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The first time it happens, it’s just a formality.
He’s still a rookie security detail, trying to keep his eyes narrowed and back stiff as he watched the flock of people engaged in seemingly pleasant conversations in Ambassador Prentiss’ sprawling, white marble ballroom (because of course, she would have one).
The hall echoed with the soft clinks of champagne flutes and a swarm of voices, overlapping and falling over each other. There’s mellow classical music coming from the string quartet that had been stationed in one corner and there’s the occasional laugh from the sea of chiffon and organza dresses and sharply tailored suits.
The Annual Benefit Gala was a usual occurrence at the Prentiss manor, where national delegates and United Nations representatives would gather, and some would give long-winded speeches about how their backroom politics were beneficial to the lives of many, almost like an event purely meant for patting each other on the back for writing self-serving policy papers and engaging in cutthroat career politics.
Aaron had never been one for politics. He’d much rather spend his time taking a nap or even watching horrible science fiction films than be here, posted in one corner, dress shirt buttoned up to his neck, collar tight, keeping his eyes strained on the throng of people meandering around the hall.
Specifically, one person in attendance who he’d now lost sight of.
He cursed himself mentally for losing track of her. He’d only had one job for her three-month return from college.
Keep your eye on her, and make sure she doesn’t get in any trouble, because if she does, you can kiss goodbye to the FBI.
Aaron grimaced internally, remembering the snide voice of Ambassador Prentiss when assigning him to survey her so-called “rebel without a cause” daughter. He hadn’t known much about her before, and he still didn’t now. He’d been with her for almost two weeks, and most of it he spent standing outside her bedroom and making sure she didn’t climb out through the window.
All he’d gathered from her was that she was most likely a spoiled daughter who was used to everything appearing on a silver platter and with the mere snap of her finger. A daddy’s (or mommy’s) girl who’d lived life the easy way and enjoyed taunting and stepping on those beneath her to get her way.
Oh, and that she had a bad habit of sneaking up on him.
“Boo”
He jumped at the voice, turning his head hastily to see the source, only to see a familiar brunette lounging on the wall beside him, painted lips curled into a teasing smirk.
Aaron let out a groan, eyeing the girl next to him with contempt. “I told you to stop doing that.” he said grudgingly.
Emily Prentiss pursed her lips and crossed her pale arms as she leaned back further against the cool alabaster behind her.
“And I did stop.” she retorted, with full confidence.
“For less than a day” Aaron bemoaned, raising his eyebrow at her.
“You never quite specified the terms of that agreement” she derided, her lazy composure never wavering as she looked at him with faux innocence, the elegant strands of her dark hair framing her face, making her features seem all the more defined underneath the dimmed chandelier lights.
He allowed his eyes to glimpse quickly over her. The silk evening gown seemed to embrace her figure in a loose, yet comfortable way. The dress itself was quite plain, no embellishments or ribbons, just a simple red. She hadn’t pulled out any jewelry either, unlike her mother, who was currently parading around with a gauzy collar of diamonds resting on her neck.
It was just her in her unadorned red dress, and maybe it was just the lowered lights and maybe his mind playing wicked tricks on him, (and he would later swear it was just that), but she looked- quite nice ( he’d never call his tormentor beautiful or stunning, not in this lifetime).
Clearing his throat roughly, Aaron turned himself away from her, choosing to focus on whatever the fresh hell the Ambassador was talking about to an Egyptian bureaucrat, trying to make sense of whatever passionate spiel she was giving him about American investments in oil and whatever glib experiences she had in her time in Cairo.
He supposed his brow wrinkling while he heard terms such as “ministerial delegacy” and “electioneering zoo” had let on too much, since Emily let out a light chuckle from next to him, having followed his confused stare into the sea of people.
“You know, sometimes I like to imagine what she’s saying.” she humored from next time. God, he didn’t even have to look at her, he could hear the smile in her voice.
Aaron didn’t say anything in response, choosing to keep his stare concentrated on the hardly hearable conversation. Maybe if he didn’t pay attention to her she’d stop and leave him alone, but of course, she was Emily Prentiss, and by his observation of her so far, she never left anybody alone. He heard her mutter something that sounded like "tough crowd", and through the corner of his eye, he could practically see her gearing up to do something incredulously stupid. Every time she was about to engage in something her mother would disapprove of, she would roll back her shoulders and become set with determination. It was a quality that had she been anyone else, he would've admired, but her flair for the dangerous and albeit reckless was also what made his job a nightmare.
Aaron was about to motion for her to stop whatever it was she was doing, before she began with the most nasal and overdramatic tone he had ever heard in his life, even changing her stature from leaning against the wall to standing upright, hands poised the way the Ambassador’s was whenever she talked, angled upwards and flailing every time she had something important to say.
“Why delegate” she began, and Aaron felt a grin creeping up on his face. Her impression was damn good, haughty tone and stuck up attitude spot on.
“Of course, I know exactly what you’re talking about! You see, I myself have spent two days in Egypt!" she declared, while Aaron was currently engaging in a (losing) battle with himself to prevent himself from laughing, he hated giving her the satisfaction that maybe she was right.
"But the whole time, I spent it with a rod, shoved up my ass, and complained about nothing relevant on the phone to the President in my suite, God Bless America!” Emily exclaimed mockingly, throwing her hands up in the air for dramatic flair when she finished.
Aaron finally cracked a small laugh after grappling with himself to maintain the stoic security guard posture he'd been taught the first day of training for a detail position. He ultimately failed, and let out a light chuckle, which he tried to swallow before she caught it. But of course, of course, she did. She always did.
She turned to peer at him, her vivid eyes glinting slightly in the feeble golden light from the chandelier, brilliant with specks of white shining in her gaze.
“Well, well, well, would you like at that,” she said, almost taunting him in a way he could never indulge in, “Looks like Aaron-”
“Agent” he interjected, immediately feeling an irritating flush creep into his neck from the bemused look she gave him.
“Right” she drawled before continuing. “Looks like Agent Hotchner” she emphasized, “can laugh after all.”
Aaron huffed, allowing his previously stiff shoulders to relax slightly. “Surprised that the people who work under you have emotions, Prentiss” he bit back, barely containing the venom in his voice.
She simply cracked a pensive smile at him. “No, just surprised that you can show them.”
There was only silence between them after that, and Aaron was expecting her to move along, find someone better worth her exclusive company, but no, she stayed put, staring off into the gala alongside him, the hem of her red dress shifting now and then.
Aaron wasn’t sure what it was, but there was some form of tension between them. Maybe he shouldn't have made that snide remark at the end of their conversation. It would have done him better if he hadn’t said anything, rather than being stuck in perpetual silence.
The space between them felt more strained than usual, and part of him almost wanted him to apologize to her. What if she complained to the Ambassador? What if she wrecked his chances at the FBI over one stupid comment?
His mind was practically bursting with concern and was almost about to consider apologizing before the figure next to him spoke first.
“Dance with me.”
“Excuse me, what?” Aaron half-exclaimed, half-questioned. Did she realize what she just said?
“You heard me loud and clear, Agent. Dance. With. Me. “ she enunciated each word, before returning to looking at him with her intimidating black eyes as if she were challenging him to a duel.
Aaron snorted a little, sparing a bewildered glance at the woman in front of him who was currently boring her stare into him.
“No thanks,” he countered in an unreadable tone.
“Wasn’t a question.”
Oh, she was most definitely the spoiled brat he thought she was previously.
He shot her a glare and remained rooted in his spot. “Why?” Aaron examined her as she stumbled over her words, watching the cogs in her head try and come up with a proper excuse.
“I’m supposed to be watching you,” he stated stoically while she fiddled with the strap of her dress.
“Oh come on, you’ll be dancing with me. The best way to watch someone is to be with them, right?” she responded, shooting him a grin in the hopes that he’d cave.
“I think law enforcement would disagree with that.” he retaliated in a deadpan voice.
“It’s just a few minutes of your life. I promise I’ll return you back here so you can brood and act all depressed again.” she quipped. He was about to respond with something along the lines of, I don’t look that depressed, or At least I have a job before she interjected.
“Just dance with me.” Her voice lowered to barely above a whisper “Please.”
“No.”
“I promise I won’t try and break out of my room” He raised an eyebrow at her “For the next week, I swear.” Aaron scoffed in disbelief, he could see her smug composure dissolving, and it was terribly fun to witness.
“You’re seriously bartering with me, just so we can dance?” he said incredulously. She never quite knew when to stop, did she?
“Yeah, I seriously am. Come on, just a couple minutes, and I’ll leave you in peace for the next week.”
The offer was incredibly enticing. One whole week with no ruckus, not having to hoist a squirming Emily away from the window she was so desperately trying to escape from, no sleepless nights outside her bedroom door, ears straining, trying to hear if she was picking the lock again, no having to usher her away from the front door with false promises of “I swear I won’t tell”, and more importantly, no having Ambassador Prentiss’ shrill voice whining in his year about how her daughter wasn’t where she was supposed to be, as if she were some kind of chess piece he had the unfortunate task of moving around.
One whole week of peace for a couple minutes of uncomfortable dancing with a girl? He’d take that offer in a heartbeat.
“Fine.” He gave in, and almost regretted it because that satisfied grin practically crawled back on her face.
Emily outstretched a pale hand, nails complete with a gossamer manicure, and looked at him mischievously. “Shall we monsieur?”
Aaron couldn’t bring himself to indulge in her antics, and instead grabbed the hand resting at her side, and began pulling her towards the batch of upper-brow socialites. Emily gasped in surprise and irritation and quickened her pace slightly to keep up with him, her polished black heels clicking against the floor as she did so. The throng of people barely paid them any attention as they entered side-by-side, Emily now having caught up with him. They both brushed shoulders with some high collar attendees, some gave them a quick stare of contempt, before realizing it was the hostess’ daughter and retreated back to hiding behind their spirit glasses.
Aaron thought he heard Emily say "Stop" when they were about halfway through the crowd, but he couldn't care less. For once in the weeks she'd returned, the cards were in his deck, and he planned to play them and her as much as he could before the opportunity dissipated. He continued to string her along, feeling her annoyance radiate off of her arm, which he could swear grew slightly more heated.
When they emerged from the crowd and into the center of the gala where space had been cleared, Emily shook Aaron’s hand off.
“Anybody ever taught you how to treat a lady?” she spat at him, glowering at him.
Aaron simply shrugged his shoulders. “You’re pretty far from one anyway,” he stated, relishing in the way she scowled at him. Making her get all worked up was his kind of fun and made the unpleasant evening all the more eventful.
Aaron looked away from her, choosing to focus on the people dancing to whatever classical piece the string quartet was playing. There were several couples on the floor, all of them dressed to the nines with pearls and pure silver watches, and they were all quite a bit older than him. Three of the pairs had graying hair and wrinkled cheeks, and the rest looked positively bored. There was a younger couple, but the man kept checking his watch every ten minutes and the woman next to him looked dismayed as if their relationship frayed every time his eyes strayed away.
Emily cleared her throat from next to him, bringing him out of his head. “So, are you just going to stand there all night, or are you going to dance with me?’ She pretended to check her empty wrist for the time. “Looks like my offer expires in about, oh five minutes.”
Sighing, Aaron held out his hand for her, and this time, hers gently rested in his palm, and his fingers closed warmly around it.
“Alright, let's get this over with,” he said and began leading her towards the scattered couples, circling the marbled space.
In all honesty, he hadn’t properly slow danced with a girl since senior year prom in high school, and he’d thrown up all over her rhinestone shoes in the middle of it, (should’ve known the punch was spiked). Sure, when coerced, he’d gone clubbing and ended up in a mass of sweaty bodies with him and a girl smushed together, with no option but to feel each other, which later ended in more compromising positions at his apartment. But he hadn’t formally danced with someone in a long time and dancing with his boss’ daughter, who happened to despise him and he likewise, wasn’t the best way to ease back into it.
He awkwardly placed a hand above her hip and gripped her hand strangely with the other. Emily didn’t say much about his peculiar way of holding hands and settled hers comfortably on the shoulder of his suit jacket as if it were rehearsed and they’d danced together thousands of times.
They began to move around the ballroom, both never gazing directly at each other. Their steps were mismatched and he crushed her toes with his dress shoes twice, before she winced and looked him straight in the eye.
“Christ Hotchner, have you never danced before?” she gibbed, her raised brows mocking him.
“Not since prom,” he mumbled, in hopes she wouldn’t hear him.
Emily bit back a snigger, “Prom? Well, no wonder.” He grimaced as they turned awkwardly around the room. Why did he tell her that?
“Was she your girlfriend?” she teased, flashing him a light grin.
“Something like that” Aaron adjusted his hold on her hip slightly. She’d hardly been his girlfriend, just somebody who he’d kissed at a few house parties and thought had a pretty laugh. He’d hope to finally score the girlfriend card at prom, but of course, his low alcohol tolerance at the time ended his chances.
Emily made a soft noise of affirmation, then picked a small piece of lint out of the lapel of his suit jacket. Aaron watched her eyes fixate on the small patch, fingers gently prying at the fabric. The thought that she looked serene when she concentrated flitted across his mind, before there was a faint thump. He’d stepped on her toes again.
She winced and inhaled sharply through her nose. “Sorry” Aaron said sympathetically. He really was severely out of practice.
“Here, let me guide you.” Emily readjusted her arm on his shoulder and looked into his eyes.
Despite wanting to avoid stepping on her foot again, Aaron doubted those were her true intentions “Let you guide me? Not a chance”
“Oh come on, I won’t crash you into a wall or something, as funny as it would be to watch.” she nudged him lightly with her free hand. “You can trust me.”
“You sure about that?” Aaron countered, watching her lips curl into an expression of amusement.
“Come on, it’s easy Agent. It’s just left foot” she lightly touched the tip of his shoe with her heel “Right foot” she did the same to the other, “Then right foot, left foot. Simple.” she said plainly like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“Here, just follow my count,” Emily spoke softly, and leaned into him slightly, never too close or too far. “One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three”
His feet slowly began to move in rhythm with her soft counts, his movements were still stiff and at times misplaced, but he was getting somewhere. They danced in circles around the foyer, following suit with the other pairs.
“Not too shabby,” Emily noted, her counts having stopped as he grew more adjusted to the rhythm of the music.
Aaron’s eyes jolted upwards from his feet, wide with surprise, as Emily let out a quiet laugh.
“What, surprised I can give credit where it’s due?” Her eyes were smiling as they turned around the room, and he almost slipped again looking at her gaze.
He picked up the pace of his steps as the music’s tempo switched to something slightly faster. “No, just surprised that you just said something nice about me.”
Her laughter this time was no longer filled with mirth or concealed sarcasm, it was genuine, real, and it made himself feel proud that at last, the person who’d been the bane of his existence since her arrival, had given him an authentic laugh. He grinned at her while she shook her head, allowing her soft ringlets to graze her shoulder.
“Don’t count on it happening again, Agent.”
Her dimples were showing as she beamed at him and for once, she looked, happy. Ever since her return, she'd spent her days looking gloomy and antagonized those around her when she got the chance, but now, she looked different. Like she was glad to be here, in his arms, turning aimlessly around a ballroom that was only used once a year.
Aaron stared (practically gawked) at her as she grinned jovially at him, and he realized that maybe dancing with her wasn't half as bad as he thought it would be.
All too soon, the music crescendoed and came to an end, and it was only then he realized that their fingers were tangled with the others and his hand had found comfort resting on the soft satin that cascaded down her hip, and he was about to ask her if she perhaps wanted to dance again.
And then, Emily slid her hands away from his shoulders, the smile faded, replaced by the same devilish attitude that landed him in hot water one too many times. She cleared her throat and adjusted her hair, flicking some behind her shoulder, and the trance was suddenly broken. The camaraderie that they had semi-established during their turn around the room had died and the nervous tension between them resumed as if nothing had ever changed, and they'd both pretend the last few minutes had never happened.
The derisive air in her voice returned as she turned away from him. “Well, thanks for sparing your precious time for me,” she said, that smug smirk he so desperately wanted to wipe off returning to her face (preferably by throwing her out the window next time she tried to jump out). She smoothed the front of the skirt of her dress.
“I think my contributions here are finished, so I’ll be heading over to Tony’s house. Cool?” she said nonchalantly, not even sparing him a glance.
Aaron thinks he got whiplash from how fast his head turned around to look at her in disbelief.
“You said you’d leave me alone for the next week!” he half-yelled indignantly, eliciting some curious stares from a few of the delegates loitering nearby. Heading to Tony's, as in heading to the place of the guy her mother heavily disapproved of? The one she'd hook up with? When she'd just promised him she would stay put?
Emily shrugged her shoulders, unconcerned. “I had my fingers crossed behind my back. If your fingers are crossed, it doesn’t count.” She gave him one last currish smile and sauntered away from him, leaving behind an irritated, flushed, and embarrassed Aaron Hotchner.
He internally took back every single nice thought he'd had about her. He hated her, oh, he hated her so fucking much.