[Criminal Minds] Acute Angles (Prentiss/Rossi/Hotch, NC-17) (3/4)
Title: Acute Angles
Author: smittywing/Smitty
Pairing: Emily Prentiss/David Rossi/Aaron Hotchner (and subpairings within)
Rating: NC-17/FRAO/NSFW/Etc.
Wordcount: 16800 words (this part - which is what happens when you put 3 sex scenes in one part...and it is too big for one post, so the last two scenes will get their own backdated post linked at the bottom to this one. Sheesh.)
Spoilers/Warning: All seasons/episodes through 5x11: Slave of Duty, and some indistinct time afterward.
Summary: When Hotch said things have changed, he meant for all of them.
Note: For wojelah's birthday. Again, thanks to mingsmommy, smacky30, shetiger, and wojelah herself for their fabulous brains. mingsmommy is a rockstar for sallying forth against my tense issues this morning. Thank you!
Part One
Part Two
Acute Angles: Part 3
Aaron comes into the living room, rubbing the back of his head. "Jack's asleep," he says, and he looks as happy as Dave's seen him all night. He hadn't been kidding about the food at the kids pizza place, but he'd put up a good front of watching Jack in the ball pit and cheering Dave's unfortunately rusty skeeball skills. Now, though, the unhappy set of his shoulders has eased and he looks more at peace.
"Good," Dave says. "C'mere."
Aaron stiffens up again when Dave slings an arm around his shoulders, hauling him in, up, against Dave's body, back to front, and sliding his arm across Aaron's collarbone. "Hey," Dave soothes, wrapping his other arm around Aaron in a hug. "Hey, it's okay. Relax."
Aaron shakes his head. "I just don't - I don't want Jack to catch us," he says.
"Jack's asleep," Dave reminds him.
"Jack has nightmares," Aaron says. Dave bets Jack's not the only one.
"We'll hear him," Dave says. "Just let me hold you for a minute."
Aaron quiets but doesn't relax. "I don't know that I'm up for this tonight," he says haltingly.
"Up for what?" Dave asks, sliding his hand up to squeeze the tight muscles in Aaron's shoulder. He uses that grip to turn Aaron to face him, takes him by both shoulders. "I wanted to see how you were holding up," he says. "That's all."
"It's been..." Aaron pauses as if searching for a word. "...difficult." He glances back at the bedrooms. "I've only just gotten Jack to go to sleep in his own bed. If he wakes up, he'll want to sleep with me."
That explained some of it, at least. "Is that every night?" Dave asks.
"It's most," Aaron says. He finally looks Dave in the eye. "I'm sure Emily's angry with me."
Dave sighs, because she's not and it might be easier if she were. "Emily's hurt," he admits. "But mostly because she thinks she upset you. She'll get over it."
"I can't do what she wants," Hotch says.
"What does she want?" Dave asks, because even he isn't sure.
Hotch shakes his head and looks away. "She wants me to...I don't know. Talk. Cry. Be comforted. I don't know."
"And you can't do that," Dave says slowly.
"I can't - it's not going to make it better. I can't fake being better right now. It's - " Hotch shuts his mouth and Dave has to guess at his next words.
"It's too hard to fake being okay?" he asks.
"I fake okay all day," Hotch admits. "And when I get home, I fake being okay for Jack. I can't fake being okay for you and Emily, too."
"Hotch," Dave says, surprised. "Aaron. You think we don't know you're not okay? You think you have to put on a show for us? We know what just happened. We don't expect you to get the fuck over it, just like that."
"But you expect me to do something," Hotch argues. "You expect me to react to the comfort, to appreciate it, and sometimes it's just too much."
"We don't expect any of that," Dave returns, getting angry. Not angry at Hotch. Angry at himself maybe, for not making that clear. "I don't expect that. If Emily does, she'll get over it."
"Isn't that what I'm supposed to do, though?" Hotch asks, his expression bleak. "Isn't that how it works? People say they're sorry and give me a casserole and things get better?"
"That's bullshit," Dave tells him. "You know what Emily said at the funeral? She said it's stupid that you have to spend the worst time of your life putting on a show for other people. She's not stupid, Aaron, and neither am I. We know this doesn't just go away. We know some days are better than others, and they're never the days you think they're gonna be - "
"Then why keep trying?" Hotch interrupts. "Why do you keep pushing? Why does Emily?"
"Because the alternative," Dave tells him, "is unacceptable. We're not going to pretend we don't care about you."
Hotch bites his lower lip and runs his hand through his hair and looks like he wants to run away. Dave wants to hug him again but remembers what he said earlier, about not being up for whatever he thought Dave was after. It's enough to make a man wonder.
"You know," Dave says, sitting on the couch and propping one foot up on the weathered trunk that serves as Hotch's new coffee table. Hotch gives him a look that says, You do that in front of Jack and you're a dead man, and Dave ignores him. "I was really angry after Ruby Ridge."
"I seem to remember something like that," Hotch says dryly, even though he didn't know Dave at Ruby Ridge. Ruby Ridge had been Dave's bargaining chip, the one he'd eventually cashed in to start the BAU, but before that, in the year between, Dave had been angry.
"You don't know how angry," Dave says quietly. "I thought I was okay. Went home. Kept playing over and over in my mind. Whether I was wrong. Whether we should have done it differently. How many more marshals would have died, had we stuck with the standard rules of engagement. I knew I was right. The internal investigation said I was right. But the Director sold us out to the OPR hearings, to the Senate investigatory committee. The deal was to keep my mouth shut, let the Bureau take the hit. And they'd owe me one."
"You weren't okay," Hotch says quietly.
Dave chuckles. "I wasn't okay," he admits. "I started snapping at Theresa. Everything that came out of her mouth seemed so stupid and useless after that. It took me months, a year almost, to realize that it wasn't her I was angry with. It was me. And, uh, you know, by then we hadn't slept together in something like eight months. And it wasn't her. It was me." He shrugged. "Wasn't my lousy attitude either. I was just so depressed that I couldn't get it up." He slides a sideways glance at Hotch, sees his jaw tighten. "So I get it," he says. "Sometimes there's too much else going on in your head for your body to keep up."
Aaron rubs his forehead with his fingertips. "That's really annoying, you know," he says. "How you always know what to say, whether I want to hear it or not."
"Hotch," Dave says with a sigh. "Despite all appearances to the contrary, we don't love you for your dick. If you want us to go away, you're going to need a better reason than that."
"What about Jack?" Aaron asks.
"What about him?" Dave asks. He knows where Hotch is going with this, or thinks he does, but he's going to push, make Hotch say it. Maybe it'll sound as stupid out loud as Dave thinks it will.
"What do you expect me to tell him?" Aaron gestured in frustration. "How do I explain the other people in Daddy's bed? What do I say to Jessica when Jack says Uncle Dave and Aunt Emily spent the night?"
"That's not something you have to worry about," Dave says. "We don't have to come over. We don't have to stay. We can make this work without setting up house, here. This isn't a traditional relationship, Aaron. We get to make the rules however we want."
Hotch shakes his head. "It won't be as easy as you make it sound," he murmurs.
"Of course not," Dave admits. "It never is. But we can make it as easy as we can and work it from there. What are you going to do? Be celibate until Jack turns eighteen? Twenty-one?"
"Of course not," Aaron says, but Dave knows better. He can see it - the thoughtful gleam in Aaron's eyes.
"Bullshit," Dave says. "You're plotting. You're trying to figure out how long you can get away with that excuse." Aaron has the grace to at least look guilty. "How is Jack going to learn to form intimate relationships with you running away from everyone who cares about you?"
Something in Aaron's face finally shifts and he sits down on the trunk next to Dave's foot. "Has Emily ever told you about her father?"
Dave frowns at the change of subject and starts to tell Aaron to get back on track and answer the question, but the truth is, he doesn't know much about Emily's father at all, so maybe Aaron's question has a purpose.
"I know he doesn't live with her mother," he says slowly. "I don't think she's ever said if they're divorced or not."
"They're not," Aaron says. "Her father is Catholic. He considers divorce a sin."
"Jesus," Dave says, because he's Catholic and has three of them under his belt. "Hasn't he heard of an annulment?"
"He was a Senator," Aaron continues. "My first command was setting up security clearance for her mother and the embassy staff. Her father...had a lot of breaches."
"Security breaches?" Dave asks wryly. He knows what Aaron means.
"My father had affairs, too," he says. "We talked about it, once, me and Emily. But her father was very publicly exposed and ended up resigning his seat. He never did anything after that. Kind of faded away into obscurity."
Dave remembers that, maybe. It was about ten years ago, give or take, and he'd never thought to link the subject of a stale news story to Emily and her mother. "I think I remember that," he says. "So what's the lesson here?"
Aaron smiles faintly. "No lesson," he says. "Emily said something to me the other night. She said all she'd ever learned from her father was how to be sad. I don't want that for Jack. I just don't know how to avoid it."
Dave sighs and hooks his elbow on the back of the couch. "Well," he says, trying not to be too much of a dick. "This isn't really a great start."
"What happens if Jack goes to school and says Daddy and Uncle Dave were kissing?" Aaron asks.
Dave shrugs and thinks that this is why he never had kids. "I don't know," he says. "What do the other gay parents tell the school? You're not a homophobe. Don't try to tell me that's the part that's bothering you."
Aaron makes a face. "It's going to be hard for Jack, growing up without Haley," he says quietly. "Without a mother at all. And that's my fault. I just don't want to make things harder on him. And it seems no matter what I do - " He shakes his head and Dave has him by the shoulder before he can get another word out.
"Don't you dare," he grits out, so angry, so suddenly, that he almost knocks Aaron back on the trunk. "Don't you dare let Foyet off the hook for what he did to Haley."
"I goaded him - " Aaron starts, but bites his lip.
Dave thinks maybe Aaron's finally catching on. A little. "Yeah?" he said. "And?"
Aaron closes his eyes, lines of pain creasing around them and around his mouth. "And he took her from me," he says, his voice a brittle thing. "And I miss her. I miss her so badly, Dave. And that's not fair to you and Emily. I don't know - I can't - One minute I need you, the next I feel like I'm screaming for her and I can't make her hear me and I don't know how I can feel both ways."
Dave sighs and gentles his hand, sliding it up to Aaron's neck, cupping gently, brushing his thumb up the line of muscle. He runs his tongue against his upper lip, searching for something to tell Aaron, to ease his conflict. "Man never made any material as resilient as the human spirit," he says. "That's how you can feel both ways."
Aaron draws in a shaky breath and sniffs. He opens his eyes. "Bernard Williams?" he asks. "Really, Dave?"
Dave shrugs with a bit more flourish than entirely necessary. "I went to a lecture he gave on internal and external reasons for action," he says. "Sharp-tongued old geezer. Nothing but good things to say about porn, though."
Aaron chuckles tiredly and that's when Jack cries out from the bedroom. Instantly, the stress lines and tension are back and Aaron looks pummeled when he jumps to his feet.
"Let me get this one," Dave offers, stopping Aaron with a hand to his chest.
"I have to be there for him," Aaron says.
"And you will be," Dave assures him. "Just let me take this one and give yourself a minute to get it together. Okay?"
Aaron hesitates and Dave can practically see the gears whirring in his head. He's always imagined he can watch Hotch think - maybe even hear the whirring. It's not like that with Reid - with Reid it's like things come out of his mouth without any kind of complicated process anywhere else. It's stunning and Dave never thought he'd see anyone who could leave Aaron Hotchner behind in book smarts.
Finally, Aaron nods, and Dave squeezes Aaron's neck and walks back to Jack's bedroom. He's always been good with kids, always been the favorite uncle, the one all his sisters' kids wanted to show off to and have on their side in an argument. He can't remember a time when he's wanted his own, though. His first wife probably can, but there's been a lot between then and now, and he thinks it's probably for the better.
"Hey, kiddo," he greets Jack, flipping on the light. "What's going on?"
"I want Daddy," Jack protests inarticulately through twin obstructions of snot and tears. He winces against the light and rubs his hands across his eyes and over his face.
"Okay," Dave says, crossing the room to sit on the - really low - bed. "I'll go get him. You should tell me what's scary, though. I don't want to leave you in here alone if it might be coming back."
Jack wipes his nose on his sleeve and sniffles pathetically. "Mommy," he whimpers.
"Hey, hey," Dave says, remembering that he's really better once they get to the age where they want to sneak beer and porn. "Come here, kiddo."
Jack sort of flings himself at Dave, and Dave gets an arm around him and boosts him up to his shoulder. He wipes his face against Dave's shirt which is fine because it's never really been one of Dave's favorites anyway. He hiccups and sort of half-sobs. Dave cups his hand against the back of Jack's little head, and Jack cries himself out in what feels like less than a minute. He's only four but he has so much of Aaron in him, a gravity that seems ridiculous on someone small, that being treated like an adult calms him right down.
"It was a dream," he says, wriggling away to settle on Dave's lap. He runs his pajama sleeve under his nose. "If I don't go to sleep, it won't come back."
"Oh," Dave says, thinking, nice move, Hotch. "You know all about that, huh?"
Jack nods solemnly. Dave pulls his handkerchief from his back pocket and offers it to Jack. Jack holds it and looks at it, then looks at Dave. "Thank you, Uncle Dave," he says. "What is it?"
Dave sighs, because Kleenex has ruined the world. "It's called a handkerchief," he says. "It's like a tissue, except instead of throwing it away, we wash it, so we don't have to keep buying more." Jack keeps staring at him. "Blow your nose," Dave orders. Jack does so. "You know," he says conversationally, or as conversationally as one gets with a four-year-old, "dreams are sometimes your brain's way of telling you what it's thinking when you're asleep."
Jack nods. "Daddy says your dreams tell you what's bothering you," he says seriously. "Or what's making you happy."
"What's bothering you, Jack?" Dave asks.
"Mommy's not there," Jack says, leaning his head against Dave's stomach. "I get out of the box and Mommy's gone."
Dave takes a deep breath and braces against the breaking of his heart. He knows how it happened. Aaron told Jack to 'work the case' and so he hugged his mother goodbye and ran off to hide in the window seat. And that was the last he ever saw of her. "You know," Dave says when he thinks he can sound like a grown-up. "I remember when you were born. Your dad called me and asked me to come see you. You were still in the hospital because you were a little early. And you know who I saw when I walked in?"
"Who?" Jack asks. He already sounds sleepy.
"I saw your mom," Dave says. "She was standing at the window, looking in at you. You couldn't see her, but she was watching over you the whole time."
"Daddy says she's watching over us from Heaven," Jack says.
"Yeah," Dave agrees. "Just like in the hospital. You can't see her, but she's there."
Jack's quiet for a long time. "Uncle Dave?" he asks. "Where's Heaven?"
Dave sighs. "I don't know, kiddo," he says. "But I bet if your mom's there, it's a real nice place."
The sound in the doorway is quiet, nothing more than a swallow, but Dave hears it and looks up. Aaron's there, watching them, and the corner of his mouth turns up a little as he nods at Jack. Dave looks down. Jack's asleep again, curled up against Dave's chest and stomach, and he's not going anywhere anytime soon.
Dave glances back up at Aaron with his best non-verbal plea for help, and Aaron finally crosses the room and eases Jack away from Dave and back into bed, tucking the covers around him. Dave retreats to the hall and waits for Aaron to join him.
"Thank you," Aaron says as he eases Jack's door closed. His eyes are sad and full of pain, but they don't look hopeless and that's an improvement. "You're good with him."
Dave shrugs because he was trying to prove a point to Aaron and Aaron ended up proving his own. "He misses his mom," he says.
"Yeah," Aaron says. "He's going to. Probably forever." He glances at his son's door and smiles a little. "But as long as other people remember her, he'll remember her, and that's what's important."
Dave nods, and he knows it's a little brusque. Kids. They always did him in. Good thing he never had any of his own. "I should get going," he says. "Let you get some sleep."
Aaron nods. "Dave," he says. "Thank you for coming over. It was good to have you here." He initiates the hug this time, but Dave makes sure to hold him tightly. It's a little painful to let go.
"Dave?" Emily called from upstairs as he let himself in the house.
"It's me," he called back, tossing his keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter.
"I'm in the bath," she answered.
Dave dropped the mail he'd been glancing through and headed upstairs. Emily'd left the door a quarter-way open - an invitation. Dave knocked anyway before pushing it the rest of the way open and asked, "Can I come in?"
"Yeah, of course," Emily said. "Hey."
"Hey." She'd turned his bathroom into some kind of personal spa. The overheads were off and the room was lit by half a dozen pillar candles. A bunch of the little ones - tealights, and Dave wasn't going to dwell on why he knew that - were scattered around. The bathtub was crowned with bubbles which almost hid all the important parts, unless the water moved. Emily had a book in her hand and a glass of red wine sitting in the tub facing and the bottle sat on the lid of the closed toilet. Dave moved the wine and sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees.
"Here," Emily said, offering him her glass. "How'd it go? You're home earlier than I expected."
"Yeah," he said, taking the glass and rolling his wrist to swirl the wine. He inhaled the aroma and then took a deep drink. "It was a little awkward."
"More than a little if you're home now," Emily said. She leaned over and handed him the paperback book she was holding. He took it and placed it on the counter, away from where it could get wet.
"I have a proposition for you," he said without really answering her question.
Emily tilted her head and took the wine glass back. The bubbles shifted away from her breasts and back, and Dave admired the glancing views the rippling of the water offered him. She took a drink and held out the glass again. "What kind of proposition?" she asked.
Dave took the glass back and drank. "You want to come along next time?" he asked.
"Come along?" Emily repeated, laughing. "Come along the next time you go to have sex with Hotch?"
"Well," he said. "Yes. We think it might work better that way."
"We?" Emily asked, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. "David Rossi, what are you talking about?"
"Haley never knew," Dave said. "No one ever knew." He reached out and took her hand. "You know. So it seems wrong that you're not with us."
Emily blinked and her mouth dropped open in a way that wouldn't be attractive on anyone else. "You want to have a threesome?" she asked.
"Maybe more than one. If you were interested," Dave said, bringing her fingers to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "If you wanted to. If you were okay with being with both of us."
"Oh, God," Emily said. "That's so weird."
"Weird?" Dave repeated, his heart sinking a little. She'd been so good about his bisexuality, so encouraging about him and Hotch.
"Not weird," she said dismissively, as if he'd been the one to coin the term. "Oh my God. Amazing." She reached for him, hands wet and soft on either side of his head as she kissed him. "Seriously," she said, backing away just far enough to talk. "Hotch is okay with this plan?"
Dave grinned at her. "It was pretty much his idea," he told her, reserving credit for his joke about needing backup - at least it had started out a joke.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Aaron Hotchner," she said. "Our Unit Chief? Six foot, buck-eighty? Dark hair, brown eyes?"
"I promise," Dave said, stroking a finger up her jawline. "He's not that bad outside work."
Emily's eyes went hot and she rubbed her thumb across Dave's lower lip. "Are you going to be okay with sharing?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" he asked, as if he didn't have a pretty good idea.
Emily slipped her hand down from his face to his neck, inside the collar of his shirt and stroked over his collarbone. "If we do this," she murmured. "Hotch is going to kiss me. Slip his tongue into my mouth. Maybe bite my lip."
It was ridiculous. Dave had been at some level of hard for going on two hours and with Emily's words, he was straining against the fly of his jeans like he was 18 and didn't know any way to release the tension but to come. "Like this," he asked, going to his knees next to the tub and kissing her just as she said, slipping his tongue into her mouth to taste and scraping her lower lip gently between his teeth as he pulled away. "What else would he do to you?" Dave asked her, pitching his voice low. His knees were damp from water that must have spilled out of the tub when they were kissing.
"He might touch my breasts," Emily pointed out as Dave's hands found them, wet and soapy from the bubbles. "He might slide his fingers into my cunt," she said, breath gusting against Dave's cheek. "Or take my hand and wrap it around his cock. He might even want me to suck him."
She was up on her knees, her bare, dripping wet breasts pressed flat against Dave's shirt as she whispered against his mouth, arms wrapped around his neck. Dave let his hands slide down the dip of her back and cupped them over the curves of her ass, squeezing gently. He was seconds from dragging her out of the tub and just fucking her on the floor. She pulled back, just far enough to look him in the face, her eyes serious, her tone no longer teasing. "Will you be okay with him fucking me?"
Dave knew why she asked, knew why she was so concerned. He'd been cuckolded before and even the memory sent him into a cold rage. He licked his lips and tried to articulate why it was different, why it didn't matter this time.
"Or do you just want us both to do you?" she asked when he was silent a beat too long.
Hell, that was a picture. Dave could see it, could almost feel it, Aaron fucking him like he had that night years ago, while Emily curled around him, hot and slick. He boosted her out of the tub, water going everywhere as he brought her down on top of him, dragging her mouth onto his.
"Dave," she managed, and then he didn't let her speak, kissing her until she was breathless. Her hands fumbled with his buttons and her legs were slick under his hands as he spread her. Her knees squeezed his hips and he had to get his clothes off and feel her against him. "Dave, talk to me," she pleaded. "Are you going to be okay?"
"Emily, it's going to be so hot," he promised, trying to get his pants open, get his cock free. His hands were wet and she was hot and squirming over him and none of that was making it easier. "When I watch him slide into you and know exactly what you feel like around his dick." He shifted his hand between her legs and pushed into her, demonstrating. "He can make you feel so good, I promise."
Emily worked on his pants as he stroked his fingers in and out of her and pushed them away from his dick. Dave lifted his hips and she worked them down to his knees. "Dave, the condoms," she said, and he pressed her full-length against his body.
"Fuck the condoms," he told her, because the condoms were in the bedroom, a million miles away, and he wanted to be in her now. She was on the Pill and he could set a clock by her diligence - literally, her watch beeped at nine and she had to be doing something damned interesting to not get up and take it. She still insisted on condoms and he didn't know why but he chalked it up to growing up in the eighties and nineties. "I'll pull out, if you want."
She laughed but it sounded strained. "What are you, in high school?" she asked.
"Emily, we talked about this," he said against her skin, and it was true, but they hadn't come to any conclusions. They were monogamous, they were clean, and they were using a steady form of birth control, but Emily wasn't quite ready to let go of whatever safety net condoms provided. He pushed up against her, his cock sliding against the inside of her leg, pressing against her.
"Okay," she said. "But pull out." She reached down and wrapped her hand around him and slipped just that little bit to the side and he was inside her, feeling everything.
"Oh, God, Em," he murmured, his voice hushed and reverent in the echo of the bathroom. "This is so good. You feel so good around me."
Emily closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his shoulder, and he wrapped one arm around her back and the other around the leg she had hitched over his hip. She was rolling her hips, fucking him just as hard as he was fucking into her, and he rolled her when he thought he had enough room, pressing her back into the fluffy rug and sinking deep, completely, into her. It was amazing, sinking into her again and again, and he felt the muscles in his legs and ass start to tense and shake earlier than he'd wanted.
He pulled back a little and kissed Emily's face, her cheeks and mouth and forehead, her chin, and when she still didn't open her eyes, her nose. "Em," he whispered. "It's okay, I promise." She opened her eyes then and they were wide and dark and a little wary and she looked so young he had to find her hand and bring it to his mouth. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to her palm and her wrist and asked, "Are you okay?"
She nodded, even smiled, and he had to kiss her on the mouth for that. She was tense, a little too much, and he moved his hand down stroke her clit. She shuddered at his firm touch, squeezing around him and said, "Did you feel that?"
"Yeah," he said, working his thumb in circles. "Yeah. It's good. How does it feel to you?"
"Scary," she said. "I feel naked."
Dave slowed his movements. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, reminding himself that the condoms were just in the bedroom, not really as far away as they seemed. They could relocate to the bed and they could start over again in a matter of minutes.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's okay. I trust you. It's just been...a really long time. Since I - you know." She flushed, which was completely stunning and endearing, considering what they were doing, and Dave had to kiss her again.
"I'll pull out," he promised again. He wondered what it would take to be allowed to come inside her, wondered what would convince her of the safety and security of sex without a latex barrier.
"You should come on my stomach," she whispered. "Imagine. If Hotch were here, he could lick it off."
"Fuck, Emily," Dave said, tensing and freezing over her as he waited for that effects of that image to ease. "Jesus Christ." He gazed at her admiringly. "Have I told you how in love with your brain I am?"
She laughed lightly. "Do you need to come now?" she asked uncertainly. She's squeezing lightly around him and he's not even sure she realizes she's doing it. It's amazingly good and he doesn't want to give it up just yet.
"I'm okay for a few more minutes," Dave said. He started fucking her again, building up the tension again, and slid his hand under her leg, brushing his fingers over her ass. "We could both be in you," he told her, slipping just inside. "Fill you up and - " He kissed her, sliding in deep, losing words, and just fucking her, fucking into her, feeling her around him and touching her anywhere that would make her cry out until she clenched around him, gasping and squeezing and twisting.
"Em," Dave said, dragging his mouth away from hers. "Em, hold on." He gripped the base of his cock and pulled out - it was hard, so hard, all he wanted to do was drive into her, spill inside her, and stay there, holding her close, hold them together, but he promised, so he pulled out and then her hand was on his, on his cock, her fingers sliding between his.
"Come on my stomach," she said, and he did, waves of pleasure pulsing through him as he spilled onto her pale skin. His come was thicker than the water still beading on her skin and clouded. She caught a bit on her thumb and pressed it to her mouth, which made him surge without effect.
"You need a bath," he commented, stroking her hair back from her face. He slipped his other hand into her, three fingers, and rubbed her clit with his thumb until she came again. There was a sponge-thing on the edge of the tub and he reached over, dipped it in the water, and daubed at the mess on her stomach until she took it away form him and threw it in the cooling water.
He stroked her hip, half on top of her, half curled around her. "Theresa fucked around to get back at me," he said, picking up the conversation where they'd left it. "I shut her out, pushed her away, and she fucked around to punish me. To embarrass me." He pressed a kiss to Emily's temple. "She did it because I made her hate me," he confessed. "You and Hotch...you're willing to be together because I want you to. Because I think it's hot. That's - " He shook his head. "That's so fucking hot, Emily." He sought out her hand, tangled their fingers together. "How did I ever get so lucky?"
Emily finds Dave in the bedroom nook, reading. "Hey," he greets her, glancing up over the rims of his glasses. He's so hot in those ridiculous things, Emily can't help but plant her hands on the arms of the chair and lean in to kiss him. "Hey," he says again when she's done, his voice pitched to a soft growl. He puts his book aside and Emily puts one hand on his chest and says, "Stay here."
The chair was originally some decorator piece, put in the window with a tiny table to simulate coziness. But Emily started reading there, late at night when she couldn't sleep, and Dave reads there early in the morning sometimes, and it turned into somewhere to have sex when they want something different, when one of them goes looking for the other who left the bed, or when they want to leave the shades open - the window points to the backyard and the grove of trees between Dave's house and the water of a nearby lake. Emily rummages through the nightstand to find what she wants and is vaguely aware of Dave folding his glasses and placing them on the table with his book. His eyes flicker over the items she brings back and to his credit, only looks mildly surprised. Then again, compared to some of the things she's thrown at him, this isn't that shocking.
She kneels between his legs, running her hands up his thighs and over his erection, which isn't full yet but is growing in his jeans. She opens up the fly and pulls him out, taking the head of his cock in her mouth.
"Emily," he murmurs, brushing his fingers through her hair. He likes to see her face when she does this. She glances up at him and watches how hot his eyes get as she takes him deeper, works her hand inside his pants. His fingers are gentle in her hair, his thumb stroking against her temple.
She feels bad that he's not enough, that this isn't enough anymore, except that she knows he agrees. She knows he misses Hotch as badly as she does, maybe even more.
She's not terribly gentle with him, not playing around, because she's thinking about other things, things she wants to do after this. His cock gets big in her mouth and she has to slide off a little, has to reorient. "Take your pants off," she murmurs and he lifts his hips and shoves everything down. She helps with the rest, pants and boxers and shoes and socks, until it's all cast aside, and he's unbuttoning his shirt, too. She doesn't wait, though, reaching for the things she left on the table. She rolls a condom on him, not to make cleaning up easier, but because they'd use it if Hotch were here. Condom, and lube, stroked on heavy-handedly, and his low groan at the twist of her wrist makes her shiver. She almost can't remember when it was just her and Dave, and not Hotch, or maybe she just doesn't want to anymore. She stands up and pulls her shirt over her head, and Dave strips off his own. He's naked, sitting in the chair, wearing just a condom, slicked up for her. He looks good and she feels a flash of possessiveness. He's hers, they're both hers, and eventually, they'll be together again. She leaves her bra on while she undoes her jeans and peels them down her legs. Dave reaches out, strokes her hip, and then uses both hands to work her panties down. She drops her bra and backs up to the chair, glancing around at Dave over her shoulder.
It's awkward at first, getting situated. Facing away always is, and she reaches back to help him line himself up, sliding him into her ass. He groans and wraps his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. "What is this, my birthday?" he asks.
"If it were your birthday, I'd be the one fucking your ass," she points out lightly, hooking her knee over the arm of the chair. It's hard enough in this position - he'll have to lift her - so she hooks her other leg the same way, spreading herself wide, and giving him just enough leverage to push in and out of her.
Dave laughs against her neck because it's true, and he brings his hands to her breasts, massaging them. He's going to have to grab her hips to fuck her and he's taking his time getting to that.
The vibrator's on the table, and she leans forward to grab it, but she's miscalculated and she's just that much too far away. Dave's left hand leaves her breast, his arm brushes the length of hers, and he picks up the toy and brings it to her hand without letting go. "Is this what you want?" he asks.
"Yes," Emily says, and brings it rest between her legs. Dave hasn't let go. He wants to help. Good. She slides it against her clit, then down where she's wet, slicking it up. It's cool against her pussy and she knows turning on the vibration would warm it up but she wants to get it inside her first.
Dave's fingers get there first, slipping inside her, stroking, teasing, opening her up, and when she pushes the vibrator in beside them, it goes easily. He groans again, slides his fingers out, and trails them up her leg. She thumbs the switch at the base and the buzz is sudden and harsh in the quiet of the room. She has to moan, too, because it's tight, really, everything is tight. The position, the vibrator, Dave inside her, his hand braced on her shoulder, his mouth panting against her neck.
"Is this what Hotch feels like when you're both inside me?" she asks. "Is it the same? Is it even close?"
Dave's gasp is harsh and audible against her hair and for a minute, he doesn't answer. "Hotch is bigger," he finally says. "There's more pressure because his weight's behind it. So that makes it feel tighter. But he doesn't vibrate." There's humor in his voice, if not a real smile.
"Do you want me to turn it off?" Emily asks.
"Hell, no." His hands finally settle on her hips and pull her down on him, pull her flush with his body. It burns a little, aches a little, and his grip is firm enough that she'll have bruises tomorrow, and she relishes every twinge. She closes her eyes and lets him have control, lets him fuck her, and she lets the vibrator slide out a little bit before pushing it back in. "That feels fucking fantastic," Dave growls in her ear, pushing her up. "God, Emily. You're amazing. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that?"
"Me and Hotch?' she asks, because she's determined, she's really fucking determined that there will be no worst-case scenario. That Hotch will not leave them.
"You and Hotch," Dave promises, his lips dragging against the delicate skin between her neck and shoulder. He's fucking her too hard to call it kissing or teasing - his mouth touches her skin when he thrusts in and doesn't when he draws out. "Fuck, what does it feel like to have both of us inside you?"
Emily hesitates but she asked him so it's a fair question. She turns her head to answer and she can't quite see him, but she can feel his nose and mouth against her cheek and his warm breath on her skin. "Full," she says, which seems like the most inadequate and cliched word ever. "Overflowing. Like I can't fit inside my body anymore, like I'll burst at the seams, except the two of you are holding me together on each side." She bites her lip and the vibrator slides up against her g-spot and she shudders, pulling in tighter. There's nowhere to retreat, though, no way to clench in around herself and the vibrating tip sends sine waves of sensation through her thighs and stomach. She's unexpectedly light-headed and the sound she makes almost by accident is just this side of anguished. It's deep and spreads through her body and it takes a minute to hit her clit and turn into a real orgasm with panting cries and shivers and all the rest of it. Dave holds her tightly to him while it's happening. He doesn't stop fucking her, not really, but it's just a body deep pulse - he's not drawing out, not until she's catching her breath and bracing herself on the arms of the chair.
It's not quite like Hotch being there. She misses his arms anchoring her, his chest walling her in against Dave, his mouth and eyes and the smile with the dimple that always makes her think, he's so happy.
Dave is pushing her hair over her far shoulder and kissing the back of her neck, and it grounds her enough to start rocking a counterpoint again. She fumbles for the vibrator - turns it off and pulls it out of herself a little too quickly. She could have another orgasm probably if she lets it go, but she's so tender right now and doesn't actually want to shatter and melt away like an icicle that can't keep a grip on its eave.
Dave doesn't protest. He's close, mouthing any skin he can reach and growling low in his chest. His thrusts lengthen as he moves her just the way he wants her. She can't help but moan with him. He comes with a string of "fucks" and her name interspersed. "Fuck, Em," he murmurs, a last one for each, and drags his forehead away from her shoulder. This is always the worst part, trying to find where she ends and he begins again.
She's sore when she brings her legs down and stands up, the muscles in her hips stiff. She sets her hands on her hips, where Dave's hands had been. She's a little numb, can't quite tell if she's tender there or not, although she'll guess she is. Dave is taking off the condom so she goes over to the bed and pulls down the covers and crawls inside. She aches a bit - she hasn't had a dick in her ass since before they tracked down Foyet, and she didn't give Dave any kind of chance to open her up. She stretches out on her stomach and curls her arms around her pillow, tucking her cheek in close and closing her eyes.
"I'm going to take a quick shower," Dave says, coming around to her side of the bed. She's facing the wrong way so he kisses her bare shoulder. "You okay?"
"Yeah, good," she murmurs into the pillow and he puts his hand on her shoulder, where he'd kissed, and a few minutes later, she hears the sound of the shower. She thinks about their first time together, the first time they'd sandwiched her between them, the last time they'd had Hotch with them. At the time, they hadn't known it would be the last time in...who knows how long. She takes a deep breath and listens for Dave. She wants him again, already, wants his hands on her, but she's exhausted, spent from fucking in the chair, and she feels needy, so she just hugs the pillow closer.
He comes out after a few minutes, turns off the light, slides into the bed with her. She reaches for him and he takes her hand in his and kisses it. "You can't replace Aaron with a toy, you know," he says softly, in that voice she hates. Blunt force trauma with the truth. Dave is an expert. He's usually gentler with her for no reason that she's ever been able to fathom, even before they started sleeping together. She knows he must be really concerned for her state of mind if he's trying it on her now, but that doesn't make the urge to slap him subside.
"I'm not replacing him," she says serenely, which really should be Dave's first clue. "I'm just holding his place."
Hotch had asked her to accompany him on a custodial interview in West Virginia and they were twenty miles into the return trip before Emily caved to her need to address the elephant in the room.
"Dave said," she started, and then closed her mouth. "Is it all right to talk about this now?"
Hotch flexed his fingers on the steering wheel and raised his eyebrows. Emily glanced at his hands. They were strong and careful, and she tried to imagine them on her body, parting her legs or cupping over her breasts. It wasn't difficult. She felt warm, down low, and a little breathless as she waited for him to answer.
"I suppose so," he said. "Emily," he said before she had a chance to respond, "I...didn't meant to impose...."
"No, no, you're not," she said quickly, and God, this was going to be terribly awkward. "I just wanted to make sure that, that you're okay with it."
Hotch kept his eyes fixed on the road and the muscles in his jaw twitched. "I'm okay with it," he said softly.
"Okay," Emily said and looked at her knees. "Um."
She felt his eyes slide over to her and then he said, "Are you?"
"Oh, yes," she assured him and then blushed, realizing how enthusiastic she'd sounded. "I am, really," she said. "I didn't meant to make it sound like - but I mean, yes. I do. I am. Okay with it." She bit her lip and glanced over at Hotch. The corner of his mouth was twitching. "Oh, now you're laughing at me," she said. "Go on, I can see it."
"I'm not laughing at you," Hotch said, but he did smile. It was a rare thing, to see that expression on his face, and Emily decided she didn't mind feeling silly if that's what it took. "I didn't feel right about...being with...Dave without being sure you were okay with it."
"He didn't tell you?" she asked, a little alarmed. What had Dave told him?
"He told me," Hotch said, glancing sideways. His gaze was steady, assessing, the one that used to make Emily nervous when she'd first started. "I just wanted to be sure."
Emily bit her lip and glanced at the countryside passing by her window. "When I was first assigned to the unit," she said, "I felt like I didn't belong. Like I had to prove myself. And I sought out your approval because I wanted to stay. I worked hard because I wanted you to think I was worthy of the position."
"You deserve your position," Hotch said firmly. His eyebrows knit and she could tell he was worried about her motivations.
"I know," she said quickly. "I mean, I know that now. The thing is, since I've gotten to know you, since you've become a friend, I - I don't worry about losing my place. I worry about letting you down." She tangled her fingers together, watching him frown. "I'm not doing this because I'm worried about what you think of me," she says. "I'm just trying to explain, that you don't have to worry about having a personal relationship is going to disrupt our working relationship because how I feel about you, personally, is, actually, very good for my work." She sighed, everything coming out hash. "I guess like they say in the Godfather, I'd go to the mattresses for you and - I guess in this case literally - but what I'm trying to say, is that it's because I respect you personally, not just because of your position."
"Wow," Hotch said, braking to a gentle halt at the foot of an exit ramp. He glanced over at her. "You really have been spending a lot of time with Dave if you're quoting The Godfather." He inclined his head at the McDonalds across the road to their left. "You want a milkshake?"
"Yes," Emily said, her face flaming. "Yes, a milkshake would be good."
Hotch bought them both milkshakes - chocolate for Emily, vanilla for him - and sat in the playground, on one of the FryGuy bouncy rides. Emily perched carefully on the one next to him, trying not to let herself be bowled over by the cognitive dissonance of her very formal boss - who she was going to have in her bed, with her male lover, this weekend - sitting on a child's toy in his suit.
"This is weird," Emily said.
"Tell me about it," Hotch commented. He looked at her and smiled. "I've known Dave for a long time," he said. "I've never seen him so...forthcoming."
"Well, he doesn't really have a choice," Emily admitted, taking a sip of her milkshake. The cold drink and the crisp air on her face felt good, cooled her off. "It's pretty hard to hide behavior from a profiler."
"It's good for him," Hotch agreed. "He seems happy."
Emily smiled, pleased. "I hope so," she said.
"I...don't want to threaten that." Hotch looked at her straight on, face not hidden by his usual mask. She hadn't seen that much, and she liked the feeling that Hotch was having an honest conversation with her, not as a boss but as a friend.
"You're not," Emily promised him. She moved her straw around her cup with her mouth and added, "In fact, I think it'll make him happier."
Hotch frowned. "Why would you say that?"
"Have you ever tried to say no to him?" Emily asked, grinning around her straw. But Hotch's frown just got deeper so she set her milkshake on FryGuy's head and tried to explain. "You know - I mean we both know - Dave..." she shrugged, unable to put so neat a label as "bisexual" on Dave, even if that might be what best fit, "...is flexible. And traditional, at the same time. I think it's hard for him to commit to one model and shut out the other. He's just not wired that way. And I can do what I can, but I think this way he doesn't have to have lie to me and he doesn't have to give something up, and Hotch...he wants to be with you."
"What about what you want?" Hotch asked.
"What about what you want?" Emily countered. "Being with him is important enough to you to have sex with me?"
"Emily," he said, and it was gentle and surprised and actually came with a smile. "Maybe I want that, too."
Emily knew she looked surprised - she wasn't, actually, terribly good at hiding her feelings. She hadn't really thought Hotch had ever given her a second glance. Sure, sometimes she seemed to work as well with him as she did with Dave, but he'd always been to incredibly formal....
"Oh," she said.
"I wouldn't have broached the subject," Hotch said. "I used to think that it might be nice. Someday. But I would never have put you in that position." For a moment he sounds almost stern and then he sighs and shrugs one shoulder and lifts his eyebrows in that what-can-you-do? gesture that he only seems to make in reference to Dave and says, "Fortunately, I had Dave to do it for me."
Emily couldn't help but laugh, sliding her straw into her mouth so she could finish her milkshake. When she was done and the flame in her cheeks had died down, she glanced back up at Hotch. "So you'll come to dinner on Friday?" she asked. "Dave's going to make enough food for an army. For some reason he thinks one more person means three times more food."
Hotch swung his leg over the toy until he was standing next to it and offered her his hand so she could slide off her own seat. His palm was warm and his fingers wrapped around her hand, covering it, and he squeezed. Emily felt a flush, as if he were already stripping away her clothes, already touching the skin beneath, already tangled up with her and Dave. "I wouldn't miss it," he assured her.
Oh, look, there's more!
Author: smittywing/Smitty
Pairing: Emily Prentiss/David Rossi/Aaron Hotchner (and subpairings within)
Rating: NC-17/FRAO/NSFW/Etc.
Wordcount: 16800 words (this part - which is what happens when you put 3 sex scenes in one part...and it is too big for one post, so the last two scenes will get their own backdated post linked at the bottom to this one. Sheesh.)
Spoilers/Warning: All seasons/episodes through 5x11: Slave of Duty, and some indistinct time afterward.
Summary: When Hotch said things have changed, he meant for all of them.
Note: For wojelah's birthday. Again, thanks to mingsmommy, smacky30, shetiger, and wojelah herself for their fabulous brains. mingsmommy is a rockstar for sallying forth against my tense issues this morning. Thank you!
Part One
Part Two
Acute Angles: Part 3
Aaron comes into the living room, rubbing the back of his head. "Jack's asleep," he says, and he looks as happy as Dave's seen him all night. He hadn't been kidding about the food at the kids pizza place, but he'd put up a good front of watching Jack in the ball pit and cheering Dave's unfortunately rusty skeeball skills. Now, though, the unhappy set of his shoulders has eased and he looks more at peace.
"Good," Dave says. "C'mere."
Aaron stiffens up again when Dave slings an arm around his shoulders, hauling him in, up, against Dave's body, back to front, and sliding his arm across Aaron's collarbone. "Hey," Dave soothes, wrapping his other arm around Aaron in a hug. "Hey, it's okay. Relax."
Aaron shakes his head. "I just don't - I don't want Jack to catch us," he says.
"Jack's asleep," Dave reminds him.
"Jack has nightmares," Aaron says. Dave bets Jack's not the only one.
"We'll hear him," Dave says. "Just let me hold you for a minute."
Aaron quiets but doesn't relax. "I don't know that I'm up for this tonight," he says haltingly.
"Up for what?" Dave asks, sliding his hand up to squeeze the tight muscles in Aaron's shoulder. He uses that grip to turn Aaron to face him, takes him by both shoulders. "I wanted to see how you were holding up," he says. "That's all."
"It's been..." Aaron pauses as if searching for a word. "...difficult." He glances back at the bedrooms. "I've only just gotten Jack to go to sleep in his own bed. If he wakes up, he'll want to sleep with me."
That explained some of it, at least. "Is that every night?" Dave asks.
"It's most," Aaron says. He finally looks Dave in the eye. "I'm sure Emily's angry with me."
Dave sighs, because she's not and it might be easier if she were. "Emily's hurt," he admits. "But mostly because she thinks she upset you. She'll get over it."
"I can't do what she wants," Hotch says.
"What does she want?" Dave asks, because even he isn't sure.
Hotch shakes his head and looks away. "She wants me to...I don't know. Talk. Cry. Be comforted. I don't know."
"And you can't do that," Dave says slowly.
"I can't - it's not going to make it better. I can't fake being better right now. It's - " Hotch shuts his mouth and Dave has to guess at his next words.
"It's too hard to fake being okay?" he asks.
"I fake okay all day," Hotch admits. "And when I get home, I fake being okay for Jack. I can't fake being okay for you and Emily, too."
"Hotch," Dave says, surprised. "Aaron. You think we don't know you're not okay? You think you have to put on a show for us? We know what just happened. We don't expect you to get the fuck over it, just like that."
"But you expect me to do something," Hotch argues. "You expect me to react to the comfort, to appreciate it, and sometimes it's just too much."
"We don't expect any of that," Dave returns, getting angry. Not angry at Hotch. Angry at himself maybe, for not making that clear. "I don't expect that. If Emily does, she'll get over it."
"Isn't that what I'm supposed to do, though?" Hotch asks, his expression bleak. "Isn't that how it works? People say they're sorry and give me a casserole and things get better?"
"That's bullshit," Dave tells him. "You know what Emily said at the funeral? She said it's stupid that you have to spend the worst time of your life putting on a show for other people. She's not stupid, Aaron, and neither am I. We know this doesn't just go away. We know some days are better than others, and they're never the days you think they're gonna be - "
"Then why keep trying?" Hotch interrupts. "Why do you keep pushing? Why does Emily?"
"Because the alternative," Dave tells him, "is unacceptable. We're not going to pretend we don't care about you."
Hotch bites his lower lip and runs his hand through his hair and looks like he wants to run away. Dave wants to hug him again but remembers what he said earlier, about not being up for whatever he thought Dave was after. It's enough to make a man wonder.
"You know," Dave says, sitting on the couch and propping one foot up on the weathered trunk that serves as Hotch's new coffee table. Hotch gives him a look that says, You do that in front of Jack and you're a dead man, and Dave ignores him. "I was really angry after Ruby Ridge."
"I seem to remember something like that," Hotch says dryly, even though he didn't know Dave at Ruby Ridge. Ruby Ridge had been Dave's bargaining chip, the one he'd eventually cashed in to start the BAU, but before that, in the year between, Dave had been angry.
"You don't know how angry," Dave says quietly. "I thought I was okay. Went home. Kept playing over and over in my mind. Whether I was wrong. Whether we should have done it differently. How many more marshals would have died, had we stuck with the standard rules of engagement. I knew I was right. The internal investigation said I was right. But the Director sold us out to the OPR hearings, to the Senate investigatory committee. The deal was to keep my mouth shut, let the Bureau take the hit. And they'd owe me one."
"You weren't okay," Hotch says quietly.
Dave chuckles. "I wasn't okay," he admits. "I started snapping at Theresa. Everything that came out of her mouth seemed so stupid and useless after that. It took me months, a year almost, to realize that it wasn't her I was angry with. It was me. And, uh, you know, by then we hadn't slept together in something like eight months. And it wasn't her. It was me." He shrugged. "Wasn't my lousy attitude either. I was just so depressed that I couldn't get it up." He slides a sideways glance at Hotch, sees his jaw tighten. "So I get it," he says. "Sometimes there's too much else going on in your head for your body to keep up."
Aaron rubs his forehead with his fingertips. "That's really annoying, you know," he says. "How you always know what to say, whether I want to hear it or not."
"Hotch," Dave says with a sigh. "Despite all appearances to the contrary, we don't love you for your dick. If you want us to go away, you're going to need a better reason than that."
"What about Jack?" Aaron asks.
"What about him?" Dave asks. He knows where Hotch is going with this, or thinks he does, but he's going to push, make Hotch say it. Maybe it'll sound as stupid out loud as Dave thinks it will.
"What do you expect me to tell him?" Aaron gestured in frustration. "How do I explain the other people in Daddy's bed? What do I say to Jessica when Jack says Uncle Dave and Aunt Emily spent the night?"
"That's not something you have to worry about," Dave says. "We don't have to come over. We don't have to stay. We can make this work without setting up house, here. This isn't a traditional relationship, Aaron. We get to make the rules however we want."
Hotch shakes his head. "It won't be as easy as you make it sound," he murmurs.
"Of course not," Dave admits. "It never is. But we can make it as easy as we can and work it from there. What are you going to do? Be celibate until Jack turns eighteen? Twenty-one?"
"Of course not," Aaron says, but Dave knows better. He can see it - the thoughtful gleam in Aaron's eyes.
"Bullshit," Dave says. "You're plotting. You're trying to figure out how long you can get away with that excuse." Aaron has the grace to at least look guilty. "How is Jack going to learn to form intimate relationships with you running away from everyone who cares about you?"
Something in Aaron's face finally shifts and he sits down on the trunk next to Dave's foot. "Has Emily ever told you about her father?"
Dave frowns at the change of subject and starts to tell Aaron to get back on track and answer the question, but the truth is, he doesn't know much about Emily's father at all, so maybe Aaron's question has a purpose.
"I know he doesn't live with her mother," he says slowly. "I don't think she's ever said if they're divorced or not."
"They're not," Aaron says. "Her father is Catholic. He considers divorce a sin."
"Jesus," Dave says, because he's Catholic and has three of them under his belt. "Hasn't he heard of an annulment?"
"He was a Senator," Aaron continues. "My first command was setting up security clearance for her mother and the embassy staff. Her father...had a lot of breaches."
"Security breaches?" Dave asks wryly. He knows what Aaron means.
"My father had affairs, too," he says. "We talked about it, once, me and Emily. But her father was very publicly exposed and ended up resigning his seat. He never did anything after that. Kind of faded away into obscurity."
Dave remembers that, maybe. It was about ten years ago, give or take, and he'd never thought to link the subject of a stale news story to Emily and her mother. "I think I remember that," he says. "So what's the lesson here?"
Aaron smiles faintly. "No lesson," he says. "Emily said something to me the other night. She said all she'd ever learned from her father was how to be sad. I don't want that for Jack. I just don't know how to avoid it."
Dave sighs and hooks his elbow on the back of the couch. "Well," he says, trying not to be too much of a dick. "This isn't really a great start."
"What happens if Jack goes to school and says Daddy and Uncle Dave were kissing?" Aaron asks.
Dave shrugs and thinks that this is why he never had kids. "I don't know," he says. "What do the other gay parents tell the school? You're not a homophobe. Don't try to tell me that's the part that's bothering you."
Aaron makes a face. "It's going to be hard for Jack, growing up without Haley," he says quietly. "Without a mother at all. And that's my fault. I just don't want to make things harder on him. And it seems no matter what I do - " He shakes his head and Dave has him by the shoulder before he can get another word out.
"Don't you dare," he grits out, so angry, so suddenly, that he almost knocks Aaron back on the trunk. "Don't you dare let Foyet off the hook for what he did to Haley."
"I goaded him - " Aaron starts, but bites his lip.
Dave thinks maybe Aaron's finally catching on. A little. "Yeah?" he said. "And?"
Aaron closes his eyes, lines of pain creasing around them and around his mouth. "And he took her from me," he says, his voice a brittle thing. "And I miss her. I miss her so badly, Dave. And that's not fair to you and Emily. I don't know - I can't - One minute I need you, the next I feel like I'm screaming for her and I can't make her hear me and I don't know how I can feel both ways."
Dave sighs and gentles his hand, sliding it up to Aaron's neck, cupping gently, brushing his thumb up the line of muscle. He runs his tongue against his upper lip, searching for something to tell Aaron, to ease his conflict. "Man never made any material as resilient as the human spirit," he says. "That's how you can feel both ways."
Aaron draws in a shaky breath and sniffs. He opens his eyes. "Bernard Williams?" he asks. "Really, Dave?"
Dave shrugs with a bit more flourish than entirely necessary. "I went to a lecture he gave on internal and external reasons for action," he says. "Sharp-tongued old geezer. Nothing but good things to say about porn, though."
Aaron chuckles tiredly and that's when Jack cries out from the bedroom. Instantly, the stress lines and tension are back and Aaron looks pummeled when he jumps to his feet.
"Let me get this one," Dave offers, stopping Aaron with a hand to his chest.
"I have to be there for him," Aaron says.
"And you will be," Dave assures him. "Just let me take this one and give yourself a minute to get it together. Okay?"
Aaron hesitates and Dave can practically see the gears whirring in his head. He's always imagined he can watch Hotch think - maybe even hear the whirring. It's not like that with Reid - with Reid it's like things come out of his mouth without any kind of complicated process anywhere else. It's stunning and Dave never thought he'd see anyone who could leave Aaron Hotchner behind in book smarts.
Finally, Aaron nods, and Dave squeezes Aaron's neck and walks back to Jack's bedroom. He's always been good with kids, always been the favorite uncle, the one all his sisters' kids wanted to show off to and have on their side in an argument. He can't remember a time when he's wanted his own, though. His first wife probably can, but there's been a lot between then and now, and he thinks it's probably for the better.
"Hey, kiddo," he greets Jack, flipping on the light. "What's going on?"
"I want Daddy," Jack protests inarticulately through twin obstructions of snot and tears. He winces against the light and rubs his hands across his eyes and over his face.
"Okay," Dave says, crossing the room to sit on the - really low - bed. "I'll go get him. You should tell me what's scary, though. I don't want to leave you in here alone if it might be coming back."
Jack wipes his nose on his sleeve and sniffles pathetically. "Mommy," he whimpers.
"Hey, hey," Dave says, remembering that he's really better once they get to the age where they want to sneak beer and porn. "Come here, kiddo."
Jack sort of flings himself at Dave, and Dave gets an arm around him and boosts him up to his shoulder. He wipes his face against Dave's shirt which is fine because it's never really been one of Dave's favorites anyway. He hiccups and sort of half-sobs. Dave cups his hand against the back of Jack's little head, and Jack cries himself out in what feels like less than a minute. He's only four but he has so much of Aaron in him, a gravity that seems ridiculous on someone small, that being treated like an adult calms him right down.
"It was a dream," he says, wriggling away to settle on Dave's lap. He runs his pajama sleeve under his nose. "If I don't go to sleep, it won't come back."
"Oh," Dave says, thinking, nice move, Hotch. "You know all about that, huh?"
Jack nods solemnly. Dave pulls his handkerchief from his back pocket and offers it to Jack. Jack holds it and looks at it, then looks at Dave. "Thank you, Uncle Dave," he says. "What is it?"
Dave sighs, because Kleenex has ruined the world. "It's called a handkerchief," he says. "It's like a tissue, except instead of throwing it away, we wash it, so we don't have to keep buying more." Jack keeps staring at him. "Blow your nose," Dave orders. Jack does so. "You know," he says conversationally, or as conversationally as one gets with a four-year-old, "dreams are sometimes your brain's way of telling you what it's thinking when you're asleep."
Jack nods. "Daddy says your dreams tell you what's bothering you," he says seriously. "Or what's making you happy."
"What's bothering you, Jack?" Dave asks.
"Mommy's not there," Jack says, leaning his head against Dave's stomach. "I get out of the box and Mommy's gone."
Dave takes a deep breath and braces against the breaking of his heart. He knows how it happened. Aaron told Jack to 'work the case' and so he hugged his mother goodbye and ran off to hide in the window seat. And that was the last he ever saw of her. "You know," Dave says when he thinks he can sound like a grown-up. "I remember when you were born. Your dad called me and asked me to come see you. You were still in the hospital because you were a little early. And you know who I saw when I walked in?"
"Who?" Jack asks. He already sounds sleepy.
"I saw your mom," Dave says. "She was standing at the window, looking in at you. You couldn't see her, but she was watching over you the whole time."
"Daddy says she's watching over us from Heaven," Jack says.
"Yeah," Dave agrees. "Just like in the hospital. You can't see her, but she's there."
Jack's quiet for a long time. "Uncle Dave?" he asks. "Where's Heaven?"
Dave sighs. "I don't know, kiddo," he says. "But I bet if your mom's there, it's a real nice place."
The sound in the doorway is quiet, nothing more than a swallow, but Dave hears it and looks up. Aaron's there, watching them, and the corner of his mouth turns up a little as he nods at Jack. Dave looks down. Jack's asleep again, curled up against Dave's chest and stomach, and he's not going anywhere anytime soon.
Dave glances back up at Aaron with his best non-verbal plea for help, and Aaron finally crosses the room and eases Jack away from Dave and back into bed, tucking the covers around him. Dave retreats to the hall and waits for Aaron to join him.
"Thank you," Aaron says as he eases Jack's door closed. His eyes are sad and full of pain, but they don't look hopeless and that's an improvement. "You're good with him."
Dave shrugs because he was trying to prove a point to Aaron and Aaron ended up proving his own. "He misses his mom," he says.
"Yeah," Aaron says. "He's going to. Probably forever." He glances at his son's door and smiles a little. "But as long as other people remember her, he'll remember her, and that's what's important."
Dave nods, and he knows it's a little brusque. Kids. They always did him in. Good thing he never had any of his own. "I should get going," he says. "Let you get some sleep."
Aaron nods. "Dave," he says. "Thank you for coming over. It was good to have you here." He initiates the hug this time, but Dave makes sure to hold him tightly. It's a little painful to let go.
"Dave?" Emily called from upstairs as he let himself in the house.
"It's me," he called back, tossing his keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter.
"I'm in the bath," she answered.
Dave dropped the mail he'd been glancing through and headed upstairs. Emily'd left the door a quarter-way open - an invitation. Dave knocked anyway before pushing it the rest of the way open and asked, "Can I come in?"
"Yeah, of course," Emily said. "Hey."
"Hey." She'd turned his bathroom into some kind of personal spa. The overheads were off and the room was lit by half a dozen pillar candles. A bunch of the little ones - tealights, and Dave wasn't going to dwell on why he knew that - were scattered around. The bathtub was crowned with bubbles which almost hid all the important parts, unless the water moved. Emily had a book in her hand and a glass of red wine sitting in the tub facing and the bottle sat on the lid of the closed toilet. Dave moved the wine and sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees.
"Here," Emily said, offering him her glass. "How'd it go? You're home earlier than I expected."
"Yeah," he said, taking the glass and rolling his wrist to swirl the wine. He inhaled the aroma and then took a deep drink. "It was a little awkward."
"More than a little if you're home now," Emily said. She leaned over and handed him the paperback book she was holding. He took it and placed it on the counter, away from where it could get wet.
"I have a proposition for you," he said without really answering her question.
Emily tilted her head and took the wine glass back. The bubbles shifted away from her breasts and back, and Dave admired the glancing views the rippling of the water offered him. She took a drink and held out the glass again. "What kind of proposition?" she asked.
Dave took the glass back and drank. "You want to come along next time?" he asked.
"Come along?" Emily repeated, laughing. "Come along the next time you go to have sex with Hotch?"
"Well," he said. "Yes. We think it might work better that way."
"We?" Emily asked, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. "David Rossi, what are you talking about?"
"Haley never knew," Dave said. "No one ever knew." He reached out and took her hand. "You know. So it seems wrong that you're not with us."
Emily blinked and her mouth dropped open in a way that wouldn't be attractive on anyone else. "You want to have a threesome?" she asked.
"Maybe more than one. If you were interested," Dave said, bringing her fingers to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "If you wanted to. If you were okay with being with both of us."
"Oh, God," Emily said. "That's so weird."
"Weird?" Dave repeated, his heart sinking a little. She'd been so good about his bisexuality, so encouraging about him and Hotch.
"Not weird," she said dismissively, as if he'd been the one to coin the term. "Oh my God. Amazing." She reached for him, hands wet and soft on either side of his head as she kissed him. "Seriously," she said, backing away just far enough to talk. "Hotch is okay with this plan?"
Dave grinned at her. "It was pretty much his idea," he told her, reserving credit for his joke about needing backup - at least it had started out a joke.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Aaron Hotchner," she said. "Our Unit Chief? Six foot, buck-eighty? Dark hair, brown eyes?"
"I promise," Dave said, stroking a finger up her jawline. "He's not that bad outside work."
Emily's eyes went hot and she rubbed her thumb across Dave's lower lip. "Are you going to be okay with sharing?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" he asked, as if he didn't have a pretty good idea.
Emily slipped her hand down from his face to his neck, inside the collar of his shirt and stroked over his collarbone. "If we do this," she murmured. "Hotch is going to kiss me. Slip his tongue into my mouth. Maybe bite my lip."
It was ridiculous. Dave had been at some level of hard for going on two hours and with Emily's words, he was straining against the fly of his jeans like he was 18 and didn't know any way to release the tension but to come. "Like this," he asked, going to his knees next to the tub and kissing her just as she said, slipping his tongue into her mouth to taste and scraping her lower lip gently between his teeth as he pulled away. "What else would he do to you?" Dave asked her, pitching his voice low. His knees were damp from water that must have spilled out of the tub when they were kissing.
"He might touch my breasts," Emily pointed out as Dave's hands found them, wet and soapy from the bubbles. "He might slide his fingers into my cunt," she said, breath gusting against Dave's cheek. "Or take my hand and wrap it around his cock. He might even want me to suck him."
She was up on her knees, her bare, dripping wet breasts pressed flat against Dave's shirt as she whispered against his mouth, arms wrapped around his neck. Dave let his hands slide down the dip of her back and cupped them over the curves of her ass, squeezing gently. He was seconds from dragging her out of the tub and just fucking her on the floor. She pulled back, just far enough to look him in the face, her eyes serious, her tone no longer teasing. "Will you be okay with him fucking me?"
Dave knew why she asked, knew why she was so concerned. He'd been cuckolded before and even the memory sent him into a cold rage. He licked his lips and tried to articulate why it was different, why it didn't matter this time.
"Or do you just want us both to do you?" she asked when he was silent a beat too long.
Hell, that was a picture. Dave could see it, could almost feel it, Aaron fucking him like he had that night years ago, while Emily curled around him, hot and slick. He boosted her out of the tub, water going everywhere as he brought her down on top of him, dragging her mouth onto his.
"Dave," she managed, and then he didn't let her speak, kissing her until she was breathless. Her hands fumbled with his buttons and her legs were slick under his hands as he spread her. Her knees squeezed his hips and he had to get his clothes off and feel her against him. "Dave, talk to me," she pleaded. "Are you going to be okay?"
"Emily, it's going to be so hot," he promised, trying to get his pants open, get his cock free. His hands were wet and she was hot and squirming over him and none of that was making it easier. "When I watch him slide into you and know exactly what you feel like around his dick." He shifted his hand between her legs and pushed into her, demonstrating. "He can make you feel so good, I promise."
Emily worked on his pants as he stroked his fingers in and out of her and pushed them away from his dick. Dave lifted his hips and she worked them down to his knees. "Dave, the condoms," she said, and he pressed her full-length against his body.
"Fuck the condoms," he told her, because the condoms were in the bedroom, a million miles away, and he wanted to be in her now. She was on the Pill and he could set a clock by her diligence - literally, her watch beeped at nine and she had to be doing something damned interesting to not get up and take it. She still insisted on condoms and he didn't know why but he chalked it up to growing up in the eighties and nineties. "I'll pull out, if you want."
She laughed but it sounded strained. "What are you, in high school?" she asked.
"Emily, we talked about this," he said against her skin, and it was true, but they hadn't come to any conclusions. They were monogamous, they were clean, and they were using a steady form of birth control, but Emily wasn't quite ready to let go of whatever safety net condoms provided. He pushed up against her, his cock sliding against the inside of her leg, pressing against her.
"Okay," she said. "But pull out." She reached down and wrapped her hand around him and slipped just that little bit to the side and he was inside her, feeling everything.
"Oh, God, Em," he murmured, his voice hushed and reverent in the echo of the bathroom. "This is so good. You feel so good around me."
Emily closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his shoulder, and he wrapped one arm around her back and the other around the leg she had hitched over his hip. She was rolling her hips, fucking him just as hard as he was fucking into her, and he rolled her when he thought he had enough room, pressing her back into the fluffy rug and sinking deep, completely, into her. It was amazing, sinking into her again and again, and he felt the muscles in his legs and ass start to tense and shake earlier than he'd wanted.
He pulled back a little and kissed Emily's face, her cheeks and mouth and forehead, her chin, and when she still didn't open her eyes, her nose. "Em," he whispered. "It's okay, I promise." She opened her eyes then and they were wide and dark and a little wary and she looked so young he had to find her hand and bring it to his mouth. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to her palm and her wrist and asked, "Are you okay?"
She nodded, even smiled, and he had to kiss her on the mouth for that. She was tense, a little too much, and he moved his hand down stroke her clit. She shuddered at his firm touch, squeezing around him and said, "Did you feel that?"
"Yeah," he said, working his thumb in circles. "Yeah. It's good. How does it feel to you?"
"Scary," she said. "I feel naked."
Dave slowed his movements. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, reminding himself that the condoms were just in the bedroom, not really as far away as they seemed. They could relocate to the bed and they could start over again in a matter of minutes.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's okay. I trust you. It's just been...a really long time. Since I - you know." She flushed, which was completely stunning and endearing, considering what they were doing, and Dave had to kiss her again.
"I'll pull out," he promised again. He wondered what it would take to be allowed to come inside her, wondered what would convince her of the safety and security of sex without a latex barrier.
"You should come on my stomach," she whispered. "Imagine. If Hotch were here, he could lick it off."
"Fuck, Emily," Dave said, tensing and freezing over her as he waited for that effects of that image to ease. "Jesus Christ." He gazed at her admiringly. "Have I told you how in love with your brain I am?"
She laughed lightly. "Do you need to come now?" she asked uncertainly. She's squeezing lightly around him and he's not even sure she realizes she's doing it. It's amazingly good and he doesn't want to give it up just yet.
"I'm okay for a few more minutes," Dave said. He started fucking her again, building up the tension again, and slid his hand under her leg, brushing his fingers over her ass. "We could both be in you," he told her, slipping just inside. "Fill you up and - " He kissed her, sliding in deep, losing words, and just fucking her, fucking into her, feeling her around him and touching her anywhere that would make her cry out until she clenched around him, gasping and squeezing and twisting.
"Em," Dave said, dragging his mouth away from hers. "Em, hold on." He gripped the base of his cock and pulled out - it was hard, so hard, all he wanted to do was drive into her, spill inside her, and stay there, holding her close, hold them together, but he promised, so he pulled out and then her hand was on his, on his cock, her fingers sliding between his.
"Come on my stomach," she said, and he did, waves of pleasure pulsing through him as he spilled onto her pale skin. His come was thicker than the water still beading on her skin and clouded. She caught a bit on her thumb and pressed it to her mouth, which made him surge without effect.
"You need a bath," he commented, stroking her hair back from her face. He slipped his other hand into her, three fingers, and rubbed her clit with his thumb until she came again. There was a sponge-thing on the edge of the tub and he reached over, dipped it in the water, and daubed at the mess on her stomach until she took it away form him and threw it in the cooling water.
He stroked her hip, half on top of her, half curled around her. "Theresa fucked around to get back at me," he said, picking up the conversation where they'd left it. "I shut her out, pushed her away, and she fucked around to punish me. To embarrass me." He pressed a kiss to Emily's temple. "She did it because I made her hate me," he confessed. "You and Hotch...you're willing to be together because I want you to. Because I think it's hot. That's - " He shook his head. "That's so fucking hot, Emily." He sought out her hand, tangled their fingers together. "How did I ever get so lucky?"
Emily finds Dave in the bedroom nook, reading. "Hey," he greets her, glancing up over the rims of his glasses. He's so hot in those ridiculous things, Emily can't help but plant her hands on the arms of the chair and lean in to kiss him. "Hey," he says again when she's done, his voice pitched to a soft growl. He puts his book aside and Emily puts one hand on his chest and says, "Stay here."
The chair was originally some decorator piece, put in the window with a tiny table to simulate coziness. But Emily started reading there, late at night when she couldn't sleep, and Dave reads there early in the morning sometimes, and it turned into somewhere to have sex when they want something different, when one of them goes looking for the other who left the bed, or when they want to leave the shades open - the window points to the backyard and the grove of trees between Dave's house and the water of a nearby lake. Emily rummages through the nightstand to find what she wants and is vaguely aware of Dave folding his glasses and placing them on the table with his book. His eyes flicker over the items she brings back and to his credit, only looks mildly surprised. Then again, compared to some of the things she's thrown at him, this isn't that shocking.
She kneels between his legs, running her hands up his thighs and over his erection, which isn't full yet but is growing in his jeans. She opens up the fly and pulls him out, taking the head of his cock in her mouth.
"Emily," he murmurs, brushing his fingers through her hair. He likes to see her face when she does this. She glances up at him and watches how hot his eyes get as she takes him deeper, works her hand inside his pants. His fingers are gentle in her hair, his thumb stroking against her temple.
She feels bad that he's not enough, that this isn't enough anymore, except that she knows he agrees. She knows he misses Hotch as badly as she does, maybe even more.
She's not terribly gentle with him, not playing around, because she's thinking about other things, things she wants to do after this. His cock gets big in her mouth and she has to slide off a little, has to reorient. "Take your pants off," she murmurs and he lifts his hips and shoves everything down. She helps with the rest, pants and boxers and shoes and socks, until it's all cast aside, and he's unbuttoning his shirt, too. She doesn't wait, though, reaching for the things she left on the table. She rolls a condom on him, not to make cleaning up easier, but because they'd use it if Hotch were here. Condom, and lube, stroked on heavy-handedly, and his low groan at the twist of her wrist makes her shiver. She almost can't remember when it was just her and Dave, and not Hotch, or maybe she just doesn't want to anymore. She stands up and pulls her shirt over her head, and Dave strips off his own. He's naked, sitting in the chair, wearing just a condom, slicked up for her. He looks good and she feels a flash of possessiveness. He's hers, they're both hers, and eventually, they'll be together again. She leaves her bra on while she undoes her jeans and peels them down her legs. Dave reaches out, strokes her hip, and then uses both hands to work her panties down. She drops her bra and backs up to the chair, glancing around at Dave over her shoulder.
It's awkward at first, getting situated. Facing away always is, and she reaches back to help him line himself up, sliding him into her ass. He groans and wraps his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. "What is this, my birthday?" he asks.
"If it were your birthday, I'd be the one fucking your ass," she points out lightly, hooking her knee over the arm of the chair. It's hard enough in this position - he'll have to lift her - so she hooks her other leg the same way, spreading herself wide, and giving him just enough leverage to push in and out of her.
Dave laughs against her neck because it's true, and he brings his hands to her breasts, massaging them. He's going to have to grab her hips to fuck her and he's taking his time getting to that.
The vibrator's on the table, and she leans forward to grab it, but she's miscalculated and she's just that much too far away. Dave's left hand leaves her breast, his arm brushes the length of hers, and he picks up the toy and brings it to her hand without letting go. "Is this what you want?" he asks.
"Yes," Emily says, and brings it rest between her legs. Dave hasn't let go. He wants to help. Good. She slides it against her clit, then down where she's wet, slicking it up. It's cool against her pussy and she knows turning on the vibration would warm it up but she wants to get it inside her first.
Dave's fingers get there first, slipping inside her, stroking, teasing, opening her up, and when she pushes the vibrator in beside them, it goes easily. He groans again, slides his fingers out, and trails them up her leg. She thumbs the switch at the base and the buzz is sudden and harsh in the quiet of the room. She has to moan, too, because it's tight, really, everything is tight. The position, the vibrator, Dave inside her, his hand braced on her shoulder, his mouth panting against her neck.
"Is this what Hotch feels like when you're both inside me?" she asks. "Is it the same? Is it even close?"
Dave's gasp is harsh and audible against her hair and for a minute, he doesn't answer. "Hotch is bigger," he finally says. "There's more pressure because his weight's behind it. So that makes it feel tighter. But he doesn't vibrate." There's humor in his voice, if not a real smile.
"Do you want me to turn it off?" Emily asks.
"Hell, no." His hands finally settle on her hips and pull her down on him, pull her flush with his body. It burns a little, aches a little, and his grip is firm enough that she'll have bruises tomorrow, and she relishes every twinge. She closes her eyes and lets him have control, lets him fuck her, and she lets the vibrator slide out a little bit before pushing it back in. "That feels fucking fantastic," Dave growls in her ear, pushing her up. "God, Emily. You're amazing. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that?"
"Me and Hotch?' she asks, because she's determined, she's really fucking determined that there will be no worst-case scenario. That Hotch will not leave them.
"You and Hotch," Dave promises, his lips dragging against the delicate skin between her neck and shoulder. He's fucking her too hard to call it kissing or teasing - his mouth touches her skin when he thrusts in and doesn't when he draws out. "Fuck, what does it feel like to have both of us inside you?"
Emily hesitates but she asked him so it's a fair question. She turns her head to answer and she can't quite see him, but she can feel his nose and mouth against her cheek and his warm breath on her skin. "Full," she says, which seems like the most inadequate and cliched word ever. "Overflowing. Like I can't fit inside my body anymore, like I'll burst at the seams, except the two of you are holding me together on each side." She bites her lip and the vibrator slides up against her g-spot and she shudders, pulling in tighter. There's nowhere to retreat, though, no way to clench in around herself and the vibrating tip sends sine waves of sensation through her thighs and stomach. She's unexpectedly light-headed and the sound she makes almost by accident is just this side of anguished. It's deep and spreads through her body and it takes a minute to hit her clit and turn into a real orgasm with panting cries and shivers and all the rest of it. Dave holds her tightly to him while it's happening. He doesn't stop fucking her, not really, but it's just a body deep pulse - he's not drawing out, not until she's catching her breath and bracing herself on the arms of the chair.
It's not quite like Hotch being there. She misses his arms anchoring her, his chest walling her in against Dave, his mouth and eyes and the smile with the dimple that always makes her think, he's so happy.
Dave is pushing her hair over her far shoulder and kissing the back of her neck, and it grounds her enough to start rocking a counterpoint again. She fumbles for the vibrator - turns it off and pulls it out of herself a little too quickly. She could have another orgasm probably if she lets it go, but she's so tender right now and doesn't actually want to shatter and melt away like an icicle that can't keep a grip on its eave.
Dave doesn't protest. He's close, mouthing any skin he can reach and growling low in his chest. His thrusts lengthen as he moves her just the way he wants her. She can't help but moan with him. He comes with a string of "fucks" and her name interspersed. "Fuck, Em," he murmurs, a last one for each, and drags his forehead away from her shoulder. This is always the worst part, trying to find where she ends and he begins again.
She's sore when she brings her legs down and stands up, the muscles in her hips stiff. She sets her hands on her hips, where Dave's hands had been. She's a little numb, can't quite tell if she's tender there or not, although she'll guess she is. Dave is taking off the condom so she goes over to the bed and pulls down the covers and crawls inside. She aches a bit - she hasn't had a dick in her ass since before they tracked down Foyet, and she didn't give Dave any kind of chance to open her up. She stretches out on her stomach and curls her arms around her pillow, tucking her cheek in close and closing her eyes.
"I'm going to take a quick shower," Dave says, coming around to her side of the bed. She's facing the wrong way so he kisses her bare shoulder. "You okay?"
"Yeah, good," she murmurs into the pillow and he puts his hand on her shoulder, where he'd kissed, and a few minutes later, she hears the sound of the shower. She thinks about their first time together, the first time they'd sandwiched her between them, the last time they'd had Hotch with them. At the time, they hadn't known it would be the last time in...who knows how long. She takes a deep breath and listens for Dave. She wants him again, already, wants his hands on her, but she's exhausted, spent from fucking in the chair, and she feels needy, so she just hugs the pillow closer.
He comes out after a few minutes, turns off the light, slides into the bed with her. She reaches for him and he takes her hand in his and kisses it. "You can't replace Aaron with a toy, you know," he says softly, in that voice she hates. Blunt force trauma with the truth. Dave is an expert. He's usually gentler with her for no reason that she's ever been able to fathom, even before they started sleeping together. She knows he must be really concerned for her state of mind if he's trying it on her now, but that doesn't make the urge to slap him subside.
"I'm not replacing him," she says serenely, which really should be Dave's first clue. "I'm just holding his place."
Hotch had asked her to accompany him on a custodial interview in West Virginia and they were twenty miles into the return trip before Emily caved to her need to address the elephant in the room.
"Dave said," she started, and then closed her mouth. "Is it all right to talk about this now?"
Hotch flexed his fingers on the steering wheel and raised his eyebrows. Emily glanced at his hands. They were strong and careful, and she tried to imagine them on her body, parting her legs or cupping over her breasts. It wasn't difficult. She felt warm, down low, and a little breathless as she waited for him to answer.
"I suppose so," he said. "Emily," he said before she had a chance to respond, "I...didn't meant to impose...."
"No, no, you're not," she said quickly, and God, this was going to be terribly awkward. "I just wanted to make sure that, that you're okay with it."
Hotch kept his eyes fixed on the road and the muscles in his jaw twitched. "I'm okay with it," he said softly.
"Okay," Emily said and looked at her knees. "Um."
She felt his eyes slide over to her and then he said, "Are you?"
"Oh, yes," she assured him and then blushed, realizing how enthusiastic she'd sounded. "I am, really," she said. "I didn't meant to make it sound like - but I mean, yes. I do. I am. Okay with it." She bit her lip and glanced over at Hotch. The corner of his mouth was twitching. "Oh, now you're laughing at me," she said. "Go on, I can see it."
"I'm not laughing at you," Hotch said, but he did smile. It was a rare thing, to see that expression on his face, and Emily decided she didn't mind feeling silly if that's what it took. "I didn't feel right about...being with...Dave without being sure you were okay with it."
"He didn't tell you?" she asked, a little alarmed. What had Dave told him?
"He told me," Hotch said, glancing sideways. His gaze was steady, assessing, the one that used to make Emily nervous when she'd first started. "I just wanted to be sure."
Emily bit her lip and glanced at the countryside passing by her window. "When I was first assigned to the unit," she said, "I felt like I didn't belong. Like I had to prove myself. And I sought out your approval because I wanted to stay. I worked hard because I wanted you to think I was worthy of the position."
"You deserve your position," Hotch said firmly. His eyebrows knit and she could tell he was worried about her motivations.
"I know," she said quickly. "I mean, I know that now. The thing is, since I've gotten to know you, since you've become a friend, I - I don't worry about losing my place. I worry about letting you down." She tangled her fingers together, watching him frown. "I'm not doing this because I'm worried about what you think of me," she says. "I'm just trying to explain, that you don't have to worry about having a personal relationship is going to disrupt our working relationship because how I feel about you, personally, is, actually, very good for my work." She sighed, everything coming out hash. "I guess like they say in the Godfather, I'd go to the mattresses for you and - I guess in this case literally - but what I'm trying to say, is that it's because I respect you personally, not just because of your position."
"Wow," Hotch said, braking to a gentle halt at the foot of an exit ramp. He glanced over at her. "You really have been spending a lot of time with Dave if you're quoting The Godfather." He inclined his head at the McDonalds across the road to their left. "You want a milkshake?"
"Yes," Emily said, her face flaming. "Yes, a milkshake would be good."
Hotch bought them both milkshakes - chocolate for Emily, vanilla for him - and sat in the playground, on one of the FryGuy bouncy rides. Emily perched carefully on the one next to him, trying not to let herself be bowled over by the cognitive dissonance of her very formal boss - who she was going to have in her bed, with her male lover, this weekend - sitting on a child's toy in his suit.
"This is weird," Emily said.
"Tell me about it," Hotch commented. He looked at her and smiled. "I've known Dave for a long time," he said. "I've never seen him so...forthcoming."
"Well, he doesn't really have a choice," Emily admitted, taking a sip of her milkshake. The cold drink and the crisp air on her face felt good, cooled her off. "It's pretty hard to hide behavior from a profiler."
"It's good for him," Hotch agreed. "He seems happy."
Emily smiled, pleased. "I hope so," she said.
"I...don't want to threaten that." Hotch looked at her straight on, face not hidden by his usual mask. She hadn't seen that much, and she liked the feeling that Hotch was having an honest conversation with her, not as a boss but as a friend.
"You're not," Emily promised him. She moved her straw around her cup with her mouth and added, "In fact, I think it'll make him happier."
Hotch frowned. "Why would you say that?"
"Have you ever tried to say no to him?" Emily asked, grinning around her straw. But Hotch's frown just got deeper so she set her milkshake on FryGuy's head and tried to explain. "You know - I mean we both know - Dave..." she shrugged, unable to put so neat a label as "bisexual" on Dave, even if that might be what best fit, "...is flexible. And traditional, at the same time. I think it's hard for him to commit to one model and shut out the other. He's just not wired that way. And I can do what I can, but I think this way he doesn't have to have lie to me and he doesn't have to give something up, and Hotch...he wants to be with you."
"What about what you want?" Hotch asked.
"What about what you want?" Emily countered. "Being with him is important enough to you to have sex with me?"
"Emily," he said, and it was gentle and surprised and actually came with a smile. "Maybe I want that, too."
Emily knew she looked surprised - she wasn't, actually, terribly good at hiding her feelings. She hadn't really thought Hotch had ever given her a second glance. Sure, sometimes she seemed to work as well with him as she did with Dave, but he'd always been to incredibly formal....
"Oh," she said.
"I wouldn't have broached the subject," Hotch said. "I used to think that it might be nice. Someday. But I would never have put you in that position." For a moment he sounds almost stern and then he sighs and shrugs one shoulder and lifts his eyebrows in that what-can-you-do? gesture that he only seems to make in reference to Dave and says, "Fortunately, I had Dave to do it for me."
Emily couldn't help but laugh, sliding her straw into her mouth so she could finish her milkshake. When she was done and the flame in her cheeks had died down, she glanced back up at Hotch. "So you'll come to dinner on Friday?" she asked. "Dave's going to make enough food for an army. For some reason he thinks one more person means three times more food."
Hotch swung his leg over the toy until he was standing next to it and offered her his hand so she could slide off her own seat. His palm was warm and his fingers wrapped around her hand, covering it, and he squeezed. Emily felt a flush, as if he were already stripping away her clothes, already touching the skin beneath, already tangled up with her and Dave. "I wouldn't miss it," he assured her.
Oh, look, there's more!