Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.
Warnings: Vampire AU, Hotch/Prentiss pairing, Team-centric, OOC (because of the AU - but hopefully not that much), Grammar/Spelling typos, and cursing. Be warned.
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Good Guys and Monsters
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Summary:
Vampire AU: He stared her down, defiance burning in his eyes. "I'm not going to pull the trigger," he said gently, "but only if you do as I say." She nodded. "Run, Prentiss." Then, slowly, he released his hold on her. Hotch/Prentiss. Team-centric.
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Chapter Two: The Tourist
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June 2001
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Prentiss was not accustomed to drooling or staring outright at a man – as much as she hated to agree with doctor 'I-can't-keep-my-mouth-shut-to-save-my-life' Reid, she really had no life outside of the BAU. Which, as it turned out, meant barely any time to go out to the bars to catch the eye of a true man(that was what JJ and Garcia called those extremely 'do-able' guys they dragged back from the said bars) to even hold an intellectual conversation with, let alone a casual fuck (she haven't had any sex in what seemed like forever now that she thought about it).
She was beyond horrified when she felt the faint tickling sensation pushing slightly, on her lips, trying desperately to get out. Then, dear God, she was drooling – Emily freakin' Prentiss was drooling. The thin river of water was trickling down from between her pursed lips and immediately, she found herself wiping at it furiously – the mantra, 'Emily freakin' Prentiss did not drool' repeating in her head. Prentiss was relieved that Morgan and Reid were still in that run-down hellhole of a café they invited her to – surely those two would never let her live this one down.
But damn, she really couldn't help herself – her tightened grip on self-control all going down into the gutter.
The man that stood before her was utterly, undeniably gorgeous. Or maybe hot was the better word to use because damned her to hell for saying – admitting – to this but boy did he look completely hot with that white tee-shirt sticking (thank fucking God for the humidity) like paste to his well-toned body. He was a stud; a fucking hot, gorgeous, stud with blonde hair and soft, brown eyes and pointed chin and full, red lips curved into an amused grin.
Then she caught herself and almost choked out a laugh. Since when the hell did she prefer men with blonde hair anyway? Then, another thought settled to the front of her mind, much more demanding than the last. Since when did Emily Prentiss, the most uptight woman that worked in the BAU – aside from Erin Strauss – think about men at all?
People often called her a workaholic because she put in more time into the BAU than anyone else there, more so than even her unit chief, Jason Gideon and boy did everyone at the FBI know him to be the most passionate and dedicated profiler to ever live.
Still, she could appreciate a good-looking body every once in a while, couldn't she? Even if she was a workaholic, she was still a human-being; a totally, straight female human-being.
"You sure you're okay?"
The words drifted to her ears and, reluctantly, she pulled away from her thoughts. Prentiss forced her eyes up to meet his – she didn't even realize she had been staring at his chest (his well-tanned chest through his well-plastered tee-shirt) the whole time. "I...uh," she bit her lip, "yeah, I'm fine – I'm okay. Totally okay." She heard him chuckle and heat suddenly burned her cheeks. "What did you say your name was again?"
His mouth curved into a grin and he brushed his hand modestly through his hair, "Actually I didn't." Prentiss was certain her face would incinerate any moment now. "My name's Sean." That same hand that had been lightly touching the top of his head extended to her, "Sean Hotchner. Call me Sean."
She took it awkwardly. "Right. Sorry. I'm Emily Prentiss," she paused, about to tell him to call her Prentiss (everyone else did it, what made him special?) but she realized quickly it would be a little more than strange for him to be on a last-name basis with her while she got to call him by his first name. Prentiss gave him a crooked smile. "Emily."
His grin broadened (Prentiss wasn't exactly sure how that was even possible – he had the widest smile she ever knew anyone to have). "Cool." And he shook her hand briefly before letting go and tucking it away into his jean pocket. "So, Emily, do you live around here?"
Prentiss raised a brow, taken by surprise at the question. "Do I…" she abruptly stopped, trying to process it. "Why? You don't?" The strange look suddenly coming on his face was a heavy indicator to the obvious (it didn't even have to take a profiler to realize he was completely clueless). "Well, no," she said after a moment. "I live in Washington but Quantico is where I work."
Sean nodded. He started to walk down the walkway (coincidentally the same direction Prentiss had been heading to her car), "So you know this place, as in familiar with it." He talked to her as if he somehow knew she would be following – though Prentiss wasn't that surprised he seemed confident.
"I suppose you can say that," she said, effortlessly catching up with his long strides. "Why? Did you want to know where something was?"
Sean shrugged. "What if I did?" He glanced over at her, eyes bright with amusement.
Prentiss bit her lips. "What are you looking for?" she asked carefully.
He faltered a step but caught himself a moment and Prentiss compartmentalized it for later use – because if there was one thing she learned when working at the BAU, there was never useless information. Sean's good-natured laugh brought her out of her thoughts, "Yeah, Emily. I'm looking for a good restaurant around here. Know any places?" he winked at her.
Prentiss felt her cheeks heat up (yet again). "I…well," she paused and scrunched her face up. "Are you hungry?" she asked lamely.
Sean laughed. "Yeah. I'm actually starving right now." He grinned at her. Prentiss stared back. "Got any recommendations?"
They stopped in front of another café. Prentiss could see her car parked on the curb now. Sean looked at her expectantly before whipping out his cell phone from his pocket – she didn't even notice his hand move. He held up a hand in a silent gesture that could only be read as 'one minute please' and put the phone to his ear. "Hey."
After a moment, Sean was walking briskly away from her down the walkway. He came back to Prentiss after five minutes, slamming the phone shut and sliding it into his jean pocket. "Sorry about that – had to take the call," he said quietly.
Prentiss pretended not to notice the sudden change in behavior and replied with a simple, "It's fine." He gave her a brief smile. "It must have been pretty important."
He nodded, shoulders slumping slightly and Prentiss compartmentalized the action for later use – because if there was one thing she learned when working in the BAU, it was that no information was useless. He straightened after a moment, as if realizing what she had already seen, "I have to go."
Prentiss feigned surprise, her brow rising in her forehead. "Didn't you want some recommendations?"
Sean suddenly grinned and shook his head. "Yeah but it'll have to wait 'til next time. I really have to go." He slipped his hand into his other pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to her. "Whenever you're free, let me know."
Prentiss took it and unraveled it. Inside was a series of numbers scrawled neatly in red ink. Prentiss looked back at him. "You wrote this ahead of time?"
Sean's grin widened. "You never know when these things can come in handy."
"You know it's dangerous handing random people your phone number, don't you?" was her response.
Sean chuckled. "I know, Emily." He started to walk again, leaving Prentiss standing near the black SUV. "I'll see you later, okay?"
Prentiss didn't reply. She looked down at the paper – something was off about that guy. When she looked back up, Sean was long gone. She fished her hand into her purse and pulled out her cell. There was only one person to call in times like these.
"Hey, Garcia. I need you to look up a name for me. Sean Hotchner. Tell me what you can come up with."
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