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Hotch wasn't sure he'd ever really seen Emily like this.

Drunk, yes, a couple of times, but she'd started her night with a raincloud over her head and it was fairly obvious to everyone.

She was usually pretty good about leaving any personal problems at the door, but the moment she had spilled that she and the guy she had been seeing had broken up, Morgan, Garcia, and JJ were determined to turn her frown upside-down.

Reid and Rossi were just along for the ride.

Hotch had only come because when he'd heard that shots were going to be involved, he figured one or more of his team members were going to need a ride.

Heaven forbid he let them figure it out themselves when he was perfectly capable.

He and Rossi spent the better part of the night watching as the three amigos and Reid got their newest recruit tipsy, then drunk, all five of them sporting big smiles and red faces.

Hotch stuck to a conservative one beer, and he quickly realized that the antics he was witnessing were not typically antics one shared with a boss. He knew his team was comfortable around each other. Even around Emily.

He avoided watching the dance floor much.

So, he hadn't realized she split from the group until it was way past everyone's bedtime, and only four of their five were returning to the table he and Rossi were holding.

Morgan was quick to pick his drink back up, obviously hoping it would cool him down or quench his thirst.

It was probably warm by now.

Penelope and JJ were both fanning themselves.

“Woo! It's hot out there.” JJ shook her head.

Hotch's eyes swept the dance floor in search of the missing brunette, but she wasn't there.

“Alright, babygirl. We gotta call it.” Morgan leaned into the booth next to Rossi, grabbing jackets. “Turn around.”

“Aww, man!” Penelope whined and waddled around, holding her arm out. “Already?!

Reid’s goofy smile tilted. “It's already past midnight.”

Rossi nodded. “Yep. And that's my cue to leave. Come on, kid. I'll give you a ride.”

Reid shook his head, and JJ spoke up for him. “Actually, Will's almost here. Reid's gonna crash at ours.”

Another nod from Reid, this one a little too enthusiastic as he swayed.

Rossi shrugged and began scooting out of the chair. “If you say so.”

Hotch, again, scanned the area. Certainly they wouldn't have just let her wander off.

Morgan's hand touched his shoulder. “Em's at the bar. I can grab her. I already ordered us a ride.”

Hotch shook his head. “You've got Penelope. I can grab Prentiss.”

The man seemed surprised by the offer, his brows lifting. “You sure?”

He was pretty sure they lived in the same direction, so it made the most sense. “Yes.”

Hotch stood and gathered glasses. He paused as Penelope's arms quickly wound around his waist and retreated.

“By Hotch!” She was already getting dragged towards the door. “Thanks for coming out with us!”

Rossi waved them on, and gestured for JJ and Reid to follow. “Come on, kids. I'll wait outside with you until your ride arrives.”

JJ smiled her appreciation and nodded briefly in Hotch's direction, before looping her arm in Reid’s and following the oldest Agent to the front.

Hotch spotted her fairly quickly. She was facing him. Well, facing a man next to her, but she was easy to spot.

The way her eyes were locked on the face in front of her, smile spread like she knew how to keep attention, posture open and relaxed, were all tactics Hotch had witnessed before.

As he approached, her eyes flicked to him briefly, acknowledging his presence. He squeezed into the space behind her, pushed empty glasses further onto the bar, and rested his elbows there.

Unsure if she would appreciate the interruption, he touched the back of her arm gently enough to be ignored if she chose.

Thankfully, she whipped her head back with a smile. “Hi!”

Surprised by her greeting, he lifted his brows. “Hi.”

“Did everyone go?”

He nodded. “It's time.”

She thought she would brush it off, reassure him that she was fine, and not to worry, like he had seen her do multiple times, but that wasn't how it played out.

“Oh, yeah.” Her brows dipped subtly, but her features cooled as she quickly found her footing. “Sure. You sure?”

He nodded towards the entrance, hand gently touching her back to signal his seriousness.

Emily turned back to the man watching them, waving. “It was nice talking to you!”

“You too!” He turned, body angled to her as she walked away. “Maybe we can do this again?”

“Oh, uh…” Emily was still smiling and shrugged. “Yeah, next time!”

“Huh? How am I supposed to know when?”

Finally, they were far enough to justify her turning away. “Next time!”

Hotch fell in step just behind her, amused as she laughed at herself.

The cool air was nice, rushing to meet them quickly. Emily looked up at him, obviously waiting for him to lead the way. “Thanks for saving me.”

He wondered if Emily Prentiss ever needed saving from a situation like that. She was never shy, never really cared how she was received when it came to getting hit on.

“Wish you could have saved me sooner.” Emily shivered, and her straight line next to him swerved slightly as she hugged herself. “Are you sure you're okay with taking me home?”

“Yes, I'm sure,” Hotch reassured her, and reached into his pocket for the keys. He glanced both ways and waved her across the road as he pressed unlock.

She followed him around the edge of the truck and flashed a small grateful smile as he pulled the door open for her.

Emily paused before she sat and turned to look at him. “Next time, you think you can interrupt like, way earlier?”

Hotch arched his brow. It had been a while since he really thought about the dynamics of female friendships and pack mentality, but he was fairly certain that if she had wished to exit her conversation sooner, she would have waved down JJ or Penelope. Hell, even Morgan would have loved to drag her away and back to the dancefloor.

“I can try.” He settled on. He may not even be present next time.

She gave a quick, satisfied nod of her head and scooted in.

About halfway home, he realized she was being very quiet.

Which wasn't unusual, really, but kind of. Especially when she was a couple glasses in. And even when she wasn't, she wasn't as shy or as careful anymore. Not like she had been for the first few months. Not since she settled into her role on their team.

He glanced her way.

Her brows were furrowed, and she was chewing her lip as she stared straight ahead.

“Everything okay?”

“Wha—Yeah, yes.” Emily sighed, releasing the tension she probably hadn't realized she had. “Fine.”

The next time he glanced, she did the same, and he could see immediately that she was checking to see if he believed her.

When she caught that he didn't, she continued. “Well… Yes. Everything is fine.”

He saw her shake her head out of the corner of his eye.

“It's just weird.” She paused a moment. “My coworkers were trying to help, trying to get me a rebound, but it wasn't… I don't know.”

Ah.

“Too soon?”

Emily scoffed and nonchalantly shrugged.

“Then what?” Hotch cared about his team, obviously. He always wanted them to value honesty with him and feel comfortable, but he wasn't sure why he asked. It wasn't like he wanted to pry into her personal life.

A glance her way confirmed to him that she was just looking at him now, and it made him very aware of his posture. He stayed still, tried to focus on driving while she left his question unanswered.

Another block and she finally found words.

“I don't want to go home.”

Her voice was quiet but not uncertain.

Hotch nodded slowly. The clock on the dash read 12:47. Not many places to go at this hour.

Emily picked up quickly on the fact that he didn't have much of a response, so she pleaded her case. “He was supposed to have cleared his things out, but I am at risk of running into him.”

Right.

Hotch couldn’t blame her. Haley had vacated when she knew he wouldn't be there to see it. It's not an easy situation to be present for.

Figuring the next best thing he could do was offer his couch, he flipped on the blinker and changed his route.

“Okay.” He said quietly. “We will avoid yours tonight, then.”

Emily didn't ask what that meant. Instead, she just sighed in relief and let her head fall against the headrest.

He put her to bed with a blanket, water, and pain meds for whatever future hangover she may have.

By the time he woke up, she was gone.

*

“You've got this, right?” Rossi said as Hotch approached the bar.

The older man was sliding out of his seat and fishing for his wallet.

“You're already out of here?” He was surprised. Rossi usually enjoyed observing their antics, and it was only just nearing 9 PM. “Yeah, I'm sure I can manage.”

Rossi tossed some bills on the counter, then patted his shoulder heavily. “Bless you for taking these freaks off my hands. I will bid you both goodnight.”

Hotch glanced over his shoulder and turned, nodding hello to Morgan as the man took the seat next to him.

“Why did he run? Anything I should be concerned about?” Hotch smirked and leaned his elbow on the bar, finally taking time to scan the place.

Morgan quietly chuckled and bobbled his head, before gesturing to the area by the piano. “The girls have gone a little wild. Convinced Reid to sing. Been doting on him all night."

Hotch arched his brow as he took in the scene.

Reid was gone. Fully gone. Face red, eyes glossy, tie around his forehead, and his shirt halfway unbuttoned, but he was happy. Smiling up from the barstool he was leaning on at the girls surrounding him.

JJ had her arm looped around him, holding the microphone up for her and Penelope. There was an attempt at a sway from both of them, but Reid was no help, and they were off-beat, bumping shoulders that devolved any chance of hitting notes into laughter.

Emily was in a spin, something way too dramatic for someone sober. She turned, singing like she was the one holding the mic, and then grabbed hands, pulling Reid and Penelope and JJ all towards her.

Hotch looked back at Morgan. The man was waiting for his reaction, pearly whites on display. “I don't know who ordered them doubles, but I can say that Rossi dipped very quickly. May be a guilty conscience.”

Hotch realized then that he was either about to have to make a lot of stops, or they were going to have to order a car. “How many have you had?”

Morgan raised his hands in surrender. “Just the one.”

At least he wouldn't be wrangling all five of them and relented to the fact that his night would probably be long.

Morgan joined the girls and Reid when they abandoned singing, and Hotch watched the crowd for a while.

After too much time and a few politely declined conversations, Hotch was glad to see they were taking a break, JJ and Penelope at least. They were headed right towards him.

JJ spotted him first, face beaming. “Hotch!”

“Hotch!” Penelope mimicked and ran the rest of the way to him.

Penelope was crushing him in a hug before he could even respond.

“Hi. Everyone having a good night?”

Unfortunately, Penelope practically screamed in his ear. “Yes! Oh, my God, the best night ever!”

JJ nodded and waved the bartender over, colliding with the edge of the counter. “We are so thirsty. Water!”

Hotch wasn't surprised. Singing and dancing would do that. In hopes that he could convince them to slow down or leave, he tilted his head. “Anyone need a ride getting home?”

JJ shook her head and reached for her phone in her pocket.

Penelope answered before her. “Morgan’s got me and Reid covered. He promised me.”

“Good.” He was glad to hear that. “JJ?”

“I-I'm covered! Will is on his way.” She tucked her phone back into her pocket.

Got it. That left one person to ask. “Okay. Drink some water, Garcia.”

“Yes, sir!”

Hotch turned and searched the last area where he had witnessed the other three agents on their team.

Morgan was way too occupied with straightening Reid out for them to even notice him, and Emily was wrapped up in watching the scene unfold, ordering someone, one of them, to button his shirt.

In an attempt not to spook her, he touched her back gently and greeted her. “Hi.”

His touch surprised her anyway, and she turned towards him quickly. Realization dawned in a blink, though, and she was touching his arm and greeting him warmly.

“Hotch, Hi. You made it.”

Hotch had no idea what to do with the hug she leaned in for, but it was over before he could respond. “Hello. Looks like you have had some fun.”

Emily scrunched her nose and turned back towards the boys, knocking his stomach with her knuckles. “Oh, this kid is having way more fun than me! Whatever they put in that Dirty Sunshine or whatever it was called is hitting. Very tasty, though.”

Morgan wrapped his arm around Reid, both lost in a different conversation.

Emily's eyes met his again. “You staying long?”

Hotch shook his head. No, he really wasn't planning on it. “Rossi dipped, so if you need a ride, I think that's me.”

Emily gasped and turned, her head searching the bar where she'd last seen the man. Clearly, she wasn't aware of how much time had passed. “That traitor!”

When he looked at the vacated chair he had occupied after Rossi, he realized Emily was watching Penelope and JJ balance waters precariously.

The water down Penelope's front suggested the first half of their walk wasn't so smooth.

“Here.” JJ set the plastic cups down heavily. Morgan reached for one to pull closer to Reid.

Emily smiled and grabbed his arm. “Rossi apparently ditched us, so Hotch is here to save the night.”

“Aww.” Penelope frowned. “Not aww Hotch, aww Rossi. I would never aww Hotch. Unless you were leaving because that is aww, but right now it's yay Hotch.”

Emily tugged on him gently, but wiggled her brows at the girls, before meeting his eyes with mischief. “Unless we can encourage drinking!”

“Oo, ooh. Yes! Yes!” Penelope looked over at him, nodding.

JJ rolled her eyes. “I so knew Rossi would leave. He barely even wanted to come, let alone take care of all of us. But it's fine, I'll just call Will. We can take Reid. Morgan?”

The man across from her looked up, a lingering chuckle on his lips as Reid rubbed his eyes, still laughing. “I got him, Mama. Babygirl, too.”

“Well,” JJ relented to the offer quickly. “You're in charge then. I'm running to the restroom.”

JJ turned to Emily and opened her arms. “They’re crazy.”

Emily returned her hug tightly. “So fun, though!”

JJ waved as she pulled away. “Bye, Hotch! Get her home safe.”

He nodded and stepped back as Penelope and Emily hugged just in front of him. He was glad that leaving now was the general consensus. He probably would have stayed had they fought it, but he was tired.

He looked down as he checked his pockets for his items, badge, wallet, keys, gun, and not even a moment later, Emily was stepping into his space, drawing his attention to Morgan with concern in her eyes.

“He's good to drive,” Hotch said quietly.

“You sure?” She frowned and looked up at him.

Hotch nodded and shrugged. “I trust he has the situation handled.”

Emily agreed, face relaxing and turning to watch the man wrangle his coworkers. “You're right. You want to go now? No, yeah, we should go now. I don't want to keep you.”

Emily’s elbow hit his chest as she flailed, moving to make the rest of the rounds to say goodbye.

Penelope almost distracted her enough with a new topic, but Emily fought it and pulled away as she responded.

Unfortunately, she stepped right into him, right on his foot, which made her heel slip.

Her arms flew out to catch herself, but it didn't save her from hitting his chest.

He caught her, of course. She was well within reach, and he hauled her back to standing as she laughed and turned to him, face entirely red.

“I'm so sorry,” she mumbled, and leaned heavily on his shoulder for balance.

He used her momentum to begin their journey towards the door, directing her in front with firm hands to keep her upright.

The moment they made it outside, she curled into herself, hands coming up to cover her face.

“God. This is so embarrassing at this point.” Her voice pitched.

Hotch fought smiling. He hadn't seen her this embarrassed. Ever.

She continued, obviously more embarrassed than she could handle. “My own boss is having to drive me home from a night out. How pathetic is that?”

Hotch rolled his eyes and gently pushed on her, hoping she would at least continue walking to get out of the entrance.

She picked up on his intention quickly, hands dropping, eyes wide, and fell right into step with him. “Sorry. I can get a taxi. It's no problem.”

“Don't worry about it.” Hotch shook his head. He wished he was able to park closer tonight. “If I didn't want to end up driving someone home, I wouldn't have come.”

Emily scoffed. “You're, like, only here to be a driver then?”

Hotch bobbed his head. “I sat for a bit. People watched. Morgan kept me company.” It was a bit of a stretch, but not entirely untrue.

“Oh.” Emily nodded weakly. “I wish we'd known. We would have tried to convince you to come dance with us. Or sing. Anything. Have fun.”

Hotch knew better than to respond to that. In all the years he had known the women of the BAU, they had yet to succeed peer-pressuring him into singing or dancing. Drinking, yes, but anything more extracurricular than that was a pass for him. The opportunities for antics these days were thin and thinning per year.

Emily didn't press for a response in the thirty steps they took to the passenger side of the truck.

Much like the previous time he drove her home, he pulled the door open for her. She didn't immediately sit.

Instead, she grabbed the frame for balance and leveled him with a crooked smile and squinted eyes. “What? You think we won't convince you?”

She was standing close. Her hair and makeup were close to pristine, though maybe her curls were a bit fluffier than usual.

The light, teasing tone she used made him furrow his brows with suspicion. She used that voice pently with Morgan when they were on the verge of making a bet she knew she would win.

Her head tilted at his lack of response, tongue poking out to wet her lips. “I'll get you on the dance floor one day.”

Of course, he doesn't respond because, yeah, she's probably right.

Probably the only one of their team members who could.

So, he just nodded for her to sit.

With smugness, she relented and sat.

The ride was quiet all the way to her apartment.

She leaned closer and set a hand on his arm. “Thanks, Hotch. I appreciate it.”

“You're welcome.” For good measure, and to make sure she knew he didn't mind, tacked on, “Any time.”

Emily half rolled her eyes. “Sure. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

*

Hotch had not planned to attend this wedding, but the BAU had the night off, and it wasn't his weekend, so instead of wallowing at home, he took the excuse to escape while he could. He wasn't super close with the happy couple. Went to grad school with the groom, and knew a few faces casually around the place, but he figured a solitary night wasn't so bad anyway. Not when he could drink and have a room ready for him just floors above the reception.

And the bar is where he spent the last twenty minutes nursing a cold glass of whiskey and wondering when it would be socially acceptable to leave.

The night had other plans for him, though, in the form of a familiar voice.

“Don't tell me you followed me here to personally see to it that I make it home?” Emily sassed playfully, sliding into the space next to him. “I don't need a driver.”

Her person completely took him by surprise, voice disorienting him for a moment, familiar face in an unsuspecting and unfamiliar location making his brain skip focus. Then he got a look at her.

Pretty. More than pretty. Drop dead gorgeous.

A dark blue dress hung from thin straps over her shoulders, and her makeup was darker, smokier around the eyes. Her curls framed her face, big and perfect and it took him way too long to even realize what she had just said to him.

Incredulously, he shook his head. “What are you doing here?”

She said, obviously, “Attending a wedding. You?”

He leans back slightly when he realizes that she's taking up his entire field of view. “Me, too.”

“The Hendersons?” she questions. “Amelia is an old from of mine from college. Through our moms, actually, in a way.”

Hotch lifted his brows. “Went to grad school with Jackson.”

“Ah.” Emily nodded her head. “Mystery solved.”

“Here,” he stood and, too late, realized it put them very close. “Take my seat.”

Emily’s face scrunched, but not in anything other than amusement or maybe confusion. She stood straighter and turned to face him. A sly smile spread on her face. “Or… you’ll let me convince you to dance finally. This is the perfect occasion. No witnesses.”

Hotch shook his head and patted his seat again. He was not drunk enough for that yet. “Did you come with anyone?”

“Assessing your plans for tonight?” Emily’s eyes widened slightly when she realized what she said, and she quickly corrected as she finally turned and sat. “You know, since you’re always driving my drunk ass home.”

Hotch snorted softly and waved the bartender over. “I'm staying at the hotel.”

Emily’s brows shot up in surprise. “Wow. Decadent. You should treat yourself. Surely, you’ve brought a date then?”

The bartender saved him from responding to order another drink, and he gestured for her to as well. She smiled, eyeing him as she leaned to speak.

“Red, please. Bride and groom recommendation.”

Hotch shifted and held his hand up to hold the bartender's attention. There was no way he was going to let her order the cheapest wine in here. “Not interested in something better? A cab?”

Emily huffed a soft laugh and arched her brow sharply. “You buying?”

Taking that as her answer, he ordered for her. “She'll take Allomi.”

Emily touched his arm briefly after he relayed his room number, voice dipping into something past teasing that he was determined to ignore. “Oh, you're so getting a dance out of me at this rate.”

They didn’t get too much time together as the rest of the guests arrived from the ceremony, and the happy couple made their entrance. Speeches were made, first dances were had, and then everyone was set free to converse.

He had a good time. Saw more familiar faces than he thought he would, and it was nice to catch up with some, but if he was honest, there wasn't a person in here that he truly cared to reconnect with besides the groom himself.

When he finally decided to grab another drink, he took the liberty and ordered another for Emily as well, under the assumption she hadn't already dipped.

She was deep in polite conversation when he approached and didn't notice him until the glass of wine he brought her shifted into her line of sight.

Emily gasped and reached for it, turning to him with a grateful smile. “A hero. Genuinely. Oh, Hotch. Have you met Alexandria Serrano? She's over in Michigan, civil suits.”

Hotch met the brunette's eyes in front of Emily. She was looking back at him with a smile.

Emily continued. “Alex, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the BAU. Aaron, meet Alex. One of my close friends from college.”

“It's a pleasure,” Hotch said, and stuck his hand out politely. Her eyes were green. Very prominent against her dark skin and soft features. She had a kind smile.

“You as well.” She shook his hand. “Your reputation precedes you, Agent Hotchner.”

Flattered, he shook his head and glanced at her hands. “Can I offer you a drink? I see you're empty-handed.” It would be rude not to, considering he just handed one to Emily.

“Oh,” the brunette blushed and nodded. “Sure, yeah, that would be great.”

“Lead the way.” Before he could turn to follow, a hand hooked his shoulder and tugged gently.

His arm naturally lifted as Emily leaned into his space, looping around her to listen to her while they walked. It hovered over her back except for a couple of fingertips.

“Have fun, Agent Hotchner.” She wiggled her brows and stressed his name, teasing him.

“You won’t be joining us?" Hotch hoped she would want to follow, but she shook her head.

“I'm still making the rounds. Thank you, though, for the refill.” She rested her hand on his shoulder and held her glass up slightly. “I promise it will be enjoyed with appreciation.”

Hotch watched her path sever from his as she turned. Her voice carried from a few steps away. “I'll come find you for that dance you owe me!”

The time he spent with Alex was enjoyable. She was funny, single as he learned, and intelligent. Even worked a few cases related to his back in the day, and he wound up with the thought that maybe he was glad he booked a room here.

Because even when she was waved away by the bride, she was smiling at him and telling him to find her later.

And it was a pretty sight to watch her walk away.

Emily caught him in the act, arm sliding over his shoulders as she watched the same view. “You so owe me that dance! For sure. I am the ultimate wing-woman.”

He probably did owe her. “How about another glass?”

Her jaw dropped dramatically. “Agent Hotchner! Who will be paying for my ride home this evening, seeing as you've exceeded your limit and are unavailable for booking?”

It wasn't often he sassed anyone back, but she was asking for it. “Are you complaining? I thought you wanted a dance out of me.”

Emily laughed then. A real, unashamed noise that made him look up at her. She pulled her arm from around him and stepped up next to him, elbows resting on the edge of the bar. “Go on then. Order us another round. Don't think you can buy your way out of dancing with me, though.”

Hotch followed her order happily.

Once settled with fresh drinks in their hands, Hotch couldn't help but notice that in their moment to order, she moved.

Closer.

A whole lot closer than she had ever chosen to stand next to him, which wasn't saying much these days.

His knees were parted, and she was leaning back against the bar, thighs between his. Her eyes were flicking around behind him, over his shoulder to people-watch.

Hotch thought she smelled good. He wondered what she was thinking. “You okay?”

Dark eyes shifted to him as she nodded.

He tilted his head and scanned his eyes down, and back up. “You look like you're hiding.”

“Hiding?” Her brows furrowed. “I'm not hidden, am I?”

He shook his head. “Hidden is the wrong word. More like evading.”

Emily squinted her eyes and sipped her wine. “Maybe I am.”

“Who?”

She smirked as she thought about his question. Her attention crawled down his chin and settled on his tie.

He could see that she was contemplating just how much to share with him.

Her weight shifted, and she leaned forward slightly, reaching for his tie, straightening it. “Evan Demarco. At your 5. We used to date back in college.”

Interesting. Not a name he recognized, thankfully. Hotch subtly shifted and glanced back. There were a few contenders when he realized there was a group of men standing across the dance floor from them. She hadn't finished fiddling with his tie until he looked back up at her. This Evan was probably watching her, and her tactic was to get as close as she could without pushing it too far.

Eyes finally flicked back up to his. “Surprised?”

Hotch shrugged. He guessed he wasn't. Seemed like Emily knew more people at this wedding than he did. “Would you like to sit?” He hoped the implication that he wouldn’t leave her here to fend for herself was evident, but when she didn't immediately take the offer, he clarified. “It'll assist you in dodging eye contact.”

As he explained, he stood and gently tugged her arm to convince her to. She followed his direction and scooted back into the stool, crossing her legs towards him.

He looped his arm over the back of her chair and rested his glass on the bar.

The dynamic shifted, and it was apparent the moment she accepted his offer.

Good thing he had nowhere else to be tonight.

After another sip, she batted her lashes and teased him once again. “What do I get if I finish this?”

It was a bold question. One he didn't want to answer. He sipped from his glass. “We will see.”

Hotch kept an eye out, and to his dismay, Evan was not the only man glancing their direction. It made his stomach churn, and while he knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself, he wondered if she had to do this all the time. Hotch remembered her comment from ages ago, about how she wished he had saved her sooner. Maybe her joke wasn't all that much of a joke at all.

Conversation flowed, unfortunately, to work topics at times, but he enjoyed his time with her. And when they were about 3/4ths of the way through, someone who had been eyeing her finally decided to walk their way.

Hotch downed the rest of his drink. Emily was in the middle of her sentence, thoughts flowing freely as she stared at the wineglass balanced on her knee. Her finger followed the top edge mindlessly.

Hotch leaned, similarly to how she had done before, but she didn’t notice until he lifted his hand.

It caught her attention, and she paused speaking when she realized he was close.

Hotch gently hooked her hair and directed it behind her ear.

Emily's lips parted as she froze.

Freezing when they were about to have company was probably not the best move. Hotch looked down and reached for her free hand, sliding his fingers along her palm as he straightened.

Her mouth snapped shut, and she glanced back and forth between their hands, his face, and her glass.

She seemed to snap out of her surprise then, picking up on his body language and downing her glass.

Hotch knew he would have no problems leading her onto the dancefloor. Just in time, too. Whichever man determined to talk to her, Hotch could only assume it was Evan, played it cool and passed them to head to the bar instead.

As they stepped further in between people, the music faded, and something slower faded in. Hotch was glad to hear it. When he turned, hand adjusting in hers, he realized then that she was having the time of her life. Her smile was bright. Wide, smug, brilliant. Emily, the smart woman that she was, did not make a single comment on her success, but instead relaxed and relinquished control.

Hotch wasn't much of a dancer, but he could always manage something like this. His hand found her waist as she stepped close. Her's settled on his bicep initially, but she adjusted to his shoulder.

With a few initial sways out of the way, Hotch exhaled slowly and attempted to relax. He was tense.

If he was honest, he was nervous around Emily right now. Especially because he was beginning to feel the alcohol pulsing through him and he was in her element. A setting where she always seemed so confident and carefree.

When he realized that his attempt at relaxing hadn't worked, he took another slow, deep breath and pulled her closer.

His hand slid to her lower back. The weight of her hand shifted to his shoulder blade.

Their faces hovered close.

He moved to peek at her, see if he could still read that smugness, but her face tinged pink. She turned away, resting her head on his shoulder.

She pulled her hand out of his to move to his arm, and all he could do was find somewhere on her side to hold.

Now, he could recognize that whatever signal they were sending to Evan probably meant he wouldn’t be reconnecting with Alex at the end of the night, but he didn't care.

Protecting Emily would always take precedence.

Plus, Hotch trusted Emily. Trusted her with their working relationship, trusted her with his reputation, and he could dance with her if she wanted him to. And he was starting to think that maybe he wanted to, too. He hugged her a little tighter, slid his hands further around her. It forced her to lift her arms to loop around his neck.

He didn't mind it one bit. Not when her smell was completely flooding his senses, and his fingertips were warm. His head rushed with something a little disorienting, something way out of his control, and he took another deep breath.

He shifted his eyes through strangers as they turned. With no one in sight who seemed to want to intervene, he tilted his mouth towards her ear. “The coast is clear.”

Emily lifted her head to look up at him. “We are not done here.”

Hotch, without much thought, met her eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Emily’s smile softened as she scanned his face, her body soft against his. Then she lifted her hand and touched his cheek gently. “I see. Are you drunk now, lightweight?”

“Getting there,” he admitted.

“Well, now I can return the favors. Make sure you make it home safe and sound. Deal?”

He was pretty sure he could navigate a hotel just fine, unless he planned to have more. Which, he probably could. Hotch flicked his eyes between hers and nodded once.

“Perfect.” Her hand dragged down his cheek, and she leaned back into him, touch running back and forth over his shoulders. “You let me know when you’re ready for another. I’d hate for you to waste your night.”

“Time’s hardly wasted with good company.” It was honest. He realized he had said that out loud when Emily barked a surprised laugh right in his ear. He wondered if maybe it was time to go. Dissappear from the party before he could say or do anything else a little too genuine.

“Okay, Hotch.” Emily leaned back further, hands resituating on his chest. Her mouth was crooked, eyes lit with amusement. “I can agree with that. Maybe we should get you another. I'm loving this unfiltered version of you.”

Well, now they were deep into the song, and he was quite comfortable. “You're using up your dance time thinking about drinking more.” To hit the point home, he swayed her a little more dramatically.

It backfired immediately when she rolled her eyes, pushed up onto her tiptoes, and lined his cheek with her temple. “Okay, okay. You're right. I'll hush for now.” Her sentence ended with a huffed breath, warm air tickling his collar.

Hotch was pretty sure this was fine.

Surely, he could handle letting her in.

They spent the last four years working together.

Even though he was hesitant to allow for any confusion regarding his status as the team's unit chief due to personal relationships, he did sometimes wonder if they didn't care about it as much as he did. Because he had seen how close everyone allowed one another, how they built trust and strengthened their working relationships as a result of it.

So, maybe he could be a little more honest with himself and acknowledge how thankful he was for the woman in his arms. How appreciative he was to have had her strength at his disposal. How he knew he could always trust her to keep the team's morale up, to keep their heads on straight, or to pick them up when he couldn't.

And especially how thankful he was that even when she hadn't had to, she'd picked him up when he needed it without questions or complaints.

Even when he was convinced he didn’t need it. Because he had. He had needed her.

Words were flowing out as the thoughts were flooding in. “I haven't thanked you enough for helping keep the team together. For keeping us afloat.”

“What?” she questioned weakly, surprise evident in her pitch.

“How you take care of everyone. How you help them understand their feelings and validate them, and you make sure they know they aren't alone.”

“Oh.” Emily’s hand tighened.

“I see what you do for us all, is all.” Hotch bobbled his head slightly, accidently bumping her head with his chin.

She didn't notice. “It's what a team does. What they do for each other.”

Hotch could agree with that, but she always went above and beyond. “I hope you know that it goes both ways. That you're not alone. This team wouldn't be the same without you.”

Emily hummed, appreciation and maybe a hint of nervousness peaking through as she rubbed his back. “You're wasting this dance thinking about work.”

As they slowly turned, the song began to fade. He didn't waste it thinking about work. He wasn't even thinking about work at all. He was thinking about her, and now that their slow song was fading back into something more upbeat, he was glad for the topic change.

“Fine. Lead me to the bar then.”

Her melodic laugh was nothing new, but just as captivating as always. She turned, bringing her hands behind her back to situate his, and led him towards their starting point.

Hotch was careful to step in time with her, expected to have to fight the urge to right himself and catch up to her speed right next to her, but instead, he found that he didn't care that much.

She had the upper hand, and he was happy to follow her for now, even if it meant he was dragged, waddled not to step on her, and watched her curls sway instead of watching anything else sway.

The discovery that seat availability was slim didn't hinder her mission as she led him to the end of the bar instead.

Emily dropped one of his hands to wave, but picked it right back up as she leaned back into him, turning her head to speak over her shoulder.

He glanced down at the strap of her dress, then at the apple of her cheek.

“You want the same, or you want to switch it up?”

Hotch swallowed. “I'll have the same.”

She squinted as she regarded him, eyes flicking down his face and back up before she nodded and turned. She dropped that same hand again as she leaned forward, elbows resting on the bar, eyes peering down it as she waited.

Hotch made the mistake of glancing down. He had to shake his head to unsee it, and looked over her shoulder at the barback instead.

The bartender blocked his vision, and he listened to Emily order them both another round.

He was surprised she was joining him on this adventure.

Mindlessly, he adjusted his hand in hers and realized very quickly that they were a little too warm for his liking. “Are you worried I am going to wander off?”

Hotch hadn't meant to embarrass her, but the way her face fell for a split second and she dropped his hand like it was on fire made it obvious he had.

It was brushed off quickly with a roll of her eyes. “Huh. Actually, a little. I am not sure what to expect from a drunk Aaron Hotchner. Gotta be prepared for anything.”

He arched his brow. “You think I'll be very different?” He stepped to the side and rested his elbow next to hers as their drinks were set in front of them.

Emily dragged them closer, and Hotch propped his foot on the footrest, opening his hand so she could slide the glass in.

She shrugged. She either didn't know or didn't want to say.

Hotch wasn't going to push for an answer. Instead, he lifted his glass towards hers. “To weddings.”

She smiled. “To drinking.”

Their glasses clinked gently, and they both took a sip.

It was good. The spicy liquid cooled all the down. It was smoother now than when he started, and he knew that meant his tongue was beginning to numb. Hotch hated that it was the first to slip. Made it nearly impossible to pretend to be sober.

Emily’s eyes focused on his mouth, watching him smack his lips gently.

Her makeup wasn't as pristine as when they started, a couple of small black flecks under her eyes.

Hotch slowly lifted his hand. Her eyes flicked to it, but no attempt to dodge it was made. “May I?”

Her eyes widened slightly, and she took a beat longer to respond than she normally would have. Then she swallowed and nodded.

Hotch gently dragged his finger under her eye, then switched to the other side. And hoping he wasn't pushing it too far, gently grabbed her chin to keep her steady as he ran his thumb under he bottom lip, encouraging her lipstick to stay within the lines.

She quickly lifted her hand as she pulled away to follow the same swipe. “Oh—thanks. I'll run to the restroom. Would you watch my drink?”

Of course, he would. He shifted closer to it, fingertips touching he stem.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Don't move.”

He fought his smile. “Order received, Agent Prentiss.”

After about thirty seconds, he began to wonder if there was a table open, or if any seats at the bar had vacated, but unfortunately, when he turned to examine the area, there was one someone looking right at him only a few steps away.

“Hi. You must be Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. Evan Demarco. Friend of the bride.”

The man was tall. Had perfect teeth. His suit was a bit disheveled, but whose wasn't going on hour three of a wedding?

Hotch shook his hand firmly and abandoned his sight on his own drink in favor of holding Emily's. “Yes. Aaron Hotcher, Unit Chief of the BAU. I went to school with the groom.”

The man wasn't expecting to hear that, brows lifting. “Oh, wow. I wouldn't have guessed.”

There was a pause. Slightly awkward in Hotch's opinion, as Evan failed to make a statement worth responding to.

Then came the question he was expecting. “So, you work with Emily?”

Fishing for information being the BAU’s specialty clearly had been overlooked by Evan. He was obviously trying to figure out if they had come together.

Hotch kept his response simple. “Yes.”

Evan nodded dumbly. “I see. I see. She must be a good agent then? Getting assigned to the BAU. I hear that's no easy feat. Emily's always been brilliant, in my opinion. Though,” he bobbled his head. “Not easily tied down by commitment.”

It was a fight to keep his face neutral, and he wasn't able to filter it all out as he turned his head slightly. Whatever information Evan was trying to obtain was not going to be found here. “Emily is excellent at her job.”

Again, more nodding as the man changed tactics, searching for a topic to connect with him. “You like being FBI? Must feel pretty great kicking ass and throwing criminals in jail.”

Hotch’s hand tightened on the glass he was holding. “Every criminal we put away is lives saved. And that’s what we do. Focus on saving lives.”

“Right, yeah. Makes sense. Emily’s always been one of the good ones. She doing well? She hadn’t told me she was back in DC until now, but I guess life gets away from ya.” Evan flipped his hand nonchalantly.

“She is.” As far as Hotch could tell.

Evan finally seemed to drop some of the act, probably annoyed with his short responses. “I’ll cut to the chase, since you’re busy. Is she single? I was thinking about giving her a call, reigniting that old flame if you know what I mean.”

He wanted to say no. To tell Evan she wasn’t interested and ask him to leave her alone, and it was close, right there at his lips, but he caught it first. “No, I, no. I’m not at liberty to share information regarding the personal lives of my Agents.”

Evan’s brows lifted then, surprise evident on his face. “Your agents?”

Shit.

“She’s your agent?” Evan seemed intrigued by this idea, the muscles in his jaw flexing. “She reports to you, then?”

Before Hotch could come up with some other politically correct response, Evan was coming to his own conclusions.

“That wild card must be so fun to use.”

Hotch blinked. “Wild card?”

It was said in disbelief that anyone could call Emily that and mean it, but Evan was looking for an excuse to explain it.

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded. “Wild for sure. Intelligent, evasive. Ran me around for two whole years and won Best Bedroom Eyes in our hall. She was impossible to keep up with, but she did that by design.”

Hotch kept his mouth shut. He knew better than to respond now.

Evan glanced around and back. “Tell me. She must be running straight into fires or playing teacher's pet, isn't she?”

Okay, he had enough. “I believe you’re mistaken, Evan.”

The man tilted his head in question. “About Emily? No way. I know the real her.”

“No.” Hotch clenched his jaw and shifted his shoulders, straightening to full height. “About the kind of man you think I am. I do not care to hear your opinion of Emily, and frankly, I’m not surprised she hasn’t reached out. Now, please excuse me.”

Hotch turned towards the bathrooms just in time to see Emily walking towards him, concern in her features. He met her halfway, and watched her try and get a feeling for what happened before she said anything, eyes flicking over him, over Evan, back to him.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” Hotch said simply, and presented her glass to her. “For you.”

She studied him a moment more, but then her face softened with a smile. “Thanks. I hope he didn’t share anything too embarrassing.”

Hotch smirked and turned, scanning the tables again for a seat. Still too many people here for his liking. “Nothing embarrassing for you. Him on the other hand…”

Emily’s nose scrunched. “Yeah. He’s good at that. You finished your drink already?”

There was no reason not to be honest. “No, I left it. Lost eyes on it while I was saving yours, so decided to call it a loss.”

“Oh, well, here.” She held it out. “I’ll share.”

Hotch met her eyes again and tilted his head towards the tables. Her arm hooked with his.

He gently took the glass from her and gave up focusing on the direction he was headed. Her lipstick was on the edge. He glanced up at her. She was still watching him with a small smile.

She must’ve just reapplied.

He lifted the glass to take a sip. It was tart, especially compared to the smooth whiskey he was sipping on ice before. Dry, coating his mouth with its bitterness, but it was good. Tasted like his younger years, before he switched tastes.

He licked his lips.

And a bit of lipstick.

“Good, right?”

“Not bad.”

Emily slowed as they approached empty chairs, eyes scanning the pristine white cloth, glasses, and floral centerpiece. There were purses up near it too, and now that more people had liquid courage, they abandoned their seats to make their way to the dance floor.

Hotch pulled a chair out for her, but instead of sitting, she leaned against the edge of the table and gestured to it.

He sat slowly and scooted it in. He took another sip, then rested the glass beside her.

It was hard not to look at her. Not to admire the satin texture of her dress sitting snug around her hips and flowing to mid-calf. And her heels. He could count the times he'd seen her in anything other than heeled boots on one hand. These heels were nothing like anything she would have worn to work.

Her toenails were painted red. He never once considered that she would paint her toenails. Fingernail polish was rare for her, even.

And it wasn’t too uncommon for women in their industry to tuck away their femininity as a response to the hypermasculinity, but the agents on his team didn’t seem affected by that as much.

“What are you thinking about?”

Hotch was drawn from his thoughts as a knuckle tapped the bottom of his chin. He looked up at her, which may have been an even more distracting view.

He shook his head nonchalantly, eyes quickly skirting to her midsection, to the way her curls fell in front of her shoulders, to the area around her, another table with people resting and chatting, just like they were.

His brow furrowed. “Were you just going to power through dealing with Mr. Demarco this evening?”

Emily huffed a weak chuckle and nodded. “Yeah, probably so. Thankfully, you showed up.”

Hotch nodded slowly. Emily probably could deal with parties and avoiding people way better than he ever could, so he wasn’t surprised by her answer. Didn’t mean he liked it.

“I meant to say earlier…” Hotch swallowed and lifted his hand, resting it on the bottom of the glass to have something to fiddle with. “You look beautiful.”

Her hand rested on his wrist, and she squeezed gently. “Thank you. Beautiful enough to convince you to dance again?”

When he finally met her eyes, her head was tilted, bottom lip pinched between her teeth, barely there dimples on display.

“It is not measured by how beautiful you are, Emily.”

Her face softened slightly. “What is it measured by then?”

“Why?” Hotch pulled his wrist out from under her hand, dragging the glass towards his mouth. “Why are you set on wanting me to dance with you?”

Emily shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably because it's like a little secret you’re finally sharing with me. And because I’d rather have everyone in here thinking I'm fucking my boss than thinking I’m available.”

Hotch nearly choked on wine as her words registered, coughing gently as he sat up a little straighter. “What?”

Emily crossed her arms. “Two separate evils and one is significantly less annoying to deal with.”

Hotch wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Hm.”

“Hm.” Emily mimicked him.

Instead of responding at all, he held the glass up to her. He watched her grab it slowly.

She steered the conversation back, “So, what are the odds then? That you’ll go back out there with me? Or at all?”

Hotch rolled her question around in his mind for a few moments. “At all, probably 1 in 20. With you, something way closer to guaranteed.”

“Give me numbers.” Emily sipped.

He watched her throat bob. “1 in 5.”

Emily’s weight shifted as she set her glass down next to her and held her hands out. Like he had no other option, he placed his in hers. She took her time, thumbs gently pressing into the back of his hand. When she was done gathering whatever information she needed, she smiled. “Got your number?”

Hotch nodded gently.

“3, 2, 1, 2”

“2” Their voices synced as they announced their numbers.

“You let me win!” She leaned forward slightly.

“It’s a game of chance.” He obviously hadn’t let her win. “Are you upset you won?”

“Of course not. Oh, we are absolutely heading back out there.” Her hands relaxed against her thighs, but she didn’t release his hand. “I knew you liked dancing. You always watch us with this longing in your eyes like you wish it were you.”

Hotch scrunched his face. No, he did not wish he was on the same dance floor as Morgan and Penelope, dancing to the same vulgar music. “You’ve got that one wrong. I am more than happy to sit and watch the disaster that is a drunk, dancing BAU.”

“You are a part of the BAU, you know. The face of it, even.”

He would argue that was JJ, but he knew what she meant. “I guess it boils down to your definition of dancing.”

Emily reached for her glass and took a sip. She bobbled her head as she held it out to him. He reached for it and felt her fingers toy with his in her lap.

“Okay, sure. Maybe we have different definitions. You are clearly a partner dance kind of guy. And while I can appreciate and enjoy a slow dance, sometimes it's fun sandwiched between Morgan and JJ.”

He knew she enjoyed any kind of dancing they put her up to, and he often forced himself to peel his eyes away from his team when someone’s front ended up touching someone’s back, and that right there was part of the reason he did not want to join them. Because even though their physical closeness made them a stronger team, he was still their boss.

Just like she had mentioned before.

He took a gulp, something to help them finish this glass faster, and passed it back to her. She seemed to get the memo and tilted it back, too.

Hotch leaned as he scooted his chair back slightly, making sure not to tug her hand.

She set her glass down but didn’t stand. Her other hand shifted to his shoulder as she leaned forward. “I don’t mind what this looks like, but do you?”

He did. Since sleeping with a subordinate could get him fired, but there were no connections to the FBI at this wedding other than him and her. Sure, someone else could report something, but nothing that would result in an investigation, he presumed. And Emily was asking him for his company, to look a certain way, for her protection.

He could do that for her if she was okay with it.

“I don’t like the implication that you did anything less than earn your title, or that I would allow any relations between us to dictate your position, but since I’ve already heard from the kind of men you’d be left to deal with, it would be rude of me to refuse.”

“Exactly.” Emily smiled, pulling on his hand gently. “It would be so rude of you to refuse,” she teased, rolling her eyes. “Morgan and JJ would never refuse. Reid, too, if I explained it logically.”

Hotch stood, not unaware of the fact that she purposefully stepped into his space as she adjusted her grip in his hand, fingertips pressing into the spaces of his.

“Rossi would pounce at this chance.” Emily tilted her chin up, nose scrunched slightly.

Hotch frowned. Yeah, the man probably would.

“But I know you wouldn’t.” Emily’s voice lowered, and so did her eyes, hand following her line of sight to his chest. “Which is why you’re the only man I would ask.” Her hand rubbed down and up an inch.

Hotch flicked his eyes between hers, and she very briefly glanced up and back down. He caught a strand of her hair and brushed it back, tucking it behind her ear. It lingered of its own volition, fingertips smoothing over the dark brown strands as he swept it off her shoulder, exposing her neck and the strap of her dress.

He nodded slowly and swallowed thickly. “We should… probably stop drinking now.” Before either one of them said something they didn't mean to.

Emily rolled her eyes and turned, pulling him along. He was pretty sure she mumbled something close to “all work and no play,” but he wasn’t sure.

Unfortunately for him, the song that they entered the dance floor to was something more than slow. There was a beat, and her hips were already swaying as she walked.

There was permission granted to touch her, to mark her off limits, of course, but Hotch’s hands were not that confident yet, and he clumsily followed her lead at a distance, stretching their arms between them.

Then, she started pulling him closer, and the room shrank, closed them in, and turned up the heat. He finally got the rhythm of her sway, and... he was drunk.

He could feel it swirling in him. Making his lids heavy, and his restraint loosen.

Emily’s face tilted down as she approached, her hands directing his to her sides and he was so drunk.

So drunk that he was letting her do this with barely any resistance.

Her dress was soft, smooth against his calloused fingertips as she moved under them, and the rhythm of it all put him in a trance, hypnotized him as she touched his chest, palms flat and sliding under his suit jacket. Her eyes were heavy, too, as she began to let the music take her. He watched her face as he lowered his hands on her waist, and barely tugged, pulling her front even closer to his.

Her eyes opened then, the corners of her mouth pulling to reveal her teeth. And her head began to sway too, hand sliding up to his shoulders.

Then, Hotch saw it. Saw exactly what Evan meant by best bedroom eyes circa 1994, because she wasn’t even trying. Was just as entranced by the beat as he was and was fighting alcohol and bass, but when she looked up at him like that, he couldn’t look away.

She liked it. Couldn’t keep her smile contained when she realized she’d gotten him hooked, and showed off for him, lifting her chin, closing her eyes, exposing her neck, and brushing his front with her chest. Her hands combed into the back of his hair, too, and Hotch realized then that he had no chance against her. Ever. From day one, there was just something about her that he couldn’t stop searching for.

Even now, the mystery of her, the confidence. Boldness. It all made him want to dissect her brain, figure out why she was doing this, why she was allowing this.

He inhaled deep and slow and followed her waist back up as he tugged her closer again, gently. She let him, leaned her soft weight into him. Her grip tightened slightly, forearms pulling her up against his chest.

Her breath fanned his face now, as he was sure his did the same for her. Then, her eyes fluttered back open and she pushed away from him, grabbed his hand and spun, rolling up in his arm until, yep.

Until her back was pressed up against his chest. His arm was wrapped around her front, holding her there. He caught her hip, kept their sway even, and she rested her head back against his shoulder.

Damn she smelled good.

He leaned in to catch more, something amber and vanilla. Unintentionally, his lean led his eyes right down the front of her chest. A delicate gold chain hung there, and to his worst delight, pointed directly to the red lace hidden under her dress.

The only way he could get himself to look away was by blocking his view, hand stretching from her hip under her arm to reach her chest, where he placed it over her chain.

Her hand followed his, clearly unsure what he was doing, but when he stilled, effectively pinning her to his chest, she just let it happen. Chuckled quietly even, and lifted her hand to his face, palm touching his cheek and further, fingertips finding his neck.

God, the smell was completely intoxicating. And the words were tumbling out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. “You smell so good.”

He felt her chest puff again, and her head turned, lips brushing his cheek. “Do I?”

“Mhm.” He tilted his head into her neck further at her encouragement, hand pulling him in closer. His nose pressed to her warm skin, lips brushing just below her ear. “Sweet.” He almost, almost wanted a taste.

“You have a thing for vanilla,” Emily said lowly, breath again, hotly brushing his cheek. “Noted.”

She pushed against him then, pulled out of his arm to turn and level him with a look. One that said she was noticing just how gone his filter was. He didn’t want to let her get too far out of his arms, and caught her waist. She came right back to him, chest to chest.

And to his horror. Nose to nose.

“I love your smile.” He let another truth slip free, eyes soaking it in. He did love her smile, especially when she wore bolder lip colors.

Emily blushed and fought her smile more as she tilted away slightly.

Hotch shook his head gently as he looked at her, weakly swaying them now out of time to the music. “It's unbelievable how beautiful you are sometimes.”

Emily’s brows pinched slightly. “Really?”

“Inside and out.” He admitted. “Honestly.”

She nodded and tucked her arms between them, fingertips curling around his neck. Her eyes dropped to look there, too. And Hotch wondered what she was thinking. Why it was hard for her to believe him.

He dipped his head in hopes of catching her eyes, and when it didn’t work, he lifted a hand to her chin, tilting it up. “What went through your head there? You don’t believe me?”

She took a second longer before finally meeting his eyes. There was still lightness there, a bit of embarrassment tinging her cheeks pink. “Nothing at all, I just wasn’t expecting the earnestness.”

He was stuck staring at her again, couldn’t convince himself it was worth it to even try to stop, but she didn’t seem to mind. She was watching him too, and glancing down his face as her hands gently caressed his neck, sometimes his jaw. And eventually, the music changed for them, made their less-than-energetic swaying make sense as it slowed again.

“I’m sure the message has been sent loud and clear,” Emily mumbled after a while, but she didn’t move to pull away.

Yeah, he was sure it was. With as wrapped around her as he could get, it was obvious they were not to be disturbed. “Probably.”

She shifted her hands back to his face. Cautiously, she pulled, and he let her.

He leaned down as she closed her eyes and tilted her head against his, leaning slightly so their noses wouldn’t bump. His eyes fell shut.

There was a split second he thought she would kiss him or something. But she sighed, relaxed her body, and swayed with him as close as she could get.

Hotch knew with everything in him he should pull away. Should call her a cab, bid her a goodnight, and make way to his hotel room, but she held him here. Pressed herself against him like she wanted it.

So, he relaxed against her, too. Let her majorly invade his space because it felt good to hold her like this. He wouldn’t trust any other agent to get this close with him, and know everything was going to be okay after.

As things continued to slow, he adjusted, tucked her head over his shoulder, and smoothed his hands over her back.

Emily hummed her contentment. “You’ll let me walk you home?”

He chuckled and lifted his head when she pulled away, finally. His hand caught hers as he nodded and patted his pocket to ensure his room key was still secure. “Room 722. Lead the way.”

Emily dragged him out of the ballroom. It was a lot quieter now, though couples or groups were standing around chatting or waiting for the elevator. As they stood, she shifted her grip under his and leaned, hugging his arm.

The doors dinged, and they patiently waited their turn. Emily spun in the corner and waved him in front of her. He pressed his floor number, then stepped back, lifting his arms as hers slid around him. She leaned against his back. He covered her arm with his. It was a long trip. They stopped on almost every floor.

When seven hit, he patted her arm and dragged her off. His door was only a couple away, and they arrived way sooner than either hoped.

Hotch turned, hand tucked in his pocket.

Offer to buy her a cab. Offer to buy her a cab. Offer to buy her a cab.

“Do you want to come in?” Not at all close to what he should have said, but she nodded, and he swiped his card and pushed the door open for her.

She waltzed in under his arm and flicked a couple of switches as she went.

It was a nice room. Nothing too extravagant, but certainly nicer than some of the motels they stayed at on the road. He checked in, but hadn’t used a single piece of it yet. His go-bag sat on the floor at the end of the bed.

Emily walked right past all of it and headed straight for the balcony. She yanked the blinds, noisily sliding them in their track, and crossed her arms as she looked out the window.

It was a nice view. DC was pretty at night.

Hotch reached for the light and flipped it off, removing any reflection on the window.

Emily glanced back at him briefly, but didn’t voice any protest if there were any.

He quietly slipped out of his shoes and slid his jacket down his arms. He tossed it over the back of the chair and then followed her footsteps until he reached the edge of the bed near her. He sat slowly, hands clasped in his lap.

She was chewing her nail, arms folded up in front of her. Her weight was leaning on one leg.

He thought maybe it was impossible for her not to stand like an FBI agent, but even if her stance was wide, and her posture tight, the curve of her spine was still prominent. Her loose button-ups and jackets usually hid this, but this dress left nothing to the imagination.

When she turned and leaned back against the glass, he figured a dark room was the last thing they needed. Her eyes were a little glossed over, and her chest was flushed. Surely the wine was hitting her.

Hotch tipped slowly, and flipped the switch for the lamp next to the bed. When he straightened up, he leaned back on his arm and finally got the courage to meet her eyes again.

Tell her you’ll order her cab for her.

“Come here.” He nodded slightly.

She thought about it, expression not budging, and pushed off the glass. She approached and slowed in front of him. Her hands were clasped behind her back.

Hotch moved his feet out of her way. She stepped forward. Into his reach, almost between his legs.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t shared a room before. They had. Plenty of times. But never of their own accord. Never when they didn’t have a case to keep them focused, or limited hours of sleep they couldn’t miss. Now, this was a choice.

A choice that could end a few different ways.

Emily towered over him for a few long moments. Her hand lifted and combed through his hair. It took everything in him not to make a peep, and instead of fighting it, he closed his eyes and leaned into it.

Her breathy voice contrasted with her movement. “I should probably go.”

He hated to admit it, but he wanted her to stay. “You can stay, if you want to.”

She hummed her apprehension, but her other hand joined, and he leaned into her nails scraping his scalp. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Of course you don’t have to,” he relented, but offered more perspective. “But it’ll be fine. I don’t mind sharing with you.”

Her hand scraped forward, and he hadn’t realized how close she had gotten until his forehead was pressing to her stomach, and he lifted his hands out of reflex, accidentally touching her thighs.

He felt her silently chuckle. “Better than sharing with Rossi?”

Hotch smiled and relaxed his hands, more confidently resting on her legs. He turned his head. “Infinitely better. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

She hugged his head, fingers rubbing his forehead, and behind his ear.

 It took everything in him just to keep from practically purring. “I can drive you home tomorrow, so sending you away at midnight isn’t on my conscience.”

The room settled into silence for a long while, all while he leaned against her limply and enjoyed the massage. He only had to wrangle his hands still a couple of times, since he kept forgetting he absolutely shouldn’t be sliding them anywhere.

She whispered. “Okay.”

Not sure if he heard her, he pulled away and looked up. She nodded.

Hotch swallowed and pushed on the bed to stand. She didn’t give him any room. Barely took half a step back as he stood, and due to this, he looped his arm around her waist.

He turned to put her where he was. “Sit.”

She did as she was told, back straight, knees touching.

Hotch knelt and reached for her ankle. He lifted her foot and began to unclasp her heel. After slipping it off, his fingers ran along the indentations and slipped behind to squeeze her heel. There was no way they were comfortable. He pressed his thumbs into tender spots and worked his way up her Achilles.

He paused as her other foot lifted, and flicked his eyes up. She was looking down, chewing her bottom lip. He gently guided her foot into his hold and followed the same order of operations as before.

As he approached her calf, she pulled her leg from him, feet meeting the floor in front of him. He looked up when she tugged on his tie, loosening it.

Okay, there was no way he was going to be able to let her take his tie off. He covered her hand and took the task from her as he stood and turned, walking his way towards his bag.

“Sweatpants or shorts?”

“For you or me?”

Her tone made it obvious she was joking, but it didn’t stop him from eyeing her.

“Uh. Shorts are fine.”

He pulled a t-shirt and boxers out for her. He set them next to her.

He tucked his tie in the depths of his bag and quickly began working on buttons, pulling his shirt from his pants as he did so. As he shifted his weight and realized that he was not thinking through almost anything, he looked up.

Emily was sitting right where he left her, eyes wide and watching.

He shifted his shoulders back and pulled his button-up off. Then reached for his belt, yanking it from the loops. “You can have the bathroom first.”

The offer seemed to snap her out of it, and she turned her head and stood. She reached for the stack of clothes and got about halfway to the bathroom before he felt her turn and approach. His hands were poised on his shirt, waiting to yank it off.

“Can you unzip me?”

His head turned before his body did, brain immediately honing in on the task. “You… uh, yeah. Yes.”

She pulled her hair to the side.

His hand shook slightly as he reached for the top of her dress to hold it steady and pinched the zipper. He hesitated to drag it down, but he did so gently, revealing pale skin, that red bra, all the way down the mouthwatering slope, only to reveal to him that yes, she was wearing a matching set. Bright red panties, with lace on the edge.

He released his hold on her dress, careful not to touch her in the slightest.

“Thank you.” She almost turned, but caught herself, and finished her journey to the bathroom, the door closing loudly between them.

“I should probably be thanking you, actually,” he mumbled and turned back to his bag. He yanked his undershirt off and swapped it. Then dropped his pants to trade them for his sweats.

As he was packing his clothes up to get them off the bed, and began pulling the sheets down, she appeared in the doorway. “This hotel makeup remover is not going to do the trick.”

“You want me to call for more?” He gestured for the phone and watched her rub a cloth over her eye. Mascara was spreading. His clothes were big on her, shirt hanging crooked.

“Nah.” She shrugged. “As long as you’re not ashamed to leave here with ol’ raccoon eyes tomorrow.”

He would never be ashamed of her, ever, he was certain, but he also did not care in the slightest what she looked like.

“Up to you, Emily.” He said and shrugged. “It’s a quick call if you need them.” He moved to close the curtains.

She shook her head and turned, disappearing into the bathroom again. She did not close the door. He heard the water running.

He waited patiently for her.

When she emerged, her face was clean, no raccoon eyes in sight. Maybe the faintest, but if anything, it looked like eyeliner. She walked to the end of the bed and crawled up next to him. Sat and turned, tucked her legs under. She mirrored his position, legs out, arms clasped in her lap.

He flicked the light off then shuffled down, and felt her do the same.

The room was quiet for a long time. Long enough for Hotch to get a little lost in the feeling of lying down. His head was swimming, almost, bed beginning to feel like it was moving.

“Hey.” Emily’s quiet voice nearly made him jump, and she shifted, sliding a hand closer to him.

He turned his head to look at her. He could barely see her, outline illuminated by the city lights peaking through the crack in the curtains.

Her body followed her hand as she rolled towards him. “Thank you.”

Hotch’s chest warmed, and the urge to roll onto his side grew. He let that feeling linger for a couple minutes, then turned his head back up to stare at the ceiling.

Emily decided for him, though, giving him an excuse by sliding closer barely, and resting her hand on his bicep.

Hotch sighed. Not at her, but at himself, because he knew the chain of events he let transpire was completely unprofessional, and yet, he rolled towards her and looped his arm over her to pull her closer. She came willingly, tucked her face under his and looped her arm around his chest, then let out a sigh as well.

He rubbed a circle on her lower back. “This is way past what we agreed.”

“Hush,” Emily mumbled against his chest. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Huh.

The moment.

In hindsight, it was obvious they were having a moment, but labeling it as such was unexpected. If he was honest, they had a handful a moments up to this point. Just little things, when he felt their connection strengthen with honesty or trust, or comfort, even.

Moments where all she had to do was look at him, and he’d see into the ocean of emotion she concealed all the time because she was letting him. Or all she had to do was touch his arm to reset him, to snap him out of a singular line of thinking, a feeling he was stuck in, or other.

Or maybe moments more like the one at Benjamin Cyrus’ ranch, when their eyes had locked, and he’d watched her sacrifice even more of herself as she broke the news to a mother that her child was gone. Or when she attempted to bring him comfort after the car explosion, and her soft voice was the only reprieve his ears had for a while, so he sought her out because he knew she wouldn’t forget, wouldn’t let him push it, and wouldn’t make him feel bad when he needed to.

He curled his arm further, shifting it up to brush her hair off her neck. He got so lucky the day she stepped into his office.

Hotch tilted his head down and pressed a kiss to her hairline. If there was any night to, now would be the time, when he could blame inhibitors and they could forget it.

Except, she tilted her head back and looked up at him. “What was that?”

“What was what?” he didn’t bother opening his eyes.

She snorted air and rubbed her hand on his ribs. “You can't just kiss me on the forehead, that’s crazy.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“Then I take it back,” he weakly teased. The corner of his mouth lifted.

Emily didn’t react vocally, but he could feel the presence of an eye roll. The still of the night returned, but there was anticipation there. For her to either relax again or respond finally.

She picked the latter. “If you’re going to kiss me and take it back, at least do it properly.”

Hotch’s eyes opened then. She was looking right back at him, face inches from his. And he realized how her hand was steadily fisting the fabric of his shirt, like she could keep him here with it. Force him to face her.

Hotch wasn’t pulling away, he wasn’t, but he leaned up onto his elbow and her breath hitched as she was forced to roll slightly onto her back.

There was no way on this planet he could do that in good conscience.

He touched her face, caressed her cheek, traced the bottom outline of her lip with his thumb.

“If I did that,” he swallowed. “Everything you trust me for is thrown out the window. Everything I pride myself on being, the kind of boss this team deserves, would just... it would be gone.” He shook his head gently.

His words didn’t seem to have the effect on either of them that he hoped for. He didn’t magically get the strength to pull away. And it didn’t make her move, didn’t make that look in her eyes change almost at all.

She furrowed her brows slightly. “No, it doesn’t.”

“It would.” Hotch tilted his head and slid his hand into the hair at her scalp, running his thumb back and forth in front of her ear.

“I wish…” Emily’s grip weakened. “I wish we could just leave the agent title at the door.”

Her words strummed some hurt that lingered in him deep down. Something related to the way Haley would use words like that against him, tell him that he never stops, that it wasn’t who he was when they both knew that it was.

Emily hadn’t thrown it in his face though, didn’t use it against him. She said we, because in a lot of ways, they were the same.

And damn if he didn’t completely agree with Emily. “Yeah.”

She smiled. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, but her hand smoothed over his ribs, and she leaned into his hand.

Hotch wasn’t really sure where they would go from here, except that the only direction they could was back. It was a weird feeling, like an ache that began to blossom under his ribcage, a pulled muscle that would never heal back right. Because they just looked at each other and admitted that if they could, they would, and that was terrifying and comforting all at the same time.

And sad.

She finally broke eye contact, eyes lowering, scanning his shoulder, chest, before tucking further into his hand. Her lips brushed his thumb.

Hotch scanned the side of her face, the arch of her nose, her ear, and small dangling earring.

Her jaw was sharp when she was turned like this, and the column of her neck long, disappearing into the old FBI shirt she was wearing.

Finally making the decision they both needed him to make, he gently pulled his hand out from under her face, reached for the sheet, and pulled it up to her chin. He set his hand on her arm and quietly whispered, not wanting to disturb the peace. “Goodnight, Emily.”

Emily let him pull away, but rolled to face him again. She snuggled into her pillow and sighed as he did the same, lying back, attempting to find comfort in a position that stopped the head spin.

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

*

He knew she was leaving. Could see it in her face, in the way she was taking it all in, glass in hand. It was a close call. For Emily and Will.

He hadn’t made it to a wedding in a couple of years, and it felt right that the next was here at home, at Rossi’s, surrounded by his team, his family.

When Morgan hooked her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor, it made him wonder if she ever thought about that night.

It was easy to forget, if he was honest. Especially when he actively avoided thinking about it, and they were both professionals. He never worried about it changing them, their trust, or the way she fell into step with him throughout their time in the BAU since.

A whole lot had happened since then.

Made one little night of drinking and dancing feel extremely insignificant.

Hotch guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised she was passed right into his arms since he realized she was taking time with everyone. Making sure to get a moment with each she could keep.

Her smile was bright still, coming off of a twirl that made her laugh and rolled her eyes as Rossi leaned in to say something to her. She barely paid attention as Hotch grabbed her hand and brought her close.

Then she noticed. Turned her head a little too quickly, and he watched her eyes dart to his face, then over his shoulder as she settled closer.

She didn’t say a peep for a whole thirty seconds, but her thought got the best of her.

“Brings back some memories, doesn’t it?”

Hotch nodded slightly and tried to get a peek at her face. She blushed and avoided his eye contact.

The odds of him wanting to dance with her had always been higher than she assumed, and tonight was no different.

He was glad to finally get another chance.

Even if it was their last chance.

“I enjoyed my time with you,” he admitted. From what he could remember.  The pieces he did all involved her.

“Even though it resulted in all my college friends thinking I was banging my boss, I would agree.” Emily closed a teensy bit more space between them, her hand sliding over his shoulder to his back. “I knew I would get you on the dance floor with me again.”

“Better get it in while we can.” He had meant it lightheartedly, but when she pulled back to meet his eyes, he realized he had revealed the fact that he knew she couldn’t stay.

And she was sad to see it.  Her brows pinched, and tongue poked out to catch her bottom lip, pulling it in to chew.

He almost moved to touch it, point it out so she could stop, but he caught himself, and brushed his fingers back and forth on her hand. He attempted to soothe her. “There’s still plenty of songs to be played tonight.”

She nodded, but the energy she had teased him with was gone. He hadn’t meant to upset her. “I’d offer to drive you home, but I’m pretty sure Rossi has a room with your name on it.”

Emily’s brows furrowed further. She stopped chewing her lip in favor of a confused smirk.  “I have stayed here exactly once because of too much alcohol, I’ll have you know. And it wasn’t even my fault. It was Penelope’s.”

Hotch knew better than to argue. “So, you do want a ride home?”

She half rolled her eyes, but no response came. Not to his question, at least. “I swear I was going to tell you tomorrow.”

He wondered about that briefly, but wasn’t surprised to hear that. It was clear she was itching for change. He asked her if she wanted to talk, and her quick “It’s a date” had signaled to him that she was more prepared for it than he knew.

Which made it all completely obvious from that moment on. “I know.”

Surprisingly, her eyes flicked up and began to shine as she shook her head. Presumably at herself.

He wasn’t sure how to help her now, how to tell her that it was okay, that she was allowed to make changes in her life that didn’t involve the team or the BAU, and at no point would she lose them in few words, so all he did was pull her closer and transfer her hand to his shoulder.

She hugged him, stepped into him, and wrapped her arms around him.

Hotch couldn’t help but smile, fingertips finding spots to warm firmly against her back.

He swayed her, pulled him with her as he spun slowly.

Their dance couldn’t last forever, though, so eventually, as their too-short song began to blend into another, JJ and Penelope were pulling her into their group with wide smiles and laughs.

Hotch couldn’t believe how much she had impacted the BAU. Every round table profile, every flight, every case gone awry, every breakdown, every hospital visit, every single one of them had been impacted by her.

There was no way this was the last they would see of her.

Not when they were more than co-workers. Chosen family.

As the night drew to a close, Emily got in her own car after flashing him a smile and a wave, and he couldn’t help but feel like maybe they would always be passing ships in the night.

“Ready?”

Hotch nodded and held his hand out, a smaller one threading into it. He nodded his head for Beth to follow and walked her to the passenger side.

As he reached for the handle, she touched his arm.

“That was a beautiful wedding, wasn’t it?”

Hotch saw flashes of a satin dress and the DC skyline. Lifted his brows and nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Beautiful.”

*

Hotch wasn’t usually one to make decisions without thinking them through entirely, not off a case at least.

And his night continued according to plan.

All the way until he was pulling into his drive and realized that the final look Emily gave him was her version of a goodbye, and she wasn’t actually going to show up for their date.

So, he turned around.

Drove in silence, with conflict and worry flooding him.

Picked up the pace as he jogged inside and flashed his badge to the doorman. Pressed the elevator button a few times too many, even when he knew that wouldn’t speed it up because he was starting to feel like he was going to miss her.

Like he was going to knock or ring the bell, and she would already be gone.

Logically, it didn’t make sense. She’d left Rossi’s minutes before him.

He stopped just in front of her door. It wasn’t one he knew all that intimately. Not anymore.

Hotch knocked hard, hoping she would answer.

After a minute, the lock sounded loudly, shifting in its old metal, and the door pulled open, creaking in its hinges.

“Hotch?”

She hadn’t changed yet. Had lost her shawl and taken her heels off. Her hair was messy, just brushed, with waves spread and voluminous.

He swallowed. “May I come in?”

Emily thought about it for less than a second before stepping back.

He glanced around as he entered, surprised to see everything still in its place. He half expected to see most of it packed and ready to go already, but perhaps his thought that she would run as quickly as she could was attributed to a different version of her.

The door shut loudly, and he turned to see her standing just in front of it, looking at him curiously.

He wasn’t unwelcome, that was obvious, but she was on guard.

Why are you really here?

Hotch tilted his head as he watched her wide eyes flick over his face. “I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye.”

“I wasn't—” She took his words like a hit, head absorbing it and shaking as she blinked. “I was going to…How did you know?”

Hotch shrugged and sighed. “I know you.”

Emily only pursed her lips and nodded. She stayed still, as if she was fighting movement, trying not to give him any more intel into how she was feeling or what she was thinking.

Only, he had read her enough, and now he was struggling to read himself, because he had come here thinking what?

That she would welcome him in and leave him with something warm to hold on to? Something like a hug, or an honest sentiment?

Or maybe he hoped he’d show up and she would just read his mind. Just know that he wished things were different between them.

That he wished they had gotten their chance instead of ignoring it.

Hotch's jaw shifted.

She looked nervous. “Everything okay?”

No.

No, it really wasn’t.

Hotch walked to her, took up the space right in front of her. She didn’t back down and in fact, she turned to face him fully, hands fiddling before dropping to her sides.

God, she was beautiful. Especially now, at the end of the night. Tired but not unaware, relaxed but still dressed up. He loved it when she didn’t wear heels. It put him at just the right height to scan her eyelashes, log them into his memory forever.

Knowing this was a moment, their moment, Hotch touched her cheek.

Her chest hallowed, air audibly sighing out as she peered up at him. She did not return the favor and kept her hands securely at her sides.

So he cupped her other cheek, dragged his thumbs over the apples of them, committed her face to memory just in case. He wished he did this before she was killed, and he’d be damned if he missed another chance.

She was patient. Extremely quiet and still, and he knew it was because she had to be. That’s all she was in the face of everything she was faced with over the past year. She spent ages trying to be exactly who everyone believed she was when she came back.

Hotch knew she didn’t have to try so hard. The corner of his mouth lifted.

“Care for a dance?”

Emily smiled weakly then and grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands from her face. She glanced down. “I’m a bit underdressed.”

“I haven’t stepped on your toes yet, have I?” He didn’t fight the way she asked for space, stepping back and releasing him. He wanted nothing more than to close the space between them, though.

She chuckled in response, shaking her head. “No, you’re right. You haven’t.”

He opened his hand, holding it out for her. “I won’t start now.”

Emily fought her smile but gave in, hooking her hand in his heavily and letting him drag her close. He didn’t let her close enough to tuck her face away.

He wanted to look at her.

She avoided his gaze for a long, silent while.

Well, he guessed it could’ve been maybe a minute or two, but she realized fairly quickly that he was not going to relent.

She blushed then and worked up the courage to meet his gaze.

He loved this version of her. When she got a spark in her eye because she loved a challenge, loved to fight authority in some aspects, loved to poke and prod and tease her friends because it was amusing.

A love language of sorts.

And it was rare these days that she looked at him like that.

“There you are.” He had not meant to say that out loud in the slightest, but the way her brow quirked up made his mouth run dry, and he couldn’t look away even if he tried.

That spark didn’t stay as her face softened, her smile stretching as she flicked her eyes back and forth.

“I’ll miss you,” she said, hand adjusting in his, squeezing tighter.

“We’ll dance again”, he reassured her.

And himself. He hoped they would, anyway.

He would always save a dance for her.

She nodded, and similarly to before, pushed past his grip to line his chest with hers for a hug. He wrapped his arms around her and reveled in the warmth of her head on his cheek.

They swayed to nothing, feet barely moving in place. Until he couldn’t fight the urge any longer to shift his hand, comb through her hair with his fingers, and kiss her head.

She turned to look up at him, eyes searching his face.

Hotch just continued to pet her hair and held her close, fingers rubbing her scalp gently.

He managed to waste quite a bit of her time, but only because she let him. More than a song’s worth, but he didn’t plan on calling it out.

Even when she leaned her head on him, her hand resting on his chest. Her steady breath fanned his neck in waves.

He was content to drown until she pulled him back to shore. “My feet hurt.”

And that was his cue. “I bet. I’ll let you go.”

Naturally, pulling away was hard, but they did it. He did it. Got all the way to the door and pulled it open even before he turned to look back at her.

She followed him, hand reaching for his arm. “Wait, Hotch.”

“Hm?”

Her lips were on his before he could even register what had happened, and when she pulled back, he had yet to react.

But the moment it clicked, the moment he realized that she'd taken the chance, he leaned forward, caught her face in his hands, and kissed her hard. Kissed her like he meant it. Like she wasn’t about to leave and leave the BAU worse off for it.

Like he wasn’t completely and utterly intoxicated by her, and the way her fingers curled up the back of his neck. How soft and perfect she felt in his arms, and how his head rushed with blood.

He hummed weakly, not to protest or pause, but because he couldn’t believe it was happening.

She responded in kind, answering with a small, completely mind-numbing moan.

She tilted against him, leaned into him as he hooked his arm around her, hands attempting to memorize her shape starting at the base of her neck, across her shoulders, and down the curve of her back.

Hers were doing something similar, sliding over her shoulders down his front and around his sides as teeth pinched lips.

The fervent man that he’d kept tucked neatly away all these years curled out of him into his hands as he drew them along her lower back, and let them weigh heavily.

Their kiss slowed, but she wasn’t quite ready to pull away as she pushed up onto her tiptoes slowly, fingers squeezing the lapel of his jacket in an attempt to keep him close.

They were both a little out of breath after they finally parted, foreheads touching and chests rising and falling quickly.

When her head lifted from his, he braced himself, pulled the strength together to let her go.

Her dark eyes were wet, emotions swirling behind them, but she kept it together.

He swept his eyes over her face, and her hands finally relaxed, smoothing the fabric of his jacket against his chest.

He cupped her cheek. “Goodbye, Emily.”

A weak laugh huffed out of her. Her eyes dropped to his chest. “You’re not going to take it back?”

Weakly, he smirked. It wasn't his to take back. She kissed him first. He shook his head. “No.”

He stepped back from her, grabbing one of her hands on his chest. She stepped with him but not far, stopping just inside with her other hand on the door handle.

He squeezed it gently and swept his eyes over her one last time.

She finally lifted her eyes back to his face. “Take care, Hotch.”

She dropped his hand. “You, too, Em.”

Then he smiled. Couldn't help it. Tried to help it. It was a good kiss.

Emily smiled, too.