Author's Note: Again, with all the news lately, I was feeling under the weather emotionally, and felt as if we could all use some sweetness in our day. That, coupled with the fact that I really did like last night's episode ('A Thin Line') - despite the tragic lack of Hotch/Emily scenes - prompted me to write this little piece. Thank you all so much for reading, and I sincerely hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.

Hotch could practically feel the tension in the air as he watched his team gather at the landing strip. He had sensed something was off when Rossi had told him to drive straight from Preston's campaign office to their current location. The case was over, sure. Trevor Mills was dead; shot point blank by Morgan. That much Hotch had expected.

What he hadn't expected was this.

Rossi kept his eyes forward and lips in a tight line when he spoke. "Whatever you do, don't kill Morgan."

Hotch was opening his mouth in question when he saw just what the older profiler had been referring to.

His blood ran cold.

"Emily."

At his terse tone of voice, Emily's head snapped up, her brunette locks shifting in the comfortable California breeze.

Their gazes met pointedly. "What happened?" Hotch asked, trying his hardest to remain professional. His eyes, on the other hand, communicated another question entirely.

Are you okay?

Please tell me you're okay.

Please, dear God, please.

Emily gave him a placating smile. "Oh, this?" she said nonchalantly, casting a cursory glance at the sling her left arm was now resting in. "It's nothing; nothing that a couple strong painkillers can't and won't fix."

"What…happened?" he asked again, looking, this time, at JJ and Morgan standing nearby.

Emily shifted her gaze awkwardly. "Well, I…I made the mistake of going in without my weapon drawn," she lied, "and our unsub was -"

"It was my fault," Morgan interrupted pitifully.

"No, Derek -"

"I suggested we split up," Morgan said on a sigh, knowing, without a doubt, that Hotch would later give him hell. "Emily even said it probably wasn't the best idea," he recounted quietly. "And she was right."

Emily gave her partner a chiding look. "Hey. We got the job done, didn't we?"

Morgan said nothing.

Meanwhile, Hotch was putting every ounce of restraint he had into not going out on a rage. "We're all tired," he said, seemingly a a non-sequitur. "I suggest we all get some rest on the jet. But we'll talk about this later," he made sure to add, directing the comment solely to the other man.

Emily and JJ were walking away when Morgan gently caught hold of the former's wrist. "Listen, princess…I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

Emily smiled tinily once more. "Don't worry about it. Though…out there, in the field, sorry doesn't bring people back," she recounted, her teasing expression only somewhat feigned.

A couple paces away, Hotch frowned to himself, gruesome memories of shamrocks and basements and blood all too fresh on his mind.

~.~.~

It came as no surprise to Emily when she heard a key turning in the lock of her front door. The door gave a short creak, then was swung closed.

"Took you long enough," she said, a playful hint to her voice.

Hotch's mind was on one thing and one thing only, however. Emily barely had time to register the darkly concerned expression marring his handsome features before he was by her side and kissing her with a heat and passion so searing that stars danced behind her eyelids.

Emily pulled away with a gasp, her heart thundering loudly in her ears. "Jesus Christ, Aaron."

But Hotch was shaking his head. "Tell me you're okay," he implored gently, his eyes shining with an intriguing mixture of worry and lust. "Tell me it doesn't hurt."

She brought him in for another kiss instead, moving to nibble at the underside of his jaw when he ghosted his fingers along her sling. "I'm okay," Emily breathed against his skin.

"You promise?" he rasped, unconsciously fisting a hand in her characteristically beautiful pink blouse.

"Cross my heart."

Hotch gazed at her for a minute longer, then forced himself to believe her. Their hands were linked, their chests heaving.

A daunting stretch of silence lapsed between them before Hotch spoke once more. This time, he sounded almost…broken.

"Why is it always you?"

Emily's heart ached something awful at his words, but she somehow managed to keep the tears at bay. "I ask myself that all the time. I guess something about me just attracts…danger." She shot him a saucy grin. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Mister?"

Hotch couldn't not crack a smile at her flirtatious banter; he would address her purposeful ignoring of his serious questions at another time. As of now…he just needed to be with her. To feel her. To stay with her, and keep her safe. "Au contraire," he finally answered, still smiling. "I think I know a thing or two, Ms. Prentiss."

"Mmmm, you need to speak French around me more often," she hummed, toying with his tie absentmindedly.

"As long as you promise to speak Spanish around me more often," he countered.

"Noted." Emily moved to straddle his thighs - or at least, to try to - but she instantly winced at the strain it put on her arm. Immediately, Hotch was tensed once more.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked, his eyebrows drawing together in his intense concern for her comfort and wellbeing. "And be honest."

Emily paused, her teeth worry away at her bottom lip; then, finally, she made up her mind. "Well…there is one thing you could do."

"Name it."

She smiled. "Make love to me."

Hotch's eyes widened imperceptibly. "But…your arm. Emily, sweetheart…"

She laughed a little to herself. "I think you'll find that my function isn't impaired one bit," she winked. "Please, Aaron; I just want you."

When she looked so delicate yet so fiery, how could he possibly say no?

Taking careful notice of her arm and the sling it was in, Hotch effortlessly lifted Emily into his arms and, without another word, carried her off to the bedroom. He was laying her down on the plush mattress when, once again, she hissed in pain, the air whooshing out of her lungs.

Hotch covered her mouth with his in a tender kiss. "I'm so sorry," he breathed.

Emily only shook her head, however. "First of all, you have nothing to be sorry about. Nothing at all. And secondly…you know how much I hate that word."

Hotch sighed, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "I know, I know, but…I am. Nothing can change that. I hate feeling so helpless when I see you get hurt. That isn't to say that you aren't the strongest woman I know; because you are. But…Heaven forbid, I think I'm developing a soft spot for you, Emily Prentiss," he teased sweetly.

Emily blushed a little, then pressed a brief kiss to his cheek. "I've always had a soft spot for you, Aaron Hotchner." Always have, always will. "Now…if you really are sorry, don't tell me; show me."

And that was just what he did.

THE END.

Author's Note: Like it? Love it? Please drop me a line telling me what you think! No matter short or long, signed or anonymous, I treasure every single review I get; they're the best motivation and inspiration for me! Thanks in advance! :)