A/N: So the team at a club with dancing and alcohol - slightly cliche, I'm sure, but I think you guys will like it! As always, your reviews are very much appreciated, so please keep them coming.

I don't own anything related to CM


"Look at you, girl!" Morgan gave a whistle as Emily reached the table with most of her coworkers. Garcia had picked a great place - not too crowded, but the music selection so far was promising, and Emily had spied a sign advertising a variety of $3 shots. At Morgan's whistle, Emily blushed, and tried to covertly glance around the table for Hotch.

"He's not here yet," a voice in her ear whispered.

"What? JJ, I wasn't-"

"Oh, save it!" The blonde laughed. "Seriously though, you look bangin', lady!" The praise was nice to hear because Emily had spent about three hundred hours in front of her closet this afternoon, trying to decide what was too slutty, what was slutty enough to give Hotch the (correct) impression that she wanted to make out with him, and what should have been donated to Goodwill sometime in the 1980s. She had finally settled on a simple black t-shirt with a bit of lace around the bottom, skinny jeans, and black heels.

"Thanks," Emily said, wringing her hands together nervously. And then she decided that she could trust JJ, and decided to give up the pretext of indifference. "Hotch here yet?"

"Not yet, but I did send him a reminder text. Figured you'd be too nervous to," JJ said with a sly smile.

"Thanks, JJ," Emily said gratefully. "I don't know why I'm so nervous. I mean, we've already kissed. Twice!" she said under her breath, but of course that comment did not go unnoticed. JJ's eyes grew wide and she gave a girlish squeal.

"Emily! Ohmygod, spill immediately!"

"Spill what?" The boyish voice of Spencer Reid piped up over Emily's shoulder.

"Nevermind!" Emily practically yelped. "Let's go get a drink. Reid, want anything?"

"I was actually hoping that one of you would enlighten me as to what drink I could order that would make me seem more masculine," the young profiler stated. "Last time, I ordered a pina colada, delicious by the way, but I think the girl I was talking to took that as some sort of preconceived, and erroneous, societal sign that I was homosexual," he explained, causing JJ and Emily to burst into laughter as they dragged him to the bar.

When the trio returned to the table (Cranberry Vodkas for the ladies, and a very sophisticated gin and tonic for Reid), Hotch and Rossi had both arrived. Garcia and Morgan had hit the dance floor, and were shaking away to Billie Jean.

"Hey guys!" JJ greeted the men enthusiastically.

"Garcia said to tell you that there are a few hot, totally eligible bachelors on the other side of the dance floor," Rossi quoted, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, she was very clear that you all know," Hotch remarked dryly. "Although they seem to be a little more, em, Kevin-like than either of you might go for."

"You know our types, Hotch?" JJ raised an eyebrow.

"Well, he could statistically figure yours out, JJ, as he could easily find similarities between Kyle, that guy you dated when you first joined the BAU, Sam, who you dated in 2003, and Will," Reid rationalized, causing JJ to give him a light smack. "Although it would be near impossible to figure out Emily's type as she has never been forthcoming as to her dating. Or even if she does," Reid added with a hint of humor - surprisingly, he could pull out a quick quip at times. This comment of course earned him another smack, this time from Emily.

"I date," Emily hissed. "I just don't like to talk about it. Possibly because I don't want you drawing up statistics on my type!"

"Well, if I had to guess," JJ said with a smirk. "I'd say Emily's all about tall, dark, and handsome. Em?" Both Emily and Hotch could feel crimson creeping up their cheeks. Luckily, the bar was dark, and neither noticed the other's discomfort.

"Something like that," Emily muttered, directing a swift kick at JJ's ankle. Then, she grasped the only lifeline she had left - escape. "Come on, let's dance," she said, looking at her friends.

"Be there in a minute. I'm just gonna text Will real quick," JJ said. "Hotch, you going?" she prodded.

"I don't really dance," he said, slightly uncomfortable. "I'm good right here."

"Suit yourself!" Emily called over the music as she grabbed Reid and pulled him out onto the dance floor.

"Emily looks very nice tonight," Rossi commented innocently. "Don't you think, Aaron?"

"I'm going to get a beer," Hotch replied. "Want one?" Rossi nodded, and Hotch disappeared before the conversation could be continued.

"Dave - do you...know?" JJ asked as soon as Hotch was out of earshot.

"Know what?" he asked, his eyes on a beautiful woman who had just sat down at the bar.

"About Hotch and Emily," JJ said with urgency. She should have known she'd have an ally in Rossi! At the mention of his colleagues' names, Dave snapped his attention back to JJ.

"You know?" he said incredulously. "What do you know?" JJ laughed.

"Such a gossip, David Rossi," she scolded. "All I know is that out dear Emily wouldn't be opposed to a little something-something from our fearless leader. What do you know?"

"Just what I've noticed," he remarked. "Which seems to be that our dear leader wouldn't be opposed to a, how did you put it, a little something-something from sweet Emily."

"Excellent!" JJ could barely contain her glee. "It would be so wonderful to see them both actually happy for once. Just keep Hotch out tonight, Dave. I have a feeling that tonight's the night!"

An hour later found Hotch playing wingman to Dave as he tried (mostly successfully, Hotch had to concede) to seduce a thirty-something Capitol Hill secretary. Morgan and Garcia were dancing even more wildly, and to no one's surprise, Morgan had attracted quite a little crowd around him. Emily, JJ, and Reid were out there on the dance floor as well, looking tamer than their coworkers but certainly more relaxed than Hotch. He'd seen JJ persuade Emily and Reid to take a few rounds of tequila shots, which had really loosened them up. Much to the girls delight, a shy looking young woman had approached Reid and asked if she had seen him speak at her university. The two had talked for a while and were now dancing together, as JJ and Emily looked on with glee. Hotch was just about to interrupt Dave and tell him he was heading out when he saw a man approach Emily and ask her to dance. As he watched her accept the invitation, his body tensed. Who the hell was this clown? His eyes filled with jealousy as he watched Emily begin to move her hips in time with this other guy's. Hotch couldn't stand it. He couldn't take his eyes away - hadn't been able to take them off of Emily the entire night, did she know what that outfit was doing to him? But looking at this guy's hand inching closer to her ass was really more than he could bear.

"Well why don't you just do something about it?" a voice in his ear inquired, and Hotch whipped around to see Dave looking at him in bemusement, the secretary presumably having gone to get more drinks.

"What?"

"Hotch, your eyes are burning holes in that guy's head. Why don't you get off your ass and go ask Emily if she'd like a damn dance?"

"I don't dance, Dave," Hotch replied, glancing back on instinct to where Emily was now making full bodily contact with the other man. Could blood actually boil?

"Bullshit. Listen, Aaron, it looks like you have two options. One: let Emily dance the night away with Romeo over there, and then go home upset, angry, and horny as hell. Option two: swallow your pride, go over there, ask the woman you're interested in to dance, and go home happy, satisfied, and possibly with a companion. Does that even seem like a choice to you?" Hotch rolled his eyes.

"Noted," he said sarcastically, but he stood up nonetheless. Though he'd never admit it, Dave was right. Downing the rest of his drink for some liquid courage, and acting much more confident than he felt, Hotch made his way onto the dance floor.

"Emily," he practically had to shout. "Emily!" She turned around, and then her face lit up. She leaned up and whispered something to the guy she was dancing with, who then glanced at Hotch, nodded, and turned to dance with Garcia, who had popped up next to Emily.

"I thought you didn't dance," her voice was teasing. Emily had welcomed JJ's tequila shot suggestion, and though she wasn't totally drunk, she was definitely a little tipsy.

"I can't, actually," Hotch admitted, and Emily gave him a large smile.

"It's easy, really," she said, putting her small hands on his hips and moving forward. "You just move your hips like this," she said, guiding his with her hands and pressing herself into him. Hotch gave an audible swallow. Emily looked at him questioningly.

"You look very nice, Emily," he said into her ear. "What you're wearing," he said, gesturing down to her tight fitting jeans and the heels that made her legs seem extraordinarily long. "It's uh, very flattering."

"Well thanks, Hotch," Emily said, giving him a sultry smile. "You don't look too bad yourself," her voice was light, flirtatious, and Hotch couldn't really believe that this was actually happening - that he was on a dance floor in a popular bar, with a slightly drunk and altogether flirty Emily Prentiss in his arms. The most incredulous part, however, was that he was having fun. He was enjoying himself. Possibly a little too much, he noted, as Emily's body began to grind against his.

"Is that your gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" As the words came out of her mouth, Emily had the wherewithal to realize that yep, the tequila had had the intended effect, yep, her inhibitions were definitely lowered, and yep, she had just said something completely sexual to her boss. And, she was okay with it. They'd kissed. Twice. She wanted it. She was more than fifty percent sure he wanted it. The odds were in her favor, and Emily had never been one to walk away from even unfavorable odds.

At her words, Hotch's throat constricted and he kind of forgot how to breathe. Shit. He put his arms on hers and pulled her away from him.

"Emily," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Oh, you're no fun!" she pouted, crossing her arms and glancing at the sudden space between them. She'd been really enjoying the feel of his strong chest against hers. "I guess I'll just have to go find Brian again," she gave a dramatic sigh. "Because his was definitely not a gun."

"No," he said with force, closing the distance between them. "You're dancing with me," he said shortly.

"Well, well," she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Feeling possessive, are we Agent Hotchner?"

"Like you'd let anyone claim you, Agent Prentiss," he said with a chuckle, growing more comfortable with both the dancing and the close proximity to Emily.

"I don't know about that. I can think of one man who I might let leave his mark on me," emboldened by his retort and perhaps the last tequila shot landing squarely in her bloodstream, Emily stood on her tip-toes and pressed her lips right up to his ear. "Are you up for the challenge, Aaron?"

His knees buckled and he was unsure as to whether or not his heart was still working. Well, this just proved what her wandering hands on his stomach suggested - she was trying to kill him. And succeeding.