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Aaron had always known she needed glasses.
Her vision was always mentioned in the annual physical every agent had to go through. As her superior, he had to sign it off, and would always look over a vague mention that there had been little to no change in her eyesight and that any relevant change to her corrective contact lenses had been made.
He’d always known that she needed glasses, but he had never seen them until they got together. He still remembered the first time he’d seen her wearing them. He’d left her in her bathroom after their shared shower with a kiss against her lips and settled into her bed as he waited for her to finish her nighttime routine. She’d walked out of the bathroom with her hair curling around her neck because it was drying naturally, and her glasses sitting on her face. They had black frames, slightly oversized so the bottom edge rested on the top of her cheeks, and she looked nothing short of adorable in them, not that he’d ever say that to her, and simply beautiful. The laid-back, relaxed side of her that he loved to see.
She’d paused in the bathroom door, looking self-conscious as he stared at her, and she asked if she looked ridiculous. Something he later learned was something a previous boyfriend had said and had always lingered in the back of her mind when she wore them for the first time in front of someone new. He’d jumped up, surprising even himself with the speed with which he moved, and grabbed her, hauling her into his arms and kissing her, pushing her onto the bed, taking her apart again and again as he assured her that he loved the glasses. It was an attraction he couldn’t explain if he tried, something about how she looked when she wore them that almost made him feral.
It was more than the physical attraction. It was as if he had his own secret version of her since she never wore the glasses anywhere other than either one of their apartments, and then their house when they moved in together. She’d wear them as she helped Jack with his homework at the kitchen counter, or as she sat next to Aaron in their bed and read a book before they turned in for the night. A simple, ordinary, thing in their lives that he knows other people likely wouldn’t even think about, but after everything they had both been through it was things like this he lived for.
It’s why when she first mentioned wanting the Lasik surgery he’d faltered, realising he’d miss seeing her wear them. That he’d even miss helping her search the house for them as she blamed him for them being missing, even though he never was the one to move them. He also hated the idea of her having any kind of surgery, no matter how simple and straightforward, because he knew it would bring him right back to visiting her in Boston, still wearing his suit from her funeral. He sat and held her hand, the very first time he ever had, as she slept, trying to recover from her body being torn apart by a man who ripped up the line between love and hate. A man who had destroyed everything in his path to get revenge on her.
They hadn’t even been together, but looking back on it Aaron knew he loved her even then.
She’d been insistent, irritated by contact lens checks and eye tests that she’d been subject to since she was a teenager. And ultimately, despite his reservations, he knew it was her choice. It was her body, and he would support her no matter what.
Which is how he finds himself sitting a the waiting room with his hands clenched tightly in his lap, desperately watching the clock as he waits to be told he can see her. He’d taken the same amount of time off work as she had, something she’d claimed was ridiculous, but he knew his fiancee. Despite her claims she would be fine on her own, even though she would not be able to see at all during the first 24 hours before he brought her back here to have the eyeshield removed, she would want him nearby.
“Mr Hotchner?”
He looks up, already standing before he can fully register that he’s been called for. He sees the nurse who had taken Emily back less than an hour ago standing there and smiling at him
“Is she okay?” He asks, and the nurse nods, her smile never fading.
“She is all done and ready for you to take her home,” she says indicating out into the hallway for him to follow her, which he does gladly, “She’ll be pretty out of it for the rest of the day. She…took well to the sedation,” the nurse says, a small smile flashing across her face, “We’ve presrcribed some pain meds that she can take as and when. and as discussed this morning she needs to keep the covers on her eyes until you bring her back here tomorrow.”
Aaron nods, feeling the tension that had built in his chest start to ease for the first time since Emily had left his side and kissed his cheek before she was led into the procedure room “Thank you.”
The nurse smiles and opens the door for him, and all of his focus transfers to Emily. She’s sitting up, her hair still in the braids he’d for her that morning, something she’d allowed in an attempt to stop him fussing. There’s a clear shield pressing into her eyes, looking almost uncomfortably wrapped tight around her head, and tape visible underneath holding her eyes shut.
“Hi sweetheart,” he says, wincing slightly as she jumps, her usually sharp senses dulled by the complete removal of one and the amount of medication in her system.
“Aaron?” She replies, reaching out in his vague direction, and he immediately walks over and crouches in front of her, linking his hand through hers as he rests the other on her knee.
“I’m right here, how are you feeling?”
“Mes yeux me font mal,” she replies with a slight whine, making him smile.
“English, please baby,” he says, squeezing her knee, his smile only getting wider as she attempts to frown, the part of her forehead covered by the eye shield held in place.
“That wasn’t English?” She asks, her confusion clear. It was something that happened when she was drunk as well as under the influence of strong medication. Her grasp on defining languages disappeared, and they’d all muddle into one, leaving her prone to speaking any of them at any given time.
It was something he’d warned the team here about so they didn’t think they’d caused some kind of neurological issue when the procedure was over.
He shakes his head before he realises she can’t see him, “No, Em. It was French.”
“Oh,” she says, swallowing thickly, “I said my eyes hurt.”
He stands up straight, his hand never leaving hers to assure her that he was still there, and he drops a kiss to her forehead, “That’s because you’ve just had surgery on them.”
She hums, swaying slightly as she stands, leaning into his side as he wraps an arm around her, “Can you take me home?”
Aaron looks over to the nurse who nods silently and he kisses Emily’s forehead again, “Yes sweetheart,” he says, making sure he’s got a secure hold on her, “Let’s go home.”
___
When he gets her home he helps her change into something comfortable. She’d insisted on his clothes, right down to a pair of his socks, so he’d found a pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt that still counted as ‘his,’ unlike a lot of his clothes these days. He suspected she wanted to wear something that smelled like him, although she’d never say it, since she was always a little clingier when she was sick or not feeling herself than he ever would have guessed before they got together.
Jessica had offered to take Jack for the afternoon, so Emily and Aaron had spent the time snuggled on the couch with movies on in the background. She’d insisted on it, despite not being able to see, so he’d specifically chosen ones she loved, movies she’d seen countless times so she didn’t need to see the screen.
Eventually, she asks for a snack, insisting that ice cream would make her eyes feel better, so he leaves her on the couch to get and get it for her. He makes quick work of it, grateful that he’d anticipated this and made sure he had several pints of her favourite chocolate ice cream in the freezer for this.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to get you anything else…” He says as he walks back to the living room, drifting off when he sees his fiancee is nowhere to be found. He sighs and places her bowl of ice cream down on the coffee table and leaves the living room, his hands in his pockets as he strolls through the house looking for her. “Em?”
He hears something smash, followed by her growling in frustration, “Figlio di puttana.”
Aaron smiles and follows the sound of her voice, finding her seconds later round the corner and only a few paces away from the bathroom, a smashed vase that her mother had bought them at her feet.
“Sweetheart,” he says, carefully stepping over the broken pieces of ceramic. He grabs her hand and guides her away from it, his eyes fixed on her sock-covered feet to make sure she doesn’t stand on anything and hurt herself, “Why didn’t you say you needed the bathroom? I would have helped.”
“I can make it to the bathroom by myself,” she seethes, the bite to her words diminished by her eyeshield and the tape that was holding her eyes shut sticking out from underneath.
“Of course you can baby,” he soothes, his arm around her shoulders as he walks her to the bathroom, reaching into the room and turning the light on for her before shaking his head at himself as he realises it’s pointless, “Just humour me okay, that vase your mother got us has been an eyesore since day one, lets not ensure it actually causes you an injury.”
She pinches his arm, with terrifying precision, and she scoffs, “An eyesore? Really, Aaron?”
He clears his throat to cover a laugh, “Sorry,” he says, not hiding his smile since she couldn’t see him, “That was unintentional I promise.” He places his hands on her shoulders and turns her to face the bathroom, “I’ll be right out here if you need me.”
“I won’t,” she grumbles, closing the door behind her, her defiance quickly followed by the sound of her walking into something. Aaron lovingly shakes his head at her as he leans against the wall outside and waits for her, his eyes fixed on the vase he’ll clean up the moment he has her back on the couch. A couple of minutes pass until he hears a quiet voice through the door, “Aaron?”
He doesn’t open the door yet, but he leans closer to speak to her through it, “Yes, sweetheart?”
There’s a sigh, and he can almost feel her frustration permeate the walls, “I can’t find the toilet paper.”
___
He’s grateful that she’s still in bed when he walks out of the bathroom after getting ready to settle down for the night. She’s lying down, her head on the pillow as she fiddles nervously with her engagement ring, something that had replaced her old habit of picking at her cuticles the moment he slipped the ring onto her finger.
Her fingers stop moving as she hears the bathroom door open, tension visible in her shoulders across the room and Aaron smiles softly, “It’s just me, Em.”
She physically relaxes and sighs, “Sorry,” she says, clearing her throat as he climbs into bed next to her, “It’s weird not being able to see anything.”
He turns off the light and gathers her into his arms. He kisses the top of her head as she curls into his arms, one of her hands slipping under the hem of his t-shirt to feel his chest rise and fall against her skin.
“You have nothing to apologise for,” he says, running his hand up and down her back, “I can imagine it’s disorientating.”
She hums, hooking her leg over his hips to anchor herself to him even more, hanging on to him as if he would disappear.
“My apartment in Paris was pitch black,” she says out of nowhere, her fingertips trailing back and forth over his chest, “It came with these blackout blinds in the bedroom that I didn’t have the strength to take down,” she adds, and he holds her tighter, any mention of that time, any time he learnt something new, unpicking the stitches of old wounds, “It’s absurd because I was never afraid of the dark as a kid, I was never afraid of anything really, but in Paris, I’d lay there in the dark waiting for Ian to emerge from nowhere. And now…” she trails off and sighs, shaking her head at herself, “There’s a reason I didn’t want to get black out curtains for the house.”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head, chastising himself for any time in the past he’d complained about the light that would stream into their bedroom in the summer and wake him up in the early hours of the morning.
“I’m right here,” he promises, kissing the top of her head again, “I’m right here and I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know,” she says, reaching out and squeezing his hand, linking their fingers together in the way that would sometimes make them both think they were made for each other, “I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart,” he replies, “So much,” he tilts her head up to capture her lips in a quick kiss, “You should get some sleep.”
She nods, pressing her forehead into his neck, the top of her eyeshield scratching at his skin, “Aaron?” She asks and he hums in response, his hand still trailing up and down her back, soothing her to sleep, “I bought a pair of glasses from the costume shop at the mall so I can still wear them during sex if you want.”
He laughs, a deep, booming thing that she feels through his chest, making her join in. He kisses her forehead and sighs deeply.
“I cannot wait to marry you.”
She kisses his jawline, “I can’t wait to marry you either.”