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It was inconvenient. Frightfully, painfully inconvenient. Aaron didn’t understand where it had come from, snuck up on him like a thief in the night. He didn’t know exactly when he fell in love with her, but he remembered so clearly the moment he realised. A party at Penelope’s apartment, Derek’s birthday, the place covered in love heart balloons and pink streamers, cupcakes with frosting and cold beer.
Emily was playing cards with Derek, sitting cross legged on a cushion with a smile easy and loose on her face. They were laughing, jostling each other with sincere affection. Rossi was talking with Penelope and Reid, espousing a story of Ringo they had surely heard a hundred times. She stood, graceful in rising as though she were a dancer. She walked past the tray of cupcakes, swiping her finger through the glittery pink frosting, taking it to her lips. She put a warm hand on his shoulder, asked if he would like another beer.
He could only nod in response. He was worried if he opened his mouth he was going to ask her to marry him.
Once he noticed it, he couldn’t not notice it. The way she smiled, the scent of her perfume, the softness of her voice when she held a conversation. He found himself distracted by thoughts of tucking hair behind her ears, kissing her temple, whispering jokes in her ear to get her to smile, just for him. It was inconvenient.
He thought about her whenever he allowed his mind to wander. Paperwork on the plane was a mere hum in the background as he wondered what it would be like to kiss her neck until she woke, bring her coffee before she was fully conscious, learn the way her lips curved in the morning, shaking off sleep. He felt shame for it in the mornings, when he woke twitching and wondering about the way her hands would curl around his hips, her lips on his neck, her teeth notching on his collarbone. He though about what his first name would sound like in her mouth, taste like on her tongue, feel like vibrating through her ribcage. He hated himself for it, but it didn’t stop him from thinking about her anyway.
He was sure Dave’s idea had an ulterior motive. For the last six months he had looked at Aaron a little overlong, quirked a brow and smiled whenever Emily sat next to him on the plane, handing him a coffee and burying her nose in a book, content to disappear into a novel as she waited to arrive home.
They had to plant a listening device in the kitchen. That was the plan. The executive chef was supposedly in contact with the unsub they were tracking, and he was more likely to contact him at work. The warrants had gone through that morning. They just needed a reason to sneak the device in. And Dave had a plan.
Dave had a stupid plan. Dave had an unbelievably stupid idea that the rest of the team jumped on immediately. Aaron knew it was the best way, knew it was the quietest, most successful way of doing this without raising suspicion on any parties. But he hated it, hated every single atom of it.
Because if he was going on a date with Emily Prentiss, he didn’t want it to be under an assumed name. It had happened faster than he liked, the idea forming in Dave’s head, passed to Reid who blurted that Emily and Aaron made the most believable looking couple based on age and race, passed to Derek who claimed that Emily always had a nice dress in her go-bag anyway, and all Aaron had to do was lose the tie.
Penelope came up with the names, even though they both protested they were unnecessary, shouting them down over speakerphone that it would help them get in the mood.
Jake and Amy.
Aaron didn’t know why it made Derek snort with laughter, but he didn’t question it. Instead he focused on pushing his hair out of his eyes in the precincts bathroom, calming his racing heart as Emily changed in the locker room. He’d seen her dressed up before, for something as vile as the Viper and it had almost stopped his heart with the tilt of her head. He told himself he liked her best in worn jeans and t shirts anyway.
He wanted to spend more time with her, and the only way he could do it was to spend more time with the team as a whole. So he invited them to Jack’s soccer games, tried to ignore the rush of blood to his cheeks as they all sat on a hill and cheered for his son, JJ smearing them with sunscreen, Penelope bringing snacks for both teams. Emily lounging gracefully in overlarge sunglasses, making up secret handshakes with his son. It made his chest crack with affection for them all. He said yes to more invites for a beer when he could, the chance to see her outside of work, shed of her professional skin.
She was funny, dirty jokes slipped from her lips without thought. She was a shameless flirt, batting her eyelashes and biting her lip in a way that made his heart race from across the room. He hated and loved it in equal measure, each slide of her hand on his thigh he knew meant nothing, would never act on it, but made his heart race all the same. She downed whiskey like it was water and always kissed everyone’s cheek goodbye. He forced himself not to turn his head every time.
“So what’s our story?” Emily asked, twisting in her seat to fasten the belt.
“We’re on a date” he said stiffly. She looked unreasonably beautiful. Simple black dress, a little more makeup to make her cheeks flush in a way he dreamed about. Knowing she had a gun secreted in her handbag somehow made it more attractive and he would have to spend a few hours digging through his psyche to figure out why.
“That all? Come on Hotch. I’ve heard stories about you – you’re apparently an incredible date.”
“Jakes not” He knew he was being brusque. Too formal and stiff but he couldn’t help himself. She had no idea, would never have any idea how much he hoped it was real, just for a minute, that he could be the love sick idiot she had turned him into. But he didn’t dare entertain the fantasy that she could ever feel the same. He knew he came with scars, too many to count, and baggage so heavy some days he struggled to lift it. She had seen him beat a man to death with his bare hands, he could never dare to dream that she would let those same hands touch her body.
“But Hotch is. Come on, it’s like half hour to the restaurant. Tell me. If you were going to take me on a date, where would you take me? Surely not this little French bistro. Dazzle me.”
Was she flirting? Was it legitimate or was she entertaining herself by making him squirm. He didn’t care, it came to the same effect, the immediate crumbling of walls he had worked years to build, shattered into brick dust with the graze of her finger.
“Bowling” he said after a moment.
“Bowling?” She asked, her eyebrow quirked.
“Yeah. Pitchers of beer and fries, and bowling. You’re competitive so some kind of game element would be good. You’re also a little shy, so an activity to take the pressure off conversation. There’s a place in DC with an arcade attached, they do that twilight bowling thing. So a few beers and some greasy food and a few games. I wouldn’t let you win though.”
She didn’t say anything, instead he watched the curve of her lip from the corner of his eye, a soft smile. It spurred him forward.
“Take a walk after maybe. Get some ice cream and wander the streets like delinquents. Remind you of being a kid. I feel like you’d get something sweet, candy sweet. Like vanilla ice cream with skittles stuffed inside it. Walk you home, because you like a hint of gentleman, but not too much. Maybe a kiss at the door” He shrugged, falling into silence, worried he had revealed to much. She was silent for a moment.
“Sour worms” she said quietly. “I get vanilla with sour worms”
“Good to know.” He murmured.
“Well… That would get you a kiss at the door.” She said, something like curiosity in her voice.
They arrived at the restaurant not long after. Aaron felt something like electricity in the air as they exited the car, tried to shake it off his shoulders as nerves, something he could tamp down. Until she slipped her hand in his.
“Ready Jake?” She asked with a grin, giving his hand a playful squeeze.
“Ready, Amy” he replied, trying to keep the longing out of his voice.
As far as acting went, he thought she could win awards. She leaned into him at the hostess stand, wrapped her hands around his bicep and squeezed, rested her temple on his shoulder as she spun a story about their first date being here, about how they came back every year for their anniversary but they weren’t sure they’d be in town, which is why they had no reservation.
The hostess fell for it in any case, finding them a table, cosy booth near the kitchen when they were forced to squeeze together, her thigh pressed against his as he watched her eyes sharpen, track the waitstaff to and from the kitchen, learning the layout with efficiency.
“That hostess thinks you’re going to propose” Emily murmured, sipping on the complimentary champagne that had arrived at the table two minutes after they did. Aaron choked on his own, the idea of sliding a ring onto her finger paralysing in the moment.
“I don’t have a ring” he said finally, ignoring the scream in his brain for how badly he wanted one in that moment, the fantasy he could play out. She laughed and it was music, a symphony as she turned her head, looked at him through impossibly long lashes. He had to grip his pants to stop from tucking hair behind her ear, curling his hand to her jaw and brushing his lips across hers. He was going to give Dave paperwork for months for thinking of this, giving him a glimpse of what he could not have, the rapturous torture of it.
Aaron was going to plant the device, slip into the kitchen with a practised excuse and slide it under a bench, secure it within a few seconds and be out the door. Sometimes he wondered how stumbling through law school had led him to performing spy craft. He secured it under a bench that was nowhere near water, slipping out of the kitchen to find Emily waiting, lounging lightly against the wall as though she belonged there. The transmitter was in her purse, and it took two minutes to find the signal and sync, able to transmit a live feed to Garcia from wherever.
“We can’t go much further than this” Emily whispered, keeping her voice low. Technically they were loitering in an Employees only area, and he felt nervous, not wanting them to get caught. It was lower stakes than he was used to, no guns drawn or threats shouted, but the anticipation boiled in him like a low simmer, waiting for the door to swing open and for them to be ushered out.
They were thirty seconds from being able to leave when it happened, a man in a managers shirt backing through the door, shouting something to the kitchen staff. Aaron prepared to move, out of range of the equipment and to come back and try again. Emily had other plans. He heard her murmur something before his shoulders hit the wall.
She was kissing him. Holding his hips and pressing her mouth against his. He was half convinced he was having a stroke as she moulded her body to his, her hands tugging at his belt loops, a silent plea for him to play along.
He might only get this chance to kiss her. He’d be an idiot not to take it.
He almost crushed her with the force of his response, wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her further into him, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, allowing it to engulf him, having only caught the barest hint of it on the air before. He slid a hand into her hair, tilted his head enough to fit them together properly, and let himself have ten seconds of a dream he’d had for over a year.
He could taste champagne on her tongue, could feel the way her hands tightened on his belt loops, pulled his hips to hers as she let out a small gasp of surprise.
He could have shot the manager when he yelped. They sprang apart like teenagers caught necking on the couch, and he was almost grateful he didn’t have to fake the blush that stained his cheeks. They were shooed from the restaurant soon after, Emily nodding that the device had synced properly.
They didn’t speak on the drive back to the precinct. He watched from the corner of his eye as she looked out the window, chewing her bottom lip. He wondered if he had overstepped, if he had let the mask slip too far, if she had caught a glimpse of the desperate hopeless longing that lay underneath and was frightened for it.
“Sorry” he choked out, turning off the car.
“Don’t be” She said quietly, deep in thought. “You’re cute when you blush”
He thought about that for the rest of the case. Ran it over in his head like a language he could not decipher. He watched her on the plane, staring at the pages of her book but not really turning them, absently answering questions JJ asked her, smiling politely at Reid.
He knew it was coming. Knew there would be some reckoning for his idiocy, for his foolishness and carelessness at kissing her properly, of allowing himself an indulgence he had not earned, that she had not wanted. He was horrified at the thought that he had taken advantage, gone too far in his own fantasy, ran ahead of her.
She appeared at his office door with a soft knock, she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Em, I’m sorry. I know, it was too much, but you kissed me and I wanted to go with it and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, it was not at all my intention…”
He lost his balance when she threw herself on him. Froze still when she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him. He was too scared, too hesitant to touch her, to move at all, every fibre in his body wanting to run, flee from the realness of her skin on his, her hands on his skin.
She pulled away from him and met his eyes, carding her hand through his hair.
“How long?” She asked. He tried to look away from her, but she wouldn’t let him.
“How long?” She repeated, palming his cheek.
“Does it matter?” He replied, and he could hear the pain in his voice as he turned his eyes to the ceiling.
“Yes it matters. Of course it matters, because how ever long you’ve been hiding this is however long you could have had it, and don’t think I’m not furious at you for that.” She said standing on her toes to pull him closer, wrap her arm around his neck.
“What do you mean?” He said.
“God you’re an idiot.” She said, dragging both of them to his couch. He allowed her to lead, manoeuvre so her legs splayed over his, the warm weight of her resting on his thighs.
“Bowling. Candy ice cream. You’ve thought about it” She said. It wasn’t a question, and he allowed himself to nod.
“I’d take you to an art gallery. Maybe an outdoor performance of a string quartet or something. Pack a lunch, id have to buy it because I can’t cook. Have a picnic with you somewhere quiet, out of the city. Afternoon because I know you like to be home to tuck Jack in when you can. Coffee ice cream for you, I think. Espresso and chocolate”
He met her eyes then, looking at her with confusion as she palmed his cheek again, ran her thumb across the plane of his jaw.
“I’ve thought about it too” She admitted quietly.
Oh it was better. It was better to kiss her this way, when he knew she wanted it, when hope bloomed in his chest like sunflowers in a field, warm and basking. When he could wrap his arms around her properly, feel the curve of her spine under her shirt, swipe his tongue across her bottom lip.
“Aaron” She asked, between a smile on his teeth. “How long?”
“Derek’s birthday” He said, clipped words he buried in the hollow of her jaw, dragging his lips to her ear. “How long?”
Emily laughed, pulling back off him with a smile. a strand of hair falling across her eyes.
“Rossi’s book launch party, three months before Derek’s birthday.”
Her skin was soft under his fingers as he traced her brow. Tucking the strand of hair behind her ear he let his fingers play across the apple of her cheek, trace the curve of her lips beneath his fingers. He let out a sigh when she kissed the tip of them, watching him study her face.
“Do you want to get some ice cream?” he asked, settling his hand on the side of her neck, his thumb stroking the blade of her jaw. She dipped her head to kiss him, and he was lost in her again. It was a single season blended into a moment. The warmth of summer sun, the sharp shock of snow in the air in winter, the sweet fragrance of the spring time, the tenderness of fall, a lifetime told in a moment, a promise, a wish fulfilled.
She opened her mouth to answer when they heard the scream, and for the second time in two days sprang apart like opposing magnets.
“Sir! I am very sorry sir, I was just bringing you these files and its absolutely not important what is in them, I mean the files themselves are very important but its not important why, and I think someone is calling my name and looking for me and I am sorry for barging in here without knocking, even though the door was open and you have an open door policy and I’m just going to leave these here and maybe shut the door” Penelope was bright red, holding her hand over her eyes as she babbled, dropping a stack of files on the floor as she blindly groped for the handle of his office door.
“Nice to see you Emily” She squeaked, pulling the door shut behind her.
Emily started laughing first. Infectious and bright as she threw her head back and laughed, her hands on his shoulders so he could feel her shake with joy of it.
“Well, not a secret then” Emily said finally, wiping her eyes.
“I’m pretty sure Dave knows already” Aaron admitted, returning his thumb to her jaw, pulling her back towards him for another willing kiss.
“Well then. Maybe we skip the ice cream and give them something to really gossip about” Emily replied, moving to straddle him properly. “You okay with that, Aaron?”
It was the first time he could remember her saying his first name. It set him on fire with the force of it, his body reacting as though he had been shot.
“Say it again” he murmured against her neck. Emily obliged him, whispering his name into the air of his office until he chased it, wanted to taste it on her tongue, let the warm blanket of affection smother him, sinking fully into it, reality much more enticing than the dream.