You don't have to cook fancy or complicated masterpieces - just good food from fresh ingredients.

Julia Child (1912 - 2004)

After dropping Jack off at Hayley's, Hotch drove back to Ana's apartment. He'd called her to let her know he was on the way. She told him she'd set up for their cooking lesson and teased him not to back out. Where cooking was not what he wanted to do that evening, his need to see her was strong, so he decided that he would do what she asked.

He was surprised to see just how serious she really was about the whole thing. When he arrived, she greeted him at the door with a kiss, then took his hand and led him into the kitchen. Explaining along the way that by the time he left her apartment, he'd know how to make chicken fingers and macaroni casserole. A meal that she knew Jack would love to help prepare as well as eat.

He'd held his own with crushing the cornflakes. That part wasn't difficult. He'd managed to get the water boiling and add the pasta. He could even handle grating the cheese. Cockiness was starting to set in, until she brought out the eggs. It seemed that in order to get the cornflakes to stick to the chicken, he would have to drag it through a beaten egg.

Aaron Hotchner did not get along with eggs. Going through middle school in the late 1970's and high school in the early 1980's, he'd been subject to a "progressive education", which sometimes blurred the established gender rules. This meant that he'd taken cooking classes, not once, but three times over the course of his middle school and high school career. They were the lowest grades he'd ever received.

Despite all of his best attempts, he'd never been able to crack an egg. He'd smashed them, crushed them, demolished them beyond recognition, but he had never been able to simply crack the shell in two and have the egg fall neatly into the bowl below. After a while, he gave up, avoiding being anywhere near the kitchen when eggs were part of the recipe. Ana didn't listen to any of his warnings, she simply handed him an egg and told him to crack it into the bowl she'd set in front of him.

He'd just about crushed the first egg. He swore the second egg just exploded, as there were shell pieces everywhere. The third egg cracked a bit better, but a lot of shell made it into the bowl. He grew frustrated, but Ana would not allow him that luxury. She didn't laugh, didn't lose patience, she simply encouraged him to try again and handed him egg after egg until finally, 11 eggs later, he cracked it properly.

When he finally did, she grinned and pecked his cheek. Thinking fast, he told her that after all that work; he deserved more than just a peck on the cheek. With a laugh, she threw her arms around him and gave him a deep, sultry kiss. He pulled her closer and returned the kiss, nearly derailing her entire cooking lesson, but she managed to squirm from his arms and put them back on track.

Well, mostly on track. He had to admit that his concentration level took a nose dive after that kiss. As she guided him through the rest of the meal's preparation, he vacillated between wanting to back her against the wall and ravish her and then feeling guilty for not concentrating on something she obviously put great thought and preparation behind and trying to reduce the evening to a mindless sexual fling.

His guilt was slightly assuaged when, after placing the food in the oven and setting the timer, she turned to him and with a sexy smile asked, "So, what could we do to kill thirty minutes?"

He answered by pulling her into his arms and kissing her. Wrapping her arms around him, she responded passionately. With the timer ticking in the back ground, clothing was loosened, some pieces being cast to the floor, others remaining, while their tongues tangled and their hands explored and teased. With a sense of urgency, he helped her to balance on the edge of the counter and his prior fantasy of ravishing her in her small kitchen quickly came true.

He stood, still bracing her against the counter, with her body wrapped around him, resting his head on her shoulder, waiting for his breathing to slow.

"Wow," she said, pulling back and smiling at him. "Who knew that playing beat the clock would be so much fun?"

He kissed her softly, "I'm never going to look at this kitchen the same way again."

"That was not part of the recipe," she laughed. "Do not try that when you make this for Jack."

"Trust me," he laughed with her, "I'll leave that step out."

She looked over his shoulder at the timer, "We've got five minutes. We should probably get dressed."

Helping her down from the counter they looked around the floor. Odd pieces of clothing lay strewn about the floor.

"There was no rhyme or reason, was there?" he mused, pulling up his jeans.

"You're trying to put reason to passion," she dismissed, with a wry smile. "I'd have thought someone in your line of work would know better."

"It's one of my faults," he admitted, watching as she buttoned her white cotton shirt. "I tend to over analyze things."

"Yeah, I noticed," she replied, slipping on her black lace panties. "Can I be honest with you?"

"I wish you would," he simply said, bracing for her words.

"You," she began, picking up her jeans from the floor, "Are thinking too much."

He raised a brow, but didn't say word, waiting for her continue.

"This isn't rocket science, Aaron. We're dating…" she gently said.

"I'm not used to dating," he tried, then deciding to go with honesty, "I'm afraid to screw it up."

"You too?" she smiled.

"You're afraid to screw this up?" he asked, surprised by her revelation. She seemed so relaxed, so laid back. He never imagined that she was worrying about screwing things up.

"Of course I am," she seriously said.

Their conversation was interrupted by the buzz of the oven timer.

"Shit," she said, laying her jeans over the counter and grabbing the oven mitts. "Can you set those wooden trivets out on the counter for me?"

He nodded, grabbing the trivets and setting them on the counter. He watched as she quickly removed the baking tray with the chicken fingers and the casserole, then closed the oven door and turned it off.

"Well?" she asked, smiling at him. "There it is your first culinary creation."

"It actually smells good, too," he laughed.

"Wait til you taste it, "she winked. "Why don't you get drinks and I'll bring the food out."

"Sounds good, what do you want?"

"Iced tea? I forgot to pick up wine, but there's beer and scotch."

"You know," he said, offering her a smile, "We haven't had a date that didn't involve alcohol. I think I'll take the iced tea."

She smiled broadly. "I was hoping you'd say that," she said, placing the chicken fingers on a serving platter. "See, that was one of my worries. That you'd only be interested in me if we were drinking."

"Ana, that couldn't be further from the truth," he assured her.

She shrugged, "Well, you have to admit, we're good at drinking and having sex…"

He watched as she carried the platter into the dining room, still wearing only her shirt and the black lace panties. He thought about reminding her about her jeans, given her last comment, it would have been the right thing to do. But, he liked the way she looked. Her dark hair was tousled from their round of "beat the clock", her shirt half buttoned, revealing the black lace of her bra, her tan legs were bare, yeah, she looked hot. He wanted to tell her, but held back.

"Hey," she said, pulling him from his thoughts, "Did I say the wrong thing?"

He shook his head, "No, you're being honest. Honesty is important."

"Well, I will tell you that I'm enjoying the hell out of the having sex part," she winked, picking up the casserole and carrying it to the table.

As he poured them glasses of iced tea, she walked back into the kitchen, and then laughed.

"And how long were you going to let me walk around with out these?" she said.

He turned to find her holding up her jeans. "Sorry, I kinda liked the look."

She shook her head, with a laugh and set the jeans back down on the counter. "Okay." With that, she walked into the dining room, adding a little more sway to her hips as she walked.

"You're trying to torture me," he laughed, carrying the glasses into the dining room. As he set the glasses on the table and sat down, she set a plate of food in front of him.

"Try it, tell me what you think," she encouraged.

He cut a piece of chicken and placed it in his mouth, chewing it slowly. He was surprised at just how good it was.

"Well?" she asked, with an anxious smile.

He swallowed, "That's good."

"Of course it is! Don't sound so surprised!" she laughed. "Try the macaroni."

He quickly placed a fork full into his mouth. It was good too. "That's good, too."

"And you made it," she proudly said. "Now, I wrote down the recipes, too. Will you make it for Jack next time he's over?"

"I will," he agreed. "I think he'd get a kick out of crushing the corn flakes."

"And now you can teach him to crack eggs, too."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he laughed, picking up another piece of chicken and placing it in his mouth.

"If you chicken out, no pun intended, you can use Egg Beaters," she admitted. "I wrote that on the recipe."

"You're too good to me," he said, with a smile.

"Ah," she shrugged, "I did it for Jack. He deserves real food when he stays with his dad. How was your weekend with him?"

"Good, we did a lot of running around yesterday. He made the t-ball team."

"That's great!"

"They all made the t-ball team," he explained.

"But still, he's got to be excited."

"He is," he fondly remembered, "He slept with his baseball glove on Saturday night."

"I'm sure I'll hear all about it tomorrow," she agreed, then, with a devilish grin, "Of course, I'll have my own memories of my time spent with Jack's dad."

"Oh yes," he nodded, "Memories of me destroying a dozen eggs, then desecrating your kitchen counter."

"Now, see, I happen to think those are good memories," she winked. "I never had sex on the kitchen counter."

"Come to think of it, neither have I," he laughed.

"Today was a day for firsts," she mused, "Your first sex on the kitchen counter, your first perfectly cracked egg, the first meal you cooked."

"You're opening up a whole new world, Ms. Schmidt," he smiled, as she stood up and walked over to him.

Pushing his chair back from the table, he pulled her onto his lap. He watched as her features clouded. Great, he mentally raged, now you've said something to upset her.

"Did I say the wrong thing?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

She shook her head. "It's my turn to over think things," she lightly said, slipping her arms around his neck. "Just promise me one thing. When you decide that you're ready to move on, just let me know okay?"

He was surprised by her words and didn't try to hide it. "What makes you think I'll do that?"

She shrugged, looking away, "This is your first…fling, since Hayley…"

"Stop," he said, a bit more sharply than he'd wanted, causing her to snap her head and look at him. "This isn't a fling, Ana."

"Aaron…"

"No, it's not," he stopped, wondering if he read her wrong, maybe it was a fling for her. "Unless that's what you want it to be…"

She sighed, "I don't want it to be a fling, Aaron," she admitted, "But I don't want to force you into a relationship if you're not ready. I've been single longer than you. I've gone through the whole dating thing. I think I'm ready for a relationship again. You're just getting started."

He looked her in the eye and spoke quietly, "I do not have an overwhelming need to play the dating scene and spend my nights in a bar, spending too much money on the bimbo of the night, only to take her home, get my rocks off, and move on to the next one. If I'd have wanted to do that, I wouldn't be here."

"But…"

"No, Ana, no buts," he continued, "I am used to being with one woman, it's the way I am, the way I like it." Seeing her smile, he continued, "That may be an archaic way of life, but I find it much more appealing."

"As do I," she agreed.

"Good, then we're on the same page," he nodded, then, seriously, "You know about my job. There may be times when I need to leave town with little or no notice…"

She nodded, "I was married to an Army Sergeant, Aaron, I'm used to keeping the home fires burning for months at a time. I can handle a week or two." She smiled, "Just promise me, if you're doing some daring raid or going in with guns blazing you'll wear a vest."

He chuckled at her words, "I always do. I got so used to it when I was with SWAT, that I feel naked without it now."

She gave him a sly smile, "Hm…now that's an image."

Happy to see her with a sexy smile, he played along, "What image would that be?"

"You, naked, except for a bulletproof vest and a gun…" she laughed.

He winced, "Wouldn't happen…"

"Oh, I don't know about that," she teased, "Not even if I asked nicely?"

He laughed, "Okay, maybe, as long as you promise there will be no cameras involved."

"You take all the fun out of it," she laughed, kissing him softly.