A/N: Hey everyone. I was sitting on the balcony of my hotel room last night and overheard a woman on her phone. It was phone sex and a little disturbing but I was inspired and thought I'd write a story. Hope you enjoy. This is going to be a two-shot, maybe three. Definitely not as long as some of my other stories.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Criminal Minds.

Emily rolled over in bed and sighed in frustration. She wasn't sure if it was the Florida heat, her body being over-tired, or the fact that her brain just wouldn't stop running through the facts of the case. Whatever it was, she just couldn't sleep and it was bugging the hell out of her. She glanced over at the bedside table and frowned. Two in the morning. She hadn't even been asleep for more than two hours? She sighed once more as she sat up, fixing the pillows at the head of the bed and grabbing her cell.

She did the math in her head, two AM in Florida made it eight AM in Copenhagen. Emily smiled and hit the button with the little green phone listening to the ringing down the line. It was entirely possible that he wouldn't pick up but she had to take the chance when she could. She grabbed her water bottle from the bedside table and walked out onto the balcony, hoping for some relief from the stifling condition of her hotel room.

Hotch paced in front of his bed, looking over the crime scene photos. There was something about them that didn't sit right. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what that something was, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he figured it out.

He wiped his forearm across his forehead and sighed. The heat was unbearable. It might have been possible to cope if the air conditioning in their small backwater motel hadn't broken down in the middle of the afternoon. They had been given sufficient fans and ice, but even those measures weren't helping to combat the humidity.

Hotch grabbed his bottle of water from the small dining table and made his way to the balcony, promising himself that he just needed a short break before getting back to the photos. He took the first step through the open door, before he heard her voice, and stopped. He didn't think anyone else was up at this time of night… he checked his watch… morning. But apparently the heat was a little overwhelming for Emily as well.

He didn't want to eavesdrop but his curiosity got the better of him as he sat on the small step and leant against the cool metal doorframe, the sound of her voice calming him.

"It has been one crazy day. It's so hot here it makes me long for the freezing winters in Moscow," Emily said sentimentally. Hotch couldn't help but huff. It really had been a crazy day. Chasing leads and coming up with nothing but dead ends. And the heat had everyone a little on edge, resulting in some rather (excuse the pun) heated discussions between the profilers and the locals. He inwardly chuckled when he remembered how Emily had handled one of the officer's off-handed suggestions that she take off her clothes to cool down. She'd reacted calm and collected and told him to…

"It's so good to hear your voice. I miss you so much," Emily said quietly, sighing, "I can't wait to hold you in my arms and tell you that I love you." Hotch's ears perked up and his heart started to beat faster. "When does your flight come in?" she enquired, huffing at the response. Hotch wrinkled his brow, wondering who she was talking to. He bit his lip, as he started to regret sitting down to listen to her call. This was definitely not something he wanted to hear right now.

Thoughts buzzed through his head, making him wonder if he'd misread the signals, misinterpreted the longing glances and the extended greetings. Maybe when she'd told him that she would do anything for him, she meant in relation to work. Hotch stood up and walked back inside, quietly sliding the door closed. He didn't want to hear anymore of this conversation, no matter how disgustingly hot his room became.

He quickly made a pile of case files and tossed them on the armchair, before throwing himself into bed. If he couldn't sleep before, he certainly wouldn't now. But he didn't want to stay awake and contemplate his own foolishness or berate himself for not taking the chance when he had it. He reached over and switched off the bedside lamp, closed his eyes, and waited for his dreams to take him, hoping that a night of sleep, no matter how fitful, would give him the energy to face her tomorrow.