This is my contribution for the Chit Chat On Author's Corner Mix and Match Challenge! My pairing was Hotch/Prentiss and my prompts were a song-bird, an old book, lace, and a mask.
Strauss just had to ruin his week.
He didn't know why he had to waste his Saturday night at some FBI benefit. She came into his office earlier in the week to tell him, and he'd been in a foul mood ever since. Apparently ever year the FBI held a fancy party to celebrate all they'd accomplished. Hotch thought this was a load of crap, but Strauss gave him one of her Ice Queen glares, and he was stuck.
"I've never been to one before," he tried, desperate for a way out. Saturday night was his night with Jack. They could stay up watching movies or playing games, and Hotch hated to ruin that.
"That's because you've always been on a case," she replied smoothly. "However, as the Unit Chief of the BAU's best team, your presence is mandatory."
It was then Hotch knew he was stuck, and he accepted it reluctantly. That is, until Strauss dropped the other shoe.
Apparently they made these events themed, and this year was a masquerade ball.
"A what?" he asked lowly. Strauss smirked.
"A masquerade party." She made her way to the door. "Wear a mask."
As soon as she left, Hotch let his head fall onto his desk.
This was gonna suck.
Glancing out at the bullpen, Hotch let his mind wander. The unit had been through a lot of changes: JJ and Prentiss leaving, JJ and Prentiss coming back, Prentiss leaving again, SSA Alex Blake joining the team. It was a lot to take in, and Hotch often found himself thinking of the dark-haired agent who had become a major source of comfort of the last few years. Sending her to Paris had been one of the hardest things he had ever done, and he had been relieved to see her walk into the round table room last year, looking just like she always had.
But things weren't like they always were, and she left again after a few months of returning. Hotch couldn't blame her. What she went through was horrific, and she hadn't been able to process it appropriately.
Of course, her leaving left him very confused. He had always considered Prentiss a friend and nothing more. How could he? When she first joined the BAU, he was with Haley. Then they divorced and it was too soon to look for love. Then the Reaper came and almost ruined everything he held dear. The son of a bitch killed Haley, and left Hotch broken with a heartbroken and confused son. He had to focus on Jack, and he couldn't stop to think about his heart.
Then he met Beth, and he genuinely thought she was special. She was funny, sweet, and everything Hotch needed at that time. He was happy.
But then… Then JJ got married, and he realized Prentiss was ready to leave. That night he held her in his arms and began to question everything. It had felt so right, and when she handed in her resignation and walked out of his office, Hotch couldn't deny it: He'd missed out on something.
He and Beth broke up soon after that, and he threw himself into his work and Jack. Prentiss- Emily- was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't let himself wallow in thoughts of what could have been.
Turning back to his desk, Hotch let out a long sigh and picked up the paper Strauss left detailing Saturday night.
A mask, he thought. Where am I going to find a mask?
The answer walked into the bullpen that very moment.
"Of course I can find you a mask, Bossman!" Garcia said eagerly. "I know plenty of places that have really good ones for cheap prices. What kind do you want?"
"Uh, a black one?" he suggested lamely. He didn't know there could be different types.
Garcia rolled her eyes and left his office. She returned the next day with an old book. Flicking through the stiff pages, she held the book out and showed him a picture of a simple black mask that covered his eyes and nose.
"That's fine," he said quickly, and by Saturday Hotch had a black mask in his possession. He made sure his tuxedo was dry-cleaned and freshly pressed, and he asked Jess to watch Jack while he was gone. At seven forty-five, he left his apartment and drove to the hotel where the benefit was being held. It didn't take him long to find the ballroom, and he barely remember to slip the mask on before he entered.
The room was full of nicely dressed, masked men and women, and for a moment Hotch wondered how anyone could talk to one another. They all had masks covering their faces! How did they know who they were talking to?
Hotch sighed and strode over to the bar. If he was stuck here for the night, he might as well have a drink or two.
Leaning up against the bar, he surveyed the room. It was a massive room with floor-to-ceiling windows on his right. Circular tables surrounded the room, and a wide space was cleared for dancing. Women in floor length dresses and men in pressed tuxedos whirled around the marble floor.
Hotch downed his drink in one gulp and signaled the bartender for another. This night was making him sick. The grandeur of it all irritated him to no end. He hated stuffy, fancy parties like this. Everyone was on their best behavior, and they were overly polite to the same people they trashed in the break room. He was here to represent the FBI and everything they did. He was a Unit Chief, and many things fell on his shoulders.
Hotch wished he could let go for the night. Just let all his worries and responsibilities fly away. Jack was at home and was safe. Why couldn't he relax?
He really wished he could allow himself to let loose. To find a masked woman and not care about who she was. To do something.
Something in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Hotch tilted his head slightly so he could see. Standing not too far away was a masked woman wearing a long, black lace dress. It clung to her body, showing off her figure perfectly. The sleeves covered the top of her shoulders, and her black hair had gentle waves framing her face.
The mask that covered her face had faint silver lines, making her brown eyes seem darker. And though it covered her face well, Hotch knew she was beautiful.
She was watching him from the other end of the bar, playing with an empty glass. When she noticed Hotch staring at her, she stood up straight and smiled seductively. Her red lips were a stark contrast from her pale skin.
Hotch swallowed nervously and set his drink on the bar. Do it, he whispered to himself. It's just one night.
Normally his responsible side would tell him no. After all, this was a complete stranger, and with his job he should be wary of those. But there was something about this woman in front of him that caused him to walk forward.
After a few steps, he was standing just close enough to touch her if he wanted to. That smug smile was still on her face, and he wondered if she knew who he was. If she did, he had no clue as to why she smiled at him. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he realized he didn't care. This was his chance to succumb to his wishes and let go for the night.
Wordlessly, he reached over and took her hand. It was small and soft in his palm, and with a gentle tug he led her to the dance floor. She obediently followed, and when they were in the middle she placed her free hand on his shoulder while he slipped his arm around her waist. He pulled her close, and Hotch could have sworn he heard her gasp.
They began to sway back and forth, then started spinning in circles. Other couples surrounded them, but they paid no attention. Hotch and his mysterious woman kept their eyes on each other, never looking away. He struggled not to eye her lips which were too close to ignore.
He wanted her. He didn't know who she was, but right now he couldn't care less. He wanted to kiss her and pull her closer and…
His chest tightened when he noticed her bring her head closer to his. There was a mischievous sparkle in her eye, and it wasn't hard to figure out what she wanted.
Taking the last step, Hotch claimed her lips with his own and kissed her passionately. He knew they were no longer moving to the music, but he didn't care. Right now his only thoughts were about this amazing kiss.
He tugged her closer, pressing their lips closer together and kissing her deeply. His whole body was tingling with a sensation he hadn't felt in a very long time.
Suddenly, without warning, a picture flashed across his mind. JJ's wedding. The dance floor. Emily in his arms… Just like this woman was now. Those eyes…
He pulled away abruptly, ignoring the wave of disappointment that went through him. She frowned as well, obviously confused.
"Outside," he gasped, dragging her with him. They left the ballroom, and Hotch yanked open the nearest door, stepping outside onto a balcony. The sky was full of twinkling stars, and Hotch was grateful there was no one around. He needed the privacy.
Spinning around, he strode over to her and took off her mask before she could say no. His heart thudded madly when he saw who was underneath.
"Emily…" he breathed. He cupped the side of her face.
Emily's eyes widened, and she slowly reached up to pull off his mask. Her mouth fell open slightly.
"Hotch…" she whispered. "Oh my God. I didn't know."
"I didn't either," he said softly. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek. "It's really you."
She let out a small, incredulous giggle. "Yeah, in the flesh."
"But I thought you were in London," He hastily removed his hand from her face and stepped away. A look of sadness crossed her face.
"I was," she admitted. "Interpol was great at first, but they wanted me to go undercover again, and I just couldn't do that. The closest thing to home I've ever had was here in DC, so I came back."
"Why didn't you tell me? I mean the team."
Emily sighed and walked over to the edge of the balcony. Hotch followed, making sure he stood a careful distance away.
"I was going to. I actually did tell JJ, Reid, and Garcia that I was back. I've been making the rounds, telling everyone one by one."
"Were you saving me for last?" he asked, harsher than he intended. Emily closed her eyes.
"No." She bit her lip. "Maybe." She sighed angrily. "Hotch, I don't know what I was planning on doing. Maybe I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure what to expect."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he hissed, turning to face her properly. "Did you think I wouldn't be happy to see you?"
"Of course not!" she cried. She dropped her gaze to the ground far beneath them. "I wasn't sure about whether you were… Whether you were with…"
"Beth?" She closed her eyes.
"Yeah." Emily opened her eyes and looked at him. "Though, if you are, you just became the world's worst boyfriend."
Hotch let out a wry chuckle. "Well, you were the one who started it by staring at me." He was silent for a moment before adding, "We broke up not long after you left."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he said immediately. Emily's head lifted slightly.
"You don't sound upset," she observed carefully.
"That sounds like a profile."
"Well, you don't."
He licked his lips and faced the lawn before them. "I guess that's because there's been someone else on my mind for some time now."
"Oh." He didn't miss the disappointment in her voice.
"Yeah," he continued. "It's funny. I thought she was gone. I gave up thinking we had a chance."
"I'm sorry," he heard her say half-heartedly. He suppressed a smile.
"It's alright. An incredibly beautiful woman took my mind off of her tonight. Blew my mind." He gazed at her fondly. "Imagine my surprise when I realized it was the woman I'd been thinking about."
It took Emily a second to process what he had said, and her head snapped up. She turned slowly so her whole body was facing him, and he did the same.
"What are you saying, Hotch?" she whispered.
"Call me Aaron," he whispered back before kissing her chastely on the lips. When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers. "Please tell me you're back for good because I can't take it if you're not."
She laughed and kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I am."
"Thank God," he moaned, and he stepped back and took her hands. He smiled shyly. "I think I'm in love with you, Emily Prentiss."
She smiled broadly and kissed his cheek. "I think I'm in love with you, too, Aaron Hotchner."
They stood there staring at each other for who knows how long, and in the distance they could hear a bird twittering away.
"That sounds beautiful," she said.
"I think it's a song-bird," he replied.
"You know," she said, "Song-birds sing their songs to call out to a mate."
"Really?" He thought about it for a second. "Do I have to sing to you?"
She laughed and shook her head. "No. I already know you're my mate."
He smiled and kissed her. He'd never get tired of doing that.
Excited with the prospects of their future, they left the party, intent on starting the next chapter in their lives.
Together.
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