Author's Note: I decided that I really enjoyed the Finding a Tree in the Forest world. It's a fun, more lighthearted universe, so my brain's been going crazy with other ideas there. I actually started THREE other stories already! This is the first one to get finished.
So this is Hotch and Em later on Valentine's night. It's "post festivities" but Emily does make reference back to said festivities, therefore, ratings wise this would probably be considered a warm T. It's certainly not an M, I've written M (Second Chances for instance) and this is just more along the lines of the level of the "risqué" you'd get from a CBS sitcom. That's just a heads up in case you care about those things, but given that I have over 18,000 hits on Chances, I'm thinking most of you don't :)
Total Side Note: Speaking of CBS sitcoms, the rerun of Paget Brewster's appearance on Two and a Half Men was on this weekend and all I could think was how awesome it would be if they brought back her character again but she brought Thomas Gibson with her as the hot new boyfriend to make Alan jealous. And I'm not just being pie in the sky crazy, because the producer who does Men, is the same guy who did Dharma and Greg. So unless the relationship between those guys ended on a totally horrible note I'd think they might go for it. And the network could get one of their little cross promotional show things they like so much. It seems like a win for everyone. And personally, I LOVE the idea and I just have no idea how to pass this to anyone who could possibly make it happen :)
Prompt Set # 15
Show: 7th Heaven
Title Challenge: When Bad Conversations Happen To Good People
Finding a Naked Man in Your Bed
Emily's eyes popped open and for a second she had no idea where she was. Then she felt the warm body wrapped around her and she smiled. That's right.
Hotch's place after an UNBELIEVABLE night of completely hot Valentine's Day sex! The things that man could do with his tongue and a container of Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream, whoa!
She didn't think she'd ever be able to walk into a Ben & Jerry's again without blushing.
Though . . . she snuggled back against him . . . she'd had her own fun with the Vanilla Carmel Fudge. Really . . . her lip quirked up as she thought back a few hours . . . that Carmel Fudge was fun for everyone.
And then . . . her expression softened . . . he'd brought her into the shower and he'd washed her clean as he told her again how much he loved her. And that even without making love, that she'd been bringing him happiness for years.
And then he took her again right against the soapy tile wall.
It was awesome.
And as much as she wanted to stay wrapped up with him now . . . he was a naked Hotch, who WOULDN'T want to stay wrapped up with him(!?) . . . she'd woken up because she had to pee.
And she was thirsty, but mostly she had to pee.
She moved her hand up to cover his arm where it was wrapped around her waist. Then she tried to slowly disentangle herself, but the moment she moved he tightened his hold on her as he murmured something unintelligible.
Though the words may not have been clear, if what was pressing into her back was any indication Emily was pretty sure he was having a very good dream. And sure enough when she turned her head and whispered to him, "what did you say Aaron?" he murmured back, "I said no Emily, we can't use cottage cheese. It's not the same as whip cream," and she started to giggle.
Well, at least his sex fantasies were about her. Though . . . her nose wrinkled distastefully . . . even in her dreams she couldn't imagine thinking cottage cheese would make a good substitute for whip cream.
Though . . . her eyebrow quirked up as she finally got his arm to loosen on her waist . . . maybe the kind with the pineapple chunks would work.
That was sweet.
Hmmm . . . she walked over to grab his robe off the chair . . . maybe for his birthday they could try that as a healthy alternative to ice cream. He was almost fifty and should be watching his cholesterol. Besides, mixing sex and food really was much too messy for a regular occurrence.
It was a special occasion activity.
Though . . . she leaned down to kiss his forehead . . . that didn't mean all of the other stuff he did was off the curriculum.
Absolutely not . . . she cinched his robe as she started out the door . . . because for a man as intense as Aaron Benjamin Hotchner, sex wasn't just a fun activity. It was task that he brought his laser sharp focus to again . . . and again . . . and again . . . and . . . phew . . . Emily fanned herself as she walked down the hall.
Okay Em, enough! Wait until you're back with the naked man again before you get yourself all worked up.
Trying to put all thoughts of her new lover's incredible extracurricular feats out of her head, Emily made her pit stop in the hallway bathroom.
The one in the bedroom was of course closer but she was already leaving the room to get a drink. And really, she just wanted to let him sleep for a little bit longer before she found a good way to wake him up again.
Something much better than a flushing toilet.
After she finished her business, Emily continued down to the kitchen to get a glass of cranberry juice. She'd made sure that Hotch had picked it up when he got the ice cream and the whip cream because as they say, "it's all fun and games until somebody comes home with a yeast infection."
Okay . . . she bobbed her head back and forth as she took down a glass . . . they probably don't say THAT, but really . . . she unscrewed the bottle cap . . . they should.
Just to be safe she drank two servings of juice . . . they did use a lot of whip cream . . . before she went over to fill her glass with water. Just as she turned on the tap she heard Hotch's sleepy voice behind her, "what are you doing up?"
He'd rolled over in bed to find a rapidly cooling spot where he'd fallen asleep with a gorgeous brunette in that same place. And that was no fun at all.
Emily shot him a smile over her shoulder, "ensuring that all my girl parts continue to stay in good working order."
For a second Hotch stared at her in bewilderment and then he took in the glass she was filling and the bottle of juice on the counter and his lip quirked up, "ah, I see." He went over to wrap his arms around her from behind, "that's a good reason to be up," he kissed the side of her head, "because I have to say, I've become quite fond of those girl parts."
He was actually MORE than fond of all of her parts . . . girl and otherwise. But it would be unfortunate if they had to curtail all of those activities so quickly after those activities were placed on the agenda.
And then Emily turned around in his arms, leaning up on her tip toes to kiss him . . . yep, he smacked his lips as she pulled away . . . that would be a damn shame.
Emily was pleased to see that he'd only pulled on his boxers. Now that she had full access to him it was nice to see that what she'd (occasionally) imagined was under those suits MORE than lived up to her fantasies. So as she sucked down her glass of water her other hand scrubbed across his chest.
But then when he leaned down to start nibbling her neck, she paused in her water sucking to say on a gasping breath, "not yet sweetie, I'm going to have to pee again in ten to thirteen minutes. And that's probably going to be a really sucky point to have to stop whatever you're thinking about starting up right now."
Hotch pulled back and wrinkled his nose, "good point." And then he watched as she downed the last of the water in her glass. His lips twitched as she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.
"Another," he asked with amusement as he took the glass from her hand.
In response to Hotch's inquiry, Emily simultaneously patted her belly and shook her head.
"No thanks, I'm good. That was number three. If I try to ingest anymore liquids I'll probably spring a leak like a garden hose."
At least with all the liquids she was pretty much guaranteed that everything would stay in tip top shape though.
Hotch chuckled as he put the glass on the counter beside them, "okay then, I guess it is best that you stop now. I'm not sure I have enough duct tape to seal you back up if that happens."
She smiled as she pushed herself up on her tiptoes to kiss him again.
Hmm . . . she mused to herself as he put his hands on her hips, lifting her slightly off the ground to get a better angle . . . she really was going to have to think about some of those ankle breaking heeled slippers to make this spontaneous kissing in her bare feet thing less of a production.
It had been years since she'd regularly had a man around the house.
Or more specifically . . . he pulled her up into a hug and her arms wrapped around his neck as her eyes tracked over his shoulder to look at the green tile kitchen . . . been a woman around the man's house. So she honestly couldn't remember her prior footwear choices in these circumstances.
Though as she thought back she remembered that her last steady boyfriend was 5'10 and Hotch was 6'2, so yeah, that would explain the mechanical difficulties here.
She rested her head on his shoulder . . . well "difficulties" was probably overstating.
This being lifted up thing . . . she felt his hand rubbing along her back . . . was very nice indeed.
Hotch patted her back before he whispered, "so what do you want to do until your next trip to the bathroom?"
An odd inquiry perhaps . . . it was certainly the first time he'd asked a non-pregnant woman that question . . . but it had already been established that anything that could lead to sex was out for at least the next ten minutes.
And he had a gorgeous . . . essentially naked . . . woman in his arms, so he was definitely looking to have sex again after their ten to thirteen window had passed. And if he succeeded in persuading her that this was a good idea, then he was going to try and break his own personal record this evening.
Or at least his record since he passed forty.
But the clock said it was almost one so they'd been sleeping for at least three hours, and he figured that meant he was good for one more round before he passed out unconscious for six hours and woke up drooling on Emily's perfectly shaped naked breast.
"Hmm," Emily murmured against Hotch's bare shoulder, "let's get my dessert out of the fridge and go wait it out in the living room."
Hotch chuckled as he put her down before slipping his arm around her waist and walking them over to the refrigerator, "you're counting this as dessert." He smirked as he pulled the box of fried oysters from the lower shelf, "were you going to put some whip cream on them?"
As those words passed his lips his brow suddenly wrinkled as he almost remembered something . . . something to do with cottage cheese. But then the thought floated away again.
Eh . . . he placed the box in the microwave as he shook his head slightly . . . probably nothing.
Emily patted his stomach as she gave him a saucy smile, "we used up all the whip cream. And besides," she watched as the numbers counted down from forty, "I just said we had to be good for ten to twelve minutes," her fingers dipped into the waistband of his blue plaid boxers, "I didn't say I was planning on being good after that."
His hand quickly moved up to still her wandering digits as he looked down at her with an amused smirk, "I see, and we got the oysters because . . ."
She grinned, "I decided on those rather than the apple crumble because I wanted to guarantee record breaking activities this evening."
It had admittedly been a tough call. She did love a good apple crumble. But apple crumbles came and went, multiple orgasms were forever.
Well . . . she bopped her head slightly on Hotch's chest as he grabbed the box out of the microwave . . . at least they were if you did them right.
And . . . she kissed Hotch's shoulder as her hand absentmindedly slid down his stomach again . . . he most DEFINITELY did them right!
Hotch's gaze shifted down to hers as he said drolly, "sweetheart, you're really going to need to keep your hands out of my shorts if you'd like to have any fun later. Because I'm not sixteen and you've got one more ride tonight. If you break the car before you get on the rollercoaster I won't be able to refund your money."
God, she probably would have broken him when he was sixteen too!
Emily started to laugh as she pulled her wayward digits up to cooler climates, "sorry honey," she wagged her eyebrows, "you're just so hot I can't keep my hands off you."
Truer words had not been spoken.
He snorted, "flattery gets you nowhere until mother nature makes her call, so," he put the food on the table as he dropped down onto the couch and pulled her into his lap, "try and be good until she gives you a ring."
"Okay," she smiled softly as she shifted in his lap, brushing her fingers along his cheek, "I'll be good."
His lip quirked up and a second later Emily snuggled her head under his chin and slowly let out a breath . . . she couldn't believe she was here with him.
All these months . . . years, her brain corrected . . . years alone and then suddenly she had this.
Her hand rubbed slowly along his chest . . . him. She had him.
It was like playing the lottery for years and always coming up short. And then suddenly you win the jackpot . . . she felt his lips press against her temple . . . and nothing's ever the same again.
Hotch closed his eyes as he felt her settle against his chest . . . so soft, and she smelled so good. And they were lying quietly for a couple minutes before his mind began to wander away from the woman in his lap and he whispered, "how do you think Reid made out tonight?"
After seeing him and his date in the restaurant, Hotch was pretty sure the kid was a lock. He and Emily had been amazed to see that . . . from across the room . . . she seemed to be hanging on his every word.
And Spencer had CLEARLY been excited about whatever it was he was talking about. Which meant that it could have been anything from the technological inaccuracies in artificial intelligence as demonstrated by the last Terminator movie, to the fact that he'd successfully calculated (down to three packets) how much Splenda the team would use on the plane over a six month period.
Emily . . . though she thought his guesses on conversational topics were on point . . . Reid was quite excited about that Splenda thing . . . had wanted to move closer so that she could actually hear for herself what they were talking about. But then Hotch pointed out that if they were seen then they'd have to explain what it was they were doing out together on Valentine's Day. And that he was fine with that if it's what she really wanted, but he wasn't the one that had to sit in the bullpen.
To that she'd muttered, "oh crap!" right before she knocked him flat to the ground.
Honestly, he never saw it coming.
One second he was standing there with his arm around her shoulders, the next, she'd elbowed him in the side and tackled him to the ground. He hadn't thought she was capable of taking him down, but it had become clear that when properly motivated, Emily could do anything.
And when he'd looked up at her, stunned at the position he'd found himself in, he'd responded in an indignantly harsh whisper, "what the fuck?!" And she'd sheepishly apologized, "well you reminded me about the bullpen and I flashed on the hell Morgan would make my life if he knew we were having sex. And then it was like he knew I was thinking about him because it looked like he was starting to turn his head so I um," she attempted to brush some of the muddy slush off his shoulder as she finished awkwardly, "panicked."
Hotch's gaze had run over the half dozen horrified couples staring down at them supine on the floor. And then he looked back at Emily and said drolly, "well you covered it well."
So after they got up and brushed themselves off . . . and some strange woman had taken the smashed crouton out of Hotch's hair . . . Hotch had tucked Emily behind him so she could peek around his arm. Then he himself moved slightly to a discreet point behind the dividing panels heading towards the kitchen.
His theory for that location being . . . beyond the occasional glance to the front door . . . the guys would be MUCH too interested in their dates to be concerned with scoping out the room.
And Hotch had come to this conclusion as their dates had chosen matching red and hot pink neckline plunging strapless dresses as their attire for the evening. Therefore Hotch saw NO reason at all that his agents' gazes would be wandering from the impressive expanses of cleavage in front of them. Really he'd had some difficulty pulling his own eyes away.
It was like staring into an eclipse, he was transfixed in a kind of awed horror. Though he knew it was dangerous . . . his gun toting new girlfriend's actual WEAPON was pressed against his side . . . he STILL couldn't look away!
That was until Emily elbowed him sharply in the ribs and he'd "oomphed" in pain right before he caught the dirty look she was giving him. Then . . . though he had claimed ignorance of what the problem was . . . she'd grabbed his tie as she dragged him over to the counter to pick up their small take out order all the while muttering, "I think that's enough espionage for one evening."
And he could see that even now she was giving him a suspicious eye as she sat in his lap.
"Been thinking about the Landers sisters have you?"
As soon as she'd seen his eyes popping out in the restaurant she'd been regretting their little side trip to Georgia Brown's. No woman likes to see the man she's about to have sex with ogling a couple of hot blondes just before they get naked!
Not that she thought Hotch had REALLY been thinking about those enormous breasts while he made love to her, but she would have probably been happier if she could push that little annoying voice out of the back of her head that reminded her that he was practically DROOLING when she shoved him out the door.
His lips twitched, "uh, no. For one thing the Landers sisters are probably at least sixty years old,"
Seeing from the look Emily was giving him that his joke had fallen flat as a pancake, Hotch quickly added, "not that I was thinking about Derek and Spencer's dates either. Why would I be? Clearly those women's bust lines were freakishly out of proportion for their physique," he shook his head vehemently, "that's not attractive at all."
Oh Aaron . . . he cringed internally . . . that was WEAK! It's very unlikely that she's going to buy that you don't like large breasts!
But unfortunately it was the first thing that popped into his head. And though it was a bit flimsy, he still hoped it would be sufficient to brush over what he'd thought was just a slight faux pas.
But then he saw Emily's eyes widen indignantly before she huffed, "so obviously you WERE thinking about them," then her brow knitted together as her tone got louder, "and are you saying that I have SMALL breasts!? Because I'll have you know that men LOVE my breasts!" she poked her finger in his chest, "I've received more lewd motorboarding offers than you can shake a stick at mister!"
And as she went on to point out the number of ways she'd been sexually harassed over the years Hotch gulped . . . clearly he had not fixed it. In fact . . . he cringed as she outlined the offers she'd received from a construction crew the week before . . . things had suddenly taken a very bad turn.
Really Aaron . . . he berated himself for his idiocy . . . what in GOD'S name made you think bringing up the hot blonde twins was going to help get you laid again tonight?!
STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!
And realizing from Emily's efforts to now push herself off his lap that if he didn't fix this that not only was he not getting any more sex, but he was quite possibly going to be sleeping on the couch, Hotch knew it was time for decisive action.
So he went straight to the topic of the conversation as his hand slipped inside her robe to gently caress her bare breast. That caught her attention and she stopped wriggling to get out of his arms as his thumb rubbed slowly over her left nipple.
Once he saw that he had her full attention . . . she had stopped talking and was biting down on her lip . . . he said softly, "your breasts are perfect Emily. Perfectly proportioned, perfectly shaped," he leaned up to kiss her before he whispered against her lips, "perfectly you. And I'm sorry for being a complete idiot and making you think otherwise. Because obviously," his hand moved off her breast and up to touch her cheek, "you are the only woman in the world that I want."
Emily's eyes started to sting as she turned her cheek into his hand. Then she gave him a sheepish smile as she whispered back, "sorry, sometimes I just get a little," she cleared her throat, "well, I was a late bloomer and I guess sometimes I still feel like that geeky, too skinny, too tall, flat chested girl that was just trying to find ways to make the boys like her." Her eyes started to get shiny, "I did some things then that I'm not very proud of so I guess that's kind of made those years of insecurity stick with me long past the point where I should have let all that stuff go."
She'd never told Hotch what had happened in Italy. After Matthew died it wasn't anything she wanted to talk about again. But as she saw the compassion on his face she realized that was a conversation they were going to have to have at some point. If he wanted to be involved with her then he deserved to know why . . . in part . . . she was so fucked up when it came to relationships.
Not that she really had low esteem, it was just that sometimes those feelings of inadequacy would come roaring back up out of nowhere and catch her off guard.
Hotch just stared at Emily for a moment before he cuddled her to his chest, fixing her robe shut again as he leaned down to kiss her cheek, "I'm sorry sweetheart," he said softly, "maybe someday, if you're comfortable, we could talk about that time," he placed his hand on top of hers and intertwined their fingers, "it might make you feel a little better."
Though he knew Emily had issues when she was younger, they'd never had more than superficial conversations about her teen years. Where she was living at different points, when they moved back to the States, that kind of thing, but he did know that there was a lot of scar tissue there.
Of course he would not have associated that time with his foot in his mouth comment tonight, so clearly there was more scarring than he had previously realized.
Feeling her eyes start to get watery at his sweet offer, Emily quickly blinked the tears away. Then she nodded, her cheek rubbing against his bare chest, "yeah," she cleared her throat as she squeezed his hand, "I think I'd like to do that."
With an ache in his heart, Hotch wrapped himself around her, trying to make her feel warm and loved . . . something that clearly she'd been missing over the years. Something . . . his free hand moved down to rest on her hip . . . that he was going to have to be mindful of moving forward.
After they had been lying quietly on the couch for a few minutes, Emily said quietly, "as to your question earlier, Spencer got laid. No doubt," she tipped her head back to give Hotch a little smile, "that chick was looking at him like he invented the push up bra."
Once she'd had a few more minutes to think about it . . . it helped having Hotch pressed against her from head to toe . . . she'd realized that her bit of jealousy there was kind of silly. Hotch was gorgeous and smart and funny. And God knows . . . she thought back over the years . . . he could be quite charming when he set his mind to it. So clearly this was a man that could have a hot young blonde with freakishly ginormous tits if he wanted to have a hot young blonde with freakishly ginormous tits.
But he didn't . . . her eyes crinkled as she felt the vibration of his chuckle through his chest . . . he wanted her. And just because she'd had crappy luck finding the good guy, didn't mean that she didn't deserve the good guy.
It was just after so many years of kissing those frogs . . . she squeezed his fingers again . . . it just might take a little while to adjust to having her own Prince Charming.
Hotch laughed, "I concur. But I'm sure either way that Morgan will have the whole story tomorrow."
The gossip train in the BAU moved faster than it did in the secretarial pool. But as long as he and Emily stayed off of it then Hotch had no problems getting a bit of amusement occasionally hearing about the off duty activities of his coworkers. Also, he was pleased from Emily's demeanor now that she seemed to have passed whatever little demons were bothering her earlier.
Not that she needed to have teen trauma issues to react the way she did . . . he rolled his eyes . . . because there probably wasn't a woman on the PLANET that wouldn't have reacted badly to having other women's breasts brought up while she was sitting naked in her boyfriend' lap!
Again . . . STUPID! So yes, as had been demonstrated to him on more than one occasion today, he was CLEARLY out of practice with the whole relationship thing.
But . . . with a sigh of contentment he kissed Emily's temple . . . he couldn't be more ecstatic about the opportunity to get back in the swing of things again.
Emily rolled over in Hotch's arms and then pushed herself up to straddle his lap, "okay," her lip quirked up, "mother nature is calling, so," she leaned forward to smack a quick kiss to his lips, "you go warm up the bed and I'll be along in a minute."
Hotch's mouth quivered slightly as he sat up, "yes ma'am," and then he helped her off the couch and bounded up himself.
YES! MORE SEX! HIS FOOT IN MOUTH DISEASE HADN'T FUCKED UP THE EVENING!
Just as they stepped out of the living room and into the hall, his head swiveled to look back at the uneaten oysters on the table.
"What about your snack?" His eyebrow went up in amusement, "you know the oysters to ensure record breaking activities?"
Emily's mouth quivered as she looked at him for a moment before her eyes dropped down to the slight bulge in his shorts, and then back up to his eyes again, "it looks like you're doing just fine without them, yes?"
"Oh yes," he said emphatically before he pulled her into a searing kiss. And then . . . nibbling slightly on her lower lip . . . he murmured, "I'm doing just fine."
The woman was so sexy she could be bottled as her own aphrodisiac!
Emily let him play for a minute before pulled back with a gasp, "okay then," she laughed as she patted his chest, "you throw those in the fridge for tomorrow night and I'll meet you in two minutes."
Hotch didn't need to be told twice as he smacked her lightly on the bottom, "got it," and he turned to run back to the living room to grab the uneaten food.
Again, he'd nearly ended up on the couch so he definitely wanted to get things moving before he did anything else stupid tonight.
Emily watched him go with an amused smirk before she turned and continued down the hall to the bathroom.
As he placed the take out container back in the fridge, Hotch's eyes caught sight of the Sex by Chocolate Body Paint Emily had also picked up at Georgia Brown's. It was a special for Valentine's Day.
Hmmm . . . his fingers ghosted over the label . . . yes, no . . . he bobbed his head trying to decide.
And then he heard Emily calling seductively from the bedroom.
"Why am I the only one naked in here?!"
Her words resulted in a little twitch down below and Hotch pulled his hand back from the jar . . . might as well save that for a really special occasion. He slammed the door shut.
Like Arbor Day.
Then he spun around on his heel and started to sprint down the hall.
A/N 2: I know I wrote this but I still chuckled to myself at the idea that Emily was looking for low cholesterol alternatives for Hotch to lick off her body during sex. And Georgia Brown's was selling chocolate body paint for Valentine's Day so that was real.
And I had a few requests to follow up with H/P's spying so hopefully that covered a bit of it. If you want to see anything else feel free to ask. Like I said, this is a fun world. And one of the other stories I've started will probably be up later in the week. It's a prequel to Valentine's Day, a few months earlier where Hotch gets a hot new assistant and Emily gets ridiculously jealous.
So next here in this world is: "Finding a Place to Dump the Body"