Chapter Text
Emily rubs her eyes as she waits for the toast to warm up, the chatter of her family behind her slowly drawing her out of sleep. Jack is halfway through telling Aaron about an upcoming field trip and Lucy, apparently, has had enough of her father’s mediocre French-braiding skills.
“Mommy, he’s not doing it right!” She announces in a loud breath, cutting over Jack.
Emily turns around just in time to see Aaron’s face fall. She bites the inside of her cheek, hiding a smile that’s half exasperated, half amused.
They’re sitting at the kitchen table, Jack rolling his eyes at the interruption and Aaron’s hands tangled in dark, half-braided hair, the strands slipping through his fingers as Lucy twists to complain to Emily. “It’s impossible.” He grumbles quietly, his brows drawn in a confused frown.
It’s not, and she told him that, which meant he just had to try.
“He’s trying, baby,” Emily placates, grabbing the toast when it springs up from the toaster. She sets the plate down on the table, the unsophisticated breakfast about all she could manage with her sprained wrist. Emily pours Jack’s apple juice and slides it to him, briefly feeling grateful for his own short hair as he takes it without complaint. When she does the same for her daughter, Lucy barely gives the juice a second glance.
“It’s too loose,” she whines to Emily, her hazel eyes growing shiny beneath the curtain of hair that slipped from the braid. Behind her, Aaron looks like a kicked puppy, his own eyes signaling help. Emily sighs and looks down at her watch; they’re dangerously close to being late.
“Can we just do a ponytail for today, ma belle?” She murmurs, running her fingers through the loose strands around Lucy’s face. Half her hair wilts out of the braid, the other half hopelessly tangled as Aaron sighs and lets go. Emily bites back a smile at the defeated look on his face.
“I don’t wanna ponytail.” Lucy scowls. She looks remarkably like Aaron; the same furrow between their brows, the same stern hazel eyes—a Hotchner staple, it seems.
“Not even one with a bow?” Emily tempts, already moving to stand next to Aaron’s chair, unraveling the braid and slowly de-tangling Lucy’s hair with her fingers. They’d already had this dispute earlier, before Aaron piped up and suggested that he braid Lucy’s hair, claiming he’d seen Emily do it so how hard could it really be?
Apparently, quite.
Lucy pauses. Then, “Auntie Penny’s bows?”
Emily can practically see the frown lift. She nudges Aaron’s shoulder with her hip, almost tasting their victory. “Yeah. You’ve been wanting to wear that purple one, haven’t you?” She gathers the dark hair into her palm.
When Lucy mumbles something in return, Emily knows this battle is won.
By the time they’re in bed, both Emily and Lucy have forgotten about the fiasco. True to the fickle nature of 6-year-olds, her tantrum was a thing of the past the moment Emily clipped the bow into her hair, her pouted lips rising into a smile.
It seems, however, one person still remembers.
Aaron sighs into Emily’s hair, his brows still creased. “I don’t like making her upset,” he murmurs.
Emily’s chest grows impossibly warm. Smiling, she reaches a hand up and presses her thumb to the wrinkled skin between his brows. “It’s not the end of the world if she doesn’t get a braid, Aaron.” She whispers, flattening the creases before cupping his face, gently stroking his jaw, “You’re sweet, though.”
When he hums, she feels it in the tips of her fingers. He stays quiet for a beat, thinking, before he whispers, “Think I could try on your hair?”
Emily scrunches her nose. “On my precious tresses? No, you’ll tangle them up.” She teases, though she knows if Aaron took up braiding, he’d be as meticulous at it as he is in every other aspect of his life.
Probably not at first try, though.
“I won’t,” he promises. “I’ll follow one of those tutorials on YouTube. And you can guide me. Please?” He says earnestly. He turns to kiss her palm. “For Luce.”
Emily hesitates at his sincere tone. God, she hates it when they turn those pleading eyes to her; from Aaron to Jack to Lucy. She never stands a chance.
With his hair gently hanging over his forehead and his eyes painted gold in the soft light of her bedside lamp, Emily can’t refuse, especially for something as simple as a braid.
Sighing, she begrudgingly agrees. “Fine.” She grumbles. “For her.”
____
1
“Damn it, Aaron!” She hisses, closing her eyes against the searing pain when he pulls too tightly at her scalp.
“Sorry!” He immediately lets the strands go loose, though Emily’s head still aches.
“Gentle.” She grumbles over the chirpy instructions of the woman on Jack’s iPad, her own braid halfway done where Emily’s is a tangled mess.
“Sorry, hon,” he softly kisses the nape of her neck. “I’ll do better.”
____
3
Aaron’s hands pause in her hair.
She’s immediately suspicious. “What?”
“Uh,” he grimaces at the lopsided crisscross on Emily’s head. Is he supposed to go over or under now? “I think I lost the strands.”
Emily’s shoulders heave as she blows out a sigh.
Aaron frowns at the difference between Emily’s braid—if it can be called that—and the instructor’s. He lets go of it, her plait melting into the rest of her hair, and grabs her comb again.
“One more time,” he murmurs, paying no attention to the clock as it strikes closer to twelve, his brows furrowing in concentration as he gently de-tangles Emily’s hair.
____
6
Emily grabs the ever-growing hairball next to her thigh.
“I’ll be going bald,” she sighs morosely, making a face when she feels a particularly hard tug near the nape of her neck. “I hope you’ll enjoy sleeping next to your bald wife.” She throws over her shoulder.
“Stay still.” Aaron scolds, albeit quietly. “I almost got it.” He crosses a frizzy section of Emily’s hair over the other; half the braid has come undone around her head and she’s tucked the strands behind her ear like overgrown bangs.
“Yeah, I bet you do.”
____
-
“No more.” Emily yawns, cupping the back of her sore neck and gently tilting it to the side. She faintly hears a crack.
“Just one,” Aaron pleads. He places his hands on her shoulders and feels her melt into his chest as he turns his head, kissing her temple. They’ve long since memorized the YouTube tutorial—if Emily has to hear Nicky’s voice one more time, she’ll smash the damn tablet.
“It’s almost midnight.” Her voice is edged in a whine as she runs her fingers through her dry, frizzy hair.
“Please.” Aaron prods softly. Another kiss, to her cheek this time. “It’ll make her so happy, Em.”
She lets out a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “You’re giving me a massage after this.”
“Deal.”
____
8
Emily shifts between Aaron’s thighs as his hands still in her hair. He fiddles with the ends of her hair before she feels something gently hit her back.
“Aaron?”
“That definitely looks braid-like.” He says, sounding mildly sure as he looks between Emily’s hair and the iPad.
Thank f*cking god. “Take a picture.” She tells him, her voice buzzing with impatience.
Aaron does, and when he shows it to her, she’s begrudgingly impressed. “It’s not even fully lopsided,” Emily says, smiling at the way it tilts to the left at the beginning but then straightens out. “Rough start, but you pulled through.” She grins and escapes from his lap—her prison for the last two hours—turning to give him a kiss.
“Good job, honey,” she murmurs, patting his cheek before collapsing onto her pillow. “Now can I sleep?” She demands, her lashes long as she looks up at him.
Aaron smiles as he sets away the iPad and the comb. “I guess you’ve earned it.”
A pillow slams into his face.
****
Trudging into the kitchen, Emily squints as the bright sunlight assaults her eyes, throwing Aaron and Lucy into sharp relief as they sit at the table. He’s halfway through braiding her hair, his forehead creased in concentration.
“—now I’m ready to add in some more hair here from the side.”
Emily yawns, then glares at Aaron. “Are we not done with her yet?”
He doesn’t look up as he smiles. “Didn’t want to mess it all up.” He looks critically between the iPad and back of Lucy’s head.
“Daddy’s braiding my hair!” Lucy beams widely. Her dimples sweetly dig into her cheeks, a far cry from yesterday’s scowl.
“Just stay still, honey.” Aaron murmurs. Even from the distance Emily can see how gentle he’s being, his grip loose on Lucy’s hair—after one too many yanks on Emily’s scalp.
Her lips twitch into a smile. “I can see that.” She walks over to them and lowers the iPad volume. “I think we can do without this, though. I heard her in my dreams.”
Aaron chuckles but doesn’t look up. “She was in mine, too.” He says absently.
Emily gasps. “Aaron Hotchner.” Lucy looks up curiously and she lowers her voice to a whisper, “Another woman in your dreams?” She arches her brow, dismayed. “Guess you won’t be sleeping next to your bald wife after all.”
He coughs out a laugh as Lucy pipes up, confused. “You’re not bald, Mommy.”
“Trust me, I was about to be.” All for you, Emily thinks as she taps her scrunched nose.
But in the end, when Lucy squeals happily at the sight of her braid and jumps into Aaron’s arms, her grin wide, she thinks it’s worth it. Even when her daughter comes home with the braid nearly completely unraveled and even when she starts favoring Aaron’s braids, long after Emily’s wrist has healed.
