Leap year (…if I fall asleep here?)
The first time she asks him, he laughs, explicitly telling her it's not going to happen. The second time, he settles on humming— her stubbornness almost wears him out, and the third time he gives in; she has always had that hold on him.
The two times Emily begs him to sing for her, and the time it happens without her needing to ask
Old Hotchniss oneshot that to this day remains my favorite, I had so much fun writing it! (And editing it slightly now)😁
His eyes were set on her, her head laid on his lap and her locks tangled between his fingers. She was the only one paying attention to the movie playing on the screen, or at least appearing to be— he observed her with a smile, lights prancing around her face with luminous shades of color the open screen projected onto it. Her long eyelashes, which usually reached to touch the spot below her eyebrows, were now almost meeting her lower eyelid, close to contact and shut, but opening again with unnecessary resistance.
His fingers massaged her scalp, and strands of her hair followed the direction of his every motion as he combed through it, seeping into her soft ends the smell of butter and popcorn she would undoubtedly complain about if she weren't as tired.
Encased in three different layers of warmth over her skin— a grey throw blanket that coated her body, a hoodie she stole from his wardrobe, and his hand that kept trailing underneath it— he skated along her curves and raised his hands slowly to let his fingers brush her ribs just below the skin her bra was supposed to cover— it was now left free for him to explore, her flesh warm, and her breathing steady as her chest rose and fell along with the rest of her body.
"Just stop fighting it and go to sleep" he sighed.
She was rejecting the urge to rest her eyes, like she always did when they watched something at his place. Normally, he enjoyed watching the exact moment his girlfriend's eyes shut closed, but he knew he didn't have that privilege tonight— not when they had to be up earlier than usual for a meeting with Strauss.
They were going to tell her they were in a relationship, and while that terrified both of them, they also anticipated it— eager for the moment they wouldn't have to pretend they were nothing more than two coworkers, to act like they weren't itching to touch each time they 'accidentally' bumped into each other in the office kitchen to make coffee, or to ignore every instinct in their bodies to protect the other.
Aaron knew he would be the one having to wake her up tomorrow, and he really didn't want to handle grumpy Emily, especially when he was aware she would blame him for keeping her up.
Which wasn't true! It never was true, to be more specific... and now he would make sure it wouldn't happen. He really didn't want to cancel the meeting with Strauss because Emily broke up with him and now he had nothing to report— which sounded dramatic, but so was she in the early morning.
"I'm not tired!" she affirmed, though her tone belied it. Her head slipped from under his hand, and she turned to look at him, resting the back of her neck where her cheek used to rest.
"You’ve been yawning the entire movie" He chuckled, tucking hair behind her ear and smiling down at her, his eyes studying the creases his sweatpants imprinted onto her temple and cheek.
"That’s because it was painfully boring. Seriously, never letting you pick again" She rolled her eyes and turned her face back to look at the open TV, now more energized since he seemed to wake her up. "Emily, you picked it" he replied, pulling his hand from under her shirt to push the hair away from her neck.
"Really?" she asked in a mocking tone as she pretended to be clueless. "I don't remember doing that" she finished teasingly and shrugged a shoulder.
"But you know what would really help me fall asleep?" She pulled herself up, her hands on top of his thighs as she pushed her body straight. Aaron smiled; that mischievous glint in her eyes scared him more than he cared to admit. "What?" He asked without much choice
Emily settled on top of her legs, her heels sinking into her backside as she wiggled excitedly and reached to frame his face. "If you sang to me."
Aaron lowered his head, escaping her grasp as he burst out laughing, missing the way her expression changed and her smile turned into a dissatisfied pout. But her discontent quickly turned to determination— she crossed her arms as if accepting the challenge to force him to comply. "Absolutely not!" he chuckled, looking back at her.
"Come on!" She dropped her hands and slapped her thighs with her palms. "You have such a beautiful voice."
Emily thought it was the first time he ever refused anything she asked.
Early in their relationship, she called him in the middle of the night and told him she couldn't sleep because she was hungry, and he just grab his keys and drove to her place, never telling her 'I told you so' as they ordered food from the 24-hour Chinese restaurant she had previously preferred to skip before he dropped her at her place.
She would pull him into a packed dance floor in a crowded club he was dragged into, and he wouldn't even complain! And she would beg him to wear the most ridiculous costume ever made, which she had given him for Halloween, and he would wear it just to make her happy when showing him she got herself a matching one.
The lengths he would go to keep that smile on her face were immeasurable, or so she thought... She found it strange that singing was where he drew the line.
"You've never even heard me sing! What are you talking about?" His voice still held traces of the laughter from before, his lips a thin line as he tried to suppress a smile and avoid upsetting her again, but the dimples peeking out on either side of his cheeks gave him away.
"Deep voice, a soft lullaby and boom! You'd sound like Elvis!" she encouraged, reaching to grab his face again and climbing onto his lap. She would never admit it to his ear, mostly because it would only make him more reluctant to the idea, but it was something Penelope had drummed into her head.
Three glasses in, trying to pry for more details about their more intimate experiences, asking questions about their sex life— questions Emily never gave direct answers to and preferred short, vague comments that only piqued her nosy friend's curiosity— she would carry on, vocally questioning if his voice got lower when he said her name while they were "doing the nasty." Emily just laughed, keeping the answer only to herself, but that seed had already been planted, and since the answer to Penelope question was no mystery to her, she found herself turning to a different angle.
A new wonder blooming in her mind, would he sound the same if he sang?
His laughter was the opposite of his voice, a high-pitched tone that made her uncontrollably join him, as if it couldn't be coming from the man she knew— time and time again being caught unprepared for the tenderness of it, how much it softened his every feature and how it sounded identical to that of his three-year-old, Jack.
She was yet to find out if his singing voice would surprise her just as much.
"Or..." he said the word slowly, moving his hands from her waist to her cheeks. "You could just close your eyes..." he ran his hand over her face, forcing her eyes to close. "And rest." He finished, kissing her forehead before she could shake off her surprise or his hands.
"You're no fun!" she whined, untangling her leg from his thighs and sitting beside him with her arms crossed over her chest.
"So I've been told." He pulled her to his chest, lifting his legs to stretch over the sofa comfortably. "But I still love you." She remarked as she settled on top of him, her head over his heart.
Of course, they would find themselves in that cursed place again.
Aaron navigated through clean corridors and repetitive painted walls that resembled a dull maze, anxiety gripping him like a deadly virus, inflicting his veins and permeating into his bloodstream. His palms gathered sweat as he clenched them tightly after returning his badge to his suit's inner pocket. The floor he was sure he would trip over and fall was polished to the point he could see the square-shaped fluorescent lights reflecting back at it like a mirror, the same was his own image thought the fear on his face was distorted as he picked up his pace while searching for her room.
'314, 314, 314, 314' he repeated in his mind, his eyes following the command in search of the number. He wouldn't need that for long; her voice was like a firework being shot to indicate the right direction in the tangled maze he got lost in. He felt his whole body loosen, an exhale leaving his mouth along with every trace of panic that had taken over him— he began following her voice.
Doctors and nurses he had desperately needed guidance from moments ago now flooded the hall, forcing him to step back occasionally and slowing his progress to her room, which sucked! But he bit his tongue and smiled tightly with the politeness he found difficult to maintain until he finally reached the door.
Barefoot and wearing a white gown with patterns of blue dots, she argued with her nurse, one hand holding onto her IV pole and the other attempting to snatch the bag from the young blonde's hand, a plastic bag with her clothes.
"Emily, please let the poor woman do her job" he requested from the doorway. The nurse let out a discreet sigh of relief and seized the opportunity while her patient was unfocused, hurriedly exiting the room with the plastic bag in hand, shooting him a grateful but exhausted smile.
"Thank goodness you're here, Aaron!" She sighed and wheeled the pole carrying bags that pumped fluids into her veins toward him. "Get me out of here!" she said through gritted teeth, glaring at him as if he were the cause of it.
Which was amusing to him, considering the heart attack she almost caused him by getting into an accident. JJ's voice when delivering the news was still fresh in his mind, and he was glad to hear their unsub was dead—something just beyond justice was served. "Not happening."
"But I'm fine!" she exclaimed, wincing as her own voice attacked her head. Aaron tilted his head. "Oh! Well, if you're sure, I'll go get the nurse for your discharge papers." He pointed his thumb at the exit and pretended to be heading outside to fulfill exactly what he said, a rather theatrical gesture, one that Emily rolled her eyes in response to.
"Don't laugh at me! I was hit by a truck!"
Aaron sighed, the reminder making him abandon any further sarcastic comments. Her face was still swollen; a nasty bruise had developed just below her hairline, purple and red mingling in a mix he found revolting. Her eyes, however, looked as strong as before, determination shining through her black eye and deep bags. "Please, just get in the bed." He shook his head, pointing at the cold mattress she had jumped out of, the thin fabric she was supposed to cover herself with half-thrown, its edges almost touching the floor.
"They ruled out a concussion. I don't understand why I have to stay here" she complained. "Just please... let's go" she said quietly, tears framing her lids.
Aaron sighed. He was no stranger to her obvious aversion to hospitals, something he shared as well. He wanted to reason with her, tell her the doctors hadn't finished their tests, claim he wasn't the one they found in a wrecked car, unconscious in a pool of blood— even though he could hear her voice replying, "It wasn't my blood!" as a defense, as if the other things he listed were less concerning.
But he couldn't be a hypocrite; he knew he might have reacted worse, though he would never admit that to her.
"I really thought you were gone" he reached out and cupped her face, smiling as she huffed at his comment, her leg bouncing impatiently against the floor. "So I'm sorry, honey, but we're not going anywhere until the doctor tells me I shouldn't be worried about losing you to some internal bleeding or something." He finished with a gentle smile.
"But I feel good" she said desperately, her tone making it sound like a question— she tried to sound confident, trying again to convince him even though she knew it was futile.
"Lay down and rest. You need it." He kissed her lips lightly and watched her turn her back to him as she strode to her bed, her gown exposing her back slightly, revealing new marks added to her skin.
"Lay with me" she moved to the side to make some space for him. "Aaron, please." She stretched her arm out to him, her eyes pleading. He wanted to refuse, but he knew he couldn't, and if he was being honest with himself, he couldn't bear the thought of being away from her tonight.
"Am I hurting you?" he asked as he settled beside her in the hospital bed. Her hand instantly wrapped around his torso, and her cheek snuggled into his chest.
His fingers hovered over her shoulder and arm, almost floating over her skin, attentive for any hidden injuries he wasn't aware of. His eyes followed the wall clock as time passed and her breathing turned steady. He kissed the top of her head delicately and sighed; he hated that they were in this place. It pained him to see her looking so weak and worn out after getting hurt on the field as often as she did.
Sometimes he wished he could take her away from that world, a wish that made him feel ashamed knowing the happiness that job brought her. But how could he feel guilty for wanting her with him forever, without ever fearing for her life?
He recalled the first date he had after the divorce with Haley was finalized, before he met Emily. He remembered how he had walked away and practically ghosted the poor woman Dave set him up with the moment she told him she was a cop— a foreign fear he had never felt before made him face the idea of going through the same thing Haley did. He liked the woman Dave introduced him to— liked her so much that he was ready to go on another date, but he found it hard to follow through.
And if that thing with her turned real, would he be able to breathe knowing that at any second he could get a call telling him she was wounded or worse— killed doing her job?
So he gave that up, and maybe that made him selfish— to be willing to subject women like Haley to that fear, but refusing to get a taste of what it was like and experience it himself. For months and through many other failed dates, he carried that selfishness with him, unwilling to let it go and free of any guilt when he agreed to meet women with normal, safe jobs.
Falling under Emily's spell was something else entirely; every part of his heart attached to each of her fingers making it skip a beat with every tug of hers— a shy smile, a long gaze, and a lingering touch. He had no choice but to give up that selfishness, stop overthinking it, give his heart to her completely, and prepare to risk it all.
"Aaron?" she called quietly.
"Yeah, sweetheart?" he replied, surprised she was still awake when he was almost falling asleep himself.
"Will you sing to me now?"
He scoffed and kissed her head again. "No."
"That's not fair! I always sing to you!" she argued, sounding less sleepy now as she raised her face to glare at him. Aaron captured her chin and smiled. "That's because you have a great voice." He pulled her closer to kiss her lips, not feeling any hint of urgency to repay her for the nights she calmed him down after one of his nightmares or sang into his hair when he felt unwell.
He would do that for her if he had the talent; he was sure she'd be nice about it too. But he would never risk humiliating himself in front of her, letting it be just another thing her friends would coax out of her with tequila shots.
"I won't be able to sleep here" she whispered against his lips. "Please?"
"I don't sing, Emily" he repeated.
This made her shake his hands off from around her body and attempt to sit up like him. "I just got into a terrible accident! You can't say no!" She raised her eyebrow.
"I'm going to be your wife! Are you really going to refuse your wounded fiancée's wishes?" she asked, cupping his cheek with her hand, the engagement ring she'd probably threatened the nurse into giving back now projecting its cold nature onto his skin.
"Sing to me" she begged, and Aaron sighed; his wife-to-be's stubbornness seemed to double.
"I can hum" he stated, his gaze making it clear he wouldn't offer anything more. The brunette tilted her head; a quick flash of disapproval appeared in her eyes, but that didn't last. She rested her head back on his chest.
"Close enough" she smiled, feeling victorious. "Now hum me to sleep, please." She dragged out the word and placed her arm back around his stomach.
He began humming against her head, a strange vibration that made her feel drowsy, spreading from the crown of her head that lay on his quivering chest to her feet.
He gazed at her with a smile, his arms folded over his chest as he leaned his shoulder against the door frame. Large pillows hid the headboard, and her back was against them. She sat cross-legged on the soft mattress, flipping through something Aaron still couldn't make out.
She smirked, feeling his gaze but refusing to meet it, and Aaron was aware of it, yet didn't seem to want to point that out.
The curtains above her head were drawn to opposite sides, leaving a clear view of the vistas the city offered through the clear windows. Blurred and distant glows tinged with yellow and orange illuminated tall buildings, the lights shining through unveiled windows, making the buildings seem like Christmas trees wrapped in a necklace of tinted lights— the night sky was a spectacle of endless stars adorning the firmament, sneaking through grey clouds and gathering around its biggest jewel, a bright full moon.
Her lamp was on, letting its light illuminate the space and casting shadows that danced across the walls with each page turn she made. She looked as if she were a moment away from drowning in the soft bedding and full pillows. Strata of blankets, which she always tossed away from the bed at night, now covered her thighs, the materials nearly swallowing her frame and taking her away from him.
"How are you feeling?" he asked finally, stepping into their bedroom. Emily looked up from what seemed like a book and smiled at him. "Much better."
He believed her, she did seem better, although he didn't know if he could really compare the image of her pressed over the toilet, vomiting and falling on the floor with a sweaty face and tears in her eyes, to the sight of her fresh out of the shower, without any light to highlight her tired eyes and shrunken face.
Throwing up seemed to be the worst part of being sick—a devil-made mix of everything you experience when feeling ill in one single symptom: tiredness from having to bolt out of bed in the middle of the night, headaches from the lack of food you couldn't eat because of the abrupt change in your stomach tolerance, and the almost complete inability to move out of bed to do anything you used to do.
It took him longer than it should have to convince her to finally get some rest and take a break from working. He stopped feeling bad about it when she stopped looking like she was on the verge of passing out every time she stood up too quickly.
"I made dinner. Do you think your stomach can handle my pasta?" he questioned.
She clicked her tongue. "It just settled, so I won't risk it" she replied with a gentle chuckle. "But I'll try it tomorrow." Her hopeful eyes finally met his.
"Do you want me to make you some ginger tea?" He still didn't move from his place, as if joining her in bed would actually ruin her. "I'm okay, honey, I promise" she assured him, never getting used to the feeling of being so loved by someone.
"What are you looking at?" he asked, getting closer to her and standing just next to her head. "Our wedding album" she gazed up at him with a grin.
"Look how beautiful I was back then!" she said, sounding almost distant. Her comment made him laugh. "Emily, we got married two years ago. You look exactly the same" he said as he settled beside her at the edge of their bed.
"You're just saying that, but I appreciate it" she stated, sighing as she looked at the pictures. She was in his arms, his hands around her stomach with a smile plastered on her face while his was buried in her neck. The photographer captured the exact moment it happened, when he made her laugh while his lips attacked her neck. The entire night he whispered in her ear that her scent was driving him wild.
"I mean it" he observed her trembling smile, her skinny finger stroking the picture of them with Jack, whose smile was bigger than theirs. "I already married you, honey, no need to lie anymore."
He chuckled, deciding to ignore her comment. "Are you sure you don't want anything? A cup of tea? A glass of water, maybe?" Emily closed the album and exhaled as she looked at him with teary eyes. "What did I do to deserve you? My knight in shining armor." She laughed and kissed his lips.
"I don't need anything, I just want you here with me. I'm tired" she whispered, her thumb brushing his bottom lip. "Okay." He nodded, swinging his legs up to slip underneath all the blankets. Emily let out a triumphant smile and slowly moved to rest on top of him, sneaking between his legs and closing her eyes, content with how familiar the sensation of his warm chest against her cold cheek was.
"Are you comfortable?" he kissed her forehead.
"I've never felt more comfortable than I do right now, in your arms" she murmured into his shirt.
"I love it when you get cheesy" he teased, his chest jerking with the chuckle he released. Emily smiled, listening to his heartbeat. "Of course you do."
Aaron adjusted the fabric against her back, his hand, in a reflex he would never get rid of, making its way down her spine, lifting her shirt to trace up and down, drawing patterns and writing prayers on her sensitive muscles and bruised skin. Every bone was felt under his fingers, every rib obscuring the softness of its path to her shoulder.
"You're making me sleepy" she whispered, only he capable of making out the things she said these days with her quiet tone.
"Do you want me to stop?" he offered, but he felt her snuggle deeper into him. "No, please keep going."
So he did, his fingers continuing to caress her flesh, a touch that ran back and forth without stopping, a merciless repetition that he couldn't give up on. Aaron let his other hand sink into her tender head, brushing through her thin hair and withdrawing his hand to watch his fingers entwined with the fine strands of what used to be full, healthy locks of dark brown curls.
Now her hair twisted and coiled between his fingers after abandoning her scalp, light, weightless, and threatening to soar into the air with the next shaky breath he would let out.
He cried quietly, hot tears rolling down his cheeks, and to stop himself from sobbing until he had no air, he found himself doing something he never believed he could— he sang, soft Spanish songs he never realized he knew the words for.
It used to be nights like these, him in bed after catching the same virus Jack had gotten from school or feeling lightheaded after a night out with the team in a bar he had forgotten the name of— tunes and lyrics he was never awake or sober enough to pay attention to were now leaving his lips.
The same way they used to leave hers when she sang him to sleep, stroking his eyebrow until he turn still, her voice had penetrated through the clouds of his dreams, familiarizing him with the song. Aaron was never aware of the meaning or knew if his pronunciation of the words was correct, but he didn't seem to care; the unheard melody was enough. The single words he managed to capture were as clear as the tears in his eyes, words like "amor" too important for him to ruin.
He continued singing, ensnared in the melody playing in his mind, playing with her precious hair like guitar strings.
She insisted on keeping her hair, in her words, it was like giving up the last piece of who she was, the last memory she had of the person she used to be. Emily preferred the traumatic sight of her fallen hair to the unfamiliar reflection she would meet in the mirror if she let it go.
"Em?" he whispered tenderly, but she didn't answer; she had fallen asleep.
"I love you, baby" he cried into her head, his sniffing filling the silence, but she wouldn't say it back now; she couldn't fill it with her voice instead.
She wouldn't try his pasta the next day; she lied, and he believed her. She would never have the answer to her mystery— never know how he sounded when he sang, when it was his turn to soothe her with their favorite lyrics. She wouldn't open her brown eyes the next day, and she'd never have the opportunity to tell him just how much she loved him and how happy she was that it happened just like this, like she wished for: to disappear when he was holding her, in their house, in their bed.
He should've stayed selfish.
areudirty
dededos
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baratheonpilled
