This chapter is . There is NSFW content in this chapter. I added two horizontal lines in case you're uncomfortable reading NSFW content, you can just skip that part. This is my first attempt at writing that kind of stuff, so be gentle.

Please be so kind and leave a review. I appreciate criticism a lot!

Chapter 6: Fraternisation

"The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it." – Oscar Wilde

Every year, the Association of American Psychologists held a convention at a fine hotel in some American metropolis with lots of courses and lectures and seminars. About ten years ago, with the surge of interest in profiling, more and more of these courses had dealt with forensic psychology until finally, five years ago, the first convention for forensic psychologists had been announced. This year, it was a grand event, the first meaningful anniversary. Profilers from all over the country, from abroad even, had flogged to Chicago, Illinois. The Davenport Hotel was beautiful, with lake views that weren't as appealing in the grey February weather as the hotel website had suggested. Due to the rather tight BAU budget, the team had to share double rooms but that wasn't much of a problem, at least not for Pippa, whom Emily had asked to share a room. Garcia had accepted JJ's offer although she had hesitated for a split second – no one had called dibs on Derek yet, after all. He found a roommate in Reid. Hotch and Rossi had been lodged in single rooms, special treatment that no one minded.

They wouldn't spend much time in their rooms anyway with the vast variety of courses offered and the leisure facilities that Garcia had pointed out on the flight: "Enjoy authentic French cuisine at Les Printemps, our on-site restaurant, then step over to La Feria Bar for a cocktail or game of snooker. Feel like a VIP at our hotel's Spa and Wellness Center by treating yourself to a massage, beauty treatment or Turkish bath after your workout at the fitness center or a swim in the 40ft pool."

"A massage sounds heavenly," Emily said, eyes closed, while Rossi wrinkled his nose, presumably at the French cuisine he was decidedly not fond of.

"We're there for the courses," Reid pointed out. "I already signed up for my favourite choices online. The variety that is offered is really remarkable."

"Well, it's the fifth anniversary and every profiler in the country will be there," JJ said. "It also gained some media attention."

"Well, you'll have half an hour to check out your rooms before the first courses start. I suggest those of you who haven't already done so should enrol for the courses now. This is only all-expenses-paid because it has been classified as further training." Hotch was flipping through the pages of a scientific journal.

Pippa had already chosen her courses and the first in her schedule was Statistical Modeling in Behaviour Analysis: A Critical Discussion. She was pretty certain she'd be able to attend with Reid but was surprised when she found not Spencer in the line in front of the conference room but Hotch.

"Statistical Modeling?" she asked, thinking that perhaps she had confused the room numbers. The hotel was huge after all.

"Uh, yes." Hotch nodded.

"Shouldn't Reid be here then?"

"I think he chose a different course."

"Really? Which course would he choose over statistical analysis?" Pippa asked with an awkward laugh.

"The Genetics and Biochemistry of Paranoid Schizophrenia," Hotch supplied and the smile died on Pippa's lips.

"Oh." Spencer's mum. Of course. "It wasn't in the main program, was it?"

"No. It's not the main focus of most profilers. He told me about it on the plane," Hotch replied, still wearing his neutral work face.

The door opened. What was she supposed to do? Hotch probably knew half the audience. Did he even want to sit with her? He probably had to do some networking, too, if he wanted to co-write another textbook. And indeed, he was soon surrounded by a knot of people, so Pippa chose a seat in the back of the audience. She liked the more comprehensive view from here. And this was supposed to be a discussion, after all, so she would be able to see the participants without having to turn around all the time.

Pippa, focused on her notepad, did not see Hotch turn around, his eyes looking for her, spotting her and the taken seats to either side. Then he sat down a few rows in front of her.

The lecturer entered two minutes late, a demonstration of power and influence that Pippa considered unnecessary, especially with this audience. But Professor Rothfuss had been a pundit on statistical analysis in the early 90s so his arrogance was perhaps understandable. Although, Pippa thought, he hadn't published anything of importance in the last ten years.

He started off with a few jokes about the sizable audience and then presented a study he had recently conducted. Pippa tried her best to understand what he was trying to convey but even though she was eager to appreciate his skill, although she was almost determined to defer to his expertise, she couldn't help but notice that Rothfuss' study had a very decisive flaw. Pippa just couldn't understand how the author of "The Statistics of Serial Killers" would make such a mistake. Driven by nothing else but her wish to understand what seemed to her a mere misunderstanding on her part, she raised her hand, not without hesitation.

"Yes, please?" Rothfuss smiled.

"Sir, I have a question. You said that statistical modeling helped identify a connection between dialect and certain personality disorders. Were you speaking of the connection between idiolect and narcissistic personality disorder as suggested by Schroder in 1997?"

"No, young lady," he said, and she lost an ounce of respect just then, "this is brand new research. We found a connection between dialect or sociolect and personality disorders like narcissistic or delusional disorders that lead to a criminal offence. I showed you the graphs just five minutes ago. You should pay better attention."

If he hadn't suggested that it was her problem, Pippa might just have kept quiet. But now, she didn't.

"Yes, sir. I saw your graphs and I understood them –"

"Are you sure?" he asked and some laughed. Pippa felt her heartbeat quicken, her blood rush to her head. But she willed herself to keep her face straight and her voice even. By now, a lot of people had turned around to her.

"Quite sure. I just wondered about the nature of the connection you say you have found. From your graphs, I couldn't deduce a causal connection, it seems rather circumstantial. And I just thought with a thesis like this, one that would potentially target certain social groups, brandishing them as more likely to become psychotic offenders, one would have to be careful not to jump to conclusions."

Again, the lecturer gave her a derisive smile.

"Although this seminar is called 'critical discussion', miss, that doesn't mean you have to go out of your way to criticise my research." He paused to allow some weak laughter. "You are still very young. There is no shame in not understanding the complex procedures that go into statistical modeling. If you let me finish the lecture now, perhaps you'll learn something," he said patronisingly.

In front of the now red-faced Pippa, Hotch's hand went up, almost lazily.

"Or even better yet, allow another professional to clear this up for you. Yes, Agent Hotchner? An honour to have you in my audience, really. So, can you explain this young lady where she errs?"

"To be honest, James," Hotch said, perfectly calmly, "I have wondered the very same thing as her. You seem to suggest a causal connection when statistics merely support correlation. I'm sure that sort of rookie mistake was a rare slip up or you have withheld further information from us for now. I wondered, what was the independent variable in your study? Perhaps that will answer the asker's comprehensive question."

Now, it was Rothfuss's turn to blush.

"Ah, yes, thank you, Agent Hotchner," he said, playing with his remote. "I will come to that later. For now, I would like to point out the results of a colleague of mine…"

It is needless to say that Rothfuss did not come to that later.

And although Hotch didn't turn around to her once, Pippa only rarely took her eyes off the back of his head. He had come to her aid. Of course, he had only done what was right, to point out the flaws in the theory, but she did feel like his choice of words had been a tad more aggressive than usual and she couldn't help but wonder if that had been because of Rothfuss' earlier treatment of her.

Despite this incident, when the lecture had ended, Pippa didn't feel as if she had wasted her time. Rothfuss had stuck to reporting the research of others and had done so well. The room was crowded though and the air was stuffy, so she tried to get out as quickly as possible.

"Excuse me, miss," a man stopped her. "I thought your question was very much warranted."

"Um, thank you." She didn't want to talk about Rothfuss now, and she certainly didn't want to network, either. She only wanted some air. And perhaps tell Hotch how grateful she was.

"You've shown a good understanding of how psychological statistics work. My firm is always looking for promising young profilers and you definitely seem up to the mark. May I ask in which field you are currently employed?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Phillips," a familiar voice said from behind her. "Agent Hale is with the BAU."

"Hotchner," the man called Phillips said with a polite smile, but he didn't fool anyone. "Well then, Agent Hale, should you ever consider leaving the BAU, just give me a call."

He gave her his card and then left with a brisk nod.

"He is the reason for most of our overtime," Hotch said. "He's a squid. Owns a consulting company, and he employs the best of all forensic psychology and behaviour analysis graduates. He can afford to pay well because Phillips Consulting works independently, not only for the state or the police but also for private persons. He dabbles in criminology but his most lucrative deals are of course in business: How to make people spend money."

"That doesn't sound very tempting," Pippa said. "And also kind of illegal."

"Well, it's still about psychological consulting, in the end. It's just not serving law enforcement."

"Mh. Then I wouldn't have been interested in the placement anyway."

Hotch nodded. "Are you hungry? The restaurant is probably crowded but they've set up a makeshift cafeteria in the ground floor conference hall."

"Sure. Do you know whether the others will be there?" She couldn't just go grab lunch with Hotch. They needed a buffer, someone who immediately neutralised tension. Reid would be best, or JJ.

Hotch looked at his watch. "No, probably not. We're more than half an hour early."

Apparently Rothfuss had run out of research to cite before the actual end of the course.

"Well, they'll meet us there then," Pippa said and ignored the strange stumbling of her heart.

They walked down to the cafeteria in silence and settled at a table for four, each with a sandwich and salad and a bottle of water.

"It was nice of you to speak up in there,"Pippa said to her bottle.

"You were right," Hotch said, "And Rothfuss cannot hide behind a relatively successful study he conducted ten years ago and think no one will call him out for the inconsistencies in his more recent research."

"I haven't read anything by him but "The Statistics of Serial Killers", which I found rather compelling."

"Yes, his only good work." Hotch looked at her and suddenly smiled. "You really didn't back down up there."

Again, Pippa blushed. "I know I should have. It's not really doing me any good. I had a similar situation three years ago when I was still working at court. I had a professional discussion with my superior. He was an old man, too, and very much set in his ways. I had suggested that a defendant probably hadn't committed the crime, based on a rather new study conducted by Jason Gideon. And Anderson really didn't take my criticism of his theory well. He called me a 'little miss know-it-all', to which I responded that I was glad he thought of me that way because I really wanted to know it all and that perhaps he would reconsider his testimony then if he valued my skills so highly. He didn't take that well, either."

Hotch laughed out loud for the first time since Pippa had met him professionally. "It seems I have to be grateful that you have been comparatively tame so far."

"No," Pippa insisted, blushing "I respect you."

His eyes softened and he was about to say something when they were rudely interrupted:

"You made Hotch laugh!" Derek's strengths were manifold but subtlety wasn't one of them. "You must know the magic words, woman."

Reid sat down next to her, not talking, busy with unwrapping a sandwich with his left hand while scribbling down something with his right hand at the same time.

Pippa smiled, quickly pushing away the disappointment that their intimate togetherness was over.

"I was just talking about how I got fired," she said, knowing that was an easy way to get Derek's attention.

"Fired? You? No employer would be that mad. Don't get me wrong but most robots don't function better than you." Derek dropped into the chair next to Hotch.

"Hey you," Emily and Garcia pulled chairs over and sat down with their sandwiches in their labs.

"You two were having fun, huh?" Emily asked before she bit into her sandwich, giving Pippa a quizzical look.

Thankfully, there was someone who was very bad at reading the room. And he had just finished unwrapping his sandwich.

"While robots in psychology are not planned, scientists are working on medical robots that can help out in hospitals or old people homes, for example with medication. A robot could not accidentally overdose or switch pills, so that is actually an efficient and life-saving solution to assist burned-out medical staff." Reid said, ignoring the last minute, picking up Derek's earlier comment.

"They are working on this in the U.S.?" Pippa asked, jumping at the chance to change the topic, while at the same time, Hotch asked "Are there prototypes already?"

"You sure are interested in robotics," Emily remarked casually before switching the subject. The lecture she had attended had dealt with bomb attacks and the special profile of bombers and she spent at least ten minutes going over the details.

"You get on well with Hotch now, don't you?" On their way to the net seminar, Emily had pulled Pippa aside.

"Yeah, it's much better," Pippa replied. Perhaps that had been all Emily's look had meant: that Hotch had slowly warmed up to her despite their initial problems that Emily, of course, had no idea of.

"Ah, I'm glad. He was always a little tense. But he's probably realised that Strauss gains nothing by sending you."

"Probably," Pippa said before changing the topic to the seminar they were about to attend. But she wasn't quite as attentive as she should be. Because Emily was right. Hotch was treating her much more warmly now. Which probably meant that he no longer thought about their night together. A good thing, certainly. They were only co-workers now, he her superior officer, she the most recent addition to his team. Nothing else. And while that was a good thing indeed, Pippa couldn't quite appreciate it, not when she was still thinking about him as often as she did.

Still, that didn't help anyone. And now that things were normal between them, she would have to stop thinking about him that way and focus on doing her job. Starting with this seminar. She squared her shoulders and took the cap off her pen, ready to let the speaker's arguments reach her and push Hotch to the fenced off backyard of her brain.

The day was long but interesting and when she finally got back to her room in the evening, Pippa's head felt heavy.

"We're having drinks in the hotel bar," Emily said from the bathroom where she was brushing through her hair. "You in?"

"Who's going?" Pippa asked and lay down on the bed, relaxing her back.

"Garcia, JJ, Morgan. Rossi is out for dinner with some woman he met at the panel discussion this afternoon. Hotch said he's tired and wants to be up early so that he can prepare." Emily made a sound that conveyed her annoyance with such a sensible attitude.

"Actually, I think I might just do the same. I want to go for a swim and I guess then I'll lie down."

Emily came out of the bathroom and raised a brow. "Oh come on, Pippa. You're always bailing on me."

"We were out last weekend."

"But that wasn't at a nice hotel bar in Chicago."

"Maybe tomorrow," Pippa promised, wondering if Hotch would perhaps come along tomorrow.

"I know you 'maybes'." Emily said. "But I'll tell you about all the fun we had."

"I already know I'll feel terrible when I learn how much I missed out on," Pippa said.

"Oh, you should." The grin on Emily's face was of the rather nasty kind. "Anyway, I'm off. Don't swim too much."

~o~

Pippa soon pulled on her red bathing suit and the fuzzy hotel robe and bundled up a pair of jeans and longsleeve for later. Then she made for the pool, hoping that no one else would want to go swimming at this time of the night.

She had been almost right.

Alone in the 40ft pool swam a dark-haired man that she recognised immediately.

Hell, have mercy.

Hotch saw her then, too, probably because he was wondering which creep stood at the end of the pool and stared at him.

"Late-night swim?" he asked, a little out of breath.

She tried very hard not to stare at him, waist deep in water at the shallow end of the pool, droplets running down his chiseled chest. She had seen him naked before but that had been before she had gotten to know him. That had been before he had become the forbidden fruit.

"Um, yes. Figured it would be empty at this time of the night."

Pippa looked at her feet as she navigated her way across the slippery floor.

What now? She couldn't just turn around and leave without showing him that it still meant something to her. But she couldn't just shrug off the robe and jump into the pool with him. At least she wore a proper bathing suit, not a bikini. It had a little more cleavage than she wanted to show right now but it really couldn't be helped. She would just get in there, do lengths and then go to bed where Emily's soft snores would distract her from any kind of sexual thought.

Hotch was back to swimming, so concentrated on the water before him that she almost suspected that he was trying hard not to look at her. Perhaps he was only a determined sportsman. He definitely looked the part. Pippa swam quickly at first, eager to distract her brain from improper thoughts. Once she was out of breath, it was much easier to forget about Hotch, only two or three feet away from her, sometimes brushing against her arm or leg with his hand. He apologised every time. Pippa did everything to wear herself out. Her muscles were protesting after about an hour...or perhaps it had been ten minutes. Time passed terribly slowly. She half hoped Hotch would finally leave. She had gotten used to being alone with him, she was with the BAU for half a year now after all. But this was still too much. Occupied with her own thoughts, Pippa didn't pay much attention to where she was swimming anymore until she hit something warm and hairy. She had swum right into Hotch.

"Are you okay?" He sounded genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry."

"Really?" The hand he had used to steady her was still on her arm and she was actually grateful. He could apparently stand here but the water was too deep for her to remain this still.

"It kind of felt like some white shark was chasing you."

"Or I was chasing a white whale," she replied, just to say something.

He smiled. He had such a beautiful smile, so soft, so genuine. At first, she had felt uncomfortable when he smiled because it reminded her of their first encounter, because Hotch was most professional with his straight face on. Now, however, his smiles brightened her mood. She felt as if he smiled most frequently when he was with her although that was probably wishful thinking. She had never been particularly funny like Garcia or Morgan.

"I should leave you to it then, Captain," he said. But his hand did not move. She could feel his presence, the still water between them, not even five inches wide, his warm hand on her cold skin. He seemed to notice the same thing.

"Although, perhaps you should come along. You're ice cold."

"Funny, they all say that," Pippa quipped. And he laughed, a little bit only, and then her mind was wiped clean and she stared at him. Water drops fell from his hair onto his shoulders, hung from his lashes. One was collecting at his earlobe. Following instinct and leaving her common sense behind screaming, Pippa reached out and touched his earlobe, let the droplet roll over the tip of her index finger.

At her touch, Hotch exhaled and then, suddenly, her lips found his and he was hugging her properly now. She placed her hands on his shoulder and hip, pulled him closer. His lips tasted of chlorine and his tongue felt burning hot on her cold lips but she couldn't stop. This was good, this felt good. Her body tingled with excitement and adrenaline. Boldly, she allowed her hand to slip from his hip to his butt cheek, firm under his swimming trunks, not quite sure how he would react. In response, his hands wandered, too. They were in a public swimming pool in a hotel with all of the most prolific profilers in the states, with their team members only a few stories above. They couldn't know for certain that Derek wasn't planning on having a cheeky late night swim. This was part of the attraction, perhaps. Getting caught. After having resisted temptation for so long, Hotch's touch was even more welcome. And if she wasn't absolutely wrong about male anatomy, he was as excited as she was.

They were still in the pool, however, and when Pippa couldn't feel her toes anymore she broke off the kiss.

"We should probably go to bed," she suggested breathlessly.

"Definitely," Hotch said. He looked stern again. This wasn't good at all. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done this. That was entirely unprofessional."

"Well, I kissed you," Pippa admitted. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks.

Then she swam backwards a little, awkwardly avoiding skin contact.

They both crawled out of the pool. Pippa had brought a spare set of clothing because she had planned on showering down here so she wouldn't wake up Emily. But she really didn't feel like it anymore and pulled on the plush white bathrobe. They walked to the elevator together but in utter silence. Pippa was still thinking about the feeling of his tongue on hers and Hotch was still thinking of the taste of her lips. It is evident that neither had cooled down at all, except of course, in the literal sense.

The elevator was roomy and they stood next to each other awkwardly, careful not to touch each other. Silently, they reached Hotch's room door. 137, Pippa noted.

Well, then, um, good night," he smiled but it wasn't the same bright smile she liked so much. He looked troubled. Of course he does. He is quite clearly uncomfortable. It wasn't exactly ideal.

Pippa marched on, reached her room door, opened it, heard Emily snore. She waited for her eyes to grow accustomed to the dark, then she tiptoed to her side of the double bed and sat down. She had kissed Hotch. And he had kissed her back. And he had been ready for more. More. The tingling had not yet subsided. Her nipples were hard from the cold, she told herself, and she did have a great excuse for the wetness between her legs. She remembered Hotch's wandering hands, never demanding but decidedly curious, she remembered the way he had pulled her close, pressed her to his chest. And up she was again, her bundle of clothes still in hand, and before she knew it, she was knocking on the door of room 137. Very quietly. He opened immediately, a towel wrapped around his hips. Dangerously low. She didn't know whether he was just getting out of the shower or whether she had interrupted him.

"I thought," Pippa whispered, "that we should really make this time count."

He stepped aside with a smile, then closed the door behind her.

"You mean if we break the rules, we should do it properly?"

"Very thoroughly."

He had started opening the belt of her bathrobe already.

"Didn't you learn to take off your wet bathing suit immediately?" he asked and there was this very special tone in his voice that she had heard last almost half a year ago. Was it flirting? Lust? Both.

"I thought you could help me with that." Her voice was breathless, excited.

He was already doing that without her prompting. It took only one flicker of her hand to get rid of his towel.

His hands roamed her body again, he didn't seem to be in a rush. While his lips remained firmly on hers, his fingers went up to her breasts, cupped them, then turned to her nipples. They were already stiff against his palms but he twisted slightly and she moaned into his mouth. He kept one of her buds tightly between his fingers while the other hand journeyed south, between her legs.

There was something about an experienced lover, something that had more to do with his attitude than with anything else. It was an unspoken, effortless dominance, the feeling that every movement was planned, carried out to perfection.

And Hotch definitely knew exactly what he was doing. His fingers played around until she was oh so close, then they stopped and lingered lightly, far too lightly, cruel torture. She gave out a disappointed moan.

He stopped kissing her, instead placing small, toothy kisses to her sensitive neck.

Nobody spoke. Pippa was scared that every word would destroy the magic, the trance they had to be in for otherwise, they really shouldn't be doing this.

Hotch guided her towards the bed and pushed her down, not forcefully, not at all, but with a pressure that clearly showed her who was in charge.

That's about to change, Pippa thought but then Hotch's fingers moved between her legs again and she thought that perhaps that change could wait.

This time, he didn't stop. In an even rhythm, his fingers moved against her slick womanhood, slipping in and out from time to time, but his thumb always remained. He lay next to her, his arm wrapped around her body, his lips and teeth on her lips, on her neck, on her breasts until finally, Pippa arched her back and the waves washed over her, fuelled by the continuous motion of his fingers.

"Oh God," she said as she opened her eyes again, only to find him looking at her with a smile she hadn't seen yet. His eyes were dark as ink now, his penis hard against her thigh. Slowly, she allowed her fingers to slip down and encircle his crown. Hotch inhaled sharply.

Now, she would show him who was truly in charge here. And with one swift movement, she sat on top of him, straddling him.

He didn't seem to mind at all. Especially not as she started rubbing her wet sex against his groin. Slowly, she slipped his manhood inside her, watched his face twist with lust when he had fully entered. She rode him with full control, her hands on his chest, nails digging into muscle, feet hooked around his legs.

For a moment, she considered torturing him too, dragging out his orgasm as he had hers, but then he wrapped his hand around her neck and pulled her face down to kiss her. And when his tongue danced with hers, she felt herself reaching another high, quite suddenly, and as her walls clenched around him, Hotch let out one deep groan against her lips and thrust into her forcefully.

So much for maintaining control. But as she rolled off him, she couldn't find it in her to regret it.

"You really aren't half bad," she said, still euphoric.

"Isn't that what every man likes to hear?" he asked and placed a kiss on her sweaty temple. "You're kind of okay, too."

Pippa heard the grin in his voice.

"Will Emily not miss you?" he asked suddenly. Pippa swallowed. He truly kicked her out of her room. His semen was still running down her thigh and he already wanted her out.

"A little late for that, huh? No. They were out tonight and from what I could tell, they had a pretty good time. Our room smells like an old bar. She sleeps like a baby. But you're right, I should go."

She tried to get up but he put a hand on her arm and stopped her.

"That's not what I meant," Hotch turned on his side to face her, so she lay down again, facing him. "I just wanted to make sure they won't needle you with questions."

She only looked at him, completely naked, hair dishevelled and wet and sweaty, eyes still ink-dark. Oh God.

"This is ironic, isn't it? Both of us have commendable self-control. And yet, it seems, I simply cannot resist you." She really, truly shouldn't have said that.

"I can't say I'm holding up much better," he smiled. "But then again, it's natural. There is a certain tension and with the forbidden nature of our first encounter, we have become accomplices in this." He was right. This was merely physical attraction, fuelled by the tension their professional situation created.

"Have you been profiling me?"

They had talked about this on her very first flight. No profiles of colleagues.

"Us." He smiled. "It was imperative to remain professional." There was a smile lurking in the corner of his mouth.

"I wonder how that's going."

"Tonight was unforeseeable." That much was true. And now that the euphoria died down, she felt more and more ashamed.

"I need to go back," Pippa said. It was long past one in the morning and she would have to get up around six if she wanted to prepare for the courses accordingly. Good that she was used to sleeping very little.

"Yes." He paused. "Or you could go tomorrow morning."

"Aaron Hotchner, are you suggesting that I spend the night in your hotel room with the entire team around?"

He grinned at her. "You have some spare clothes. You said Emily is drunk and sleeps like a stone and will probably oversleep. And as far as I know there's no gathering in my hotel room planned for tomorrow morning."

"I think it's time I write a risk assessment for you," she said, suddenly feeling cheeky.

"I fear you are not authorised to do so, Agent Hale." He touched the sensitive skin of her waist.

Pippa leant against the headrest. "Damn it. And I thought I could sleep my way up."

"So you stay?"

"Yes. But this is a one time thing. No one may know. This would cost you your career and quite possibly your job." The BAU without Aaron Hotchner would be a very sad place.

"That's what you worry about most?" He seemed surprised.

"Yes. You have a kid. You are an amazing unit chief. Strauss would blow me kisses for giving her a way to get rid of your insubordinate… uh, person in an elegant way."

"I doubt she'd throw me out," he said, this time with a knowing smile.

"Why not?"

"First, you're Senator Montmorency's daughter. And secondly," he paused briefly and she knew he let her in on a secret. "I think Rossi has a certain … influence on her."

"No."

"Yes."

"And here I am feeling naughty. How do people do that? Break rules as easily as other break bread?" Rossi and Strauss? And she was feeling bad for two one night stands.

"Naughty?" He raised a brow. "I feel like a school boy."

"Do you want me to teach you something, Agent Hotchner?" she said with a smile.

"Are you really going to continue to call me "agent"? His hand had somehow found its way into her hair. This would not end well.

"Better not get out of habit, huh?" she said, trying her best to sound distant.

"Call me Aaron tonight," he asked.

"Tonight, then. Aaron."

"Tonight, Pippa." he agreed. Then he kissed her.

Neither of them acknowledged that they were in too deep for comfort. The small touches, the moments alone, the brief seconds of intimacy, all that was fine. That was was not distracting. This, however, was complicated. Strauss was perhaps sleeping with Rossi but she wouldn't make exceptions for Hotchner, the agent who routinely defied her. And although Pippa liked Hotch, really liked him, and found him rather terribly attractive, she was certain that she was not willing to risk neither his nor her career for something that didn't have a future. For something that was so clearly of the night, forbidden and hidden and therefore especially tempting. In the end, she thought as she put her head on his chest, ran a finger down his hard stomach, this was probably just so tempting because it is forbidden. Because neither of us has ever tip-toed over the line before. Whatever it was, they would never find out. It would end at sunrise, like Romeo and Juliet. Only that their story would have a happy ending with no double-suicides, shattered dreams or ruined careers.

"Thanks again for helping me out earlier." It felt like a different life and in a way, it had been, a life of secret touches. Only physical attraction. No action.

"You were right." he said, as if that settled it. As if he'd rather talk about other things.

"Still. I felt really stupid when Rothfuss lay in on me."

"That is exactly what he wanted."

"I evidently really need these seminars," she smiled.

"What's on your list tomorrow?" Hotch wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger.

"Sex Offender Typologies before lunch, then a seminar on giving testimony and convincing a jury, Profiling in Court. In the evening, there's the panel discussion on profiling tactics."

"Yeah, I enrolled for that, too."

"As a speaker?"

"Audience," he smiled. "I'm not in profiling long enough to speak at these conventions. My former supervisor, Jason Gideon, will speak, though."

"He founded the BAU with Rossi, right? And left for personal reasons?"

"Yes." It was clear he didn't want to discuss Gideon either.

"We should try to get some sleep," Pippa said. Then she kissed him, very lightly. "Are you sure you want me to stay?"

"Absolutely."

The voice of reason within her shouted at her to get the hell out, to not complicate matters further, but it was a fruitless endeavour for Hotch then put an arm around her and she put his head on his chest and that was all it took to silence the voice of reason for the night.

Hotch's alarm rang and Pippa woke up with a start. His smell was in her nose and she knew immediately where she was. In the wrong hotel room with the wrong man.

"Good morning," the wrong man said and smiled sleepily.

"Good morning." She smiled back. Then she checked her phone. Or tried to, at least. It was dead. She had forgotten to charge it.

"Seven," Hotch supplied. He had been studying her.

"Thanks."

He was still looking at her as she put on her clothes. The jeans were badly creased, as was her shirt, but wearing them would smooth them out, she hoped.

"Everything ok?" Hotch asked as she sat down on the bed again, fully dressed, hair finger-combed. She still smelled of chlorine but that couldn't be helped. She couldn't shower in Hotch's room, couldn't leave his room with wet hair when she had evidently not used the shower in her own room.

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"About yesterday?" There was something in his voice that made him sound like a boy. She didn't turn around, afraid what she might see in his gaze. This was wrong. This was forbidden. She would lose her job, he would lose her job, the team would lose their glue. It wasn't worth it and she had to stay strong. Whatever Strauss and Rossi were doing in secret, their dynamics were different. Rossi wasn't her subordinate, not really. And Pippa doubted that Erin Strauss allowed anyone to influence her, let alone an affair.

"About kissing you. I don't know. I mean," now she did turn around, heart aflutter. "I don't regret it, of course."

He smiled. "Perhaps we should accept that we are attracted to each other."

"That seems undeniable," she said with a lopsided smile.

"We could get dinner sometime," he said, his voice oddly calm now. A date. He was suggesting a proper date. And why not, they were in too deep already, after all. But she had to make the right call, even if his judgement was clouded by post-coital romantic notions.

"I would love to, really. But, Aaron, this will cost you your job. This will cost me mine. We can never tell anyone and it was tough enough to keep it a secret from the team so far. If we go out, if something...something more happens, how can we keep that a secret? Or if the opposite happens and we notice that we don't get along at all in that way? It's not that I don't like you, but it's just…" Not enough. The words lingered unsaid. Hotch got up and dressed. Pippa, you unempathetic bitch. He was buttoning up his shirt when she spoke again.

"It's just...what if we tried and it worked and then we have to tell HR and I get transferred. At best, I'll join a different team at the BAU. Even then, we'll see little of each other. You have barely enough time for your son. You really can't fit in anything else. At worst, I'm back to psychological consultant and have to jetset again. Which would effectively end my social life. In both cases, I think it's quite clear this won't work out. And why risk it all for something that won't work out?"

"You have made a very thorough analysis," he said and his voice was hollow.

"Well, I couldn't sleep last night because someone was snoring," she attempted a joke. He didn't smile. "I didn't want to hurt you. You know I really like you, right? That's what makes this so hard." Feelings. She felt she had just laid her soul bare but he was just pulling his belt through the loops.

"No, I completely understand," he said, still a little cold.

"Are you angry?" she asked.

Hotch looked up at the pleading tone of her voice. She sat on the bed, looking at him with big eyes. And then he believed her that, even though she had phrased it really badly, this hadn't been as meaningless for her as she had first let on. Although, she probably hadn't done it on purpose. And she was right, after all. Every single thing she had said was true. He just didn't like it. He had just hoped that perhaps, this could be something more. But he didn't know her well, and the main appeal was quite probably their one night stand, the suppressed desire, the multiplied temptation. She was right. Risking everything for a slight chance at happiness wasn't worth it. He had gotten carried away. Hotch wasn't good as separating sex and emotions, probably because they had always gone hand in hand.

Well, I have to start one day. Today.

"Of course not," he said and smiled at her, genuinely. He really wasn't angry, he thought, he was disappointed, though not necessarily in her. "You're right. I was just…"

"Overwhelmed?" she suggested.

"Yes. But it's true. We have to go back to a professional relationship. And this time, it has to remain professional."

"We cannot allow ourselves another slip up."

"No," he agreed, now sobered, she noticed. No talk of Rossi and Strauss, no mention of Strauss' possible leniency. He knew that what they had said last night had been wishful thinking more than anything else, the desperate wish for an opportunity to test this out in broad daylight. Pippa assumed Hotch's love life was like hers: Non-existent.

"Then, Agent Hotchner, I better go to my own room," she said, picking up her bathing suit. She couldn't think of a good excuse for carrying around the robe so early in the morning, so she would just claim she had forgotten it in the pool shower yesterday night.

"Breakfast started three minutes ago, they'll all be downstairs. You should be safe." He put a hand on her shoulder, an entirely unsexual gesture. "You're okay?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Okay." And with that, he just left her in the room and went into the bathroom. She heard his electric shaver. Strange, she had always imagined he would be old-fashioned in that respect. But perhaps he just valued efficiency more.

Pippa opened the door and looked up and down the corridor. The coast was clear. Now quick –

"Hey, I was just looking for you. Are you okay?" Emily had just come out of their shared room and of course she had spotted her right away.

Pippa stuffed the now dry bathing suit in the backpocket of her jeans and thanked herself for grabbing these instead of the more businesslike but pocketless pencil dress.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Please don't blush. She willed herself to remain calm. Emily would notice right away that something was off.

The door behind Pippa was still open.

"What were you doing in Hotch's room?" Emily asked, now standing next to her.

"I was...uh, I wanted to switch courses and asked Hotch whether he could pull some strings but he convinced me to stick to my first choice." Not a bad split second excuse.

"Oh, ok. Which course did you want to take?" She seemed to buy it.

Hotch came out of his room and judging by the complete lack of surprise on his face, he already knew they'd been caught. "Professionalism and workplace behaviour," he supplied.

Pippa nodded although she felt more like hitting him.

"Sorry about that, I couldn't find my tie," Hotch said. "I'm good to go downstairs, then." And together, the three of them made for the stairs.

"Professionalism? You're like the most professional person I know. Apart from you, perhaps, Hotch, no offense." Emily raised an eyebrow.

"None taken. I told Hale the same." How could he seem so professional? Pippa almost believed they had really talked about this instead of dates.

"Exactly. So I'm good to go to the sex offender seminar later," she said to Emily.

"Great. Are you really ok? You look as if you didn't get much sleep and I didn't see you last night or this morning."

"Small wonder, you snored like an ogre," Pippa said. It wasn't even a lie.

"I didn't! But where were you?" Oh, damn it.

"I told you I went swimming yesterday night." Pippa kept her voice calm. She was telling the truth after all: She had been swimming.

"And today?" Ok, only a lie would serve here.

"I had a, uh, restless night so I needed some air. Had to, you know, think about some things." That sounded so ominous and unenjoyable that Emily wouldn't ask any further.

Emily furrowed her brow. "Well, whatever decision it was that you made before 8am, it was probably not a good one."

Pippa laughed and hoped it didn't sound as strained as she felt.

"What about you, Hotch? Also had a bad night?" Emily asked their boss.

"Not at all, why?" The innuendo wasn't lost on Pippa who bit her lip to hide a smile.

"Your room was just uncharacteristically chao – uh, I mean not as neat as usual." Had Emily seen the bathrobe on the floor? Hotch's towel? The messed up bed sheets?

"Oh, yeah. Something unexpected came up." He didn't even blush. Or stutter at all.

"And I thought I had an exciting night. You two really need to relax more. There's something like too much work, you know." Emily's voice did sound a little concerned and Pippa felt twice as guilty for lying to her.

"Why did you have an exciting night?" she asked, glad to change the topic.

"I was drinking with Garcia, JJ, Reid, and Derek. I told you. I begged you to come along."

"Right." She remembered.

"Anyway, this girl came over. Some psychologist. And she just looks me dead in the eye and profiles me, as if that's somehow sexy. And then she just gets me a drink, like she didn't ask me what I want, she just buys it. Isn't that the weirdest way to hit on someone?"

"Umm," Pippa made. Was there no mercy in this world? "I don't think it's too bad. Original."

"Did she guess correctly?" Hotch asked which showed how nervous he was. Hotch didn't get involved in personal affairs. Ever. Emily seemed surprised, too.

"Uh, yeah. She did. But it was just, I don't know. Like, I'm surrounded by profilers everyday. I don't want that when I'm dating. I'm not that much of a workaholic." Yes. She was quite probably right.

"Well, tonight I'll be your wingwoman," Pippa promised. That was the least she could do.

"No way, you need a winddown much more than I do," Emily argued.

"Not here, really. Workplace boundaries and all that. I don't want to be on a case and then suddenly meet a one night stand."

Hotch coughed.

"Fair enough," Emily agreed. "Then we'll just get pissed tonight. You're not going for a late night swim again?"

"No. I think I exerted myself enough for this weekend."

"Yeah, definitely." They had finally reached the breakfast room and Hotch walked over to the coffeemaker. "Sports is no substitute for sex, you know."

Pippa prayed he hadn't heard that part but when she looked at him, there was a smile playing on his lips and she felt the heat in her cheeks.

"No reason to be ashamed," Emily said as she noticed her blush. "None of us gets laid, actually."

That seemed to be a rather concerning statement for her for finally, she shut up and Pippa had a short recovery break. Well, that's what happens when you break the rules and lie to your co-workers. Your friends. Emily had meant well and it touched Pippa how concerned she had been. But this must have been the most horrible moment of her entire life.

"Why are you wearing jeans? You never do," JJ noticed.

"Uh, I thought it would be nice to, you know, wear something a little more comfortable today. My feet hurt yesterday evening and I had pantyhose lines all over my midriff." That sounded normal.

"You are really starting to let your hair down, huh? Perhaps you were right about that professionalism seminar," Emily teased her.

"Hotch is going, I saw it on his list. I really wonder why." Derek said.

"Advance his career. Network. He won't want to be chief of unit forever," JJ supplied but Reid swayed his head.

"Actually, he might."

~o~

After the panel discussion in the evening, Hotch walked up to the front to talk to Gideon. It was the first time Hotch talked to him in person since Gideon had left the BAU.

Jason greeted Hotch with his usual barely-there smile.

"How are you, Jason?" Hotch asked, truly interested.

"Better. I'm doing courses again. But I'll never return."

"I know." There were things one simply couldn't go back to. And Gideon had lost everything at the BAU.

"I heard about Haley," Gideon's expression changed, "I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Haley had been murdered some time ago but whenever her death was brought up, the intensity of the pain surprised Hotch everytime. Now, it was mingled with more guilt than usually. Haley had used her last breath to tell him she had loved him, despite everything. But he hadn't been there in time. And now, the memory was slowly slipping away. Never forgotten, of course, but much less present than it had been once, when his wounds had still been fresh, when they had scarred, leaving the tough, strangely smooth skin as a testimony of his failure.

"There was nothing you could do."

"That's what they keep telling me," Aaron said, his voice holding a bitterness he hadn't known was in him.

"That's the truth." Gideon looked at him with his deeper-than-flesh-and-bone gaze. Hotch hadn't missed this bit.

But he was right. Hotch inhaled deeply. "I know."

Gideon's eyes followed someone behind him and Aaron turned his head slightly. Pippa, no, Agent Hale, was following Morgan out of the room, a clipboard clutched to her chest, a smile on her lips, as if Morgan had just said something funny. Reid was heading their way, Hotch saw. Of course he wanted to talk to his old mentor.

"She's a new agent?" Jason asked, eyes still on Hale.

"Yes." Oh, please, no, Jason. Gideon's perception was infallible. Why did they have to slip up here? Of course someone would notice. And Hotch really didn't want to think about that anymore.

"I saw you yesterday," Gideon said calmly.

He felt his heartbeat quicken despite himself. Where had Jason seen them?

"In the Cafeteria," Gideon said, as if he had guessed the unspoken question. In the Cafeteria. Hotch was relieved. That had been an innocent meeting.

But then Gideon managed a crooked half-smile: "I'm happy for you."

"I don't understand what you mean." Hotch kept his face perfectly still.

"I think you do, Aaron." He paused. "Just don't let her slip away."

"Jason, I –"

Gideon looked him straight in the eye. "You know I don't care for the guidelines. Make it count. Be happy. Let an old friend tell you that much, at least."

"I'll try."

"A friend of mine once said: "Do or do not. There is no try," Gideon said with a smile.

"Yoda." Reid smiled. Hotch hadn't heard him coming but Gideon had. He was calm for now. Gideon wouldn't share their secret with anyone.

"Thank you, Jason. It was good seeing you again. You look well."

"I am." His smile was thin but it spoke of an inner peace that Hotch found enviable. He left him to Reid, who had dozens of questions, no doubt.

Gideon wasn't wrong. But he had also never adhered to rules or guidelines. Small wonder, he had spent his life in a novel field, setting down guidelines himself. Gideon had never been in his position, with politics so entangled with BAU business, with fraternization laws in place and strict workplace behaviour guidelines. And Hale had been very clear about her priorities. No, as wise as Gideon usually was, in this case he was wrong. This had been their last slip up. From now on, she would be a colleague, nothing more.