A/N: As always, thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. I'm sorry for the long wait. I knew what I wanted to happen in this chapter, but for some reason, I really struggled with it. This is version number three, and I'm still not 100% happy with it.

Chapter 37

Emily stood in the middle of her walk-in closet, surveying the contents. She hadn't worn real clothes in over a week. She'd been in a hospital gown and then pajamas the entire time she was in the hospital. She didn't want to look – or feel – like an invalid anymore.

It was just dinner with a friend – a friend who was her supervisor for several years and had seen her in the field, unshowered and makeup-free after working a case all night. She knew she didn't need to dress up for Hotch, but she wanted to wear real clothes, and she knew from experience that a loose-fitting dress would actually be easier to slip on with her injury than anything else. She chose a simple long-sleeved sweater dress in a camel color. It wasn't too dressy, but it wasn't sweats or jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt either. With the dress on and minimal makeup, Emily actually felt human again.

Hotch was surprised when Emily answered the door looking less like a woman who was just released from the hospital and more like a woman who was ready for a night out. "We are having dinner here?" He checked uncertainly, shifting the grocery bag in his arms.

"We are," Emily confirmed, holding the door open wide and inviting him in. "What are we having for dinner?" She asked, eyeing the brown paper grocery bag curiously. "Anything will be better than hospital food," she added enthusiastically.

"That's not all you've been eating," Hotch said with a knowing look. "Dave brought you takeout that you'd actually eat."

Emily smiled at the memory of Rossi trying to charm the nurse who caught her eating a big hamburger instead of the hospital food they gave her. "Nurse Ratched almost banned him from my room."

"Your surgeon was a sadist, and your nurse was Nurse Ratched?" Hotch summarized dryly as he emptied the contents of the grocery bag onto Emily's kitchen counter.

"Yes," Emily replied emphatically. She took in the ingredients that were spread out on her counter and guessed, "Italian?"

Hotch nodded distractedly. "One of Dave's recipes."

"I'll open a bottle of red wine," Emily said, already moving to do so.

"Are you taking any painkillers?" Hotch asked, frowning slightly in concern. His eyes followed Emily as she studied the wine bottles and debated between a pinot noir and a cabernet. It was the first time he'd seen her in a dress since he realized he had feelings for her, and he couldn't help but notice the way the material clung to her curves, accentuating her hips. Of course, he'd seen her in a dress before, and he always knew she was nice to look at, but he looked at her differently now. She wasn't just the Ambassador's young daughter. She wasn't his subordinate. She was an available woman – one he was interested in – and he had a newfound appreciation for her.

"No. I hate the way they make me feel. I took Tylenol, and it's working," Emily assured him, oblivious to the way his gaze lingered on her backside. "I can have a glass of wine." Or two went unsaid, but Emily thought she deserved a glass of wine after all the stress of the last few weeks. Without waiting for agreement, Emily opened the bottle of cabernet to let it breathe and took two wine glasses out of the cabinet. She stood back a little, watching with mild amusement as Hotch took over her kitchen. "Can I help with anything?"

Although he wanted nothing more than for Emily to sit down and relax while he cooked for her, Hotch understood that she wouldn't be content to sit there and be waited on. It was a combination of the impeccable manners she learned as an Ambassador's daughter and that it just wasn't in her nature to rely on anyone. Knowing it would be difficult to mess up, he tasked her with the salad.

They made dinner together, working comfortably side-by-side in the small kitchen, and talking about how both Jack and Hannah were doing after everything that had happened with Jeremy. It wasn't the first time there had been a threat to Jack. The poor boy was in the house when Foyet killed his mother, had to leave his life in D.C. to go into Witness Protection because of Scratch, and, most recently, had Jeremy Sayer stalking him. While Jack was never Jeremy's main target, he still took the threat seriously because of his history. The concern Emily showed for how Jack was doing was genuine; and, while unsurprising for anyone who knew her, it just made Hotch even more convinced that he wanted to be with her. This was a woman who already loved his son. He reciprocated, asking about Hannah. It was the first time Hannah had been in danger because of Emily's job, and it was also the first time Hannah saw Emily hurt.

"She doesn't think my job is very cool anymore," Emily told him as she set the table.

"She knows what could happen now," Hotch said. "She doesn't want to lose you."

Emily offered him a small smile and then tried to lighten the mood with humor. "I think she was expecting a scene straight out of Die Hard to be reenacted in her living room," she said with a fond expression and an exasperated roll of her eyes. "Not for me to go in unarmed and tell Jeremy that I just wanted to talk to him."

"Die Hard?" Hotch said, his voice taking on a teasing note. "She's fourteen, Emily. She probably doesn't know who Bruce Willis is."

Realizing he was right, Emily chuckled wryly. "There's nothing like spending time with a teenager to make you feel old."


Dinner was good. Hotch followed the recipe for Dave's grandmother's linguine marinara to the letter, and the wine Emily chose paired nicely with it. They were having dinner as friends, but there was something more than friendship sizzling just beneath the surface, and they both felt it. Hotch made dinner for Emily, and there was something that was almost…flirtatious about the way he was talking to her. Was he flirting? If it was anyone else, Emily would say yes, but it was Hotch.

"My compliments to the chef," Emily said, holding her wine glass up in a toast. "This is almost as good as Dave's cooking."

"Almost?" Hotch replied with mock offense.

There it was again. He was flirting…wasn't he? Emily didn't know for sure. He was teasing her. He was being playful. She'd been completely oblivious to Hotch's interest in her as anything more than a friend up until this point, but his attempts at flirting were making her question if he had something more than friendship in mind. Not fully convinced that he was actually flirting, Emily simply pointed out, "well, he is Italian."

Although she could banter with the best of them, Emily Prentiss was always somewhat uncomfortable when feelings were involved. She could count the number of real romantic relationships she'd had on one hand. She never really thought about Aaron Hotchner in that context. When she started working for him, he was her supervisor…her very married supervisor. Hotch was single now, and he wasn't her supervisor anymore, but he was her friend. Would it be worth risking their friendship to see if there was something there?

If she wasn't misreading the situation, it would have serious implications for their friendship. What if they became more than friends and it ended badly? Would they be able to go back to being friends? Emily didn't want to lose Hotch. But would she lose him either way? If he made a move tonight and she shot him down, it would make things awkward between them. His feelings would be hurt, his ego bruised. She didn't want to hurt him.

"Hey. What are you thinking about?" Hotch inquired softly, seeing the external signs of whatever internal debate was going on in Emily's mind. She was avoiding eye contact, but he could see that her eyes held uncertainty. She was biting her bottom lip hard enough that he was surprised there was no blood.

"We're friends, right?" Emily asked a little hesitantly.

"We are," Hotch confirmed.

"This feels kind of like a date," Emily said with a nervous laugh.

"If this is a date, it's the best date I've had in…I don't know how long," Hotch told her honestly.

"Is this a date?" Emily questioned.

"It is if you want it to be," Hotch answered simply. When she didn't seem to know what to say to that, he took a deep breath and went on to admit, "I know that's what I want."

It was in both of their nature to be careful with their hearts. Neither of them made decisions based solely on emotion. They were too analytical for that. Hotch had time to work through his feelings for Emily before deciding to act on them. Emily didn't. She really had no idea he had feelings for her before that night.

"You don't want to date me. I'm not very good at dating," Emily told him as she thought about how many bad dates she'd been on. She was legitimately worried that if she dated Hotch, she would do something to mess it up and their friendship would never be the same.

"You just haven't been dating the right person," Hotch countered easily.

"I've sure dated a lot of Mr. Wrongs then," Emily stated with a self-deprecating scoff.

Hotch had already considered this. He knew Emily didn't have the best track record with relationships, but he thought he knew why. She was a tough woman to get to know. It was very likely that she came across as cold and aloof - disinterested even - to men who didn't know her that well. He knew she wasn't cold, and she definitely wasn't aloof. She was just afraid to get close to anyone, and that made her slow to warm up to anyone new in her life.

"None of the other men you've dated have known you as well as I do," Hotch reasoned. "You're not an easy woman to get to know. It takes time for you to let your guard down."

He would have backed off if he thought it was all one-sided, but the way she was seriously considering it told him it wasn't. There was something there. She felt it, too, or she wouldn't have had to think about it. She was just scared, but she didn't have to be – he would never hurt her.

Honestly, the only thing that was stopping Emily from going for it with Hotch was the fear of losing him. He was a good friend, and she didn't want to lose that. But he was also just a really good guy – the kind of guy she would have gone out with in a second if a twelve-year friendship wasn't at stake here. "Is it really worth risking our friendship?" Emily asked. To put some distance between them, she got up and started clearing the table. Everything about this conversation was making her uncomfortable.

"We're both adults," Hotch pointed out, following her from the dinette table into the kitchen with his own empty plate. "I like to think we'd be capable of still being friends if things don't work out between us." He read the doubt in her eyes and asked a question he thought he already knew the answer to. "Tell me, what's the main reason that it hasn't worked out with other men you've dated?"

"I always end up cancelling on them one too many times," Emily told him ruefully. Most men thought that if she cancelled that many times, she must not be interested. Nine times out of ten it was either that or they decided she was too nerdy for them.

Hotch nodded when she gave the answer he expected. "It's the job. When that happens, do you really think I'll be anything other than understanding?"

"No," Emily conceded, glancing up from the sink where she was vigorously scrubbing her plate. She knew Hotch would understand. How could he not?

He had an answer for everything. Aaron Hotchner started his career as a federal prosecutor. He knew how to make a case, and right now, he was trying to make the case that she should date him. Somehow, Emily knew he would overcome any objections she came up with. And he almost had her convinced.

"When something comes up and we have to change our plans, I will understand," Hotch assured her. "You told me once that you belonged in the BAU. I agree," he told her. "I know it's who you are, and the team is lucky to have you as its leader."

That was high praise coming from him. Emily was visibly touched. "Stop before you make me cry," she told him lightly, finally turning around to face him. He was standing right behind her in the small kitchen, which put hit face only inches away from hers. "Just…shut up and kiss me."

She didn't have to tell him twice. It felt like he'd been waiting to do this for quite some time. Hotch must have imagined what it would be like to kiss Emily a hundred times by now, but the reality was different. It was better.

Whether it was because of the close proximity or because her pulse was racing with anticipation, her perfume was stronger somehow. She was wearing a subtly sexy scent that was almost exotic. It was intoxicating. When he leaned in and covered her mouth with his own, her response to him was automatic. With her eyes closed, Emily tilted her head up to give him easier access to her mouth. He recognized the significance of the gesture, knowing she didn't allow herself to be that vulnerable with just anyone. The kiss started out soft and slow. They were experimenting to see if they even had chemistry. They did. And it was potent enough to leave them both feeling a little lightheaded.

Without a conscious thought from either of them, they shuffled even closer together, their movements driven by overwhelming desire. As they closed what little space remained between them, their bodies molded perfectly to each other. Emily could feel the long, hard length of his body against hers, and Hotch could feel her feminine curves through the fabric of the thin knit dress she was wearing. The fit together perfectly.

When they finally broke apart, Emily's breaths were ragged. She looked up at Hotch, slightly dazed, as she wondered how she ever could have thought this wouldn't be worth risking their friendship. "Stay." It came out as a whisper, husky and seductive.

"Emily, are you sure?" Hotch had the presence of mind to ask. He didn't want her to do anything she would regret, and she hadn't seemed entirely certain that this was what she wanted. It wouldn't be easy, but he would leave now and give her some time to think about what she wanted if that was what she needed. He would be a gentleman about it.

Emily merely nodded, her eyes dark and intense on his. She started toward her bedroom, knowing he would follow.


A/N: Okay, so I really, really tried to keep Emily and Hotch in character, but we have so little context for either of them actually dating anyone that it was hard and I'm not sure I succeeded. We saw little glimpses of Hotch with Beth in the show, and we never really saw Emily in a serious relationship until Andrew. My take is that both Emily and Hotch have a tendency to overanalyze before entering into a relationship. Once Hotch decides to date someone, he's very committed. Emily was adorably awkward with Andrew and seemed to almost not know how to be in a real relationship with him at times. I don't know…please let me know what you think - hopefully this wasn't completely out of character? Thanks for reading!