Author's note: Super-short story. It kind of just popped into my head. I might do a Hotch version, with Emily thinking things about him. But I'm not too sure...what do you guys think? I think I do longer stories better...I hope it's good, though.


He was sitting on the couch, stretched out after a long day. A book was perched, opened about 56 pages in, lying on his stomach. His arms resting as a pillow behind his head. He was starting to doze off. "Shit." Emily cussed. He opened his eyes, blinking at the ceiling.

He rolled his eyes, chuckling. "Did you slam your finger in the drawer again?" he called out to her.

She stayed quiet. That meant yes. He laughed to himself. He laughed about her. She walked into the living room, in one of Hotch's old gray college shirts and a pair of knee-high socks. Her hair's down and bouncy and flow-y and everywhere. She had on black-rimmed glasses. He smiled at her, watching her as she crouched down, sorting through old DVDs on the shelf underneath the TV.

He loves the way she wears glasses. They're kind of dorky big glasses, but he loves them. He loves the way she waited until their fifth date before showing the glasses to him. He loves the way she puts on contacts if she's going out. He loves the way she groans when the sun's coming up and the way she rubs her eyes when she's tired, smearing her makeup all over her face. He loves the way she falls asleep on his chest and makes noises like he's bothering her as he carries her to bed. He loves the way she gets annoyed when her hair is all in her face. He loves the fact that she's stronger than him; he loves the fact that she inspires him to be a better man. He loves the sweet and gentleness she carries. He loves the way she can flirt her way out of a situation, and the way it benefits them when he needs it but hates it when she uses the trick on him.

She picks out a DVD, stares at the disc strangely. "Lemme guess," he said, laughing, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb. "You placed the wrong disc in the wrong case?"

She nodded, frowning at the disc. She snapped the disc shut and shrugged. "It's a CD," she headed towards the stereo and the top flipped open, then she placed the disc in. Soon slow music started streaming from the speakers. "I'm getting a beer, you want one?" she shouted over the music.

"Sure." he nodded. She came back, sipping hers, swaying her hips to the music as she handed him his. She put hers down on the coffee table, then ran and slid her way down the hallway. He laughed out loud.

He loves the way she slides in the hallway in her socks. The way she listens to slow music and lights candles when she's alone. The way she makes a mess of her closet when she's trying to decide what to wear. The way she almost always spills the nail polish and cusses. The way she looked embarrassed the first time Hotch heard her swear. The way she can't cook for the life of her, but can grill steaks pretty accurately.

He stares at his beer and takes another cooling sip. Thinking about his life since Emily walked into it. Or, to be more specifically, since they started seeing each other. He saw life differently. He started laughing more. He certainly smiled more. The little things, like taking photos in a photobooth at the mall or trying on funny costumes in stores with Jack is something she liked doing. Things Hotch never really did with him before.

She came back into the room, turning the volume up as another slow song poured through the speakers. She fell back on the sofa, landing on his lap. She stretched out on top of him, putting his book on the coffee table. She swung her arm around his stomach, squeezing him like a big stuffed toy.

He loves the way she steals the covers. The way she stumbles in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, mumbling stuff all he way there. The way she breathes heavily in his ear when they're making love. The way she slings her leg over his legs unknowingly when she's asleep. The way she fidgets in her sleep.

He smiled at the memory of their first night together. "What?" she asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head, running his fingers through her thick hair. "Just thinking."

She eyed the book on the table. "About the book?" she asked.

He smirked. "No, not that."

She spotted the smirk. "Oh my God, are you thinking something dirty?" the way she said dirty made him laugh again.

"You're perverted." he said.

"You're horny."

"No, you're horny."

"Hm." she paused, then shrugged. "Maybe."

He laughed again. He loves her blunt honesty. Her dry humor. Her sarcastic wit. Her laugh. Her smile.

He couldn't imagine Emily not being complicated and indescribable and all of these things. She's everything mixed in this one chaotic colorful bowel of messiness and laughter and happiness. She's a good mother to Jack. She's a roaring laugh and dirty jokes and smiles and chick flick nights with JJ and Garcia and quiet when she's PMSing and happy when she's got free time to be alone.

He wishes he has her strength. Her humor. Her smile. Her ability to charm anyone. But being graced with her presence and love is just as good, if not better.

"You're cynical." she added.

"No, I'm in love."

She paused, looked up and smiled. That wasn't even beginning to express what he was thinking, but ah hell, it'll do.