Undercover Love

Public Eye

Monday 9:30 P.M.
They both look at the bed.

They look at one another.

"It's a big bed," Hotch observes.

"No shit." They both at each other and then Emily rolls her eyes. "You were serious about the swear jar?"

Hotch simply nods and Emily let's out an exaggerated sigh. She goes over to the corner of the room where her dresser sits," what the penalty for one cuss word?"

He shrugs," a dollar."

She rolls her eyes, his eyes glisten with the equivalence of a smile, and forces a dollar bill down into the little can. "Satisfied?"

"More than words can express."

Now. Back to their dilemma.

"I assume you want the side of the bed closes to the door," she says finally giving in to the elephant in the room.

Hotch still stands at the door in his dark green plaid pajamas topped with a plain white shirt.

Emily notes that he wears exactly those pajama pants that girlfriends steal. She can't deny that she'd love to steal them.

"I..."

She smiles, she's dressed in a just a plain grey tank top with black shorts.

She notes that Hotch still has his socks on, like he wants to cover up as much skin as possible. To try and keep himself as distant as possible. She knows she can't really expect much else from him.

"Come on, Hotch." She pulls the blanket out so he can lay down. "I don't bite, I promise."

He breathes heavily and steps forward with a determined look written across his face.

He slides in beside her and they both settle down.

"You know," Emily whispers into the darkness," I kinda figured you for a night reader."

She doesn't see his reaction to this but she does hear the sigh. "Not tonight."

She leaves their conversation to die on its on.

Tuesday 1:00 A.M.

Emily's legs had long ago tangled with his. Her head rest peacefully on his shoulder and his arm is wrapped protectively around her shoulder.

Tuesday 10 A.M.

"Dave says we need to go out," Hotch, who had disappeared to make their check-in, comes out of to the kitchen. "Be social. Hopefully we'll run across our UNSUB by chance."

Emily nods, she really wanted to go out and prowl the town.

"We're going to need to bundle up," she says without even attempting to explain her proclamation because he's already looking out the door.

"You're right."

Tuesday 12:43 P.M.

"Cold?" She may hate winter but this winter isn't nearly as bad as the ones she faced in Russia.

"A little," he bites out, agitated by her peppy attitude.

She smiles and makes them stop walking. She gives his gloved a hand a nice squeezes before pulling away and revealing a toboggan that she had stuffed in her back pocket the moment she saw he didn't bring one.

She comes to stand in front of him and leans up on her tip-toes. The air seems to drop an impossible amount. His blood runs cold as she leans against him. Chest-to-chest. Her hands touch his ears and then a hat is shoved over his ears. "There," she has a satisfied smile," you big neanderthal. You should have brought a hat."

She rocks back and takes a look at him," hmmm." He freezes as she rocks back onto her toes and touches his forehead. "There."

She smiles at him and he can only return a small unsure smile back.

People walk around them, a few smile, others simply ignore them, and this time Hotch breaks their personal space and takes her small cold hand.

He tries not to think about how well her hand fits in his. Or how if he were to hug her, her head would come perfectly to his chest so his chin would rest on her head. Or how the curve of her hips lined up with his so that she practically melts into his side.

The cold comes second in his mind. She's there. Warm, human, and compassionate.

Tuesday 4:43 P.M.

"We have dinner date tomorrow," Emily told him she'd cover their check-in tonight. Which really meant that she would be filling Garcia and JJ in on all the small details about the oh-so mysterious Aaron Hotchner. "No, it's not a real date." She could feel blush creeping up her cheeks. "Yes," she mumbles," we held hands." Garcia, of course, wants to know how nice his hands are. "Warm," Emily confesses," and nice. Hard too, with calluses."

Sharp knocks on the door, signal the end of their drama sessions. "That's the big man himself. Gotta go."

She hangs up the phone and greets Hotch with a smile.

"I made dinner."

God, this could not possibly get any worse.

^Which is complelty untrue. I mean which would be worse Emily being forced to stab Hotch or one of them having to say they hate the other while they lay dying. Or even better! Emily being forced to stab Hotch and telling him she hates him??? See, I made it worse😊
-SH