4Author's Note: Random oneshot I posted on Tumblr a million years ago. Posting this now because the world is a big, flaming garbage ball of germs and terribleness and maybe this will help for five minutes.
Set after episode 4.23, "Roadkill." Please use appropriate safety measures at all times, such as seatbelts. Also, face masks and staying six feet away from people.
It's late when they get back from Oregon. Hotch tells them all to get some rest, that they don't have to be in before noon the next day. There's a scramble to grab their things and get out of there, but Emily watches as he trudges up the steps to his office, not quite masking the pain he's still feeling.
She ducks into the kitchen and when she returns, the rest of the team has cleared out, the only illumination coming from the lamp on her desk and the glow from his office. She sighs softly as she climbs the stairs, and her heart clenches just a little when she gets to the doorway, his head resting in his hands, the tension in his fingers giving away the severity of his pain.
"Here," she says quietly, and he jerks his head in surprise, hissing softly. She places a cup of tea on his blotter and beside it, a white tablet. "T3. I had some left from after Colorado. It'll help."
"I'm fine." His voice, though, is strained, betraying his insistence.
"No, you're not. I know you haven't taken anything, and I also know you lied to the team about how badly you were hurt."
"Prentiss - "
"Quinn ratted you out. He said you could barely move after the crash." She places a gel ice pack on the back of his neck, prompting another soft hiss from him, but she holds it in place. "So you have two options: let me take you to the hospital for a head CT or quit acting like a baby, take the pill, and let me drive you home."
"Those are my only options?"
"No, there's the third option. You do a hundred pushups to prove you're fine and I'll leave you alone. "
He moves his arm slowly, bringing it up to take the ice pack, his fingers warm against hers for a moment before she withdraws. "How do you know I can do a hundred pushups on a good day?"
She snorts. "That's rhetorical, right?"
"I need to finish some of this paperwork before I take anything."
"I'll take care of the paperwork. You can even sit next to me and criticize me while I fill it out. Take the damn pill, Hotch."
He does, albeit glaring at her from the corner of his eye while he does so. "Happy?"
"Ecstatic. Get your coat."
She's not exactly glad that he's moving stiffly as they head down to the garage, but it's gratifying to know he's not trying to hide it from her. At least not anymore. He winces as he climbs into the passenger's side door, and without thinking. "Before I lose my faculties, how am I supposed to get to work in the morning?"
"Same way you're getting home. You probably have a concussion. You don't actually think I'm leaving you alone tonight, do you?"
He sighs. "I don't need a babysitter."
"I'm not a babysitter."
"What it seems like."
She starts the car and backs out of her parking spot, hand automatically resting on the back of the passenger seat as she watches behind her. When she's cleared the car beside her, she lets her hand drift to the clutch, briefly brushing his shoulder on the way. "You really need to work on accepting the help of the people around you, Hotch. We all watch one another's backs. We're friends. Friends take care of each other when one of them plows into a truck."
Confident as she makes herself sound, she's actually a little elated when he mumbles his concession. Truth is, she's not always sure he considers her anything beyond his subordinate. Their relationship's improved since she started at the BAU, particularly since she refused to sell him out to Strauss, but still - he's not exactly the type to wear his heart on his sleeve.
It's also a little hard to judge given her own rather complicated feelings towards him. She's never been blind to the fact that he's attractive, but after New York, she'd felt something a little deeper than simple concern, and ever since, she's noticed things about him that she probably shouldn't be noticing about her boss. Or her friend, for that matter.
She's incredibly good at compartmentalization, though, so it's been stored in the recesses of her mind ever since it began to bother her, and now, she's struggling to keep it there, because he'd gone and nearly died. Again.
"Thank you." It's mumbled, and she can't decide if it's because he's embarrassed to be saying it or because the pill is kicking in or both, but hearing him say it sends warmth flooding through her veins and she hopes to hell that his mind is clouded enough from the medication that he doesn't notice her blush when he reaches over to touch her hand, so hesitant she's reminded of the first boy who tried, a lifetime ago, when UNSUBS and life-or-death choices weren't even on her radar.
"You're welcome," she tells him, and out of the corner of her eye, she thinks she actually sees a flicker of a smile on his face.
She has to wonder how long it's been since someone took care of him.
