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Aaron stood at the makeshift bar just off the kitchen and twisted open the top button of his shirt, hoping to relieve the restlessness that had been prickling under his skin ever since he stepped inside the house.
He blamed Dave. His supposed friend, with his penchant for top-shelf liquor, imported cigars, and extravagant gatherings, who insisted that New Year’s Eve was an occasion to be celebrated amongst friends.
Or maybe he would turn his blame on Corbin Jefferson of Lexington, Kentucky. A repulsive man who managed to pull the team away from their families and holiday festivities with his murderous antics, evaded their presence for a week, only to let himself get captured with just enough time for the team to return for Rossi’s party.
Aaron could provide anyone who bothered to ask a list of reasons why this day, this party, was the source of his cynicism. For one, a general disdain for occasions whose existence was predicated on drinking yourself into a massive hangover, especially to commemorate something as mundane as changing numbers on a calendar. Or perhaps, the chronic disappointment that always seemed to follow this night, optimism and high expectations that were never really satisfied. He might have even mentioned a particularly traumatic breakup that took place in Molly Griffin’s basement in tenth grade when, upon searching for his then-girlfriend a few minutes before their midnight kiss, he found her lip-locked in a closet with senior Blake Thomas.
This list, noticeably, would neglect to include the main reason for his uneasiness this evening. That reason was currently leaning against the kitchen island, dressed in an indecently attractive black dress, and smiling at the waiter who refilled her champagne.
The sight of her faint alcohol-induced flush and the lock of hair that fell against the back of her neck, having slipped out of her carefully crafted chignon, was enough to make Aaron toss back the last of his first allotted drink of the night and slip into the living room.
Despite his reticence, even Aaron could admit that his friend had managed to pull together a sufficiently impressive celebration. A handful of waitstaff bustled around the house, ensuring guests were plied with generous amounts of food and alcohol. Heaters were strategically placed on the back porch so they could enjoy their cigars despite the December chill. The children ran around with party hats and noisemakers, allowed to stay up past their bedtimes just this once.
He was watching Jack and Henry debate Reid on the scientific potential and accuracy of the Jurassic Park movies when he found himself flanked on either side by JJ and Dave.
“Having fun?” Dave handed him a refreshed glass.
Aaron tipped it in thanks. “You’ve always known how to throw a good party.”
Dave turned to JJ and smirked, “Notice how he never actually answers the question.”
“Don’t be such a grump, Hotch.” JJ jostled him with her elbow, chuckling. “It’s New Year’s Eve.”
“Exactly,” he replied dryly. Noticing she was curiously carrying a drink in each hand, he asked, “Is that for Will?”
“For Emily, actually.” She nodded towards the French doors leading out to the backyard, where they saw Emily standing by herself. Aaron sipped his drink, swallowing hard and feeling the burn of the whiskey move down his throat.
“But it’s almost midnight,” JJ continued, “and I do need to go find Will. Do you think you can bring this out to her?” She held out a glass of champagne.
The ask seemed innocent enough, though Aaron wondered why this whole encounter felt specifically contrived to make him as uncomfortable as possible. He looked at Dave, whose expression remained neutral, revealing nothing.
But neither of them could have known about the incident, and despite the fact that his chest suddenly felt painfully tight, he couldn’t find a reason to decline without appearing extraordinarily rude.
“Um, yes, of course.” He glanced at both of them again. “Excuse me.”
He weaved through the other guests in the room and paused just before he reached the back doors, taking a deep breath in an attempt to settle himself before he opened the doors to the one person who had been careful to avoid him all evening.
The incident had occurred three weeks earlier.
Emily had taken to joining him on late nights in the office, an increased caseload forcing Aaron to stay in the office later and later. Sometimes she would divide the files, quietly working alongside him until they managed to clear the pile on his desk. Other nights, she simply kept him company for a few hours, raiding the alcohol from Rossi’s office and forcing Aaron to take breaks every so often.
He didn’t get nearly as much work completed on those nights, but he never really seemed to mind.
The storm came in unexpectedly that night. A torrential downpour that flooded the streets almost immediately, making it dangerous to drive home. Aaron made a call to Jessica to let her know he’d be staying at the office until the storm cleared and wished Jack good night over the phone.
She knocked on his door a few minutes later, after he had already settled down at his desk with an open file and an indulgent glass of scotch.
“Stuck here too?”
“Yes,” Aaron sighed. “I let Jessica know I likely won’t make it home tonight. Is anyone else still here?”
“No, they all made it out before the rain started.” Emily poured herself a glass, an established comfort in this space from so much time spent together, and dropped into the chair across from him.
He returned to his work with a nod, feeling her eyes on him as she silently sipped her drink.
Finally, she quipped, “Has anyone ever told you that you work too hard?”
He looked up at her, lifting a sardonic eyebrow, sure that she had repeated that exact sentence to him on numerous occasions. She laughed at his expression, and he couldn’t help but smile.
“Oh, all right,” she sighed and pulled a folder off the pile. “What’s on the docket?”
Aaron couldn’t say how much time had passed, only that the new bottle of scotch he had opened was now half empty, and both he and Emily had somehow found their way to the couch.
Case files remained open and forgotten on his desk. She had kicked off her shoes, her legs tucked underneath her with her elbow resting on the back of the couch. His jacket and tie were hanging off the back of a chair, his legs propped up on the coffee table and his head tipped back against the cushion.
Emily was telling him a story about her youthful misadventures, and he had turned towards her, smiling softly as he watched her become more and more animated in her narration.
The alcohol made him notice things he was normally very good at not noticing. The way her eyes widened and sparkled when she got excited. The curve of her body, pliant and soft as it molded into the cushions. The scent of her, vanilla and cedar and something else he couldn’t name but was undoubtedly Emily . The way she gestured with her hands when she spoke, which made him inexplicably want to grab onto one and press his lips against her wrist.
“— and that’s the first and last time I agreed to a threesome.”
Aaron blinked, realizing he hadn’t heard the last few minutes of Emily’s story, his eyes widening as he absorbed what she had just said.
She grinned, a peal of laughter escaping her lips. “You should see your face.” Aaron coughed, sitting up straight. “You zoned out there for a while; I was wondering when you’d notice.”
“Yes, um, sorry about that.” Looking down at his shoes, he brushed both palms against his knees. “So the, ah, threesome was…”
“A joke?” She laughed again. “Yes.”
He gave a hoarse chuckle, his mouth suddenly devoid of moisture.
A mild awkwardness hovered in the air; the only sound for a while was the rain beating relentlessly against the window.
“It doesn’t look like we’re getting any sleep tonight,” he finally murmured.
Two beats passed, then, “There’s always the couch.”
They looked at each other, the fact of there being a single couch unspoken yet suddenly frighteningly tangible, and it felt as if all the air had been lost from the room.
The sudden thundering of his heart matched the tempest outside. He watched her eyes drop down and back up to meet his. He heard his own intake of breath, felt his lips fall open just a little. Their hands inched towards each other, fingertips grazing.
He bent; she leaned. And their lips were separated by less than an inch when a harsh clap of thunder startled them both.
Reality hit him like a bullet, and he jerked away.
“Hotch—”
“I’m going to, uh, go sleep in my car. You can— take the couch. Please. Make yourself comfortable.”
He rushed to grab his jacket, keys, phone, unable to meet her eyes.
“Hotch—”
“Good night, Emily.”
He fled to the elevator and down to the garage, grateful it was enclosed so the cold inside his car was tolerable. He fell into a discomfited sleep, aided by the alcohol still in his system, berating himself all the while for nearly crossing a line he had no business crossing. For rushing something he knew he wanted. But wanted the right way, the way she deserved.
The sun had just started to peek through the clear skies when he woke. When he trudged back upstairs, determined to speak with Emily, apologize and explain, he opened the door to his office and found it empty.
She arrived a few hours later, fresh-faced and joking with Derek as they walked out the elevator together. She paused in her steps when she saw him standing on the stairs, then politely wished him good morning and sat down at her desk.
They said nothing else, and she hadn’t knocked on his door since.
Through the glass, Aaron watched Emily pull her wrap around her, arms tight against her middle, shielding her from the cold. She swayed lightly on her feet, her back turned to him, underneath the warmth of the heaters.
Behind him, their friends had gathered around the TV, watching the few remaining minutes of the New Year’s Eve special before the countdown to midnight started.
Aaron sucked in a breath and nudged the door open, letting it fall closed behind him. “Hi.” She turned at the sound.
White wisps of air escaped her lightly parted lips. The red of her lipstick had faded away over the course of the evening, just a hint of pink left behind. The cold had flushed the expanse of her cheeks down to the tip of her nose.
It devastated him, how beautiful she was.
Hesitation was evident on her face, but still, she gave him a small smile. “Hey.”
“JJ asked me to give you this.” She accepted the champagne flute with a thanks.
Silence lingered, both of them unsure and shifting on their feet. He despised it.
The lack of her company, her friendship, was an unexpected void. She’d sit across from him, a layer of their usual professionalism shed in the late hours of the evening, and he would listen to her rant about a case, or describe Reid and Morgan’s latest pranks, or tease him about overworking. He didn’t realize just how much he had come to want it, need it.
“Emily,” he began, haltingly, “I’m sorry. About— about that night. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay—”
“It’s not. I overstepped—”
“You didn’t,” she shook her head, “And I’m sorry too.”
“No, you don’t need—”
“I do. We—” she waved her hand indiscriminately, and Aaron ducked his head, cheeks burning, “and now it’s been…”
“Weird,” they said together, and then they both smiled tentatively, and it felt like something had finally cracked open.
“So now we just…”
“Go back to normal?”
“Yes. Normal.” He exhaled, releasing a plume of white air, a curious mix of relief and disappointment settling into his stomach. “So should we head back inside? It’s almost midnight.”
“Lead the way.”
Aaron pressed down on the handle and pulled, only to find the door curiously locked. He rattled the handle, pushed and pulled again, with no luck.
“It’s locked,” he said lamely.
Emily placed her glass down on a nearby table and approached a window. She knocked and waved, attempting to gain the attention of their friends who seemed to be conspicuously avoiding the noises coming from the back of the room. “Shit.”
“What’s going on? Should we go through the front door?”
Emily slowly stepped back, wringing her hands. “This, um, might be my fault.”
“Your fault?” Aaron’s eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “How?”
“The girls and I…we, um, went out. After the Lexington case,” Emily’s voice wavered, an uncommon thread of nerves laced through. “And I might have, uh, told them. About that night.”
Aaron was rooted where he stood, the pit in his stomach widening and swallowing him whole.
“And you know how they are!” she waved her hands, voice raising. “They kept joking that we just needed to be locked in a room together, and—” she abruptly cut herself off.
“Why would they—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Emily began to pace, two steps left, two steps right, the words tumbling faster out of her mouth. “Anyway this was probably their stupid plan, even though I told them nothing would happen because obviously , you weren’t interested in—”
“I was interested.” The words escaped and hung in the air before he could stop them.
She froze, eyes going wide. “What?”
Aaron swallowed past the stone sitting in his throat. “I…wanted to. That night. For a while, actually.”
“But you…you ran!”
“It just didn’t feel right, Emily.” His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and he couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t yelling at her. “I care about you, and you deserved more than a drunken night in my office. Especially when I didn’t know if you felt…”
“Do you think I spend my evenings doing paperwork for fun ?” This, she shouted.
They stared at each other, chests rising and falling as they caught their breath. A loud cheer erupted from inside, the starting chant of the countdown to a new year.
10!
Emily took a step toward him.
9!
And said, “For a profiler, you are really oblivious.”
8!
Aaron’s heart thudded once, twice.
7!
He stepped forward, bridging the gap between them until their toes almost touched.
6!
With a shaky hand, he tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear, fingers grazing her cheek.
5!
Both of her hands came to rest on his chest.
4!
“Don’t run this time,” she whispered, amused and affectionate.
3!
He shook his head, the corner of his lips tugging up into a smile.
2!
Aaron’s hands framed her face, the warmth of his palms against the cool of her cheeks, as he bent down.
1! Happy New Year!
She tasted like champagne. Crisp fruitiness on the tongue that licked against his lips, teasing and goading. He shuddered in her embrace, tilting her face higher, drawing her closer to him. Her fingers tightened over the collar of his jacket, her wrap slipping off her elbows and onto the ground. They nipped and soothed and moved against each other with gentle intensity, his hands dropping down to her neck when he deepened the kiss for a fleeting moment before pulling away.
Her eyes stayed closed for a second longer before fluttering open. She smiled, languid and easy, as if she knew this was only the first of many kisses they would share. He supposed she was right.
“Happy New Year, Emily.” The tip of his nose nudged against hers.
“Happy New Year, Aaron.” And the weight that had been pressing on his chest for the last three weeks disappeared, and he could breathe again.
“You do realize,” she whispered, their lips so close they brushed against each other when she spoke, “I’m going to be hearing ‘we told you so’ for the rest of my life.”
“Worth it, I think.”
Her arms looped around his neck and his hands found her waist, and he was lost in her again, nearly missing the soft click of a door unlocked behind them.