Work Text:
JJ
73 days ago
“Shit.”
“What?” Aaron asks as Emily stands in front of her side of his closet, one hand on her hip and the other held to her mouth.
She starts flipping through her clothes frantically, messing them up after Aaron had neatly folded them for her.
“Something missing?” He stands next to her and surveys the mess.
Emily groans. “I don’t have a shirt to wear.”
She chews on her lip and glares at the offending clothes, as if she could force a shirt to materialize between them. “This is all your fault,” she grumbles, “if you hadn’t torn off half of them I’d still have something to wear.”
Aaron hides his smile, well aware that it wouldn’t be appreciated at this time. He wraps his arms around her and brings her into his chest, feeling her involuntarily melt into him. “I never once heard you complaining,” he kisses her temple. “In fact, you encouraged me multiple times.”
“Not helping,” she sighs. “What do I do? I can’t stop by my apartment, I’ll be late. And my boss is a hardass,” she gives him a pointed look over her shoulder.
Aaron laughs. “I have it on good authority you’re his favorite.”
She ignores him. “The team will obviously tell if I wore yesterday’s shirt.” Emily shakes her head at their negligence of the laundry, leaving it to pile up until she has nothing to wear. Aaron, she notices grumpily, has plenty.
Aaron looks down at the shirt she’s wearing—one of his—and an idea pops into his head. “You could wear one of mine,” he suggests.
Emily laughs and turns around in his arms. “Yeah right, like that isn’t noticeable,” she rolls her eyes and tugs at the one on her body, reaching halfway down her thighs.
“I’m serious,” Aaron insists and moves to take out a shirt of his own, a greenish blue one she always said brought out his eyes.
“Just roll up the sleeves and tuck it in, it won’t be that bad.”
Emily considers it for a second before she grabs the shirt with a sigh. “Not like I’ve got an abundance of options.”
She does as he suggested and tucks it in, letting him help her roll the excessively long sleeves. Emily looks in the mirror and sighs, adjusting her suit jacket over the shirt.
Aaron creeps up behind her, pristine in his own suit. “You look gorgeous.” He kisses her cheek.
Emily stifles her smile. “You’re doing the laundry when we get home.”
He can’t keep his eyes off her the whole day, the sight of her so casually in his shirt distracting him from his work. She’s left the top two buttons undone, almost indecently low because of how large the shirt is, exposing a generous amount of skin that drives him crazy.
It seems JJ has taken the same interest to Emily’s shirt. “What?” Emily asks when she catches her staring for the third time.
JJ shakes her head, “Nothing.” But she continues staring at her, taking in her thick rolled up sleeves and the way it seems to hang baggily on her frame despite being tucked in.
The seams extend way past her shoulders and it finally dawns on JJ. She knows well and good how a man’s shirt looks on a woman’s body, and Emily had never been one to wear oversized clothes.
That explains why she’s been brushing her off lately whenever JJ brought up the idea of dating, waving her away with an eye roll and a secretive smile. Interesting, JJ thinks.
“Actually, where’d you get that shirt?” JJ smiles, a glint in her eyes that makes Emily freeze.
Aaron’s eyes flick to her and he smirks to himself as she stutters, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to come up with an answer.
“I’m not sure,” she stammers uncharacteristically, the realization that she was wearing Aaron’s shirt at work suddenly hitting her full in the face, making her cheeks flush. “I got it a long time ago.” She smiles tightly at JJ.
JJ arches her brow, unconvinced, but she lets it go. She eyes her friend the whole day, wondering why the shirt seemed so familiar despite its size. She’s in Penelope’s office having lunch, her eyes skipping over the pictures on her desk when she sees it.
It’s a picture of them at Dave’s, one of her favorites; they’re gathered in the kitchen, Emily and Penelope sitting on the counter while Dave tilts the pan in his hand to the camera, his mouth open as he indulges them with his cooking secrets. Hotch stands with Morgan and Reid, his eyes on something over Dave’s shoulder. JJ clocks in the shirt he’s wearing and barely holds in a gasp.
It’s a greenish blue, rolled up to his forearms, the material hugging his shoulders perfectly. JJ could swear on her paycheck it’s the exact shirt Emily was wearing now. She suddenly remembers him wearing it at another team dinner as well, just a few weeks ago.
She hurries out of Garcia’s office, the picture fresh in her mind, and stops abruptly when she sees Hotch and Emily exiting a storage room, Emily’s shirt untucked from the back, her cheeks flushed. Hotch’s hair is fluffier than it was, his tie ever so slightly crooked. JJ’s mouth drops open when he reaches over to tuck the shirt back in and fix Emily’s collar, his lips turned up in a smile. She doesn’t think she imagines the way his fingers linger on her skin.
They walk away further down the deserted hallway as JJ stands, still in shock.
Morgan
51 days ago
Emily hums as Aaron’s hands drift lower, the steam of the shower thick in her lungs. He kisses her neck, his fingers slipping on her skin, stopping abruptly when they hear his phone ring through the door.
Emily throws her head back on his shoulder and groans, Aaron’s sigh echoing in her ear as the phone continues ringing obnoxiously.
“One morning,” he mutters, and despite it all Emily smiles at the way it gets under his skin too. “Just one.”
She yelps when he spins her abruptly and presses her against the wall. Emily shivers against the tiles, the ringing of the phone still audible through the door, and feels her breath hitch as Aaron crowds against her.
He nips at her wet skin, his hand gently forcing her legs apart. “What about the phone?” She breathes, sliding her hand into his hair and gripping it.
“Fuck that.” His voice is a deep rumble in her ears, something she feels in her skin, right against her neck. The phone finally stops and he looks up at her, a glint in his eye. “We’re not leaving here until I’m done with you.”
Emily shivers despite the heat and smiles. “Trust me, I’m not complaining.”
****
“This fucking sucks,” Emily grumbles as she runs her comb through her hair one last time, the dripping wet strands staining her suit jacket. “I hate going into work with wet hair.” She grimaces.
Aaron checks his watch and blows out a breath. “We have to go, sweetheart.”
She turns to him impatiently. “You go, I’ll head out in a few. We can’t arrive there at the same time, anyway,” she reaches for a towel to dry her sopping hair. “Besides, I can be late. The boss can’t.” Her lips twitch despite her annoyance.
“Not too late,” he warns as he picks up his briefcase. “You won’t have time to dry it before the jet leaves,” he says, familiar with her routine.
Emily rolls her eyes, “Yeah and whose fault is that?” She crosses her arms and gives him a pointed look.
“Hey,” Aaron says mildly. “You were a willing participant,” he pokes her stomach.
She bats away his hand, choking on her laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m regretting my cooperation.” She turns back to the mirror to clip on her earrings.
Aaron smiles and leans in to kiss her cheek, “I’ll see you there.”
“Bye,” she calls out. She holds her hair up with both her hands and grimaces at the wetness on her shoulders; she’ll need to change her jacket. Emily sighs and curses the serial killers of America, curses her job and curses her handsy boyfriend as well as her inability to say no to him all the way to work.
She’s late enough that everyone is already in the jet by the time she walks in, though her hair is still painfully wet. “Sorry I’m late,” she apologizes and plops into the empty seat next to Aaron.
“It’s alright, Dave walked in just a minute before you did,” JJ smirks, exchanging a knowing look with Emily.
“She didn’t need to know that,” the man in question grumbles.
Morgan looks up from his file. “Getting some much needed beauty sleep, princess?” He grins at Emily.
“Of course,” Emily replies easily, smiling at him. “You know I like to look good for you, Derek.” She bats her lashes, her voice sickeningly sweet.
He shakes his head and laughs, about to throw another retort at her when Aaron speaks up. “Let’s review the case.”
They discuss it for a while, briefly working out victimology and throwing ideas back and forth before they lapse back into silence, nothing to do until they land.
Morgan looks up at the hushed voices of Hotch and Emily. Their heads are bent together as they look down at their files, their bodies unusually close. The distance doesn’t seem to bother either of them, he notices, despite Hotch’s obvious dislike for unnecessary physical touch. Morgan’s gaze travels up from their connected elbows to the soft smile on Emily’s face and the slight indent of a dimple in Hotch’s cheek—clearly no longer discussing the case—eventually going to rest on their hair, catching the light.
Morgan pauses at this. Emily’s hair is clearly wet, curling on her shoulders and slightly longer than it usually is. He looks back at Hotch, who’s hair is also damp, the strands glossy and dark, curling around his ears.
He suddenly sits upright and surveys them more closely. Both of them coming in with their hair the same level of wet, talking to each other in hushed tones, their elbows touching and Hotch smiling? In all his years at the BAU Morgan has never seen Hotch crack a smile, except with Haley or Rossi. He didn’t even know the man had a goddamn dimple before today. Could they be..?
But they came in separately, he reminds himself. And much as he wanted to believe his own theory, it wasn’t unusual at all for two people to shower before work. He has to find some way to get them to slip. Maybe if he could get them drun—
“Morgan.”
His gaze snaps up to his boss, who’s looking at him curiously, along with the rest of the team. Morgan gets the sense that he’d been talking for a while. He clears his throat, “Yes?”
“You and Prentiss visit the crime scene, I’ll interview the parents and the rest of you work on victimology and geo profiles.”
It’s drafty at the crime scene, the wind throwing Emily’s cold hair against her neck and making her shiver. Morgan stands close enough to smell her strawberry shampoo, the wind blowing her hair practically into his own face.
“Didn’t take you for a strawberry kind of girl, princess,” he teases as they’re walking away, the wind sending another gust of strawberry scented hair towards him.
“Well excuse me for not wanting to smell like cedar and sandalwood,” she drawls as she climbs into the car. “I get enough of that from you.” She flashes him a smile.
“Hey, hold on, I’ve always wanted to know this. Do you use shampoo or do you—”
“Alright, very funny,” he deadpans as he pulls out of his parking spot.
Emily laughs and turns to look at him. “Well do you? It’s a very valid question.” She reasons.
“Yes,” he glares at her, regretting bringing up the topic to begin with.
Emily nods solemnly. He expects another question but she stays quiet and he basks in it. Unfortunately she doesn’t stay that way for long. “How about conditioner?”
Morgan laughs despite himself. “Fuck you, Prentiss,” he says easily, his smile widening when she chuckles. “How about you go bald yourself and get all the answers you’re looking for?”
“No, that won’t work. I need to maintain my luscious mane, otherwise how else would I get all the ladies and gents?” She winks at him.
Morgan shakes his head, another laugh escaping him as Emily looks down at her phone, texting someone and smiling. He eyes her curiously before turning his gaze back to the road.
He doesn’t expect it, but he accidentally proves his theory later that day.
“It was an organized crime scene,” he says when they get back to the precinct. “No prints, no bullet or casing. Speaks to an experienced unsub.” He tells Hotch, who nods.
He moves past Morgan to get to the whiteboard, saying something as he taps the pictures on it. Morgan isn’t listening. He’s rooted to his spot in surprise, the faint scent of strawberries lingering after Hotch.
His mouth drops open. No damn way. He searches for Emily, thinking he somehow may have confused them, but she’s standing on the other side of the room, arms crossed as she looks over Reid’s shoulder.
Morgan almost bursts out laughing at the thought of his stony, stoic Unit Chief washing his hair with strawberry shampoo. Emily must have him whipped if she’s got him using strawberry shampoo.
“Morgan?” Hotch’s voice snaps him out of it. His brows are furrowed in annoyance at his lack of attention for the second time in as many hours. “You said there was no sign of the bullet or the casing, right?”
“Right,” Morgan nods, biting the inside of his cheek to hold in his laugh. He catches a whiff of it again when he has to lean over Hotch’s shoulder to grab a file from the desk in front of him. Morgan grins. Stupid idiots. The least Emily could do was dry her goddamn hair.
Reid
37 days ago
If there’s one thing Reid is good at, it’s finding patterns. Like how Garcia comes out of her office every two hours to pour herself a coffee, how JJ brings chocolate chip cookies with her on Fridays. And how Emily tenses whenever there’s turbulence on the plane, how Hotch’s eyes flick to her periodically when she does.
He brushes it off the first time it happens on a rocky flight to Chicago. He’s already memorized the case file in his hand so he tips his head back and rests it on the seat, the tremors of the plane vibrating through his bones.
In his line of sight is Emily, her lip between her teeth and her eyes fixed on something in her lap. Hotch, sitting next to her, looks up at the sound of her shaky breath when the plane rocks.
He frowns at her lap, something hidden there by the table, blocking Spencer’s view. “Hey, stop that,” he whispers. Spencer sees Hotch’s hand move into her lap—awfully comfortable, he notices.
Emily stills. “Sorry,” she says quietly and he shakes his head, brushing it off.
“Try to get some sleep,” he tells her.
She scoffs at that, the sound turning into a choked yelp when the plane dips. She clutches Aaron’s hand tightly, a substitute for her own cuticles, and feels her body go tense.
“I fucking hate my job,” she grumbles shakily.
“I know.” Aaron soothes, squeezing her hand back and wrapping his fingers tightly around her own.
His hand stays there in hers, either unaware or uncaring of Spencer’s gaze right across from them. Aaron doubts he’ll be able to tell anyway. Morgan has his eyes closed and JJ is spread out on the couch, her back to them.
He hates that he can’t do more for Emily, but for now he has nothing to offer but this, and she takes it gratefully, though it doesn’t do much to soothe her nerves.
As is often said, twice is a coincidence. Which is what Spencer considers it when Hotch places a mug of tea in front of Emily minutes after the jet starts shaking. She’s sitting in the lone chair and Spencer’s on the couch, giving him a perfect view of the two of them.
He buries his head in his book when Hotch walks past him and back into his seat, digging into his go bag as Spencer pretends to read. He raises the book and peeks over it, for some reason drawn to his coworkers’ interactions.
Hotch walks back to Emily, a blanket thrown over his arm and something held tightly in his fist.
Spencer watches as his boss wraps the blanket around Emily, his touch gentle even from afar. She smiles up at him and accepts the pill he hands her, washing it down with the tea.
He squeezes her shoulder before settling back into his seat next to Morgan, unaware of Spencer looking at him curiously.
He knows that Emily is closer to Hotch than most of them, the two of them pairing together on cases and riding in the SUVs more often with each other than with other members of the team. But this is still unusual, Spencer muses to himself. Hotch cares about them, yes, but he wouldn’t go as far as holding one of their hands or wrapping a blanket around their shoulders to ease their anxiety. Emily seems to be an exception. Spencer files this information away for later, telling himself it’s just a coincidence.
But three times, that’s a pattern.
He doesn’t even mean to catch them this time—not that he ever did. He’s woken from his light sleep by a particularly shaky air bump, the plane trembling as he opens his eyes blearily. He can tell it’s late, the lights dimmed and Dave’s snores coming from right behind him.
Spencer shivers and adjusts the blanket around himself, stretching his body until his feet hit the armrest of the couch. He’s about to close his eyes when he sees movement across from him.
Emily is closest to him, letting out a quiet whimper he barely hears over the loud roar of the plane. Her hand is clenched tightly in a fist at her side, her chest heaving as she takes in deep breaths.
Hotch sets down the pen that was in his hands and brings her into his chest with no hesitation. His chin rests on her head as he tucks her into him and holds her tightly, his large hands rubbing up and down her back.
His mouth moves as he holds her close, murmuring words of reassurance Spencer can’t hear from this distance. He can see Emily holding on to him desperately, her back shuddering with each heaving breath she takes, the stuttering of her body similar to the way the jet shakes.
Hotch kisses Emily’s forehead and it finally dawns on Spencer. Because while he might go as far as taking her into his arms and rocking her lightly, Spencer knows there’s no platonic explanation for a kiss on the forehead.
Spencer closes his eyes and welcomes the darkness, feeling a strange happiness in his chest for his friends despite Emily’s current struggle. It makes sense, Hotch and Emily; so much so that now he sees it he’s surprised it didn’t happen sooner.
“Breathe, sweetheart.”
It’s the last thing he hears before he falls back into tumultuous sleep.
Rossi
1 day ago
Rossi would claim he knew of their relationship ages ago if you ask him, but there’s one particular scene that stands out in his head.
With the unsub in custody, Dave, Aaron, and Emily were left at the precinct, packing up their boxes and taking down the countless maps Reid had used.
Emily stifles the urge to roll her eyes when officer Evans approaches them—or more specifically, approaches Aaron.
“Need any help here?” She asks when they’re practically done, only a handful of files left to pack. After we finished? Emily holds in her scoff.
“No thanks, we’re good,” Emily gives her a fake smile, gritting her teeth when the officer gives her a once over glance before returning to Aaron.
“I just wanted to let you know how much we appreciate you coming down here, Agent Hotchner,” Evans places her hand on his arm, her nails digging into his skin through his jacket.
“We’re glad we could help.” Aaron smiles at her tightly, acutely aware of her hand on his arm and a conversation he’d had with Emily last night.
“She’s flirting with you!” Emily insists as she aggressively rubs off her makeup.
“She’s not,” Aaron says dismissively, his head buried in a file he’s memorized a thousand times over.
“Can I get you a coffee, Agent Hotchner? Please call me Katie. Are your rooms comfortable?” Emily mimics in a high pitched tone, disdain dripping from her words.
“And what the hell did she mean by that, anyway?” She spits out. “Was she going to offer us her own room? I’ll bet she would’ve been all too happy to give it to you,” she grumbles, throwing her dirty cotton pad into the trash.
Aaron closes the file and gets up from the bed, cautiously moving toward Emily as if she was going to attack him too. He hides his smile when she glares at him and pulls her fuming, heated body into his.
“Okay, she’s flirting with me,” he agrees, cupping her face and rubbing his thumbs over her flushed cheeks. “So what?”
Her mouth furiously drops open and he places both of his thumbs on her lips to keep her quiet. “I mean it doesn’t matter. She can flirt with me till tomorrow and I’ll still only have eyes for you, Em.”
Emily crosses her arms to stop herself from touching him, not wanting to give in to his sappy words too soon. “Go on,” she narrows her eyes.
Aaron laughs and kisses her forehead. “I love you , sweetheart. I don’t see anyone else. I never have and I never will, okay?”
She melts under his touch when he kisses her, his lips fierce against hers in an attempt to show her just how much she means to him. And it’s not like she doesn’t know already—God, she does. It frustrates her that she can’t do anything about it, that she just has to sit and watch as this random woman touched him every time she addressed him, batted her lashes and spoke to him with an overly sweet tone that she dropped whenever she talked to anyone else.
“You don’t ever have to worry about anyone else,” he tucks her hair behind her ear gently.
Emily sighs against his lips. “I know that, Aaron. It’s just not fair that she gets to touch you like that and I don’t.”
He holds his breath, finally hearing her admit to something he’d been thinking about for weeks. “How about we tell the team about us?” He asks, his heart racing in his chest, “that way we won’t have to hide it anymore.”
She immediately beams at him, all her anger gone as she clutches his shirt in her fists. “Really?”
Aaron smiles, the tightness in his chest easing. “Of course, Em,” he kisses her forehead. “You’re it for me, you know that. They’ll have to know at some point.”
“When this case is over?” She asks hopefully, her eyes bright.
“When this case is over,” Aaron nods.
“I’d like to thank you personally, if you’d let me,” officer Evans inches closer and smiles at Aaron, taking no note of the other two agents in the room with them. “Maybe over coffee?”
Emily sees red. She breathes in deeply, placing the last of the files in a box and slamming the lid on it. Dave startles away from her, giving her a confused look she doesn’t notice. She sees Aaron backing away, removing his arm from Evans’ grip, and she smiles smugly despite her anger.
“Here.” Emily shoves the box into her hands, forcing her to break free from Aaron. “These are your copies of the case files as well as our notes. Maybe you could take a look at those next time you need help, hmm?” She smiles sweetly, her eyes deadly blank.
Evans is staring at her in shock, her mouth dropped open like a fish. “Uh—” she stammers, her cheeks flushing.
Emily picks up her jacket and turns to Aaron. “I’ll see you on the jet, Aaron.”
Aaron smirks and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “See you there, Emily.”
He watches her go and stifles a laugh at the bewildered look on Evans’ face. Aaron turns to Dave. “Can you handle the rest of these boxes? I have to talk to Detective Moore.”
“Sure,” Dave agrees.
Aaron leaves the room and makes his way to the detective’s office, smiling when he sees Emily a few paces in front of him. He rushes past her, making sure his palm ghosts over her lower back as he walks by and into the detective’s office.
He hears her light laugh as he enters the office and smiles.
Finally, Dave thinks as he eyes the interaction. He picks up the boxes and heads out too. “Nice working with you,” he calls out cheerfully to officer Evans, who’s still standing there, hands clutched around the box.
Penelope
0 days ago
He blows it before they get a chance to tell the team.
Aaron groans into Emily’s neck when the phone rings obnoxiously. He’s bone tired, the case they just came back from last night exhausting him. Emily is knocked out, not even stirring at the loud ringing of the phone.
He turns around and snatches the phone grumpily from the nightstand. This better be real fucking good. “Hotchner.” He says gruffly, his voice rough with sleep.
He’s met by silence. “Hello?” Aaron calls out, throwing a hand over his eyes to block the sun. Why hadn’t they closed the blinds last night?
“Um, sir, why are you answering Emily’s phone?”
His eyes fly open. Aaron takes the phone away from his ear and looks at the contact, ‘Penelope’ written on the screen with a pink heart next to it. He looks back at the nightstand and sees his own phone lying there. Aaron vaguely remembers Emily throwing down her phone on his nightstand and climbing over him to get to her side of the bed, too tired to walk all the way around. Fucking shit.
“Uh—” he stammers, looking next to him at Emily’s limp body, both her arms hugging her pillow as she sleeps soundly, her hair spilling down her back. “Emily had some trouble with her faucet, she needed me to come fix it.” He says, not even knowing what the hell just came out of his mouth.
“Trouble with her faucet?” Penelope questions. “Why would she call you, then? And why would you answer her phone?”
He can almost hear the click in her mind when she figures it out, and he most definitely hears it.
“Oh my god!” She shrieks in his ear. Aaron pulls the phone away from his ear and groans, almost feeling his eardrum burst. A loud stream of screams and incoherent words bursts from the phone and into the air. Emily jumps upright, her hair a wild mess, and looks at him frantically.
“What the hell is that?” She demands roughly, pressing her hand to her racing heart. Penelope is still yelling into the air, her words barely understandable from the way they slur together.
Aaron sighs. “I blew our cover.”
Emily takes the phone from him and ends the call, throwing it over the bed and hearing it thump on the floor. Aaron chuckles as she slumps into his chest, burying her face in his neck.
“You couldn’t wait till later today?” She yawns and snuggles deeper into him.
Aaron adjusts the blanket back over them. “You know me, I can’t wait to show you off,” he slurs, already falling back asleep.
“Sap,” Emily mumbles, her eyes drifting shut too.
+1 (the one where they tell the team)
0 days ago
A minute later the alarm rings and they both groan.
Emily shuts it off with a grunt and falls back into Aaron. “You know, since we’re telling them today, we can be late,” she suggests, linking their fingers together. “Really cement the idea of us being a couple and all.”
Aaron hums. “I like the way you think.”
But in the end he drags her up at the ring of the next alarm, forcing her sleepy body into the shower while she curses at him.
He makes up for it by buying her a coffee on the way to work, effectively making them late and granting them their grand entrance into the BAU.
No one pays them any mind as they enter the bullpen, so Emily wraps an arm around Aaron and stuffs her hand into his pocket.
“Not very subtle, are you?” He smiles down at her.
Emily shrugs, her eyes sparkling. “I have no reason to be.”
They see the team already gathered in the conference room, Penelope visible next to the TV and flailing her arms widely. “I'm guessing she beat us to it,” Aaron deadpans.
Emily laughs, “Yeah, and how much do you think they’ll believe her? Let’s go prove it ourselves,” she winks at him.
The team’s voices spill out into the catwalk, the high pitch of Penelope’s excited voice and the low timbre of Morgan’s chuckle audible before they get to the open door. “Don’t tell me you just found out, baby girl.”
Emily and Aaron exchange a look at that. She removes her hand from his pocket and bursts into the room, making everyone’s gazes snap to her.
“Well hello,” Dave smiles smugly.
“What do you mean by that?” Emily demands, pointing her finger at Morgan. “Did you know too?”
She feels Aaron come stand beside her, much closer than he usually would.
Morgan grins at them. “I see you dried your hair today.” He comments. Emily touches her dry hair and looks to Aaron in confusion. He shrugs, equally bewildered. “We all knew, Emily.”
“How?” She looks at the team, a spluttered laugh escaping her. “Even Reid?” She arches her brow at the doctor, who protests loudly.
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
JJ pats his shoulder, “Today we all found out that we knew, and Pen was the last to join the group,” she says. “Though Rossi is a close second, no matter what he tells you.” She smiles wryly.
Aaron speaks up. “Well, we wanted to tell you today but since—”
“Are you guys gonna get married?” Penelope interrupts. Aaron’s mouth snaps closed. Their friends watch in astonishment as both Emily and Aaron are reduced to a blushing mess, their cheeks tinting pink as Emily stammers.
“Not relevant.” She finally says, glaring at Penelope.
“I’ll try to convince her,” Aaron clears his throat, the tips of his ears pink. Emily’s head snaps to his, her hair whipping into her face. Penelope and JJ’s squeals are muffled in her ears.
“You don’t need to convince me,” she whispers, a soft smile pulling on her lips, her dimple deep in her cheek. Aaron grabs her hand and kisses her forehead, not quite ready yet to kiss her properly in front of everyone, but he needs to expel the burning love in his chest in some way.
Emily beams at him and lets go of his hand to wrap it around his waist, tucking herself into his side. Morgan rolls his eyes at them and Emily points at him threateningly. “Careful there Morgan, I’m under the boss’s protection now.”
“You were under the boss’s protection a long time ago bella, but the two of you only noticed it now.” Dave says. “How did you two get together, anyway?”
“None of your business,” Emily says breezily and breaks free from Aaron to sit down at the table, smiling when he sits down next to her and places his palm on her thigh, hidden from view.
“That’s a story for another day,” Aaron says. “You all still have to finish your reports from yesterday’s case, I’ll be expecting them by the end of the day.” He looks at them sternly, trying to force the smirks off their faces.
“Except for Emily,” Morgan scrunches his face in annoyance and breathes out a long tortured sigh.
Emily laughs and pinches his cheek, “Aw, you jealous, Morgan? Maybe if you—”
“Especially Emily.” Aaron interrupts, causing both her and Morgan’s heads to snap to him in surprise.
“What?” Emily exclaims indignantly. “Aaron!”
“I’ll need yours by the afternoon, so I think it’s best if you come work in my office,” he smirks slightly. “Less distractions over there.”
Emily’s frown instantly turns to a knowing smile. “Ah. Of course,” she agrees. “Less distractions.” She bites her lip and tucks her hair behind her ear, winking at him not so subtly.
JJ laughs, the sound drowning out Penelope’s squeal and Morgan’s sigh.
“For fuck’s sake.”