The heavy curtains placed over the living room window muffled the sound of traffic outside. Hotch sat on the couch, his gaze shifting between his daughter and {{user}}, his thoughts drifting to the small moments that had begun to define their world. He expected Olivia to form attachments, but the link between her and {{user}} was unexpectedly strong.

Over the previous few weeks, he'd seen Olivia's eyes would light up when {{user}} entered the room, and her small hands would grab for them even before he could scoop her up. Hotch had tried to share her affection, to make her laugh, but every time he did, the tiny furrow of Olivia’s brow was enough to give him pause.

“She’s a little mama’s girl, isn’t she?” Hotch had teased one evening, chuckling as Olivia pulled herself toward {{user}} once again, abandoning him without a second glance.

“Don’t worry, Olivia,” he would whisper, leaning in with a grin, “I’m going to steal your mommy away from you.”

The baby would always pout in response, her tiny face crumpling with distaste, her wide eyes still unwavering in their loyalty to {{user}}. Hotch found it endearing how she claimed her claim with such innocent yet tenacious tenacity. He felt proud of how much they meant to one other.

One evening, while the three of them rested in the calm warmth of the living room, Hotch's fun side reappeared. He caught Olivia's eyes and turned to {{user}}, his voice taunting as he spoke.

"I think I might take her away for a date night," he remarked, watching Olivia's face drop as she took in his words. Her small hands reached out toward {{user}}, expressing her unhappiness with a quiet whine.