This is a small piece requested by Franjp (is this usual that I write 99% of my stuff to you? idk). She asked me to write Hotch and Emily and 'She will be loved'. Well, I can't quite control what comes to me when I write, so the first idea that popped inside my head was "omg, they should dance this". That being said, here's a rather fluffy, though a bit angsty oneshot about my babes dancing.

Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: If I owned Criminal Minds, well well, Hotch and Emily would definitely engage in some horizontal dances as well. ;)

1994

.

The first time, it's his assignment.

Not to dance with her, of course. They had a complicated beginning – she was a rebel, he was too upright to ignore her rather complicated temper. But he eventually did, because when her wide smile guided him to that shadowy corner in the Ambassador's study, all Aaron Hotchner could feel was the warmth of her skin pressed tenderly against his.

His body was fully clad, tie and Oxfords and that whole Special Agent façade she despised from their first momentum – Emily Prentiss has never been most people, he quickly realized. Her long creamy legs were bare, black shorts rarely concealing along with a grey sweatshirt the young woman adored. Dark tones were her everyday choice, and the rookie profiler within him searched for explanations.

Maybe there never really had one, maybe this was just a random pick up or some sort of unexplainable thing. Too bad he never believed in any of this, too bad he found himself scanning every movement from the instant he found her perusing that book – what was the title even? - near a great window. It was early, cold lights invading the walls, painting her restless form, illuminating her in ways he was quite sure he never had seen before.

Yet, he had a fiancée, a home to come back to even though fractures of him craved to know more about her. That one hazy night, Emily never told him she'd head to Yale the morning after, never even mentioned she'd leave him behind with nothing but a goddamn hollow bed.

Because they hadn't anticipated that reaction, hadn't expected that, in the exact moment his hand covered hers - its pair splayed on the small of her back in order to draw her just a bit closer -, it would feel just right. It shouldn't be like that, shouldn't taste like that either when her lips savored his. Still, it did.

And they swayed to rain drops tickling the windowpane.

2008

.

The second time, she's slightly intoxicated.

He was as well – less than her, more than he'd ever been since his bar exam. They were in Vegas, after that one case he particularly ached to forget. There was not a fiancée, not anymore. There's not a wife either or a home to come back to. Part of him hated the simple of thought of it; part of him felt that old guilt leaving his every breath.

That assignment was in that past, buried along memories of her charming dimples, her playful doe eyes always challenging him. But they couldn't be, could they? Certainly not. Not when he was able to feel her heart thumping hard inside her chest, their torsos brushing against one another in that old tango of limbs forbidden for co-workers.

His large palm cupped her slim waist, enveloped her whole body with his and Prentiss – this was her name now, his way of addressing her – snuggled closer in that specific motion similar to that dance years ago. Remembrances plundered his every rationality, lead him to press a single, lingering kiss on the crook of her neck

A not so new scent filled his nostrils, those gentle lilies causing his every nerve ending to tingle with longing. It was not about the way she'd feel beneath him later that same day, it was not about accidental one-night stands.

It was about those brief seconds he remained awake and her calm breath was against his chest, one of her legs hooked on his as Emily drowned in her slumber. This was about Aaron, not Hotch or that damn Unit Chief circus.

Albeit her broken, confused brown eyes tore him apart the morning after, she was still there, she was still his to claim again one more time before they had to move away from his hotel room. Emily didn't fight it, didn't even mind possible outcomes of whatever this was. Perhaps, she was tired of running, of slipping away unnoticed to avoid strings and hurt and everything she had experienced throughout the tortuous pathway of her life.

And they embraced each other like tomorrow would turn them into ashes.

2012

.

The third time, he's not hers anymore.

It's almost unexpected when he pulled her from Dave to share some few steps with him, to drape her with his body in that one way she yearned for ever since she came back. Although it had been her choice to let go of him – of them – the brunette couldn't quite reflect any happiness to the scene she had just witnessed.

Perhaps because this was different, perhaps because when Aaron danced with Haley at that bar shortly after she joined the team, he had never belonged to her. But now, she knew.

Emily Prentiss knew what stood to have that man with her every single day, to have his chest covering her back and his smile being that one thing she'd wake up to – sometimes, Jack's sleepy dimples would replace such sight. And deep within her, the younger woman was aware she walked out of it in her own will.

She was hurt, pieces scattered everywhere and she apparently didn't seem to bring them back together. Lonely dawns would make her wonder, consider whether he'd be able to tie it all up as he always did. Yet, they didn't deserve this, didn't deserve half person to complete. Not after what they had been through the last year – what she made them go through as well.

This time, she'd run. Protect them again, save them from the demons and walls she had built, yes, this could be a reasonable explanation. Still, it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for Aaron demanded much more than that the morning after – that date she somehow regretted mentioning.

He felt as much as that empty bed, as much as Yale because her bags were already packed and her ticket already bought. The woman wasn't asking his opinion, she was just announcing she'd never be his – maybe she had never been, he inquired silently. But this couldn't end like this, not like this when her abysmal orbs told him a completely different story.

And they held up to one another with no promises of a someday.

2014

.

The fourth time, she came back to help.

Because he needed her there also, even though he couldn't bear the simple thought of it. When she read his every waver, his flat voice morphing into worry and that natural negativity only her could take away from him, the father of one was not quite sure whether he was glad or startled to begin with.

He was able to touch her again, to work by her side, to smell her perfume in that small period they were side by side in field. Her gun was steadier, her posture more confident than he'd ever seen, and he vaguely imagined how it would feel to pull her close once more. She hasn't been his for a long time, long enough for him and Beth to drift apart slowly albeit he hated to admit it.

But he shouldn't take her to the dancefloor – more of tiny corner at that whatever-the-name-was bar -, shouldn't ask for that one thing able to connect them for darker and for lighter. It was an unspoken vow they'd taken exactly 20 years ago now. And this unsettled him as they swayed to a sweet voice they couldn't recognize, caused her to fist his jacket stronger than she should.

Tears edged the rim of her eyes, shattered as her mind took the best of her and pictured her life if only she had let him in after the Doyle episode, after she rose from the dead like a somber ghost ready to haunt each member of her family. Maybe he'd have asked her hand, maybe she'd be a mother – Jack's at least.

His warm breath was on the crook of her neck, one last time before she created more space between them therefore her dark dilated pupils could meet his. Brown eyes looked into browner eyes, gave him that igniting hope he had been waiting for.

And she'd come back home six hours later with his scent all over her.

2016

.

The fifth time, they were done waiting.

They should have been many years ago, they should have been that moment his hand covered hers in the Ambassador's study. But he was somehow a coward, not a man enough to simply get over those work boundaries they stuck way too much on. She wasn't a woman herself as well, just twenty something with a cruel world to uncover.

It had been Dave to suggest somewhere to stop by, somewhere they could dance and drink and talk and have one hell of a time. He cringed at first, agreed at second, enjoyed at third when he eyed her lips curl into a bright smile from the corner of his hazel eyes.

His arms around her were stronger, every tense line on his face softening in slow motion, along with every beat this song had. It wasn't that much of a surprise when her nails dug into his upper arms, ran the length of it until she was able to entwine their fingers on her upper back, slid them down her body therefore they could rest on her hips.

Emily felt his large chest heave that precise instant her forehead leaned on his shoulder. Carefully, he'd place her palm above his ribcage, press it between his large hand and his warm buttoned up clad torso. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see it - could see that she belonged to him, that he had belonged to her much time before she was even ready for so.

They barely moved, barely even breathed as a song they had known from their first beginning – Vegas, that one case they'd bump into never to let go of – occupied the crowded place.

And he finally made her stay that night, sure of nothing but that the way they silently engaged in the dance of lovers felt right the enough.

'I don't mind spending every day

Out on your corner in the pouring rain

Look for the girl with the broken smile

Ask her if she wants to stay awhile

And she will be loved'

That's it guys! Leave me some words if you can, plz!