MR PICKLES' FAULT

PROMPT: The Pom Pom Incident (Sabrina, the Teenaged Witch)

Hotch blew on his hands for the millionth time. Washington could get bitterly cold when it really wanted to, and apparently, tonight was no different. Still, he'd promised Emily a nice, quiet, romantic walk since their last case had seemed to run her more ragged than the rest of them. But Emily was uncharacteristically late. He was about to pull out his phone to call her when two arms slipped around his waist. "I was starting to get worried."

"Traffic was brutal getting back to my place," she answered. "Or I would have been here sooner."

"Did you find some place to park?" he asked as he turned in her arms.

"Took the subway," she answered.

He could tell. Her nose was adorably red as he took in the fuzzy pink hat and mittens set. When he saw her scarf, his eyebrows knit. "You have a matching set." It was one JJ had gotten her for Christmas.

She blew out a breath. "I gave it to my neighbour, you know the little seven-year-old? She said she liked it."

Hotch smiled. That was his Emily. Everyone else came first. He flicked one of the only blue pom pom on the scarf poking out from the neck of her coat, then he took her hand. "Of course you did."

She fell into step with him easily. "She seemed to need it more than I did."

"Where did this one come from?" he asked.

"I've had it for ages. I think since I was about sixteen," Emily replied. "Actually, I think it was a gift from one of my friends. Apparently I don't do a good enough job keeping myself warm."

"I don't think I'd mind tonight."

She laughed. "You know, if you want a cuddle all you have to do is ask."

"You wanted a romantic walk, I'm giving you a romantic walk," he replied, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Cuddling will come later."

She popped up on her tip-toes, kissing his cheek. The Hotch she'd grown to know as they started spending time as friends and then, as more, was totally different than the Hotch in the office. The stoic man disappeared the minute he stepped out of the office, though Emily had started to see it sneak into his daily life. JJ had once qualified it as the fact that Hotch was growing to see that he didn't have to be two different people. It was only after JJ's words that Emily started seeing her Hotch slide into the BAU's Hotch. It was good for him. It was good for the team. It was good for them.

"Can there be hot chocolate involved in our cuddling?" she asked, looking up at him.

He flicked a finger over the tip of her nose. "If you'll add milk to mine," he bargained.

"Mmm," she said, tilting her head to the side. "I have cookies from Caroline, does that count?"

Caroline was the cook at her father's house and Emily had been visiting her father before they'd been whisked off to Kentucky by a God-complex stay-at-home mother.

"Fine, I'll add my own milk."

Emily laughed as she wrapped her arm around Hotch's back. "After I see Lincoln."

Hotch shook his head. He'd never understand why Lincoln's memorial calmed her, but he kissed her temple. "Of course."

Later that evening, after sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial for almost forty-five minutes and cuddling down under Emily's absolute favourite and her softest white blanket, Hotch stroked Emily's hair. "Your scarf has one green pom pom."

Emily tilted her head up where it rested on his shoulder with a grin. "It was a replacement. I figured if I couldn't match the colours exactly, it might as well stand out."

"So it's not a metaphor?"

"For my oddball ways, of course not," she replied. She sat up. "See, my dad's… third trophy brat had this cat that hated me. And I mean hated me."

He wrinkled his brow. "The cat ate your scarf?"

"The cat ate the pom pom off my scarf. Alice freaked because then her beloved Mr Pickles got sick," Emily answered. "They were going to do surgery if the pom pom wasn't coughed up or didn't make it through his system."

"And?" Hotch asked as he pulled her back into his arms. He didn't' like it when she was that close and he wasn't holding her.

"No surgery. But Alice asked Dad for a divorce about a week later. I found out that it was because Dad took my side in the whole incident, and blamed the cat. I guess Alice hated me too."

"You were okay with that?"

"Let's just say the feeling was mutual. But Dad learned, and now he has Gail so I can't complain," she replied.

"And Gail is…?" Hotch asked.

"Number…five, I think," Emily answered, her brow wrinkling. "Ironically the only woman he hasn't married."

"Marriage isn't all bad," he said.

She paused before responded. His fingers had starting stroking the ring finger of her left hand and Emily found herself wrinkling her brow. "I didn't say it was," she replied quietly. "Just because it didn't work for my father doesn't mean it won't work for anyone else." Her heart was starting to pound. Were they about to have a conversation about marriage because one of her father's wives' cats ate a pom pom on her scarf?

"I can see myself getting married again."

They were. They were seriously going to have a conversation about marriage because Mr Pickles ate one of her pom poms. "I haven't thought about it," she told him honestly. "I've never had a reason to think about it."

He hummed in his throat. "Would you think about it?"

Emily shifted, straddling his lap and letting the blanket fall from around her. "That depends."

"On?"

"Would I be considering marrying you?"

Hotch arched an eyebrow. "Did you have someone else in mind?"

"Well, see, there's this guy in the Bureau that I've had my eye on. He's so handsome, tall, dark and handsome... Unfortunately he's my boss, so I'm not sure he'll ever make a pass at me."

His chest vibrated under her hands with his laughter. "Who knows, maybe he returns this attraction of yours."

"In which case, you have competition for my hand in marriage," she replied, sticking her nose in the air.

"Em, seriously," he said, voice quieting as his face fell. "Would you consider it?"

"We'd have to talk about it," she replied just as quietly, her fingers brushing against the short hair at the back of his neck.

"You don't sound so enthusiastic."

"Marriage is a dangerous thing in my family. I love you, there's no doubt about that, but marriage is something that we... I need time to think about it and I need time to absorb it," she tried to explain.

"It's not just about permanency," he responded. "It's about the legal advantages, and it's about being have to give you a concrete name I'm proud of."

"Girlfriend doesn't work for you?" she teased, knowing full well he hated the word. He thought it belittled her and made their relationship less adult than it was.

"I don't want to rush you. I love you and I'll wait for you to think about it. I'm in no rush, Emily," he replied, cupping her face in his hands. "But I do... I want to call you my wife. I want everyone to know that you're mine."

Her grin was wide. "I'll think about it. We'll earmark the conversation for a later date."

"Consider it earmarked," he said with a chuckle as he kissed her nose.

Emily glanced over her shoulder. "Our chocolate is probably cold."

"Then maybe it's time for bed," Hotch suggested, dropping his hands to stroke along her thighs.

"Maybe it's time for bed," she agreed. She pushed herself up and held out her hands for him. "Come on, Agent Hotchner. It's bedtime."

This was not my original idea for "Pom Pom" and I have another JJ/Rossi version that I'm working on, but this came to me, then evolved into a conversation about marriage that I didn't want to become a proposal.... The things we want our stories to be.

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