her first day back. None of the team knew what had happened, something Emily had been insistent on, and they thought she’d been sick with the flu. The lie had worked, and it also gave them a good reason why Aaron wasn’t currently going away on cases. Whilst the reason their friends had for her absence wasn’t true, his desire not to leave her alone was. 

“You don’t have to go back today if you don’t feel ready for it,” he says, reaching up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, “The boss has a bit of a thing for you so I think you’d get away with more time off.” 

She chuckles sadly and turns her head to kiss his palm, pressing her grateful love into his skin, “I do have to go back,” she says softly, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together, “I can’t just keep sitting here thinking about everything that could have been,” she shrugs half-heartedly, “Plus, I’m not sure how much longer the others will buy the flu excuse.” 

He nods and runs his hand up and down her back, “If you want to come home at any time-”

“I just have to tell you,” she says, leaning forward to stamp her lips against his, “Thank you. For being…well you I guess.” 

He pulls her into a hug and kisses the side of her head, “You never have to thank me for loving you, sweetheart.” 

___

She feels tired in just about every possible way. 

She’d been back at work for a couple of weeks and it felt like she’d never been away at all. The team didn’t ask many questions beyond asking if she was okay on her first day back. Life carried on much like it always had for her and Aaron. They went away on cases, they spent their weekends with Jack, they loved each other. But there were moments when she felt stuck, when the grief would be overwhelming and make her breath catch in her chest. 

It felt almost cruel that the world carried on, as if hers hadn’t shifted with the loss of a baby she never got to meet. She knew they’d try again, the doctor's soft assurances that they could at her recent appointment ringing around her head, but it didn’t help. Especially since she knew if she was still pregnant they’d be getting ready to share the news with their friends, their chosen family, and the thought of it made her ache. 

She sighs as she settles into the couch, relieved to be home after a long couple of days away. She hears Aaron’s familiar footsteps on the hardwood floor and she smiles as she looks at him, gratefully accepting the glass of red wine that he hands to her. 

“Thanks, honey,” she says softly, shifting so she’s facing him when he joins her on the couch, “It’s nice to be home.” 

He hums as he sips his wine, “You’re telling me. That mattress in that motel did a real number on my neck,” he complains. She places her wine down and puts her hand on the back of his neck, pressing her thumb and forefinger into his skin, massaging the area she knew he carried the most tension, “God that feels good.” 

She chuckles and leans in to kiss his cheek, “When we’re in bed I’ll massage your back if you want.” 

“I’d love that,” he says as he turns his head to capture her lips in a kiss and smiles into it. He’s glad to see her more like herself, the sadness that had permeated everything in recent weeks still there, but not as overwhelming as it had been. He’d missed her smile, missed the sound of her laugh, and more than anything he wanted to protect her from being hurt anymore. It’s why he suddenly feels nervous, worried that what he’d been planning for a few weeks might set her back. He decides to go ahead anyway and he blows out a slow breath before he reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket, “I got you something.” 

She smiles curiously at him and tilts her head as he pulls a square box out of his pocket. Her curiosity suddenly turns to panic as she furrows her brows and tries to think of what the date is, if she’d somehow forgotten something important as she waded through her grief. 

“It’s not our anniversary is it?” 

He chuckles and shakes his head, reaching out and pressing the box into her hand, “No, Em. It’s not. This is just…” he doesn’t know how to say it, how to put it into words, so he clears his throat, “I think you’ll understand when you open it.” 

She hums, “Oh, that’s mysterious…”

She drifts off as she opens the box, her words caught in her chest along with her breath, making her feel like she could burst with emotions she can’t name. In the box is a necklace, a delicate silver chain with a tiny pendant on it, the detail of which, the seeds and the ridges, were only visible up close

It was a strawberry. 

She huffs out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob and she covers her mouth with the hand not clasping the jewellery box. She can’t do anything other than stare at the necklace, at the pendant she knows Aaron would have painstakingly chosen because of a comment she’d made the day they found out about the miscarriage. 

“I ordered it a few weeks ago,” he says, clearing his throat again, hating that he can’t read her expression, that he can’t tell what she’s thinking, “It took a little while because it was custom made. Dave gave me the name of a guy.” He adds, his smile fading as his wife still doesn’t react. Dave had made a joke, one Aaron knows he wouldn’t have made if he knew the circumstances, about Aaron enjoying the finer things in life now he had married into money. “I thought it would be good for you to have something-”

“To remember the baby by,” she says, finally finding her voice and looking up at him, tearing her gaze away from the necklace. Her chest feels hollowed out, like all the love she has for him is forcing its way up her throat, “Aaron…” 

He only feels more worried when she trails off again, her eyes shining as she trails her finger over the small pendant, and he swallows thickly, “I’m sorry if this was a bad idea, I just wanted to do something to help-”

This time she cuts him off by kissing him, her lips stamped against his as she grabs his chin, holding him in place as she rests her forehead against his, the jewellery box pressed between them. 

“No, it’s perfect,” she pulls back and looks at him, chuckling wryly as tears fall onto her cheeks, “You’re perfect.” 

He smiles and wipes her tears away, his touch soft against her skin, “You want me to help you put it on?” 

She nods and passes him the box, watching intently as he carefully picks the necklace up and undoes the clasp. She turns and pulls her hair to the side and she breathes shakily as he puts the necklace around her neck, his touch gentle as he does the clasp up and adjusts the chain. She touches the strawberry pendant, holding it between her thumb and forefinger and she sighs, closing her eyes as Aaron tugs her back into his embrace until her back meets his chest. He wraps his arms tightly around her and kisses her cheek, and she rests her hands over his. 

“I love you,” she says, grateful when he ignores the shake of her voice, “So fucking much.” 

He kisses her temple and pulls her impossibly closer, “I love you too.” 

___

One Year Later

Emily hums contentedly as she rocks back and forth in the armchair, the nameless melody turning into a yawn as she looks at the time.

3.20 am

She tilts her head down to look at the three-week-old lying on her chest, his eyes wide open as he refused to fall asleep. She chuckles to herself and kisses the top of her son’s head, taking a moment to breathe him in. 

“You really do get your hate of sleep from your Daddy, sweet boy,” she says softly, kissing his head again. 

“I don’t hate sleep,” Aaron says, smiling when she turns to see him standing in the nursery doorway, “I just get up early.” 

She rolls her eyes at him, “Sounds like the same thing to me,” she says as he walks across the room and joins them, perching on the arm of the armchair, “Did we wake you up?” 

“No,” he assures her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and smiling at the sight of his youngest fighting sleep in her embrace, “I woke up and you weren’t there so I came to see how you were doing.” 

“We’re okay,” she says, turning her attention back to the baby, “We’re okay, huh? We’re just trying to get back to sleep after a diaper change and a 3 am snack.” 

Aaron watches contentedly as Emily runs her hand up and down the infant's back, lulling him to sleep against her. He wishes he could go back and tell his wife that they’d make it to this, that the clouds had parted and they’d found happiness after the storm. 

“He gets the need for a 3 am snack from you,” he says and she playfully narrows her eyes at him before she looks back down at her son. 

She strokes her fingers over his cheek, smiling as he twitches, the corner of his mouth turning up into something that resembles a smile. His eyes finally drift shut, his fight against sleep a battle he had lost, and he relaxes against her. The only thing that hadn’t relaxed was his fist, tight even in his sleep around the chain of her necklace, his little fingers next to the strawberry pendant that symbolised the loss they’d had before him. It was a complicated kind of grief, one she thinks she’ll never get used to. The acknowledgement that if she hadn’t lost that baby she wouldn’t have her son was hard to accept, a bittersweet taste left on her tongue whenever she thought about it. 

“You want me to take him?” Aaron asks quietly, drawing her from her thoughts, and she smiles and nods, taking a second to kiss her son’s forehead. 

“Mommy loves you, sweet boy,” she says, kissing him again, “I’ll see you in a little while.” 

She watches as Aaron carefully lifts the baby and carries him back towards their bedroom. She follows them, her fingers automatically reaching for her necklace, something she now wore at all times. She rubs the pendant back and forth between her finger and thumb, a movement she had found comfort in ever since Aaron had first put the necklace around her neck, and she smiles as Aaron gently lowers the baby into the bassinet, simultaneously treating the newborn like he was something precious and a bomb that could go off at any moment. He turns to smile at her once he’s done, his smile curious as he catches her staring at him. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” she says, letting go of the pendant and letting it fall back into place against her skin. She walks across the room and climbs into bed, her exhaustion returning in full force as soon as she’s under the comforter, “I just love you, thats all.” 

He smiles and gets into bed with her, tugging her against him as they settle down, both facing the direction of the bassinet where their son was sleeping, “I love you too.” 

They fall asleep in tandem, and when they are woken up just an hour later by the baby crying, they are still tangled up around each other, not sure where the other ended and where they began. 

-x-

Tag List:

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Emily smiles as Aaron opens the door to his hotel room and stands back just enough to let her in, his eyes sweeping the hallway to make sure none of the team is nearby. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he says as she walks into the room and he closes the door behind her. She immediately wraps her arms around him and kisses him, her hand on his cheek to keep him in place. He smiles into it and presses his forehead against her as they pull away from each other, “If we hadn’t spent all day together I’d ask if you missed me.” 

She kisses him again before she walks over to the bed, slipping her shoes off before she climbs in, “I did miss you,” she says, yawning as he climbs into bed with her, “I had to spend all day pretending I’m not madly in love with you in front of our friends.” 

He laughs and kisses her forehead, “I missed you too,” he wraps his arm around her shoulders to pull her close, “Today was a long day.” 

She hums in agreement and rests her head against him, her forehead against his neck, “Such a long day,” she grumbles, kissing his throat, “But hopefully we’ll get it all wrapped up tomorrow and make it back in time for Valentine’s Day.” 

It was their first Valentine’s Day together. She’d never been one to buy into the holiday, but she was looking forward to it this year. She’d bought him a new watch and spent longer than she’d care to admit picking out a card, walking the aisles in the store until she found one that came close to explaining how she felt about him. She knew he’d bought her something too, he wasn’t good at hiding presents, something she’d discovered when she spent Christmas with him and Jack, so she’d spotted the blue Tiffany bag in his sock drawer just before they left DC for the case they were on. 

She wanted to spend the day celebrating their love for each other, she wanted to bask in the fact she was finally in a relationship that made her want to take part in things she would have once scoffed at. She often joked Aaron had ruined her, that he’d turned her into a sappy, love-sick, thing, but she actually thinks their relationship had been the making of her. It had helped her find herself again when she got home from Paris, had helped her build up the new version of herself from the rubble of what she’d left behind. 

Aaron loved her no matter what, and she loved him the same way. 

“We’ll celebrate whether we get home on time or not,” he promises her, kissing her forehead and she nods. Her phone chimes and she pulls it out of the pocket of her sweatpants and reads the text she’s received. Emily rolls her eyes as she tilts the phone so he can read it too. It was from a number she didn’t have saved, and as he reads it he feels jealousy thrum in his veins. 

Hi, this is Mark - Penelope gave me your number. She said you’d be up for getting together for a drink sometime. Call me!

“She’s giving your number out to people now?” 

She hums as she locks her phone and places it down on the bed, “Well, I never went on any of the blind dates she tried to set me up on so I guess this is the next step,” she scrunches her nose up as she looks up at him, “I didn’t know she had this many single friends though so I’m worried she’s moved on to random guys she meets in bars.” 

For months Penelope had been trying to set her up, taking neither Emily’s hints nor her insistence that she didn’t need any help very seriously. She kept saying she just wanted to see Emily happy, something she didn’t know she already was, and she was determined to make it happen. Her efforts had increased since January had ticked over into February, the long drawn-out weeks of the first month of the year giving way to the month of love, seemingly convincing Penelope that Emily needed a partner more than ever. 

If only she knew Emily already had one. 

Emily and Aaron had both decided to keep their relationship secret. At first, it had just been practical. They wanted to navigate the shift from friends to more without the pressure of outside opinion, without feeling like their every move was being watched. Like it was being carefully observed. They’d both been through so much that wanted to protect themselves, protect this, something precious that they both deserved. It’s how they’d made it 6 months down the line without no one else other than Jack and Jessica knowing about them. 

“Not sure how I feel about random guys texting my girlfriend,” he grumbles and she chuckles, biting her lower lip as she shifts on the bed. She turns towards him and hooks one of her legs over his lap, smiling as she settles onto him, both of his hands automatically seeking out her hips. 

“Oh honey,” she says, shifting closer on his lap, hooking her arms around his neck, her fingers trailing the short hair on the back of his head, “Are you jealous?” 

“Yes,” he answers honestly, tightening his grip on her, raising his eyebrow when her smile only widens, “But before you make too much fun of me, I think we both know you wouldn’t be any better if this was the other way around.” 

She stamps a kiss against his lips, “True,” she says, kissing him again, “But I promise you have nothing to worry about,” she rubs her nose against his, “I’m all yours,” she kisses up his jaw, “No matter what.” 

He feels pride flare in his chest, warming him from the inside out as he moves his hands from her hips to her lower back, pushing her closer to him so their chests press together, “All mine.” 

She hums and kisses him, “We’ll figure out how to tell them all once we’re home and Valentine’s Day is out of the way, okay?” She says, her and on his jaw as they pull back, “I just want to enjoy it without everyone…sticking their nose in. Or without Pen asking intrusive questions about our sex life.” 

He pulls back, his eyes wide in alarm, “She’ll do that?” 

She chuckles and presses his forehead against hers, “If you think her trying to get involved in my love life stops the moment she finds out we’re together you’re kidding yourself, baby.” 

His response is cut off as she leans in and kisses him again and rolls her hips against his, any thought other than her wiped from his brain as he gets lost in her. 

___

Penelope, somehow, convinces them all to go out for a drink after they get home. 

Emily was hesitant to, her eyes fixed on her watch as the time clicked closer to midnight and therefore Valentine’s Day. The rest of the team had immediately agreed, meaning that her and Aaron’s protests would only stand out and seem suspicious. 

She sighs as she takes a sip of her beer and looks over at Aaron, who was standing with Dave and Derek, and she smiles softly when their eyes briefly meet and he winks at her, his own smile hidden by his drink. She sees the promise in it, the love that they were yet to share with anyone else. She was excited to move forward, to let their friends in, but she would miss the secrecy. Not just for the privacy it gave them, but because she loved sneaking around with him, the edge it gave when she snuck to his room when they were on a case. 

Right now she struggled to see the merit in it. She wanted to kiss him, to taste the beer from his lips instead of from the bottle she was holding. 

“You okay, Em?” JJ asks, dragging her attention back to her, “You seem distracted.” 

“I’m okay,” she replies, smiling at her friend, “It was a long case, that’s all,” she looks towards the bar and her smile slips from her face when she sees Penelope talking with a man at the bar, her smile wide as she pointed towards the group, smiling and waving when she catches Emily’s eye, “Oh god she’s doing it again isn’t she?”

JJ smiles at her, a flash of something Emily can’t quite place in her eyes before she answers, “You could just tell her no.” 

Emily raises an eyebrow at JJ, “You seriously think I haven’t tried that?” She asks incredulously, “You have met Pen right?”

JJ nods, “That’s true, she doesn’t really take no for an answer.” 

Emily chuckles and shakes her head, “No she does not,” she groans as Penelope walks towards them, the man from the bar just a few paces behind, “Here we go.” 

“Emily,” Penelope says enthusiastically as she walks over, “This is Richard, we just got talking at the bar,” she says, pulling Richard closer, making sure he was standing closer to Emily, “Richard, this is my friend Emily who I was telling you about.” 

“Nice to meet you,” he says, offering out his hand to her which she shakes, her smile tight as he squeezes her hand and lingers a little too long. 

She can feel Aaorn’s gaze burning into the side of her face and she looks over at him briefly. She can see the tension in his jaw from where she’s standing, the way he’s gripping his beer bottle a little tighter than he was before. She feels her cheeks get warm as she looks back at Richard, Aaron’s obvious jealousy making her stomach flip for a moment. Usually, she thinks she’d purposely try and make him a little more jealous than he already was, let this guy in front of her flirt with her for a few minutes until she turned him down, but she didn’t want to add any fuel to the fire with Penelope. 

It’s not like she needed any more encouragement. 

“We’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” Penelope says, linking her arm through JJ’s and leading her away, purposely ignoring Emily’s glare. 

Emily shakes her head as she’s left alone with Richard and she smiles politely at him, blowing out a slow breath, “Look, I don’t know what Pen told you but-”

“You’re with the suit,” he says, cutting her off with a smile. Her eyes widen quickly and she double-checks to make sure no one from the team heard him. She chuckles dryly and turns back to look at him. 

“You…how did you guess that?” 

Richard shrugs, “If looks could kill, I’d have been dead the moment I walked over.” 

She nods and presses her lips together, “Yeah, he…has that effect on people,” she says affectionately, Aaron’s supposed grumpiness one of her favourite things about him. It was a mask, something he used to protect himself, and it made the soft side that he reserved for her and Jack all the more precious, “I am sorry though.”

“Don’t be,” Richard says genuinely, reaching out and squeezing her arm for a second before he stops and steps away, “It was nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too,” she says, watching him go. She’s only alone for a second before Penelope walks back over, outrage painted all over her face. 

“You turned him down that fast,” she says, scoffing at her, “I keep finding all these lovely guys for you and you keep turning them down, or not responding to their messages.” 

She raises her eyebrow at her friend, “Yeah, we’ve got to talk about you handing out my number to random people.” 

Penelope’s eyes go slightly wide, “Matt is not a random person-”

“His name was Mark,” Emily corrects, her eyebrow still raised and Penelope clears her throat, nodding as she avoids eye contact.

“Okay, yeah that was my bad,” Penelope says, huffing out a breath, “I just want you to be happy, Em.” 

“I am happy,” she exclaims, catching the attention of the others, all of them tuning into the conversation. 

“I mean happy with someone.” 

Later, Emily wouldn’t be able to figure out what made her do it. Whether it was the two beers she’d had and the slight buzz they’d given her, or Aaron’s gaze burning into her side. Mostly, she thinks it’s irritation aimed towards her friend, the well meaning meddling finally pushing her over the edge. 

“I am happy with someone,” she says, placing her beer down on the high table near them and closing the gap between her and Aaron, crossing the distance in just a few paces, before she kisses him, her lips firm against his. She doesn’t think about it for a moment, doesn’t consider her audience, too caught up in the feeling of Aaron pressed against her, in the way he grips her hip. 

Then her brain catches up with the rest of her. 

She pulls back and looks at him, her eyes almost as wide as his as they meet, and she curses under her breath when she realises what she’s done. He squeezes her hip again, reassurance she needs in the touch as he lets her know he isn’t mad at her, and that, as he always was, he was there for her. She turns at looks at their friends, ready to have a conversation she’d been putting off for months, but instead of shock written across their faces, they all look smug. 

Especially Penelope. 

“I told you I’d get her to admit it.” Penelope exclaims, hitting Derek in the shoulder as she looks at her watch, “And it is 11.50 pm so it is still technically before Valentine’s Day which was my deadline. So pay up.” 

“Damn it,” Dave says, rooting through his pockets for his wallet. 

Emily chokes on a laugh and looks back and forth between Aaron and the team, finally finding her voice as they all grumble and start pulling money out of their wallets to pass to their exuberant friend.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” She asks, frowning as the rest of them chuckle. 

“We all knew you guys were together,” JJ says, handing her money to Penelope, “We got bored of waiting for you to tell us so Pen said she’d get it out of you.” 

Aaron tightens his hold on Emily, his arm around her as he pulls her towards him, her back against his chest, “How long have you known?” 

Derek turns to Spencer, who had so far been standing quietly in the corner, “Reid, when did you see them making out?” 

“Oh god.” 

“Jesus Christ.” 

Emily and Aaron speak in unison, both of them looking down at the floor in embarrassment, and Spencer stutters for a moment, choking on his words. 

“I never said made out,” he says, speaking quickly before he sighs. Emily and Aaron both look up at him, and they take some comfort in the fact he looked just as uncomfortable as they felt, “I saw you guys kissing in one of the hotels we stayed in 5 months, 3 weeks and 2 days ago.” 

Emily groans and turns her head to look at her boyfriend, “We didn’t make it a week without them finding out.” 

He smiles sympathetically at her and kisses her temple, “It’s okay, sweetheart.” 

“Sweetheart,” Penelope exclaims, pulling everyone's attention back towards her, “You guys are even cuter than I imagined.

Emily sighs and feels Aaron’s grip on her tighten, his discomfort clear, “Are we done here?” Aaron asks, doing his best to intimidate them. 

“Oh not by a longshot,” Dave says, a smirk spreading across his face that makes Emily roll her eyes as he passes them fresh drinks.

“Shut the fuck up, Dave.” 

___

He smiles as she sits down on the couch next to him, groaning as she rests her head on his shoulder. He kisses her forehead as he wraps an arm around her, always desperate to have her as close to him as possible. 

“You okay, sweetheart?”

She nods and tilts her head up to look at him. She pushes her fingers through his hair, smiling softly as it flops back onto his forehead, “I’m okay. A little embarrassed they apparently knew all along, but I’m okay.” 

“I think it’s nice they were giving us a chance to tell them ourselves,” Aaron says, smiling at her, “Although I do wish Garcia’s technique to get us to admit it didn’t include trying to set you up with people.” 

She chuckles and rests her forehead against his, “Like I said, honey, you’re the only one for me.” 

He stamps his lips against hers, “You’re the only one for me too,” he kisses her again before he pulls back, his eye briefly lingering on the clock on his living room wall, and his smile gets wider when he sees it’s close to 2 am, “I forgot to say because of all of the intense questioning, but Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

She cups his cheek and pulls him in, tasting the scotch Dave had bought him on his tongue before she pulls back just enough to speak, “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

His response is to kiss her, to take his time to get lost in it, in her. When he eventually pulls away she’s breathless, her eyes slightly bleary and he strokes his thumb back and forth over her cheek, “We should go to bed.” 

She hums and nods, “We should,” she says, biting her lip as she looks at him, “But not to sleep, right?” 

He laughs, the sound making her fall impossibly more in love with him, the joy so loud she thinks it might wake his neighbours. He stands up quickly, tugging her with him, his grip on her so tight when he pulls her into his embrace that her feet leave the floor, her toes scraping the carpet where his life had once almost ended, and where it now felt like it was only just beginning. 

“No sweetheart,” he says, his voice gruff, thick with emotion and want, “Definitely not to sleep.” 

-x-

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