Hotchniss One-Shots

Paperwork and Coffee

The elevators opened onto the BAU's floor with their usual metallic sigh, spilling Emily Prentiss into the hum of early morning. She balanced a paper bag and two travel mugs in her hands, the scent of coffee rising like a bribe for the long day ahead.

The bullpen wasn't fully awake yet. Reid was already at his desk, of course, surrounded by scattered files and tapping a pencil as though caffeine alone couldn't sustain his brain. Morgan had his chair tipped back, phone in one hand, grinning at whoever was on the other end. JJ, efficient as ever, was half-buried in briefing notes.

And up above, the light in Aaron Hotchner's office was already on.

Emily wasn't surprised. He'd left before she did that morning, quiet as always, tie already knotted while she was still blinking sleep out of her eyes. The team got back late last night, too late to pick up Jack from Jessica's, which meant Hotch got to work even earlier than usual, filling in the empty spaces with paperwork. 

She passed off one of the spare muffins in the bag to Reid, who barely looked up before mumbling thanks, then carried the rest of her spoils up the short flight of stairs to Hotch's office.

She didn't bother knocking—no one else would walk in like this. She set one mug down on his desk with a gentle thud.

"Contraband delivery," she said.

Hotch looked up from his files. His expression softened by a fraction, enough for her to know he was glad to see her. "You didn't have to."

"Of course I did," Emily said, dropping into the chair opposite his desk and tugging her own coffee close. "You left before I could shove caffeine in your hand. I wasn't about to let you suffer."

Hotch leaned back, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair. His tie was already slightly askew, the first sign of a long day ahead. "You realize you're setting a precedent. I'll start expecting this every morning."

"Don't get used to it," she teased. "I'm not a full-time barista."

There was an ease between them that still surprised her sometimes. The relationship had been carefully, quietly woven into their lives over months—stolen weekends, late-night conversations, the simple fact that he trusted her and she trusted him. And though they kept the details locked away from the rest of the team, mornings like this felt like a small rebellion.

"You're early," Hotch said, sipping from the mug she'd brought. He didn't need to say thank you again; it was in his voice.

"Couldn't sleep," Emily admitted. "Figured I'd get in before Morgan decides to start a betting pool on how long paperwork day will last."

Hotch's mouth quirked. "You know him too well."

From outside the office, a familiar voice carried upward. "Hey, Prentiss! You're buying lunch, right?"

Emily turned in her chair to see Morgan grinning up at her from his desk. She shot him a mock glare. "Dream on."

Hotch hid his smile behind his coffee.

..............................................................

The hallway outside the bullpen felt almost like another world—quieter, the voices of the team fading behind closed glass doors. Emily matched her stride to Hotch's, their shoulders almost brushing as they walked toward the elevators.

"Hungry?" he asked, glancing at her.

"Starving," Emily admitted. "Though I'd eat just about anything if it meant escaping another three pages of report-writing."

A corner of his mouth curved upward. "That bad?"

"Worse," she said. "We chase unsubs for days and somehow the hardest part is still typing about it afterward."