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Where You Lead - Chapter 5

She imagines how the evening could have gone in another life. She would have probably given Aaron her number without thinking about it, probably would have kissed him too or gone home with him. Something that could have been a one-night stand she’d remember fondly or maybe even something more. He seemed like a nice guy, like someone she would have seen how things could have gone with if she was someone else.

Instead, he was someone she’d never see again and soon forget she’d ever spoken to once the guilt she felt for the way she left things had faded away.

Emily is very protective of her life and her heart, and has told herself for years that it's better if she's alone. Then, one day, she meets Aaron Hotchner and everything changes.

A Young Hotchniss AU.

-x-

Hi besties,

Thank you so SO much for the continued love on this fic so far, it truly means the world to me, and it is so motivating <3

Now this is 15k words and only 5/10 chapters in I really don't know how I ever thought this would be a short fic. When will I learn?!

Anyway, the next chapter after this one will the last one before we have a little time jump...

As always let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings and previous chapters can be found on the master list

Words: 4.3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Aaron, pay attention!”

Emily covers a chuckle with a cough as she stands in the kitchen, washing dishes after Aaron had cooked them dinner. She looks over and meets her boyfriend’s eyes, smiling when he nods as her daughter frowns at him while he closes the law book he’d been reading.

“Sorry, Rosie,” he says, hiding a smile himself as he turns all of his attention to the little girl next to him on the couch, her pink pjyamas and her braids doing nothing to diminish her authority. “How are we doing?”

Rosie sighs, rolling her eyes as she points at the puzzle of the solar system on the coffee table in front of them, “We’ve done the edges, now we need to do the inside.”

“Great puzzle tactics,” he says, leaning forward so he can help her start to pick out pieces, and he looks up at Emily, throwing a wink her way that makes her stomach flip.

The sight of him sitting on her couch, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he works on a puzzle with Rosie, his law books abandoned on the floor, makes her heart swell in her chest. It was a snapshot of something she never thought she’d get to have, something she still wasn’t sure she could have, all of it too good to be true for her to truly accept.

“Do you know it’s Mom’s birthday soon?” Rosie asks, picking up pieces of the puzzle and placing them down, her focus on the picture they were making, not the adults in the room

Aaron smiles, nodding as his eyes flick up to Emily’s, “Yes, I do.”

His answer is careful and measured. He’d asked Emily weeks ago what she wanted to do for her birthday, suggesting dinner and a movie, and she’d hesitated, her smile tight as she explained that she usually just spent the day with Rosie. Despite how kind and understanding he’d been so far, she still worried every time she pushed back on something, every time she had to remind him that their relationship would always be complicated because her life was complicated, that it would be one thing too many. As always, he’d simply nodded and kissed her, and said they’d figure something out.

Rosie had asked about her birthday too over dinner one night when it was just the two of them, her smile soft and unsure as she asked if Aaron would be spending the day with them. Emily had tread carefully, not wanting to lead Rosie either way, and she told her that whatever she wanted to do, they’d do.

“We always go ice skating, and then to this diner, their pancakes are so good,” Rosie says, smiling in victory when she finds the piece of the puzzle she’d been looking for and slips it into place, “You should come with us.”

Emily smiles when Aaron looks up so sharply that she’s sure it must hurt his neck, his eyes wide as they briefly meet hers, and she takes pity on him.

“I don’t think Aaron knows how to ice skate, sweetie.”

Rosie shrugs, “It’s okay, Aaron. You can hold our hands.”

It’s enough time for Aaron to recover, and he nods, smiling when Rosie looks up at him. “As long as you’re sure. I know it’s usually just something you and your mom do.”

“Yeah, but you’re here now,” she says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And we like spending time with you,” she looks over at Emily as she finally finishes the dishes, “Right, Mom?”

Emily smiles and nods, and she walks over, dropping a kiss to the top of Rosie’s head. “Right!” She confirms, “Now, go brush your teeth, it’s bedtime.”

Rosie groans, “But we haven’t finished the puzzle.”

Emily hums, “You can finish it tomorrow, okay? Aaron will still be here.”

Rosie sighs, but she nods, standing up to hug Emily before she does the same with Aaron, all but throwing herself at him, “Night, Aaron.”

“Night, Rosie.”

Emily calls after Rosie as she walks down the hall to the bathroom, “I’ll be there in a minute, baby.” As soon as the little girl is out of earshot, she turns to look at Aaron, and she cups his cheek, encouraging him to look up at her, “You okay?”

He nods, his surprise over how the last few minutes had gone still written all over his face, “Yeah,” he turns his head to kiss her palm, “Are you sure it’s okay that I come with you on your birthday?’

“Of course, I’ve already talked it through with her,” she says, smiling when he looks surprised, “That was her very unsubtle way of bringing it up. She said she wanted to be the one to ask you.”

He chuckles and tugs gently on her arm so she sits next to him. “I should probably get used to the two of you ganging up on me like that.”

It’s tentative. A promise of a future she isn’t entirely sure exists yet, but one that looks clearer each time she allows herself to think of it. She leans in and kisses him, and then rests her forehead against his, her eyes drifting closed as she takes a moment to take it all, to take him, in.

“You probably should,” she says, kissing him again. “I’m going to go put little miss to bed,” she says, kissing him one last time before she stands up. “Why don’t you make some hot chocolates to get us through studying this evening?” She suggests, groaning as she thinks about it, “If I pass this midterm, it will be a miracle.”

“You’ll pass,” he says, grabbing and squeezing her hand as he stands too, “You’re the smartest person I know.”

She hums and winks at him. “Not sure what that says about your graduating law school class. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Do you want whiskey in your hot chocolate?”

She laughs and turns to look at him as she walks down the hall. “I think we both know the answer to that, honey.”

___

At some point in the few weeks between her birthday and his, he tells her his mom is coming into town. At first, she panics at the thought of it, at the tone in his voice that indicates that he wants her to meet his mom.

Her instinct is to say no, to gently turn down the idea and say she’d meet her next time, but then she looks at him, sees the same nervousness in his eyes that she knows is in hers, and she says yes. He’d already given so much to her, and to Rosie, he’d been so willing to do what she asked, so she could do this for him. Even if it scared her. Especially because it scared her.

Before they go for dinner with his mom, they spend some time with Rosie at the apartment. She gives Aaron the card she’d made for him and a framed photo of the three of them from Emily’s birthday, and he says it’s his favourite present he’s ever had. The praise makes Rosie beam at him, showing the gap in her smile where her front tooth had recently come out, and she hugs him before they leave, promising she’d still be awake by the time they got home.

Even though it’s his birthday, Aaron plays music that Emily likes on the way to the restaurant. She knows it’s an attempt to calm her down, as is his hand on her knee as he drives, and she loves him for it, the words still trapped in her chest even though she could now name how she felt about him.

“She knows about Rosie, right?” She asks, thumbing the necklace he’d bought her for her birthday, the small silver R quickly becoming something that brought her comfort. It’s a conversation they’d had countless times since she’d agreed to this, but she found herself needing the reassurance, her scars from how her own parents had reacted to her having a kid feeling like they could burst open.

“I told her,” he assures her, as patient as he was the first time they spoke about it, “She knows about Rosie, and she knows how old she is.”

She blows out a slow breath, and she nods, “Sorry,” she says, “I know I’m freaking out.”

“You’re hiding it well,” he quips, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles when she playfully glares at him. “We’ll be okay, sweetheart. It’s dinner. We’ll eat overpriced chicken, make conversation with my mom, and then we’ll go back to yours.”

She chuckles and squeezes his hand. “Thank you for being…well, you.”

He winks at her as he turns off the engine, and he reaches for her hand again, linking their fingers together over the centre console. “Ready?”

She nods, “As I’ll ever be.”

As they walk into the restaurant, she sees his mom before he does. She’s never met her, she’s never even seen a picture of her, but she knows it’s her. She’s sitting at a table set for three, her hands crossed in front of her on the table, and a serious look on her face that Emily had seen on her boyfriend’s when he was caught up in studying more than once. She smiles when she notices them, a tightness to it that only adds to Emily’s simmering anxiety, and she stands, opening her arms up to pull her son into a hug.

“Aaron,” she says, kissing him once on each cheek, “Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he says, stepping back so he’s at Emily’s side again. “This is Emily,” he says, turning to look at her, “This is my mom, Catherine.”

Emily holds out her hand for her, her own mother on her shoulder even after all these years, politeness something she’d learnt before she’d had walking down. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Hotchner.”

“Nice to meet you too, Emily,” Catherine says, her smile fixed on her face as she looks her up and down, “My son has told me a lot about you.” She adds, and Emily senses the tone in her voice, and she knows Aaron does too, his hand briefly tighter around hers before he pulls out her seat for her, exchanging a look with his mom as they all sit down. “So, honey,” she says, looking at Aaron, “How is law school treating you?”

The conversation is easier than Emily expected it to be, and it makes her relax a little. Catherine asks her about college and her plans after graduation, and it feels like what Emily assumes meeting your boyfriend’s mom should feel like. By the time they’ve had their entrees, it almost feels easy. Easy enough that Emily almost allows herself to forget, just for a few minutes, that her life wasn’t easy.

It hadn’t been for a long time.

She’d tried to bring Rosie up a few times, had mentioned schoolwork and balancing it with other responsibilities, but Catherine would always interrupt or talk around it. As if Emily’s little girl was something to ignore, something that shouldn’t be mentioned.

“So,” Catherine starts, picking up her glass of wine, her lips pursed as she looks at Emily, her stare unrelenting, “I suppose I should ask what your intentions are with my son.”

“Mom,” Aaron interjects before Emily can even react, clearly having been ready for something like this, the tension that he’d held in his shoulders all night finally making itself known.

“Aaron,” Catherine says, matching his tone, We both know you wouldn’t introduce me to just anyone.” She sips her wine, “I just want to look out for you.” She looks at Emily, her lips curled into a smile that edged on being too polite, “You understand, Emily. You’re a mother too, after all.”

Catherine’s tone, the judgement in it, the contempt poorly disguised as civility, reminds her too much of everything she’d left behind. A life that she’d never enjoyed but one that had been hers, the first thing that had been hers before she had to leave it all behind so she could keep her daughter. She sucks in a breath, and it catches on her ribs, sticks to old wounds she thought had healed a long time ago.

“Yes, I am,” she says, her lips pressed together in a polite smile. She squeezes Aaron’s hand once under the table and then withdraws it. She stands, the squeak of her chair against the floor loud as she steps away, “Excuse me.”

“Em.” Aaron stands too, reaching out for her hand again, his eyebrows pulled together with concern, a hint of anger tightening his jaw, and she smiles, unsure if she’s trying to reassure him or herself.

“I just need the bathroom,” she says, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She walks to the bathroom and doesn’t look back, holding her breath so she doesn’t cry, because she’d cried too much over all of it too many times over the years. She heads for a stall immediately and locks herself in it, her head in her hands as she sits on the closed lid of the toilet, her eyes closed as she tries to catch her breath.

“Fuck,” she mutters to herself, shaking her head as she berates herself for thinking that this could ever have gone another way, that anyone would ever view her as more than the choices she’d made a decade ago. She lets one tear fall onto her cheek, and then she pushes it away. Her jaw tightens as she swallows everything back down, and she gives herself a minute, her hands fisted tightly in her lap, nails digging into the palms of her hands, knowing if Rosie saw her cuticles torn to shreds she’d know something had upset her.

She walks out of the bathroom, determined to go back to the table and spend the rest of the evening holding herself together, but she walks almost immediately into Aaron, her purse and jacket over his arm as he places his hands on her shoulders.

“Em, I’m so sorry,” he says, concern and irritation in equal measure painted across his face, “That was…”

“It’s fine,” she says, clearing her throat, “I’m fine. We should get back to your mom.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve already put her in a cab back to her hotel,” he says, and she sighs, guilt filling her lungs as she struggles to breathe.

“Aaron, you didn’t have to-”

“I did,” he says, squeezing her shoulders. “I’ve paid our tab too,” he says, “So we can go back to yours.”

She nods, looping her arm through his as she lets him lead her towards the doors of the restaurant. She casts a look back at their abandoned table, the half-finished glasses of wine and the plates from their entrees enough to paint a picture of an awkward family dinner. She shudders as she thinks of being fodder for a waiter’s story about a strange night at work.

“Are you cold?” Aaron asks as they come to a stop at the hostess stand, holding out her jacket for her to slip her arms into. She nods, even though she isn’t entirely sure how she feels, and she watches him carefully. She sees the barely contained fury in his eyes, the tight set of his jaw and shoulders, and something close to sadness pressing into his dimples, the same dimples she’d spotted in Catherine’s smile all night.

She knows this is about more than a backhanded comment that she’d been privy to, that something must have been said in the few minutes she’d been in the bathroom.

“Did she say something else after I left the table?” She asks softly, unsure if she really wants to know the answer, and his brief hesitation as he helps her shrug on her jacket is enough of an answer. “What did she say?”

He hesitates again, and smiles politely at the hostess before they leave the restaurant, the cold air making them both gasp as they walk the short distance to the car.

“It’s nothing, sweetheart,” he says, “I made my feelings clear.”

She furrows her brow as he unlocks the car and then opens her door for her, his grip on the handle so tight she’s surprised it doesn’t come off, and she keeps quiet until he’s in the car too, the engine on and the heat turned up high to defog the windscreen.

“You can tell me,” she says, “trust me when I say that it cannot be worse than what my own mom said to me,” she adds, tears that she refused to shed pressing at the back of her eyes. “Once your own mother calls you a…” she drifts off, her voice catching on the memory before she clears it, not wanting to give her mom the power to upset her still this many years later. “Well, very little hurts after that.”

He clenches his teeth, anger at a woman he’d likely never meet written all over his face that briefly replaces whatever he’s feeling towards his mom, obvious in the clench of his jaw, and he shakes his head, “Em-”

“Aaron,” she says, cutting off what she knows will be another attempt to save her from getting her feelings hurt, “Just tell me.”

He looks over at her and sighs in defeat, his head dropped low, “She told me that I should be with someone who has better judgement than someone who got pregnant at 15.”

She sucks in a breath, feeling the sharp blade of a woman she’d spent at most a couple of hours with poking at her lungs, and she chokes on a sound she can’t name.

“See,” she quips, her smile a poor attempt to cover her hurt with humour, “I told you what my mom said was worse.” Her smile fades when he looks up at her, sadness reflecting in his eyes. “She’s probably not wrong, Aaron,” she says quietly, looking away from him. “You do deserve more. Someone less…complicated.”

“I don’t want less complicated,” he says, his determination so strong, so far away from the upset she’d seen on his face just seconds ago, that she looks up sharply. “I want you. And your…amazing little girl,” he enthuses, “And she’s wrong because you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re an incredible mom, and you’re smart and beautiful, and funny. And any person on this planet would be lucky to be with you-”

“Honey-”

“And if she doesn’t see that, if she doesn’t want to be part of it, then that’s her loss,” he says, carrying on as if she hadn’t tried to interrupt him, as if he couldn’t feel her hand wrapped around his.

“Aaron,” she says, firmer this time, squeezing his hand to draw his attention to her, “You can’t cut your mom off just because she’s been a little rude to me.”

He furrows his brow. “She can’t talk about the woman I love like that and just expect me to sit down and take it.”

They both realise what he’s said at the same time, his accidental confession hanging in the air around them, caught in between the puffs of warm air they exhale in the still cold car. She stares at him, her mouth hanging open a little, willing the words to come to her, willing any words to come to her.

He recovers first, stuttering in a way she knew she’d find adorable when she looked back on this, “Shit, Em, I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“Don’t take it back,” she says, finding her voice as she cups his cheek, making him look at her, “I love you too.”

As soon as she says it, she feels lighter, as if she can breathe easier, and she wonders just how much space in her chest the confession had been taking up. Three little words that she’d only exchanged with her daughter for years, the meaning of them not halved by saying them to someone else, but doubled.

He leans in and kisses her, his lips cool against hers, the taste of the wine they hadn’t finished still lingering on them. She kisses him back, her hand caught in his hair as she holds him close, knowing on some level she’d want to look back on this, that she’d eventually forget how his mom made her feel, but she’d always remember this. Eventually, she pulls away, her forehead resting against his.

“I’m sorry your birthday ended like this.”

“I’m not,” he replies, smiling softly when he sits back, his smile getting wider when she frowns at him. He squeezes her hand and lifts it to kiss her knuckles. “I’ll never be sorry for this.”

She knows it’s not that easy, that they have more to talk through about all of this, but she lets it go for now, so she smiles at him. “Let's go back to mine,” she says. “We never got round to dessert, and there's ice cream in my freezer.”

He chuckles as he switches on the engine. “There’s always ice cream in your freezer.”

“I live with a 9-year-old,” she says. “What do you expect?”

They drive back in relative silence, her hand in his the entire way, a source of comfort for both of them after an evening that had left them both reeling. When they make it up to her apartment, she isn’t sure if she’s grateful or not that Rosie is fast asleep on the couch, the stuffed cat that Aaron had bought her hugged against her chest.

“She only fell asleep about 15 minutes ago,” Penelope says as they walk in, her voice low as she nods to the counter behind them to a slightly lopsided cake, “She wanted to give Aaron his birthday cake.”

He beams at that. “Well, cake for breakfast then, I guess,” he says, smiling at Emily, “Want me to take her through to bed?”

She nods and walks over to Rosie, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Love you, baby.”

Aaron steps behind her, his hand on her back for a moment before he leans in to pick Rosie up, lifting her into his arms as if she weighed nothing, making sure she’s safe and secure in his embrace before he stands up straight.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he says quietly, and he heads down the hallway to Rosie’s room.

Emily watches them go, rubbing the R on her necklace back and forth between her thumb and forefinger. She turns around to find Penelope looking at her, a wide smile on her face, and she tilts her head curiously at her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Penelope says, her smile somehow getting wider, “It’s just nice to see you so happy, that’s all.”

Emily presses her lips together, trying to suppress a smile that felt a little out of place after everything that had happened after dinner. “Thanks.”

Penelope walks over and pulls her into a hug. “You and that sweet girl of yours deserve this,” she says, kissing her cheek. “Almost as much as I deserve the right to say I told you so about going to that party.”

Emily chuckles, “Pen.”

“I won’t say it,” she says, holding her hands up as she winks at her, “But I should.”

“Should say what?” Aaron says as he walks back in, his eyebrow raised as they both clear their throats, cheeks bright pink like they were teenagers caught talking about a crush.

“Nothing, honey,” Emily replies, walking over to link her arm through his. “Did she go down okay?”

“She didn’t even stir,” he says. “She sleeps just as heavily as you do.”

Penelope makes a noise that could only be described as a squeal, something that she tries and fails to cover with a cough, and then she grabs her bag from the counter. “I should leave you two to it,” she says, turning to leave, pausing once the door was open. “Happy birthday, Aaron.”

“Thank you,” he says, and he smiles as the door closes, quickly followed by the sound of Penelope’s front door opening only seconds later. “Do you ever get used to her constant excitement?”

“Eventually,” Emily says, moving so she’s right in front of him, her arms around his neck, smiling as she nudges her nose against his. “So, I think we probably need to leave the cake until the morning so we don’t break a little girl’s heart,” she says, smiling when he nods, his hand running up and down her back. “But what do you want to do for the rest of your birthday?”

He hums, “What are my options?”

“Well,” she says, kissing his jaw, “I haven’t given you your gift yet,” she says, biting her lower lip when his eyebrows raise.

“Oh really?”

“Well, it’s two gifts really,” She says, pressing her lips together as she leans in. “The first part is in a gift box on your side of the bed in my room,” she says, thinking of the watch she’d found in a thrift shop, something that would have been out of her budget if it wasn’t preowned, but something she knew would replace the one he recently broke. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.

He nods, swallowing thickly, “And the second part?”

“I’m wearing it under my dress.”

She laughs when he lifts her with ease, swallowing a squeal as she remembers Rosie was asleep down the hall, and she wraps her arms around him as he carries her to her room.

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