Author's Note: So, I actually have been wanting to write this story for a LONG time...and I thought it would fit in the series. A jealous Hotch...now that's something to write about. By the way, I know that this is kind of out of character for Emily and Hotch...Hopefully you enjoy, and I'm open to advice and reviews. (cough) Thanks to all my readers! You guys rock!

Disclaimer: (sighs in defeat) Not mine.

"What's eating you?"

Hotch turned his attention away from Emily on the dance floor and looked at Dave. "What do you mean?" he asked, feigning confusion.

"Aaron, you look just about green with envy," the older man said nonchalantly. Hotch just raised an eyebrow and looked away, his gaze eventually finding Emily once more.

"I've seen the way you look at her, you know."

"Would you please just shut up?" Hotch asked, annoyance seeping into his voice. Sometimes he wished that none of his best friends were profilers.

"I'm just saying," Dave said in defense, taking a sip of scotch from the glass in front of him. There was a brief pause. "You should ask her to dance."

Hotch sighed. "Dave…"

"I'm done, I'm done," he said, raising his hands in defeat.

But Hotch wasn't. He couldn't keep his eyes off of Emily.

The team had just finished an emotionally disturbing case. In order to relax and unwind, Morgan had suggested that they go to a bar. Of course, they had all agreed. So there they were, the seven of them, trying their hardest to forget what they had seen just hours before. But they weren't alone. Joining them was Sam Cooper's team, and Hotch kept a wary glance on Agent Rawson, who he knew had been pursuing Emily from the very beginning.

Watching Emily, it seemed like she was no longer resisting. Seeing them together was making him insanely jealous, but he continued nonetheless. Emily was dancing with Rawson, grinding her hips against his to the beat of the music, and the British agent couldn't help but have a satisfied smirk on his face. Hotch sighed. "Does he know how lucky he is?" he thought.

He did. As the song stopped and a slower one came on, they separated and walked towards where Hotch and Dave were sitting. Hotch rubbed his eyes and frowned slightly as Emily came and sat by him. Dave whispered, "It's a slow song. I'm telling you, ask her to dance." Hotch shot him a glare and immediately regained his composure.

"Hey Hotch," Emily said, smiling brightly as Mick sat by her. "Having fun?"

He forced a smile. "Yeah, how about you?"

"I'm having a great time! It's so nice to just take it easy and not think about anything…" Her voice faded away as Mick trailed a finger up and down the length of her arm.

She smiled slyly. "And just what do you think you're doing, Mick?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Trying to keep my hands off of you, but apparently it's not working. By the way, you look amazing in that dress," the Brit added, a schoolboy-like grin spreading across his face.

It was true. While Emily was busy with Mick, Hotch's eyes roamed down her slight figure. She looked so different; he wasn't used to seeing her dressed in anything but her standard office attire. Her hair was slightly curled and cascaded down her shoulders. She was wearing a black dress that hugged her curves, and although it covered everything that needed covering, it left very little to the imagination. To top it off, she was wearing matching high-heeled shoes that accentuated her legs and made them look miles longer. Hotch bit back a moan. The things he would do to her…

The music changed once again, this time to another upbeat song, and Mick stood, pulling Emily with him.

"Where are we going?" Hotch heard Emily ask as she was lead away.

"We are going to the dance floor again, because this song is one of my favorites. And honestly," he added, "I just can't get enough of you."

She laughed and gave him a playful smile. "Real subtle, Mick," she said sarcastically as she was pulled into his arms and they began to dance again.

"Thank you. Subtlety is my middle name," he said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes, her hips moving with his. "Whatever. Just shut up and dance."

He chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

Hotch turned away and faced Dave, who was starting at him.

"What?" the unit chief asked sharply.

Dave said nothing.

Hotch sighed. "Don't profile me, Dave. You know I hate it."

"Jealousy isn't a good look for you, Aaron."

"And you care, why?" he snapped back. There was a pause. "I'm sorry...it's just..."

"I understand," Dave said knowingly to his friend.

"Do you?" Hotch asked weakly.

He nodded. "Emily is a beautiful woman. Any man would understand your feelings for her."

"But that's not it," Hotch said. "It's not just how beautiful she is...Dave, she's one of two people who can always make me smile. And the other is my son," he added at Dave's questioning look.

"Then tell her that. Tell her how you feel, Aaron. I mean, you could even tell her right now..." But he stopped when he looked at Emily.

"What?" Hotch asked, following his gaze. The song had stopped, but Emily and Mick remained standing there, their lips pressed together, locked in an embrace.

"I'm sorry, Aaron," the older man said truthfully to his friend, not knowing what else to say.

"I knew it..." he said quietly, his hands unconsciously clenching into fists.

There was a brief, awkward pause, but then Dave said, slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, "I…I don't want to make it worse, but...maybe if you had told her your feelings earlier...this wouldn't have happened."

"I know..." he said solemnly, thinking that the only thing that he wanted to do was buy a couple of glasses of scotch and drink away his sorrows.

Dave spoke again. "...You could still tell her."

Hotch looked over at him, incredulous. "No offense, Dave, but are you insane? There's no use. Not while she's with Rawson." He spit out the name as if it was the name of the Devil, then continued. "I mean...she really likes him. It's obvious."

"Aaron, what are you going to lose? What if she does have feelings for you? What if you're just wasting this chance?"

"You're exactly right, Dave. What if, what if...there's just too much doubt. I don't want to risk losing what friendship we already have."

"It's a fifty-fifty chance, Aaron. It doesn't get any better than this. For God's sake, do I have to fight for you for everything? What do I have to say to convince you? Just do it!"

Hotch sighed and looked away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine. Fine, I'll do it. I'll...go to her place after she leaves, then I'll tell her."

Dave patted his back in support. "Good. You never know, Aaron. You just never know."

But Hotch couldn't help but feel as if he was about to make the stupidest decision in his life.

Emily approached the two men, Rawson following close behind. "Well, you two, I think it's time for me to head home for the night."

"You sure, Em? It's still pretty early," Dave said, glancing at his watch.

"Yeah, it's been a pretty long day, let alone week. For all of us," she added, smiling at Hotch.

"You have no idea," he said. There had been a brief second where he thought that she had gotten shot by John Vincent Bell, their unsub, on the roof of the parking garage, and his heart had stopped. But thankfully, nothing of the sort had happened. All thanks to Rawson, he thought bitterly.

Dave cleared his throat. "Well then, goodbye, Emily. Get some rest this weekend," he said nicely, giving her a fatherly smile.

"You, too," she said in reply. She turned to Rawson. "Are you going to be staying for a while?"

They exchanged a look.

"Yeah, I think I'll go talk with Cooper for a while."

"Alright, then." Turning back to her coworkers, she said, "Bye, Dave. Bye, Hotch. Have a good weekend."

"You too," they answered in unison. Hotch flinched and looked away as he saw Mick steal a quick kiss from Emily before she left.

"Goodbye, Mick," she said, lightly pushing him away. She chuckled, walking to the door of the bar and leaving, waving goodbyes to anyone that she could have missed.

~.~.~

Five minutes passed and Emily, who was standing alone outside of the bar, received a text message.

"Your place or mine?" It read.

She smiled and texted back. "Mine. It's closer."

"Great. I'll be out in a second."

"I'll be waiting."

Less than a minute later, Mick emerged from the doors of the bar, approached Emily, and snaked an arm around her waist, walking to her car and anticipating the night that they would be spending together.

~.~.~

After a few minutes of watching JJ kick ass at darts, Morgan dance with several beautiful women, Reid do...nothing, and Mick text someone (Emily?), Hotch had enough.

He turned to Dave and saw, out of the corner of his eye, Mick get up, say a few goodbyes, and leave the bar. Dave looked up at him.

"Well?"

He stood. "I guess I'm leaving...I mean, I might as well, right?" he asked, needing reassurance.

Dave nodded. "Exactly. Now you go tell her exactly how you feel, and when we get back to work on Monday, I want you to tell me exactly how amazing your evening went."

Hotch gave a small but genuine smile. "Thanks, Dave."

The older man smiled back. "Any time."

He gave his team a few quick goodbyes and left the bar, hoping that by some miracle, Emily felt the same about him as he did for her.

~.~.~

Meanwhile, at Emily's condo, both Mick and Emily were busy engaging in indulgent activities. They were lying on her bed, lips exploring, hunting, and cataloguing every inch of each other's bodies. Mick's hands went to the back of Emily's dress, pulling down the zipper and pushing it off her shoulders. She did the same with his shirt, unbuttoning it and pulling it off, exposing his bare, muscled chest to her gaze.

Right as things were about to escalate, her doorbell rang, the sound echoing loudly throughout her home.

Emily moaned in frustration, but Mick didn't give in so quickly. "Emily...just ignore it. Please..."

She sighed and sat up. "You know I can't, Mick." She got off the bed and quickly threw on a dark purple tank top and black shorts. Pushing her hair out of her face, she turned to him. "Stay here, alright? I'll be right back."

He nodded and said, "Okay...but when you get back..."

She chuckled and walked out of the bedroom to answer the door. Opening the door, a stunned look flitted across her features, but was quickly replaced by a smile. "Oh. Hey, Hotch, what's up?" She paused, taking in his expression. "Are you okay?"

In one second, he appraised her appearance. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were sparkling, and her lips were slightly swollen.

What the hell? he thought briefly, before answering, "Yeah, I'm fine...can I come in? I kind of need to talk to you..." he asked, struggling for words.

"Umm...is it about a case?" she asked, glancing behind her briefly.

"No, not really...but it's really important."

"Hotch, this isn't the best time..."

"It'll just take a second. Please?" he asked, desperation barely noticeable in his voice.

She looked at him for a minute and realized that he felt strongly about whatever he had to say. So she held the door open. "Alright, come in. Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, thanks," he said, sitting in her living room and watching her as she came and sat in front of him.

"So...what did you need to talk about?" she asked curiously.

"Well, there's something that I've been meaning to tell you...and recently, I guess I've found the courage to say it," he started awkwardly. "I...I like –"

But he was cut off by a voice coming from the bedroom. "Emily?" Mick came out of the room, wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else. Emily spun towards the voice and whispered frantically, "Go back!" Mick opened his mouth to speak, but realized who her visitor was. He looked away in embarrassment and whispered, "I'm sorry, Emily..." before going back into the room. Emily turned to Hotch, who looked at her with a face void of emotion. "What...what were you going to say, Hotch?" she asked quietly, although she could easily guess the answer.

"Nothing." He stood, walking towards her door. "It's not important anymore."

"Hotch, please..."

"Trust me, it's nothing, Emily," he said, his forced use of her first name making her flinch. "Besides, it's clear that you're busy."

"Hotch..."

"Goodnight, Prentiss. Enjoy the rest of your evening. I'm sorry to have disturbed you," he spat out, walking out of her condo before she could say anything else. He left her standing in the middle of the doorway, shock etched in her features. She stared at the closed door for a while, before walking slowly to the bedroom again.

"I'm sorry, Emily...I didn't know..." Mick said weakly, his expression one of true concern.

She shook her head. "It's fine, I just..." There was a long pause where neither of them spoke, but then Emily said, quietly, "He looked so depressed."

Mick said nothing, just wrapped her in his arms.

"Make me forget, Mick. Make me forget everything," he heard her whisper.

And there was nothing he could do but oblige.

~.~.~

Hotch walked back to his car in a trance. He had been right; it would be no use going to her condo. In fact, it had just made him feel worse. Sure, he had seen her and Mick embracing, but he had kept a false hope that they weren't serious. But obviously they were. Seeing Mick in her apartment had sent a surge of jealousy through his veins, shocking him like electricity. It had burned, knowing what they had been up to before he had arrived. Knowing what he had interrupted.

"Green with envy? Hell, yes," Hotch murmured as he remembered Dave's comment. Knowing that he had no more chances with Emily was enough to make him place his head in his hands, break down, and cry.