A/N: So I started writing this a couple of weeks ago and tons of other stories kind of pushed it to the back burner. I plan on writing one more part. :)

The chill took a while to leave Emily's body when she entered the BAU on Friday, December thirty-first. She regretted not wearing a heavier sweater; as she sat at her desk, she was tempted to put her coat back on. "Morning," she said to Reid.

"Good morning." Reid was already immersed in his work and didn't even look up. Emily decided she definitely needed coffee, so she went to make herself some. She came back about five minutes later, having had caught Morgan and chatted a bit with him. There was a red greeting card sized envelope, her name written across the front in a familiar scrawl. She sat down and slid her finger under the flap. The front of the card was silver with white glittery snowflakes. The inside had been blank upon purchase. It now read:

Emily,

I apologize for not asking you sooner, but I was hoping you could come to my apartment this evening. I'm frankly too scared to say this aloud to you, but I want to get to know you as more than Agent Prentiss. I figured a New Year's Eve together could be a nice start. I'm sure you understand I wish for this to remain private, at least for now, so please find a subtle way to let me know whether you can make it. I hope to see you at my place tonight. I hope 9:00 suits you.

Aaron

Emily smacked the card against her desk immediately and looked around, her heart pounding. Had anyone seen the card? Had anyone seen her read it? Get a hold of yourself, Emily. It's the holiday season. People get cards. Cards often have things written in them. It's not suspicious. But the way she glanced around her was.

"What's that?" Reid asked.

"What?" Emily said quickly, hiding the card behind her back as she turned her chair to face Reid.

"The card you're hiding behind your back," Reid said, still not even looking up.

"It's just…a card," Emily said.

"From whom?"

"Garcia," Emily said quickly.

"Then why are you hiding it?"

"It's got a dirty joke in it." Emily was glad Reid wasn't the type to get into that kind of thing. He finally stopped interrogating her.

Do I go? Emily wondered. She made sure Reid still wasn't looking before she cracked open the card again, chuckling to maintain her cover. It was definitely Hotch's handwriting. No doubt about it. She peered up into his office window, but he must have been sitting at his desk or was elsewhere because she didn't see him.

…Find a subtle way to let me know whether you can make it…

Emily supposed that if she could catch Hotch's attention and simply nod at him pointedly, he'd probably clue in. But was she going to accept the invitation? She wanted to, more than anything. The idea of an evening away from work with him sounded like something out of one of her many fantasies. She wasn't going to read into whether he felt the same way, though. She convinced herself that the card was rather ambiguous—could be romantic, could be just friendly—she didn't want to fool herself.

She managed to concentrate on her work until their daily briefing. Hotch wasn't in the conference room yet when she arrived—actually, nobody was—so she took a seat across from the door so that maybe she could catch his eye when he walked in. Everyone else trickled in one by one, Hotch being the last. His arrival sent Emily's heart sputtering into her throat. She was successful in establishing eye contact, so she nodded, trying to make it more than a nod of acknowledgment one might give another instead of a "hello."

Hotch just looked weirdly at her. But then he nodded back and took a seat. Emily was relieved that she'd at least gotten attention, but the odd look worried her.

Emily wanted desperately to talk to JJ, who knew all about her little work crush. She would be thrilled, most likely. But talking to JJ would not be playing along with the theme of not getting herself hyped up over something that could be nothing. So she kept the invitation a secret.

Emily was glad the team was on stand down until Monday, otherwise she wasn't sure when an opportunity like this would present itself again. The whole day seemed to whirr by her in fast motion, with her standing relatively still, like some strange sort of special effect trick. And even more oddly, she didn't see Hotch all day. He usually came down into the bullpen at least for coffee. Maybe he didn't want to make anyone suspicious. Yes, that's it.

A couple of hours before quitting time, she realized she was just sitting at her desk, daydreaming about what would happen that night, instead of actually working. She literally wanted to slap herself on the face to snap herself out of it, but figured that might be a bit obvious. She fought off visions of kisses and lovemaking until it was time to pack up.

Emily dreaded walking back out into the winter chill, which, she could see through the windows, now included ridiculous amounts of snow. She loved snow…from inside. Driving in it, however, was something she typically left up to others, given the chance. Hotch was still up in his office, taking one last look down into the bullpen before getting ready to leave, himself.

Two hours later, Emily was rushing into the liquor store, out of the blizzard that swirled in uncontrolled rage outside. Her knuckles were still white from her drive to Hotch's side of town, but she knew it would be worth it. She picked up two mini bottles of champagne, deciding that such a gesture could be taken as friendly, should Hotch make it obvious that he wasn't romantically interested in her. But they could also be taken as romantic, if need be. It was only five after eight when she reached Hotch's door. She'd been hoping to be more fashionably late. Oh, well, she thought. The man's got a kid. He probably doesn't even know what time it is anyway. Upon that thought, Emily wondered whether tonight's plans included Jack. She hadn't thought of that. Had Hotch left him with Jessica for the night? Maybe that would be a good indicator of where Hotch saw this going. If Jack was still home, then it was probably supposed to be a friendly visit. If Jack was gone, then most definitely Hotch had meant for it to be a date.

She brushed the snow off of her black wool jacket, her knit scarf, and the fronts of her dark wash jeans (a dress would not have left options open, as much as she loved the idea of wearing one for Hotch). Then she knocked.

"Prentiss," Hotch said, surprised, as he opened up. "What…brings you here?"

Though Hotch clearly hadn't been expecting her, he apparently thought it rude to leave her standing in the hallway and instead opened the door and gestured her inside.

"Umm, well…" Emily's heart sank like a rock. She wondered who the hell could have found this funny. She sighed and, glancing around the apartment, everywhere but at Hotch, really, she fished the card out of her purse. She was about to hand it to him when she realized how dangerous that could be. Hotch looked at her expectantly but Emily tucked the card back inside her purse. If he read it, he would know why she came tonight. Plus, the fact that she was a profiler made it all the more embarrassing that she had fallen for the cruel prank. She should have known better. Did those words even sound like Hotch's? No. And handwriting was easy enough to fake…

"Prentiss?" Hotch repeated, frowning.

The rumbling voice of Boris Karloff nostalgic narration of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" reached Emily's ears, and she saw the top of Jack's head from behind the couch.

"Just thought I'd drop by and say, 'Happy New Year,'" Emily fumbled.

"Oh. Well, happy New Year. Jack and I were just watching the Grinch, if you'd like to join us."

"I thought they stopped showing that after Christmas," Emily said, unbuttoning her jacket.

"I have it on tape. It's one of my favorites," Hotch said. He politely helped Emily take off her jacket and hung it up while she crouched down to remove her high heeled boots. "Coming down out there, isn't it?" Hotch said.

"Yeah, it is…"

"Champagne?" Hotch asked, stepping into the kitchen. "And don't say no, because I don't want to have to drink this whole bottle on my own."

"Well, then. Sure."

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review. Want more? :)