A few days later, Hotch entered his house much later than he’d expected. A meeting with the senior agents had gone much longer than he’d anticipated. Such was his life. He almost called out for Emily, but in the process of going to put his briefcase on the living room table found her sound asleep on the couch. He chuckled to himself, not surprised to find her asleep.
He debated waking her, then turned the thought away, heading to the kitchen to actually make dinner. Emily had eventually bullied him into stocking his pretty empty cupboards so he had a variety of choices.
Fifteen minutes into cooking, he heard his houseguest pad in. When he turned to face her he had to remind himself to breathe. Sleep rumpled wasn’t the only thing that looked good on Emily Prentiss. His button-up shirt looked excellent on her as well.
“What are you cooking?” she asked, voice scratchy from sleep.
“Dinner,” he answered smiling as she continued her approach.
Emily rested her hand on his shoulder as she eyed what was on the stove. “It smells good.”
Hotch glanced down at her. “Nice shirt.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “My pyjamas need washing and I can’t pull anything over my head,” she explained. “I would have asked but I figured explaining it would worry you.”
It made sense. “I can look for some other ones and put your pyjamas in the wash tonight,” he volunteered.
She made a contented thankful sound, tiredly resting her head against his shoulder. “Can I help?”
“You’re falling asleep on my shoulder,” he pointed out. “How much help are you going to be?”
“I’m fine,” she contradicted, stifling a yawn. “I took two pills instead of one, that’s all.”
She was candid and touchy when drugged, just as she tended to be once she consumed a few drinks. He wrapped an arm around her to support her, fearing she would collapse if he let her go. “It was that bad?”
“I shouldn’t have to take another one before bed,” she replied. She felt her eyes falling closed, comfortable against him.
He chuckled. “I’m not sure you’ll be eating before bed at this rate.”
Emily hummed. “I’m just not awake yet. I’ll be fine.”
“Go to bed.”
“No.”
“I’ll wake you up when dinner’s ready.”
Emily narrowed her eyes. “I don’t trust you.”
In the ensuing silence, Hotch was sure Emily had fallen asleep. When he turned to shift her into his arms to carry her to bed, he was surprised to find her wide awake. He relented. “Set the table?”
She moved slowly, but methodically and Hotch couldn’t help but think of what it would be like to have her around all the time. Haley had been very family driven and, in the end, that had what had driven the wedge between them. He loved his family, but he couldn’t get Haley to understand that he went out there to save the world from the worst monsters. And by saving the world, he saved his family.
He knew Emily understood that need. None of them were particularly stupid enough not to profile each other. It was an unwritten rule, but they did it nonetheless. They just never told any body they did. And so, he took his comparisons of Emily and Haley with a grain of salt. They were black and white, literally and figuratively speaking, but Hotch also knew Emily was not a permanent fixture in his home.
What startled him was the double beat his heart did at that thought. He’d always known that she would, eventually, have to go home. He didn’t know when that would be, hoped it would be a while in coming yet, but he knew it would have to happen. Then he’d be coming back to an empty house, just like he had been doing since Haley had moved out. It startled him to think about it. He didn’t like the idea of coming home to nothing. He’d started taking for granted that Emily would be here when he came home.
“You look like the world just sat on your shoulders.”
Her quiet voice startled him and he realized she’d finished with the table and was leaning against the counter again. “Why don’t you sit down, before you fall down?”
“Because I can’t see your face when I sit over there and you have a terrible poker face.”
The candour still shocked him. “I do not.”
“Do too,” she said through chuckles. “Especially for a shining member of the BAU.”
He smiled, though didn’t meet the eyes he could feel fixed on him. “Maybe I just have a terrible poker face to another shining member of the BAU.”
She blushed. “I bullied my way in.”
“You’re fishing for compliments,” he returned, sliding into the same ease they’d developed in the hospital. He liked it when their guards were down. In fact, he preferred it that way. Because of the time they worked together, there was too much he didn’t know about his team that a regular team leader would. In some ways it wasn’t surprising. After all, the BAU inadvertently put their insecurities out for the other agents to see. It made sense that they’d hide their private lives.
“Am not,” she responded. “I’m making a point.”
“You’re an integral member of the team and you know it,” he shot back, voice mildly scolding. “The first case we went on after… Well… afterwards…” Much to his surprise, it was still difficult to step back and talk about the events as someone who wasn’t around at the time. They’d been so close to losing her. “Morgan kept looking for you, turning as if turning to you only to remember you weren’t there.”
She settled a gentle hand on his arm. “I’ll be back soon.”
He still wasn’t sure if he liked that idea or not. It would be a welcome relief to have his regular team dynamics back, but normalcy, though coveted, could come with it’s downsides. Now he did look at her, smiling. “You’ll be back to normal in no time.” A deep, dark part of him hoped he wasn’t just imagining the flit of something in her eyes.
She sighed. “No time.”
Hotch caught her eyes. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” There were lots of things she wasn’t telling him. The nightmares, the frustration he knew she was feeling at her inability to reach high shelves, the overall feeling of needing to rely on someone else for things she was so used to doing herself were sure to break free soon. He tried to encourage her with his eyes.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Emily responded, ever the diplomat’s daughter. Never be an inconvenience, never step on anyone’s toes, act the part.
“Have a seat. Dinner’s ready.”
She eyed him warily for a few moments, wondering if he was really just going to let it go that easy. She wasn’t stupid and as much as she never wished it, she wasn’t perfect either. Things were going to slip through the cracks, weaknesses she hadn’t counted on. It was starting to become very hard to stay strong, but she didn’t necessarily want to unload it all on her boss. That wasn’t fair to Hotch and it wasn’t fair to the team.
They shot small talk over the table while they ate, Emily considerably less than Hotch, though it was no surprise. Emily had been dead honest when she’d said the pills did bad things for her appetite, and she still wasn’t fully awake. She collected their dishes when they were done, though took her time to stand up to take them to the sink. Hotch caught her half way there, an arm around her body, the other supporting the plates in her hand.
“Go have a shower, get into bed,” he suggested softly.
“You’re going to do more harm than good down here. I’ll clean up.”
“But you cooked,” Emily protested.
“And for one night, I can cook and clean up. Go.”
She relinquished the plates with a heavy sigh before making her way up the stairs. She preferred showering at night, really, though on office days she didn’t mind showering in the morning. Morning showers meant prettier hair, but night showers meant sleeping just that little bit later.
Since Hotch had the master bathroom, her things had started accumulating in the hall bathroom. She’d withheld from doing it in the first few weeks because she was afraid of the place starting to feel like home. Eventually, convenience had won out. Her robe now hung on the back of the door, her toothbrush and toothpaste lay happily beside the sink and her shampoo, conditioner and bath gel sat along the edge of the tub.
Emily started the water with a sigh, trying to keep her eyes open. She hadn’t taken two pills in almost a week, though she had been taking it much easier than she had that particular day. She’d taken it upon herself to do the weekly clean up, a sort of payment for letting her stay, and had over done it just a bit. Her body was trying to get her to sleep off the edge of the drugs, but she resisted valiantly.
The water felt fantastic on her body, as it did every time she got in the shower. She always felt dirty these days, though she was pretty sure that was mainly because she spent her days lounging around in her pyjamas. Either that or her hair. Her body didn’t take many awkward twists or turns to clean, but trying to wash her hair one handed was not a task she enjoyed. Eventually, she gave up.
Emily growled and swore as she stepped out of the shower. She’d been remarkably resourceful when it came to bodily hygiene, but it was still difficult to raise her left arm above her head. It had posed a problem in washing her hair. Up to this point, she’d managed to do a half-assed job of it.
“Emily?”
She froze. She was still in her towel, her right arm holding another one in her very much not-drying hair. “Yeah?”
“Is everything okay?”
Emily closed her eyes. She’d hoped her exclamation hadn’t been loud enough for him to hear. Of course, she also assumed he was still downstairs cleaning up after dinner. “Fine,” she lied, hoping he couldn’t hear her gritting her teeth as she tried to rigorously dry her hair.
He sighed on the other side of the door. “I won’t ask again.” Like she’d pointed out earlier, he was a shining member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit for goodness sakes. She must know he’d only been turning a blind eye to the struggles she went through.
“It’s nothing,” she sighed finally. “Stupid vanity.”
The frustration came through clear as day, as much in her voice as in her choice of words, and he had to bite back a smile. He’d known there was going to be logistical issues with everyday tasks and he’d bided his time, hoping she’d just ask for help. But Emily was independent and stubborn. “Would you like some help with your hair?”
Emily looked at the door in surprised confusion. She’d been careful to hide this particular issue as best she could and it was a shock to her system to realize she hadn’t done as good of a job as she’d hoped. Not to mention the shock of his offer of help.
“Emily?”
Her hair was dripping, her scalp perpetually itchy from her inability to give it the usual thorough cleaning and she had Aaron Hotchner standing on the other side of the door, offering to help. In the ever-waging battle between dignity and comfort, comfort had won this particular battle.
He almost jumped away from the door when he heard the lock turn, but, taking a deep breath and steadying himself for what was coming, he turned the handle. Reflexively, he closed his eyes. Despite his attraction to her, he wasn’t going to use his offer as a chance to ogle her. “Emily?”
She was bright red with admiration at his gallantry. Instead of guiding him with her voice, she gently took his hands. “Here. I have a towel, you can open your eyes.”
His mind played funny games with him and the knowledge that she was only in a towel, but his caring, alpha male side won out over the libido and he kept his eyes closed. He heard her chuckle though the underlying shake gave him comfort. She was just as nervous as he was.
“I won’t file a harassment suit. You’re going to hurt both of us if you’re going to do this with your eyes closed.”
She made a very good point. Slowly, he cracked his eyes open. Sure enough, the towel was rather effectively wrapped around her, hiding her from cleavage to mid-thigh. “How are we going to do this.”
Emily bit her lip as she thought about it. “I figured you had an idea.”
He sighed. She couldn’t lean back without stretching her wound, that much he knew. “Can you lean forwards?”
She nodded, teeth still gnawing on her lip. It was ridiculously distracting, but telling her that would be exposing his own secret. “How far.”
“Forwards is better than backwards.”
“How far.”
Her right shoulder shrugged.
He sighed, trying to ignore how they still held hands. He was good, but even stoic Aaron Hotchner wasn’t a saint. He had to remove contact with her, even for a moment, to gather his bearings again. Hotch sighed, heading for the tub and turning on the spray. At that particular moment, he was thanking God that the showerhead came off. “C’mere.”
Emily stepped toward him, now free hands clutching the towel at her cleavage.
“Tell me if you start to hurt,” he warned her as he guided her forward to tilt her head down, gently and carefully running the water over her head. He secured the showerhead and reached for her shampoo, squeezing a liberal amount into his hand.
He was careful and gentle, massaging her head as he worked the suds down to the roots. She had a feeling this was going to be the best wash her hair had gotten since the last time she’d had time to hit the salon. She heard him wash his hands off before the warm water slid over her head and down her neck. Her eyes closed, and she let her body relax for a moment before remembering she was standing.
“Whoa,” Hotch said, dropping the showerhead to catch her around the side. “You okay?”
She chuckled self-consciously. “Forgot I was standing.” His arm shook around her and she knew he was laughing. She released the edge of her towel from one hand to slap at his stomach and sides.
“Okay, okay,” he said through the laughter, grabbing her hand and reaching with the other hand for the showerhead again. “Conditioner?”
“If it’s okay?”
When was she going to realize it wasn’t an inconvenience and he only wanted to help? Gently, Hotch squeezed out her hair before directing her to stand tall. He gave her a minute to catch her bearings again, before going about combing the conditioner through her dark strands. He was trying to ignore how intimate it was to wash Emily’s hair, how careful he had to be because it was someone else’s hair and how much trust she was putting in him at that moment.
They were both silent as he finished washing out the conditioner, squeezing her hair gently again before wrapping it in a towel.
“You are a savior,” Emily said immediately, relief and gratitude obvious in her voice. “You have no idea how nice it is to actually have clean hair.”
“It’s no problem,” he said sincerely. “I’ll help you comb it out when you’re ready.”
“You don’t-“ She stopped dead seeing the look on his face. She blushed. She wasn’t used to this much help. “That would be fantastic.”
He watched her turn to go, probably to put on her pajamas, then she stopped, right at the same time he realized said pajamas were in the wash.
“Do you mind if I hang onto that shirt?” she asked, embarrassment painting her cheeks red. “I’ll wash and iron it myself, but it’s going to be the easiest thing to sleep in. I only have one pair of pajamas with a button-up shirt.”
He was nodding before Emily finished her explanation. However he could make this less painful or embarrassing for her, Hotch was willing to do it. “I’ll do a laundry load tonight.” He figured she’d be more comfortable in her own pajamas than his too-large shirt. Still, it had been quite the sight to behold.
Emily’s smile conveyed every ounce of gratitude and relief at his help. “Thank you.”
Hotch held her eyes, trying to tell her how much it meant that she’d let him be such a big part of her recovery. “Anything you need.”
Too bad she’d never know how far that anything went.