Author's Note: Surprise! It's Universe D! A fan favorite! Ha, ha! But there's actually a logical reason for this one now though, and I will explain at the end.

So, folks not familiar with this 'verse, please heed the below notes!

HUGE HONKING WARNING! This is an M Story!

There's sex here and it's not vaguely referred to, it's fairly explicit, sometimes rather explicit. And if that's going to bother you, or make you uncomfortable, please DON'T read this story. It might not be for you.

If you're just discovering the Girl'verse, first go read chapters 1-32 of "Falling in Love with a Girl." This story picks up events immediately after Chapter 32 in that story. It's also a post ep for Birthright. In this version of their lives Hotch signs the divorce papers before he gets to the bar, and he does end up having sex with Emily in the bathroom. Related spinoffs are Making Spirits Bright, and A Kick, A Kiss, and Bag of Chips. The holiday events in both of those stories, are key here as well.

So now we begin . . . again.

Episode – Birthright

As I Was Going to St. Ives

"What is it?"

Hotch took a breath and with a pained wince, turned to answer Emily.

"Haley's filing for divorce. I've been served."

For a moment Emily stood there stunned watching as Hotch immediately turned and walked off. Then she looked over to Dave, who appeared to be as upset as she felt. So after she'd raised her eyebrow to him, just to make sure that they were on the same page . . . he nodded his approval . . . she quickly hurried across the bullpen, and out through the glass doors of the BAU.

She caught up with Hotch standing by the elevator, impatiently pressing the button.

"Hotch, wait."

Mortified about that just happened in the office . . . in front of EVERYONE(!) . . . Hotch didn't even didn't look over as he snapped back at Emily.

"What do you WANT, Prentiss?!"

Christ! Two minutes! He just wanted TWO minutes to himself to process this shit! Was that so much to ask?!

Emily stopped short . . . crap, maybe she should have waited.

"I um," she stammered, "I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. But uh, uh . . ."

And she trailed off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence. She was going to say, 'but uh, I'll talk to you later.' But she figured that he probably didn't want to discuss the situation later, either. Though in the alternative she could have said, 'but uh, it's obvious that you're in a bad mood,' which would have sounded incredibly bitchy.

Of COURSE he was in a bad mood!

He'd just gotten served with divorce papers, in front of his entire team! Anybody would be would have been embarrassed by that, but it was especially humiliating for somebody as private Hotch was. So when she'd run after him, all she'd wanted was for him to know that she would be around if he did want talk to anyone, about this matter that she knew he did NOT want to talk about with anyone.

She just wasn't quite sure how to express that sentiment without sounding like an idiot.

After he'd blown out an exasperated huff of hot air, Hotch turned to face Emily . . . he was all set to tell her to just go back to the office and that he'd see her in the morning. But then he stopped, and really looked at her. Even though he'd just snapped at her, she didn't seem to be hurt or angry. She just looked . . . he bit his lip . . . worried.

And he started to feel like a complete asshole.

She was just worried about him, and he was being a jerk to her because he was upset with Haley. But this woman didn't deserve to have his anger at the other one, taken out on her. She'd done nothing wrong.

His eyes fell shut then as he dropped his head to his chest.

Why did he keep making such a mess of things with Emily? The last few weeks especially, she had been SO good to him. Somehow she'd managed to help him get through the holidays with a few genuinely happy memories.

And those were all from the time that he had spent with her.

There was no excuse for his shitty behavior. None at all. So when he looked back up, he swallowed hard before speaking in a much softer tone.

"Prentiss," he tipped his head, "I'm sorry for snapping. And thank you for your concern, really, I do appreciate it. But I'm okay."

That last one was a lie, but he figured that she would too polite to call him on it.

Knowing that Hotch was hurting, but yet still he was somehow trying for her sake to be nice even though she was sure that he probably wanted nothing more than to drop into a hole right now, Emily felt a new spot of affection for him. Then her lips twisted into a sad smile.

"All right," her voice was quiet, "I just wanted to make sure. And," she cleared her throat, "to let you know if you, uh, if you need anything, that you know we're here," catching his gaze she gave him a pointed look, "I'm here."

Though she doubted that he'd accept the offer, she wanted to say it anyway. The last thing that somebody in a situation like his needed, was to think that they were all alone.

Because that was one thing that Hotch was not.

Hotch's teeth sunk into his lip as his expression softened even further.

All right, this woman was kind of amazing. Because she just kept trying to help him, even when he didn't deserve her kindness. Not to mention those times when he was throwing off EVERY SIGNAL IN THE WORLD, that he only wanted to be left alone. Generally the rest of the team gave him a wide berth then, but almost from the beginning, she'd never had. She'd always said her peace before walking away.

Or sometimes . . . he thought back to the autumn months . . . not walking away.

When Garcia had been shot, he'd gone off to get some time by himself, but she'd stumbled across him just a few minutes later. And she'd come right over and sat down with him. And it had only taken a second for him to be glad that she had, and then two minutes later she'd put her head on his shoulder and that was when he'd actually thanked God for sending her to him.

Because she'd been just what he'd needed.

And remembering that, he suddenly he felt a fresh pang of guilt.

The realization that he should be making the same effort with her, that she did with him. That effort should always be his default position. Because she deserved at least the same level of kindness back, that she consistently showed to him. And he should never let his personal situation make him think it was okay to snap at her, just because she wasn't bothered by his temper. All he was doing was being an asshole.

And that needed to stop.

That's when he dropped his eyes to the tile and took a deep breath. And when he looked back up, he made sure to give her a smile.

It was small, but it was genuine.

"Thank you, Prentiss, for that offer. I'll keep it in mind."

Happy, and RELIEVED, to see that she'd actually broken through that wall of his . . . these days it took her a lot less swings of the sledgehammer to do it . . . Emily's eyes crinkled as she nodded back.

"Please do."

Another moment passed while they just stared at each other, but then the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

The moment was broken.

As Emily watched Hotch turn to step onto the car, she was wondering if what she was thinking about doing was a good idea. Oh . . . she bit her lip . . . what the hell.

It couldn't hurt anything.

So just as the doors were about to close, she put her hand over the sensor and they bounced back.

"Hotch," she leaned in slightly as his eyebrow inched up, "I know that you probably want to be alone tonight, but you know you could come out with us anyway." She gave him a sympathetic smile. "It might be good to have a distraction to get your mind off things."

Hotch slowly shook his head as he tucked the divorce packet more securely under his arm.

"I don't think I'd be very good company, Prentiss."

Her lip quirked up.

"Well, no offense Hotch," she responded lightly, "but you aren't exactly the life of the party on your best day."

Hearing that, he let out a faint huff.

"Well," his eyes crinkled faintly, "be that as it may, Agent Prentiss, all the same, I think I'm going to take a pass."

"Okay," Emily nodded while, pulling her hand back, "I understand. But if you change your mind, we'll be at O'Leary's until at least ten."

Then she stepped back and watched the doors slam shut.

For a moment Emily stared at her reflection in the shiny metal. Then she shook her head and went back to collect the others.

/*/*/*/

On the off chance that Hotch did change his mind and decide to come out and meet them, Emily had been keeping one eye on the door since they'd arrived at the bar an hour ago.

Her neck was starting to get a bit stiff.

And unfortunately the place was starting to get pretty crowded, so she was afraid that even if he did show up, if he couldn't locate them right away, that he'd turn right around and go back out the door. Because even on a good day, of which this was not, getting Hotch to come out for a beer was like coaxing a turtle out of its shell.

If you scared him off then there'd be six more weeks of winter.

Wait . . . Emily furrowed her brow . . . what? No, that wasn't right. That was groundhogs. So what the hell was the turtle saying?

She cocked her head.

Was there a turtle saying? It seemed like there was a saying for every other animal, so if there wasn't a turtle one, then those guys were kind of getting short changed. Her lips pursed then in confusion.

Christ, how the hell did she get off onto this tangent?

Then she shook her head . . . didn't matter. The point was, if Hotch did come out, she wanted to make sure that she caught him.

But in an effort to distract herself slightly from 'Hotch Watch 08' (worrying about Hotch was kind of stressing her out) she decided to turn half an ear back to the speakers . . . Nickelback was singing about Someday . . . and half an ear into the Warner Brothers versus Hanna-Barbera debate, which was raging between Reid and Garcia at the other end of the table.

Apparently Huckleberry Hound was a classic Gothic figure, while Foghorn Leghorn perpetuated the worst of southern stereotypes.

Unfortunately neither the music, nor the arguments about racial equality in animated caricatures, could really capture her full attention. So her mind began to wander back towards Hotch and his situation.

Even though she knew that it really wasn't any of her business, everything that Haley had done to him just SERIOUSLY irked her. How could the woman just TAKE his son away? Didn't she understand that his work alone was sufficient punishment for any transgressions, real or imagined, that he could have committed over the past five lifetimes?!

And Emily wanted to hate Haley for doing that to him . . . hell if Hotch wanted it, she'd hate her just out of loyalty to him . . . but she was pretty sure that he didn't want her to do that. Because what he wanted, was to work things out and get his family back. So even if he didn't know about them, Emily was pretty sure that he wouldn't approve of her shooting metaphorical daggers at his estranged wife. Also though, Emily had met the woman . . . they'd shared a few laughs. And that night at the bar, she and Hotch had seemed happy together.

That was barely a year ago.

So as much as it pained her to admit it, Emily knew that she wasn't in a position to judge Haley. But she had to wonder what colossal thing could have happened to change things so drastically, in such a short period of time.

It must have been something major to walk away from a man like Aaron Hotchner.

Of course Emily knew that he could be grumpy and stubborn, and opinionated, and at times a completely HUMORLESS, pain in the ass . . . but that was just Work Hotch. Because Work Hotch was under a lot of pressure, and super stressed out pretty much ALL the time. But Regular Hotch, the guy just beneath the Work Hotch layer, he was kind and sensitive, and he had a really good heart.

He was a good man.

And Emily wasn't sure if Haley understood just how hard it was to FIND a good man.

With a huff to herself, Emily took another swig of her beer.

Hell, she'd been looking for a good man for the past twenty plus years, and she still hadn't found any man worth keeping for more than six months! And here this crazy chick was tossing them out like Kleenex!

Realizing that she was going off on another Haley Hating Tangent, Emily gave an internal eye roll.

Enough, Prentiss! Mind your business.

And with that she took a breath, and shifted her attention back to the entryway. Because movement had just caught her eye . . . the door was starting to open . . . and then a second later she saw the man in question step into the bar.

Oh YAY . . . a huge smile slid across her face as she hurriedly stood up and began waving like an idiot . . . he was here!

/*/*/*

Hotch paused just inside the entrance to the bar.

Even though he'd already come all this way, suddenly he wasn't so sure that meeting the team was a good idea.

After he'd left the office, he'd gone for a drive to the Wal-Mart parking lot down the street. He'd wanted to have some privacy for the upcoming battle royale with his wife. So then for the next thirty plus minutes he'd paced back and forth by his jeep. Spending half of that time yelling into his cell phone at Haley, and then the other half of it listening while she yelled back at him.

He just couldn't get beyond the fact that she'd had him served AT THE OFFICE! Had she been trying to humiliate him?!

And when he'd asked her that question flat out, she'd come back with a, "well, where the HELL else was I supposed to find you, Aaron!? You still don't have an apartment, and process servers don't deliver to the hotel CONCIERGE!"

He'd gotten so pissed off at that.

Even though he didn't want the damn divorce, if he'd known that she was filing for the damn divorce, then he sure as hell would have gone and picked up the damn papers! But she hadn't even told him that they were coming!

She'd just AMBUSHED him!

So they'd continued going back and forth, slicing and cutting at each other . . . and then Haley suddenly lost all of her steam. She said that she'd made her wishes clear. And that she didn't want to fight about it anymore. She didn't want to fight about anything anymore.

And then she'd hung up.

And as he'd stood there, listening to the buzzing in his ear, thinking about her words . . . first the cruel and bitter ones, and finally those weary and exhausted ones . . . that was the point when he'd finally, truly, accepted, that his marriage was over. Hell, some part of him knew it had been over for a long time.

His hope had been the last thing to die.

After that, he'd carefully placed his phone back into his pocket before he'd opened the driver's side door and pulled a pen down from the visor. Then he'd reached over to pick up the papers from the passenger seat, and all alone . . . in the back left corner of the Wal-Mart parking lot . . . he leaned against the hood of his jeep, signed his name . . . and dissolved his marriage.

And after that, all he'd wanted was a damn beer. Except he was staying in a hotel without a bar. And stopping by the liquor store to buy a six pack to take back and drink alone in a hotel room, just seemed REALLY pathetic.

Incredibly so.

But then he'd remembered Emily's offer to meet up with them later. And though he really didn't feel like socializing, he knew that drinking in a group was better than being a complete loser, and drinking alone. Plus he knew that if he went right back to the hotel then he'd just wallow for the rest of the night.

The bar would at least be a distraction.

But now that he'd actually arrived, he was having second thoughts about coming. Maybe instead he should just go back to the office and try to work. After all, that was how he'd spent the majority of the separation.

Elbow deep in case files.

And he was just about to turn and go, when he spotted Emily waving at him.

Okay . . . he sucked in a breath . . . well, now he had to go in for at least a few minutes. It would be rude to walk out now.

Also, he was pretty sure that she'd run after him.

So he slowly made his way around the throngs gathered for Happy Hour and bar trivia, until he arrived over at the team's crowded table in the far right corner of the bar.

Given the number of empty glasses and bottles that hadn't been cleared, he figured that they were just finishing their second round. And they did all seem (genuinely) pleased to see him there, so he started to think that maybe it wasn't such a terrible idea to get out for one night.

It was something to do.

And after Morgan had snatched a free chair from the group next to them, Hotch pulled it up beside Emily at the very end of their cobbled together rectangle of smaller tables. Before he sat down, Hotch slipped off his suit jacket, taking a second to fold it over the chair back before he actually sat down.

Though she was trying not to be obvious about it, Emily was eyeing Hotch with some concern.

Basically she was worried about how he was dealing with the stress of everything, but she was pleased to see that at least he'd realized it would be good for him to be around other people tonight. He'd just looked so hurt when those damn papers had arrived, that she'd hated the idea of him being off by himself. And she so badly wanted to give him a hug right now . . . and she could actually get away with it, because she'd slipped in more than a few hugs with him over the holidays . . . but she knew that it would embarrass him if she did it in front of the team.

And he'd had enough embarrassment for one day.

So instead of offering him the comfort that she knew he needed, instead she tipped her head towards him while murmuring softly.

"It's good to see you."

Hotch's gaze fell to the table as he awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Well, I figured one beer wouldn't hurt."

The words were barely out of his mouth, when the waitress suddenly placed a Guinness down in front of him. He raised a perplexed eyebrow at the coffee colored liquid.

"Whose beer is this?" He asked in confusion.

After she'd picked up her own pint, Emily used it to gesture to his.

"Yours," she answered, "the waitress was walking by just when you came in, so I ordered it for you."

Hopefully he'd only wanted a beer. What was the preferred drink in situation like this? Most likely hard liquor. But it was only Thursday, and he had to work tomorrow, so hard alcohol probably wasn't a good idea either way.

Though as she eyed the expression on his face, she knew that regardless of the 'drinking etiquette' of the situation, he seemed pleased with her pick.

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he picked up the beer.

"Thanks, Prentiss."

She really was very thoughtful. And God knew that he'd been craving a Guinness for the past hour.

Emily's lip quirked up.

"No problem."

Then she traced her fingertip around in the condensation of her glass while she watched the man chug a third of his beer in five seconds flat. When he put the glass back down, Hotch gave her a grateful nod.

She bumped his shoulder in acknowledgment.

But Emily knew that he wasn't in the mood to talk, so she didn't even try to make social chitchat. Dave was sitting on Hotch's other side and fortunately he also seemed satisfied to leave him alone.

They just sat and listened to the others.

Reid and Garcia were still debating cartoons, but now JJ and Morgan had gotten into the mix. The new topic was Jetsons versus Flintstones, which was really the eternal 'caveman versus astronaut' debate, and everybody knew that astronauts won.

Brain always beat brawn.

But that didn't stop Garcia from making her impassioned pitch for Fred Flintstone.

As they sat there . . . listening to this ridiculous, though undeniably amusing, conversation . . . out of the corner of her eye, Emily noticed that Hotch would occasionally turn up his lip at one of their more outrageous remarks. It was clear to her though that he was depressed, and she just wished that there was something that she could think of that might cheer him up a little.

But she didn't suppose that this was really a situation where you could cheer someone up.

You might be able to keep them busy, but the reality of the situation was not going to change just because you broke out some balloon animals and started acting out a puppet show.

She rolled her eyes.

God, where the hell were these bizarre non sequiturs coming from?! Then she looked down at the table. Oh that's right . . . the two glasses of Sam on a completely empty stomach. Her brow furrowed in contemplation while she considered the consequences of continuing to drink beer on a completely empty stomach.

Those consequences might be bad.

So she turned to Hotch with a little frown.

"Are you hungry? Because I think I need to eat something soon or I'm going to get a headache."

Hotch's brow knitted together as he looked down at his empty glass.

It had been drained in less than ten minutes.

If he kept up this pace, he'd be on the floor within an hour. So with a nod, he looked back over at Emily.

"Yeah, I should probably eat too."

The last 'meal' he'd had was a peanut butter granola bar . . . that had been about ten hours ago.

Emily leaned forward to ask the table about food.

After a short discussion, the group decided to add two plates of nachos and some chicken fingers to their next round. And taking point for the table, JJ put her arm up to flag down the waitress.

Just after she'd put in their new order, the pretty blonde started squealing and bouncing in her seat.

"Oh yay, The Fray! I LOVE this song!"

When JJ had a couple of drinks in her she was almost as flirty as Garcia was. And she really wanted to dance right then . . . and unfortunately Will was a few hundred miles away . . . so she fluttered her eyelashes across the table at Morgan.

He was always an easy sell.

And of course . . . as expected . . . he grinned and put out his hand.

"Come on little girl, let's go."

Garcia's eyes lit up when she realized that a new activity that had just been put on the agenda.

"Hey," she yelled out, "I want to dance too!"

With a swivel of her head she realized that her options were limited to mom, dad, big sis, and baby bro.

No contest.

"Come on, Bam Bam," she shot Reid a look, "let's boogey."

Of course Reid tried to protest, but Garcia wasn't having any of that. She just grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and pulled him out of his chair.

"I SAID, let's boogey!" She bellowed.

Immediately, Hotch's head dropped to his chest as he made a very concerted effort to hide his smile. Whereas Emily and Rossi made no such effort. They laughed openly at Reid's clear panic while Garcia dragged him off to the dance floor.

After the others had left, a slightly awkward silence settled around the table. A minute later, Emily cleared her throat and scraped back her chair.

"I'm going to run to the bathroom."

Then she quickly stood up and slipped back into the crowd. First she started to go one way, but then turned, deciding instead to head over to the restrooms up by the bar itself. They were off a long, narrow, hallway . . . and they were farther away than where she was sitting . . . but they were generally less crowded than the other bathrooms down back.

A lot of people just didn't know they were there.

But really . . . she tried to push away her faint bit of embarrassment . . . it didn't matter how far away they were. She just wanted to get away from the table.

As he watched Emily disappear into the far passageway up by the main bar, Hotch was suddenly startled by Rossi's gravelly voice.

"You should have asked her to dance."

Hotch turned to his left and gave Dave a blank stare.

"What?"

With a faint eye roll, Dave took a sip of his beer and then put it back on the table.

"Emily. You should have asked her if she wanted to dance. She was the only one left at the table, and she was embarrassed that you left her there."

Hotch looked over incredulously.

"Well, if you saw that she was embarrassed, then why didn't YOU ask her to dance?!"

What the hell?! His brain was all over the place at the moment, and he definitely had not noticed that Emily wanted to dance.

He would have addressed it if he had!

Rossi bit back a dramatic sigh as he began to peel the label off his bottle of beer.

"I didn't ask her to dance," he responded slowly, as though speaking to a moron, "because I wasn't the one she's been watching the door for, for over an hour. And I'm not the reason we had to come to this bar even though Morgan and Garcia wanted to go somewhere else."

Seeing Hotch wrinkle his brow in COMPLETE confusion, Rossi bit his lip.

God, how could someone so smart be so dumb.

So Dave put down his bottle, and leaned forward to pat Hotch's arm.

"She's worried about you Aaron," he started slowly, "we all are. And I know that you're having a shitty time right now, and I've been there and I know that it's hard to see beyond that. But," he bit his lip, "Emily is trying to help you. She insisted that we come here because this is where she told you that we'd be. And she watched that door so she could catch you immediately just in case you walked in and then decided to cut and run."

At that one, Hotch felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that was exactly what he'd been planning on doing.

Seeing that his words were making an impression on his old friend, Dave looked down and ran his finger around the rim of his bottle.

"All I'm saying is, Aaron, you need someone right now, so just let her help you."

Though Dave wasn't sure what had made Emily decide to make Hotch's mental health a pet project, he was grateful that she'd taken the interest. Because the one thing that Hotch was short on, was emotional support. He was just too private, and too guarded, and he didn't make friends easily. But he'd been like that even when he was younger too. So it wasn't the years on the job.

It was just something in him.

But he already trusted Emily with his life. So maybe . . . given enough time . . . he could start trusting her with some other things as well. Because Dave knew that as much as Hotch had wanted to work things out with Haley, most likely his marriage was already beyond repair. And when that reality finally hit him, it wasn't going to be pretty.

It would nice if there was somebody around to help pick up the pieces.

Of course Dave would do what he could, but it wasn't the same as him having a woman looking after him.

Especially a woman like Emily Prentiss.

Hotch stared at Dave for a moment before his gaze fell down to the coaster in front of him.

It wasn't until then that he'd known she'd actually changed their plans for him. Or that she'd been watching the door to make sure she caught him. Earlier tonight, he had decided to be more cognizant of her feelings, and here it was barely two hours later and he'd already fumbled the ball.

Jackass.

So with this new revelation, he snapped his head back up and began scanning the crowd, trying to see if she was on her way back to the table yet. When he squinted he finally spotted her just coming into view in the little hall up front.

Then she stopped short.

He frowned . . . why had she stopped? And why did she have that look on her face?

Hotch's gaze shifted over to follow where she'd turned her head . . . and he saw it just when she was pulled back.

FUCK!

He leapt up, ignoring Rossi's, "what's wrong?" as he started pushing his way through the crowd.

Briefly concerned at Hotch's sudden departure, Rossi watched his friend rush off. But then he spotted Emily's profile, and Dave relaxed, figuring that Hotch had just spotted her as well and was going to talk to her. So he nodded to himself and went back to his drink.

Hotch broke through the crowd congregating three deep around the bar, and rushed on, hurrying into the relative quiet . . . and privacy . . . of the side hallway. That was where he found Emily.

She was grimacing in pain as she rubbed her arm.

For a second he stared at her, as his fingers slowly curled into tight fists.

Seeing her hurt had tapped into a fury that he hadn't had to struggle against in a while.

Then he took a step closer and one of his hands came up.

His fingers unclenched so that he could brush the tips over her hand. She turned it over so that he could see . . . finger marks. His gaze traveled along her skin.

And scratches.

She was bleeding.

Another wave of fury swept through him. He sucked in a breath . . . motherfucker!

Now with his jaw twisting, and teeth grinding, his eyes snapped back up to Emily's face.

"Are you all right?" He asked tightly.

She nodded.

"Yeah," then her eyes flicked to the floor as she added pitilessly, "but he's not."

His eyes snapped over to the asshole who had just assaulted her. The asshole that was now doubled over in pain after what Hotch assumed was a shot to the solar plexus by Emily.

He should have known she could take care of it herself.

Of course just because she'd already taken care of it, didn't mean that the matter was closed.

Not by a long shot.

He looked back to Emily.

"Do you want to press charges?"

That would determine his next steps here. How many marks he would be leaving on this man.

"No," Emily shook her head as she stepped back and leaned against the wall with a weary sigh, "no, I'm done with him."

As Hotch worked his jaw, Emily noticed a look in his eyes that she had never seen before. Her gaze drifted over to the asshat who had decided to grab her when she'd walked out of the bathroom.

You . . . her lip quirked up humorlessly . . . are a dead man.

Hotch reached over and grabbed the man's wrist, bending it back until the guy was down on one knee, gasping in pain. As his bloodied face came into view, Hotch could see that Emily had taken out his nose as well.

It looked like it was broken.

Good.

But Hotch was thinking that if his temper stayed running as hot as it was now, that might not be the end of the broken bones that evening.

He leaned down.

"What the FUCK did you think you were doing?" He hissed, "You're lucky that she isn't bringing you up on assault charges."

When there was no response to what he'd said, Hotch kicked the guy's other leg out from under him, knocking him flat to the ground. That resulted in a yelp of pain that Hotch ignored completely.

Instead he opted to jam his knee into the guy's neck.

"So here's what's going to happen," he continued on now with murderous calm, "in a moment you will leave this bar, and if you have a brain in your head, you will not come back here again. But before that happens, you will apologize to the lady, and if you don't," he twisted the wrist a little harder, "I can snap your wrist or . . ." he ground his knee, "I can break your neck. Your choice."

With his teeth gritted in agony, the guy on the ground turned his head so he could see Hotch's face. And what he saw obviously scared the shit out of him.

He started sniveling immediately.

"Uh, uh, I'm really sorry lady, I didn't mean to uh . . ."

Suddenly his words were replaced with a harsh gasp . . . his wrist had just been cranked another notch.

"NO!" Hotch ground out with a lethal fury, "clearly you DID mean to, or else she wouldn't have been injured! And she wouldn't have had to break your, your . . ."

And he stopped short, thinking about the fact that Emily actually had to BREAK this asshole's nose just to safely traverse ten feet down an empty hallway.

No woman should ever be put in that position.

As that thought slammed into him, Hotch's temper . . . which had been fraying for months . . . finally snapped.

He pulled back the pressure on the perp's neck, knowing full well that the asshole would buck and try to roll away.

Which is exactly what he did.

And that's when Hotch yanked his arm back . . . officially to regain control . . . unofficially to hear that satisfying crack when the bone snapped in two.

The guy yelped like a wounded animal. Then . . . when Hotch let him go . . . he rolled into a fetal position and started whimpering on the dirty floor. And Hotch stood over that pathetic, bleeding, mass feeling absolutely nothing. Nothing but rage.

Not even a shred of remorse.

This piece of shit had tried to assault one of his people! You don't do that and get away with just a bloody nose! But he had no patience to listen to the crying either . . . it was likely to result in a stomp to the face . . . so Hotch crouched down and growled.

"Now get the fuck out of here."

For a moment the guy seemed frozen in terror. Then he swallowed hard . . . and holding his limp hand against his chest . . . scrambled up to his feet, and ran towards the exit.

He slammed into two men as he tried to make his way out.

One of them gave him a shove which knocked him to his knees . . . he cried out again. But then he was back up and running before Hotch had even blinked.

Still, he made sure the door had fallen shut before he turned to look over at Emily.

Seeing that she was holding her forearm stiff against her stomach . . . his anger immediately drained away.

It was replaced by something else.

"Let me see," he whispered.

And when she slowly extended her arm . . . wincing in the process . . . Hotch reached out with both hands, to push up her sleeve and gently probe the bones, feeling for any swelling or misalignment. Then he furrowed his brow.

It seemed okay outside of the bruising and the scratches.

Finally he looked up to her face again.

He was concerned at what he might see then . . . if there would be judgment there. Because he hadn't lost his temper like that in a LONG time. And the last time it had not been in front of anyone whose opinion mattered to him.

And Emily's opinion mattered to him very much.

And given how at present, she was staring at him without any expression at all, that really did not make him feel any better.

For a moment he felt a stab of genuine fear that he might have lost her respect. And that was not something that he could afford to lose.

But then her lip quirked up, and her lips curved into a cold smile.

"I could have used you two weeks ago. I broke two fingernails putting a guy's head into a wall."

Oddly enough, nothing about that statement surprised Hotch. He was just relieved that she wasn't angry with him. Because most women . . . hell most people . . . would have been pretty upset about what he'd just done.

Even more so because he clearly wasn't sorry about it.

But he had learned long ago that Emily Prentiss was NOT, most people. And now he was curious as to what could have precipitated her shoving a man's face through plasterboard. So he tipped his head quizzically.

"What did he do to you?"

With another faint wince, Emily used her injured arm to reach up and pull down the shoulder of her sweater on the opposite side.

"This."

Hotch's eyes widened in alarm even as his fingertips automatically reached out to ghost over the bruise.

"Christ, Prentiss! It looks this bad two weeks later!?"

This was ten times worse than the marks she had now. His eyes snapped back over to hers.

"Did you file a report?"

With a huff of disgust, Emily pulled her shirt back onto her shoulder.

"God no, it wasn't worth the effort. Three hours of my personal time filling out paperwork for the type of injury that I get two or three times a year on the job anyway? Besides, he was the one that had to go to the emergency room. I just had to pack my shoulder with some ice. It was only a soft tissue injury," she shook her head dismissively, "it was nothing."

Hotch didn't respond. He just looked at her for a second before his eyes traveled back down her arm. He stared at the blood drying on her skin.

"We need to clean your hand."

Emily looked down.

It really wasn't much of anything. The trauma from having her arm yanked had almost passed . . . she could flex it now without wincing . . . but he was right about getting cleaned up.

The cuts weren't serious, but her skin was all sticky from the blood.

Hotch walked to the far end of the hallway and knocked on the last door. The bathrooms at this end of the bar were unisex single stalls, so when nobody answered after a moment, he pulled it open and stepped back so Emily could enter.

She did.

But then to her surprise, Hotch followed her into the bathroom. Once there he immediately walked past her to go over and turn on the hot water. That's when her eyes crinkled slightly.

Because she was flashing on the last time that they'd gone into the bathroom together just so he could help her get cleaned up after an injury. That was the Christmas party at Dave's. Though the last time she had been a bit too hobbled to handle things herself, this time she figured that he was doing it because he was still in 'protective' mode.

After all, he had just broken somebody's wrist for her.

Though if questioned, she'd say that it was an inadvertent injury the perpetrator had obtained while he was being questioned regarding an assault on a federal agent. Of course she knew that was crap. That guy had hurt her, so in return . . . Hotch had hurt him. He'd snapped his bone in two. Which was very sweet.

In a REALLY fucked up way.

But Emily was . . . in a lot of ways, too many ways . . . pretty fucked up herself, so she thought it was sweet. Still though, she figured it would probably be best if nobody walked in on the two of them in the bathroom together . . . as they'd already learned from that night at Dave's, incorrect inferences could be made in that situation . . . so she turned back to slide the locking bolt on the door before she followed him over to the sink.

Hotch stepped to the side so Emily could run her hand and forearm under the hot water. She winced slightly when the heat stung her wounded flesh.

After she'd pulled her arm back, Hotch began gently rubbing a soapy paper towel over the bits of dried blood. Then he ran her hand back under the faucet. Once he was satisfied that her cuts were . . . as suspected . . . only superficial, he turned off the water.

He reached up to get another paper towel for her to dry off.

Then as he stared at Emily's reflection in the mirror while she wiped away the water, he asked quietly.

"Why did you put that man's head through a wall? How did it start?"

Hotch didn't know very many people who had a temper like he did. At least not good people who had a temper like his. And Emily was a good person, so it worried him, wondering what could have happened to make her that way.

Because he prayed to God that what had happened to her, was nothing like what had happened to him.

Emily slowly raised her head, catching Hotch's eyes in the mirror. She sensed from his tone . . . and how intently he was watching her . . . that there was more to the question than was apparent on its face.

So after she'd cleared her throat, she haltingly explained what had happened to her earlier in the month.

"I uh, I got into an argument with him. We'd been playing pool, twenty bucks on the game, and I won. But he said that he didn't care. That he wasn't going to pay a woman. But he didn't actually use the word woman. He called me a uh, well, let's just say it was a four letter word that started with the letter C. So I called him a pathetic piece of dog shit, and he grabbed me and slammed my shoulder into a concrete pillar. And, well . . . I saw red." Her jaw twitched, "the next thing he saw was dry wall."

It was hardly the worst night of her life, but it wasn't exactly a banner evening either.

For a moment Hotch stared down at Emily's face, and then his gaze shifted to the side. He slowly reached up to slide her shirt down from her shoulder.

His fingertips lightly traced over the green and yellow bruise as he whispered.

"So you got this because you won a game of pool?"

Hotch had once received a similar mark for getting a B on his history final. Maybe that's why Haley had left him. Maybe he was just too fucked up from everything that had happened when he was a kid. And . . . his eyes stung . . . everything he had seen as an adult. Maybe that was why she's couldn't stay with him any longer. Because there had to be a reason . . . a good reason that she had left him.

And he just suddenly, desperately, needed to understand what that reason was.

Emily's breath caught.

Though she wasn't quite sure what was happening with Hotch, it suddenly seemed like it was very important. So she turned slowly towards him, as her eyes fell down to the dirty floor.

She was waiting for him to figure out what he wanted to do.

Though some part of her was aware that eventually somebody was going to knock on the door . . . or that the others would start looking for them . . . those were inconsequential concerns right now. And now with the lull in their conversation, she tuned back into the fact that the music was being piped into the bathroom as well.

They were playing Coldplay . . . The Scientist.

And as she listened to the lyrics, it seemed fitting for the moment . . . tell me your secrets and ask me your questions.

Hotch stared at Emily's bruised shoulder for more than a minute, perhaps even closer to two, before he finally fixed her shirt and pulled his hand back.

It curled into a fist at his side.

And Emily stared down at those clenched fingers and wondered what he was thinking. Then her eyes traveled slowly back up his body, finally resting on his face. She winced in sympathy.

He just looked so lonely it was breaking her heart.

So she reached out and touched his chest. When he looked down, she gave him a sad smile.

"I know that you don't hug, but you know that I do. So you're getting another one from me right now, whether you like it or not, okay?"

Hotch's lips curved into a faint smile . . . though there was grief there too.

"Okay," he whispered back.

So Emily stepped closer. Then she wrapped her arms around his torso and placed her cheek on his chest.

And she squeezed him so tight.

Hotch let his hand fall to Emily's back while he continued to listen to the lyrics about a couple's relationship falling apart. And that's when his faint depression over the end of his marriage, began to morph into a true, creeping, misery.

It was settling over him.

So he pulled Emily closer, letting his arm slide around her waist while he let the other one tuck her head against his chest.

When she held onto him even tighter then, he closed his eyes, and took a breath. Because right now Emily was something tangible that he could hang onto while the rest of his life was being ripped away from him.

At the moment it felt like she was literally all that he had.

As Hotch clutched her desperately to his body, Emily's eyes began to water. Because she so badly wanted to have some magic words to make this better for him. To offer him a little peace . . . but there was nothing she could say. So she figured that the only thing that she could for him, was simply to hang on.

So she tucked her head into the crook of his neck, molding her body tightly against his, until there wasn't a sliver of light left between them.

Once she was settled, Emily breathed softly against his throat, smelling his Hotchness, feeling that sense of safety he'd always brought her . . . and she wondered yet again why Haley was leaving this man.

Feeling Emily's warm pliable body wrapped around him, with her breath tickling his throat, began to give Hotch a physical stirring somewhere that he shouldn't be getting one. But there were so many things that he was losing.

So many things that he had already lost.

And now he had another woman giving him comfort and support because . . . his breath hitched as his eyes began to burn . . . his wife didn't want that job anymore.

Jesus Christ, how do you just DECIDE something like that!? How do you decide that somebody who you've loved for literally HALF OF YOUR LIFE is simply no longer worth the effort? He would never have given up on her. At least not the way that she had given up on him. He would never have walked off and taken Jack from her.

It was a cruelty that he hadn't deserved.

That's when he felt a tear spill over and run down his face . . . and then another. And another.

They wouldn't stop.

A few seconds later, Emily began to rub little circles on his back. And for the second time in less than a month, Hotch thanked God for bringing her to him. Their relationship was something he didn't quite understand. But whatever it was, whatever they were . . . he sucked in a shuddering breath . . . it was enough.

Feeling a sob rip through Hotch's chest, a tear slipped down Emily's cheek. Because again, he was absolutely breaking her heart. And that's when she suddenly thought of the one thing that she could do to take away his pain.

At least for a little while.

So she leaned up to press a kiss to the side of his throat . . . and then another, and another, working her way up. Slowly, so slowly, she kissed her way along the faint stubble on his jaw as she began to rub her lower body against his. They'd already been pressed together, so she could feel him begin to harden against her almost immediately.

The sensation caused her nipples to do the same.

She leaned back then so that she could see his expression . . . there wasn't one.

He was just staring at her.

Hotch took his hand from Emily's back to reach up and wipe the tears from his face . . . he didn't know what to say. Was she really offering to do this?

And was he really considering it?

Their working relationship didn't seem to be a concern for her. And given how gut achingly EMPTY he felt right then, it really didn't feel like much of a concern to him either. And she'd only had two beers so she certainly wasn't drunk.

Neither was he for that matter.

Emily stood up on her toes to press a very gentle kiss to Hotch's lips . . . it was the fourth time that they had kissed over the last few weeks.

This was the first time that she could taste his tears.

"If you want to," she murmured against his mouth, "then we can." Then she leaned back slightly to give him a little smile, "but if you don't want to, then that's okay too."

When he only blinked at her in response, as he tipped his head slightly to the side, she took his silence as assent. So she skimmed her hands down the buttons of his shirt before running them over the bulge in his pants. After giving him a light squeeze . . . which elicited a hard intake of air from him . . . she undid his belt, and then pulled down his zipper.

She slipped her hand into his boxers and began to stroke her thumb lightly over his tip.

Feeling Emily start to give him a hand job, Hotch blinked . . . apparently they were doing this.

He was going to have sex with Emily.

Just as Emily went to push his pants off his hips even while she was still stroking him inside his shorts, Hotch surprised her by suddenly crushing his mouth against hers. Her hands fell away completely as he picked her up off the tile floor, and placed her down onto the counter.

She immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer so she could angle their bodies just right. That's when she felt him grind against her.

She honest to God SQUEAKED!

Because his erection was rubbing RIGHT against her center, driving her insane! Her nails scraped down his back.

She wanted him inside her NOW!

Feeling his libido begin to gallop out of his control, Hotch let his fingers slide under Emily's sweater and up her sides, while he simultaneously slid his tongue along her lower lip.

He was asking for permission to enter.

And when she gave it . . . things between them moved to an entirely new level. Because this kiss was nothing like their previous ones. This one was wanton, and passionate, and he had her moaning and gasping for air before he'd even removed a stitch of her clothing.

That wasn't to say though that one roving hand hadn't already released the hooks on her bra.

He had one breast free from its cup, and was gently rolling that nipple between his fingertips.

That action resulted in another moan from her.

And after a minute or so of exploring her mouth . . . while his other thumb had moved on to caress her nipple . . . he let out his own moan. Because she tasted like something familiar, and it wasn't the beer, it was something . . . more. But then she again began to grind her lower body against his, and the thought slipped away.

His hands fell from her breasts and down to her waist.

Until the separation, he had been having regular sex since he was sixteen. But as of tonight, he hadn't been with a woman in SIX months!

If Emily made that move again she just might KILL him!

So even while he was still hungrily . . . and passionately . . . kissing her, and God, she was a REALLY good kisser(!) . . . he quickly worked to unsnap the button on her pants just before he roughly yanked down her zipper.

Then he slipped his hand down, and let his fingers explore the warmth hidden there under that cotton barrier.

She let out another moan when his finger slid over her clit.

And feeling that she was already completely wet, he lifted her off the counter. Then before either of them could blink, he'd yanked down her pants and underwear in one fluid motion.

Just when he was about to lift her back up, suddenly he froze.

SHIT!

"I don't have a condom!" He exclaimed in horror.

It had been twenty years since he'd carried a condom in his wallet! Married men don't need to walk around with condoms. But . . . his jaw twisted . . . he wasn't a married man anymore. He was a recently single man who was about to get laid and had just slammed head-on into a BRICK WALL!

For a second, Emily stared up at Hotch in astonishment.

Why the hell was he STOPPING!?

But then she suddenly processed the words that he'd just said, and she pulled him down to run her tongue along the shell of his ear.

"It's okay," she whispered huskily, "I'm on the pill, and I'm clean."

And she was thanking GOD for both of those things! Because there was no way that they were stopping now!

Not when she was this damn worked up!

For a moment Hotch closed his eyes as Emily did that wonderful thing with her mouth. But then he remembered that they could be doing WAY better things than that if he'd just get it in gear! So he pulled her forward.

"Clean too," he murmured against her throat, and Emily grinned.

Thank you Jesus!

She wrapped her arms around his neck, as she hooked one leg up and over his hip. And after he'd shoved his pants and boxers down off his hips, he lifted her slightly off the counter, and pulled her forward just a little bit more.

He could feel her heat.

But when he finally slid fully inside her, he let out a deep groan.

JESUS CHRIST, THAT FELT GOOD!

But then Emily let out a sharp gasp as her eyes fell shut. So Hotch stopped, waiting for her to adjust before he moved again. After a few more seconds where her walls remained tight around him, he pulled his head back slightly so he could see her expression.

Noting the tension still there, he ran his index finger down her cheek.

"Are you okay?" He whispered.

Just then, feeling her muscles finally start to relax, Emily opened her eyes and let out a slow exhale.

"Yep," she smiled, "I'm good now. It had just been a little while."

Hotch leaned in to kiss her gently on the mouth.

"You and me both," he murmured. Then he pulled back to give her a dimple and a wink. "I hope I remember where everything goes."

Emily's eyes crinkled.

"I have full faith in your abilities here, Hotch," she murmured against his lips, "after all, you are a complete badass when it comes to just about everything else."

The corner of Hotch's mouth twitched then in amusement, but he quickly sobered again as his expression softened.

"Are you really sure that you're okay now Emily?" He asked quietly, "I don't want to hurt you."

He might have really, REALLY wanted to have sex with her right then, but her well-being was far more important than his libido. And he'd stop immediately if he thought for a second that them continuing this, might cause her actual pain.

Tears filled Emily's eyes . . . God he was such a sweetie.

Haley was an idiot.

This time she didn't push the thought aside. Because her 'stakes' in the game here, had been significantly upped since earlier in the evening. Given that she and Hotch were now JOINED together, clearly her allegiance had fully shifted as well. No more of that middle of the road, 'everybody is entitled to their own feelings' bullshit.

Seriously, fuck the bitch.

So to that end . . . that he was probably the sweetest guy that she knew, and his estranged wife was a total asshat for putting him through the hell that she over this last year . . . Emily gave Hotch a watery smile as she shook her head.

"You won't hurt me, I promise. It's all good now."

With his teeth sinking into his lip, Hotch looked at Emily for another second before he let his arm slide down and under her backside so he could pick her up. Then he moved them over so that her back was against the wall. They'd have better leverage there.

Plus . . . he hitched her up a little higher . . . it was cleaner.

When her leg tightened around his waist, he could feel her boot digging into his lower back. And with that . . . he finally began to move.

Thrusting in slow, easy circles, up . . . he felt Emily's even thrusts as she pushed back . . . and around, making it go slow.

Making it last.

Because he didn't know the next time that he'd be having sex, and . . . his breath started to quicken . . . he was most definitely going to make this one count!

After a few minutes he felt Emily's fingernails dig into his back, just before her walls clamped down onto him as the first orgasm rocked through her.

The pleasure that her body shared then, felt exquisite.

But when she began to cry out, he quickly covered her mouth with his, and she ended up biting down on his lip. And tasting the drop of blood on his tongue, he felt a swell of male pride.

It was true that he'd hadn't done this in a while, but at least he knew . . . he gave another thrust as he bit down a groan . . . he could still do it right!

Feeling her body slam into the plasterboard for the umpteenth time, Emily knew that she was going to be covered in bruises tomorrow, but that was A frigging okay with her! All of those bruises would be TOTALLY worth it! Because Hotch . . . her eyes rolled back in her head . . . was really, REALLY fucking good at this!

Feeling her second orgasm start to rip through her, she muffled her cries against his throat.

Yeah, he was SO fucking good at this!

So good in fact that it was a damn, genuine, shame that it was a onetime deal. But this was definitely a no strings engagement and they both knew it. Under any other circumstances . . . with ANY other man . . . she'd worry that tomorrow things would be awkward between them. But they had a special relationship . . . her nails scraped along his back, tearing at his shirt . . . so she knew that it would be all right.

And as she felt Hotch's breath hitch, and knowing that he finally about to come, he suddenly reached down between them and began to stroke her clit just to make sure that she rode that last wave along with him.

And she did.

Three times. The man made her come THREE times! She buried her face in his neck as she let out a faint squeal . . . amazing. And then she felt his body shudder . . . and he groaned . . . and then the warmth began to spill into her.

While her body was still humming, he moved a few more times . . . they might have been involuntary . . . but then finally he stopped.

It took her a bit longer before she was able to loosen the nails that she had digging into his shoulder blade. And everything was still so sensitive with her nipples chafing against her sweater, and her clit just aching for him to touch her again, that all she wanted to do was drag him home with her.

Both of them were still gasping even as he leaned down to give her another kiss. This one was soft and sweet.

His hands encircled her waist.

Then he dropped his head to her shoulder and held her body close to his until they'd both caught their breath.

It took at least another minute.

In the silence that followed, Hotch leaned back and looked down at her nervously.

"It's not going to be strange now, right?" His fingertips pressed into her bare hip, "I mean, we're still good?"

Hotch really hoped that she wasn't having any second thoughts about this. Because he would hate it if their working relationship somehow became strained.

Emily's eyes crinkled as she reached up with both hands to try to wipe the worst of her lipstick from Hotch's face.

"We're still good," she brushed her thumb along the corner of his lip, "we'll always be good. And I promise that it's not going to be strange. That was amazing, and I would love to do it again, but I know that we can't. But just like Vegas," one of her hands came to rest on his cheek as her lip quirked up, "what happens in the locked bathroom stall, stays in the locked bathroom stall."

Hotch flashed her a half a dimple then as he leaned forward and kissed her again. At the same time, he shifted his hips slightly so he could slide out of her.

And after the kiss broke, she gave him a wink and then they each turned slightly to the side to pull themselves back together.

As he tucked himself in, and zipped up his fly, Hotch sighed in relief . . . he'd definitely picked the right woman to have meaningless sex with. Well, not meaningless, she was right, that was amazing, and he actually did feel better. Not just physically, but emotionally.

That creeping misery was gone.

The truly surprising thing was though . . . he didn't feel guilty.

Not a bit.

The divorce papers were signed, his marriage legally dissolved. Emotionally . . . he turned back to help Emily with the clasps on her bra . . . things had started to die a long time ago. And if Haley hadn't pushed him to the edge tonight, he might have been hanging on to a false hope for months.

Just prolonging the inevitable.

And though he would also very much like to have sex with Emily again . . . because how could he NOT?! . . . this had to be a onetime thing. They worked together, and he could not start sleeping with one of his agents. Not only was it inappropriate . . . well, way more so than what they had just done . . . but if it got out, it would severely damage both of their careers. His he was less concerned about because Strauss already had him on a choke chain, but he wasn't going to allow Emily's reputation to become sullied.

Though as he looked over at her face glowing while she was now trying (somewhat fruitlessly) to fix her wild hair, he realized how much that really . . . as she would say . . . sucked. Because that ranked up there with some of the best sex he'd ever had. And he really didn't think he was just being bitter about Haley. Being with Emily actually did rank up there on the best sex EVER list.

Then he had a thought.

Just because they couldn't do it again after tonight, didn't mean they couldn't do it again tonight. Well, if she wanted to. But he probably needed to tell her about the papers first. The first time they weren't really in a position to have an in-depth conversation . . . not with his tongue down her throat. But she'd known what she was getting into.

After all, it had been her idea to start.

But having a quickie in the bathroom to make him feel better was one thing. Before he broached the idea of them doing anything else, she deserved to know the situation as it actually stood.

So he walked up behind her and let his arm slide around her waist so he could pull her body back against his. After he'd rested his chin on her shoulder, she let her hand fall down to cover over his wrist.

When their eyes caught in the mirror, he stared at her for a moment.

"I signed the papers right after I left the office," he said softly, "I just thought you should know."

Seeing Emily's eyes widen in surprise, right before they filled with sadness, brought a spot of warmth to Hotch's core. Then she bit her lip.

"I'm sorry."

Still holding her gaze, he nodded slowly.

"Yeah," he whispered, "I am too. But," he took a breath, "it was for the best, I think. Now I just need to um," he swallowed, "adjust. I was married for a long time," he let out a faint sigh, "and now I'm not."

Emily nodded as she squeezed his fingers.

Because she'd known badly he'd wanted to fix things. Though in retrospect, she should have realized that he'd already signed the papers before they'd had sex. Because he never would have accepted her offer, if he'd still been married.

Hotch wasn't a cheater.

Not that Emily, or most people . . . including the Commonwealth of Virginia . . . would have considered what they'd done 'cheating,' given how he had been legally separated for more than six months now.

That was why she hadn't felt any compunction about making the offer.

But . . . she rubbed her hand down his arm . . . Hotch's standards of integrity were above reproach. And he wouldn't have had sex with her if any part of him still felt like there was a chance to save his marriage.

HE would have considered it cheating.

Hotch held Emily close for just a moment longer, simply enjoying the contact. Feeling those soft curves pressed against him in a way that they never had been before.

Just like he was now being allowed to touch in a way that he never had been before.

But then after another minute of simply holding her, the hand he had on her hip slid around and under her sweater. The fingers of his other hand dipped down into the waistband of her pants.

Then he gently caressed her stomach as he pressed a kiss to her neck.

Though he didn't really feel comfortable coming straight out and asking her if she wanted to have sex again, this would make his desires clear.

And it would make them clear without any awkwardness if she didn't feel the same way.

Emily's eyes crinkled slightly as Hotch very smoothly made his move.

Though they had agreed that this wasn't going to be a regular occurrence, his desires here were clear. And he was right, as far as tonight went, they were already in for a penny. And she'd already wanted to drag him home with her even before she'd found out about him signing the papers.

More to the point though . . . she rubbed her hand down his arm . . . he was still sad. Though he was trying to hide it, she could see it in his eyes, and she did want to make him feel better.

Make him forget for a little while longer.

So she caught his eyes in the mirror as she gave him a soft smile.

It was obvious that he was a little nervous while he waited to see what she thought about them doing it again. She placed her hand over his and leaned her body back.

"Yes," she whispered, "but we can't do it here. They're going to come looking for us eventually and we're going to get caught."

Hotch kissed her neck. "I know we just agreed no more, but . . ."

Emily cut him off as she smiled at his reflection.

"But you figure that we don't turn back into pumpkins until the sun comes up?"

With a faint blush, Hotch he tipped his head down slightly.

"Something like that."

And seeing that reaction in him, the slight reddening of his cheeks, Emily's breath caught.

The man had just fucked her senseless against a bathroom wall and now he was blushing just talking about doing it again.

That was about the hottest thing she'd ever seen.

So she turned around in his arms and leaned up to kiss him. And as she sucked softly on his lower lip she mumbled back.

"Well, if you can promise me three more orgasms, then the fairy godmother can extend the clock until 6 am."

Hotch smiled against her mouth.

"I think I can arrange three."

Then he slipped his tongue past her lips, running it along her teeth, distracting her with the kiss as he slid down her zipper again and then suddenly plunged two fingers inside her warmth.

Emily gasped against his mouth as Hotch began stroking her clit again. It was still so sensitive from before, that it didn't take long before she started to pant. She could feel it building . . . her eyes closed . . . and building!

Then he hit the sweet spot.

And as he stopped to caress that one spot, her hips jerked.

"OH GOD!"

Emily's head fell and she buried her face against Hotch's chest as he made her come for the FOURTH time in forty-five minutes.

"I owe you two more." He murmured with a kiss to the top of her head.

Even though he knew that she was right about then getting out of there, he'd just wanted her to know that he was thankful for what she was doing.

For helping him.

And he'd thought that was the best way of saying thanks.

He rubbed his hand down her back . . . also he'd just found something that she liked.

So he made a mental note to hit that spot again.

As she wrapped her arms around his waist, Emily sighed against his neck.

"Okay, we really need to get the hell out of here because if you do that again, I'm going to melt into a puddle of goo like the wicked witch."

Hotch chuckled as he squeezed her against his body, "understood."

Yes, he definitely needed to let go of her go now, but she was warm, and she smelled good, and she really was making him feel better. Yes, he knew the sex was a huge part of that . . . but technically he could have had sex with any woman that he'd met in the bar. Not that he ever would have, but he could have.

But he knew it wouldn't have been the same.

Emily was somebody that he cared about, who cared about him, who had done this with him because she wanted him to feel better. So even though their feelings for one another weren't romantic . . . they were real.

So the act had meant something beyond just the physical.

And he was afraid that if he let go of her, he'd lose whatever tenuous connection he'd managed to make with her. Because this honestly was the first time in months, since before Haley had even left, that he didn't feel alone. And he already knew that tomorrow, and the next day . . . and the day after that . . . they were all going to be hell. Because he was going to have to figure out how to live his life in a whole new way . . . one where he was completely alone.

He buried his face in Emily's hair.

And he just wanted to put off that feeling for as long as possible.

Emily could feel Hotch starting to slip away from her again. But it was too soon for that. They had until morning until reality had to be dealt with.

So she leaned back to give him a small smile.

"I promise that I can keep you distracted for the next," her arm came up as she checked her watch, "ten hours." Then her eyes crinkled when she looked back at him.

"Now think of how many other fun things we can do if we're not spending those ten hours in this public bathroom." She tapped her finger against her chin. "Balloon animals for instance, or perhaps a puppet show."

Seeing Hotch's lips begin to twitch she continued dryly.

"There's also, um, origami or maybe," her brow quirked up, "an infomercial marathon. That could be fun."

"Hmm," Hotch smirked, "infomercials sound great. But all of those sounded like some pretty scintillating activities, and really," he looked around, "it would be damn near impossible to get a good puppet show going in here."

With a wise nod, Emily rubbed her hands down his biceps.

"Exactly, the lighting is terrible. So I suggest that we get the hell out of dodge." She quirked her lip up, "I'll shoot JJ a text that I'm sick and that you're taking me home. Then we can slip out the back exit next to the kitchen, so we don't run into anyone. And that way" she tucked her head under his chin and slipped her arms back around his waist, "you can keep a firm grasp on me waist so you can be sure that I won't disappear."

Hotch froze.

"Was I being that obvious?" He asked with a trace of embarrassment.

The one serious drawback to getting personally involved with another profiler, was that you couldn't hide a damn thing from them.

"Hotch," Emily lightly ran her fingertips along his back, "I know what you've been through. And I promise that I'm not going to make this harder for you, when I already know how I can make it easier."

She pressed a kiss to his throat before she leaned up to wrap her arms around his neck again. Then she whispered in his ear.

"I won't leave you."

Her choice of words there was deliberate. She knew, even without him telling her, that when Haley walked away he'd felt like he'd been abandoned. Because that's exactly how she would have felt. Come on, somebody walks off with your kid and they leave you behind?

The emotional pain of that had to have been excruciating.

And when Haley had done that to him, he'd become the poster child for abandonment issues. So even though Emily couldn't promise him 'til death do us part . . . she could promise ten hours. And then tomorrow, if he wanted, they could try being friends.

Real friends.

The kind that shared their time, and their thoughts, and not just the occasional intense moment. And then she could promise him that she'd be there for him in a more permanent way. And obviously in a much different way than she was offering him now.

Hotch's eyes began to burn as he wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her close again. After a minute of just holding him, Emily leaned back.

"So you're going to come home with me, and we'll have sex, we'll sleep, have some more sex, and sleep some more. Then we'll wake up tomorrow, have a quickie, and then coffee. And before we leave for work I'll kiss you goodbye, and then we'll go back to what our relationship was this morning. And it won't be strained or awkward, or anything else bad, because we're us. And we just won't let it be weird, agreed?"

He gave her a watery smile.

"Agreed."

Seeing that bit of moisture in the corner of Hotch's eye, Emily winced in sympathy because she knew how much he hated to have his control slip. And this was twice now in front of her.

So she reached up to wipe away the tear.

And after he'd blinked and taken a breath, she leaned up on her toes to press a kiss against his mouth.

"Come on," she murmured against his lips, "let's go home."

A/N 2: So I really did want to get back into posting a regular Girl'verse, but B (Horses) was causing my brain too much stress because the early chapters need so much cleaning up. And A (Hours) has so much pressure around it (you all have NO idea how many inquiries I get on that story) that I didn't want to deal with it yet. Especially because the ending there is technically done because I did technically finish a version of that story, once upon a time. So I'm planning on leaving that one for the last repost, with the HOPE that maybe after being immersed in all of these Girl'verses again, that my brain will actually let me wrap it up. I don't know. But that's the plan.

Though there is quite a bit of sex in the first few chapters here, this is not a smut story. This is a relationship story with sex in it. And the purpose of the sex was to find a new way to bring them together. Because you have to keep in mind, this is six months before they become aware of their feelings in Horses, and ten months before they become involved in Girl. But the point being, their relationship in each of these worlds evolved at a different pace because different things happened. So here, sex is used for bonding. And in some ways their relationship will be even further along than what it was in Girl, but in other ways, they're still virtual strangers at the beginning. In the 'getting to know each other' sense, that is

One thing to note as you read, there are different 'kinds' of sex in each chapter. And I don't mean positions :) I mean like this one was comfort sex. The next one is something different and there's a progression as their night goes on. And those different acts were necessary to connect emotionally in different ways. And I mention this now, early, just so the sex scenes themselves don't kind of overpower that underlying flow of what's really going on between them.

Otherwise, thanks for reading everyone! I did tweak some of these scenes from the first version because those offshoots hadn't been written when this first chapter came out way, way back. But I'd love to hear if you're happy to have this world back again!