A/N: Hey guys! Thanks so so much for reading and for all the reviews! You rock!
Here's Chapter 3.
Enjoy!
Chapter 3
A couple of days after their conversation in the conference room Rossi sauntered into Hotch's office not caring about minor matters such as knocking. He had more important things to attend to.
"Dave?" Hotch looked at his colleague. "Anything I can do for you?"
"No, Hotch, this is about what I can do for you." Rossi answered. "I have a plan..." A smug smile spread across his face. "I'm going to get you laid, Aaron"
* * *
Two days later Emily was as usual one of the first to arrive at the BAU. A few feet away from her desk something caught her eye. On her desk was a flat brown package and an envelope. She didn't recognize the handwriting but on the envelope was her name written in black ink. She had no idea who would give her a gift or a letter for that matter. But it hadn't come through the mail so it must be someone working in the building.
Maybe Morgan was playing some kind of prank on her... No... he wouldn't do something as subtle as this.
Or maybe "Agent Grab-ass" from Counter Terrorism had thought that her threat of bodily harm actually had meant "please send me some creepy gift and a sleazy letter"... Or maybe not. She was pretty sure he didn't know how to write.
Then who was it from? Well... only one way to find out.
So she sat down and swiftly tore off the simple brown wrapping-paper and revealed a copy of Slaughterhouse-Five. She was pretty sure that it was a first edition. This confused her. Not a lot of people knew about her love for Vonnegut. She tried to conceal her inner nerd best she could. She wasn't even sure if anyone on the team, except for Derek, knew about it.
Then she remembered the envelope that had been attached to the package. She'd just have to read that and she'd find out who the gift was from. So she opened the envelope and pulled out its content. She unfolded the piece of crème coloured paper and eagerly read what was written on it.
Emily,
I can't begin to tell you how much you mean to me. Every time I see your radiant smile I melt inside.
Love...
* * * Flash-back to Dave's plan * * *
"You'll have to get her curiosity going."
Dave looked at the younger man sitting on the other side of the desk.
"First you write her a few nice little notes telling her how lovely you think she is. But don't sign them. Actually it's probably best if you just give them to me and I'll rewrite them word for word so she doesn't recognize your handwriting. And I'll make sure they show up on her desk."
* * *
Emily let out a breath that she hadn't realized that she was holding. Someone cares for her. Someone melts when he sees her smile. Could it be? No, it couldn't. He wouldn't do anything like this. He wouldn't risk his career. Or hers. And she'd never told him who her favourite author was. No, this must be someone else.
She looked around the bullpen trying to spot if anyone was looking her way. Reid had his nose deep in a book. Morgan was doing something on his computer (probably messaging Garcia). What if it was those two pulling her leg? No... they wouldn't. Would they? No...
She looked up at Rossi's office. Could it be? No, he'd never do something romantic like this. He'd just ask her if she fancied a roll in the hay.
Who else could it be? Anderson? No, he just got engaged. Smith? No she's pretty sure he's gay.
Please... don't let it be "Agent Grab-ass"...
* * *
Again the next day when Emily arrived at work she found a gift on her desk. It was a small bowl filled with kumquats. The sight of it made her laugh out loud. It was her favourite fruit. She didn't really care for the taste but she loved saying the word... kumquat... It was her favourite word. Then she noticed the creme coloured envelope next to it and her bag didn't even hit the floor before she was pulling the note out of its casing.
Emily,
Have you any idea what you do to me? Every time I see that twinkle in your beautiful eyes butterflies fill my stomach.
Love...
* * * Flash back to Dave's plan* * *
"I don't know Dave." Hotch looked disbelievingly at the older man. "I wouldn't know what to write." He shook his head. "What if she doesn't like what I write..."
"Trust me Aaron. She'll love it. Just think of her when you're writing and it'll all come to you. You'll know what to write."
Hotch thought about it for a moment. He didn't really have any better idea himself and he had to admit Rossi's plan was pretty romantic. It was just lacking one thing.
"Okay, Dave let's do this your way. I just want to add one thing"
* * *
Every morning the next couple of days a new gift was waiting for Emily at her desk. She got her favourite chocolates, she got her favourite perfume and she got her favourite scotch. But all of those were things that she really didn't think that many people knew were her favourites.
And every morning there was a note together with the gift. He wrote about how he loved that she was an excellent shot and how pretty she looked with her hair in a ponytail. His words made her float. She didn't even care about the fact that she didn't know who the gifts and notes were from. They could be from "Grab-ass" for all she cared. They made her day.
She did register how sad that was, that presents and notes from some random guy made her day. But in all the darkness that surrounded her every day it was nice to get something like that. Of course it'd be even nicer if she knew who they were from...
At weak moments she thought that they might be from him but she snapped out of those fantasies again quickly. This wasn't something that Hotch would do. He's not the kind of guy who writes romantic notes. Plus he had more or less been avoiding her the last few weeks. So no, they weren't from him.
* * *
When she drove to work the morning after she had received her fifth note together with a box of Reese's peanut butter cups she could think of nothing but those letters. She desperately wanted to know who they were from. She parked her car and hurried to the elevator. She rushed up to her desk and found what she was hoping to find. On her desk stood a vase full of pale pink roses, her favourites, and attached to the flowers was a new note.
Emily,
You must know now that you are my favourite.
Please make me a very happy man and meet me at Marcel's in Georgetown tonight at 8 o'clock. I can't wait to finally tell you how I feel in person.
Love...
* * *Flash back to Dave's plan* * *
"Then after you have given her all those gifts and notes decide on a romantic restaurant and arrange to meet her there." Dave finished.
"That's a pretty good plan, Dave." Hotch smiled. "Simple but nice. This might just work..."
"What did you think? I do have some experience with women you know... Trust me, the notes will work and if you then just tell her how you feel and don't screw that up everything will work out." Dave patted Hotch's shoulder. "So you know where to take her?"
"I'm deciding between two restaurants, Little Fountain Café and Marcel's..."
"Both are good... just let me know which one you choose and I'll write it in the last letter."
"Thanks, Dave..."
"No worries, Hotch. Just let me know how it all turns out."
* * *
At 8 pm sharp Emily arrived at Marcel's wearing a new dark green dress and a nervous smile. She looked around the dining room but couldn't see anyone she recognized.
"Excuse me?" She asked the maître d. "Has anyone asked for Emily Prentiss?" She clutched her purse harder as she waited for the answer.
"No, sorry." The maître d answered. "Do you have a reservation?"
"Oh, I don't know... I'm supposed to meet someone here."
"Okay... why don't you take a seat at the bar until your date shows up."
"Thank you."
Emily made her way over to the bar and sat down ordering a Martini. She shifted in her seat so that she could see the front door. Sipping her drink she couldn't help but feel a bit dispirited.
* * *
At 8.30 pm Hotch was sitting at the cosiest table that Little Fountain Café had to offer still holding the dozen pale pink roses that he knew were Emily's favourites (he'd overheard her telling JJ in the break room one time months earlier). Tiny beads of sweat was starting to appear at his hairline and along the collar of his blue dress shirt. Ho took a small sip of his scotch and tried batting away the fear that was creeping up in his mind.
She's not that late... He thought to himself. She could still show up.
For the fourth time he had to tell they waiter that he was not ready to order yet and the look of pity in the eyes of the people around him was starting to irritate the hell out of him. He finished his scotch and checked his watch for the umpteenth time. Six minutes past nine.
Maybe he should just admit defeat. Maybe he'd been kidding himself with the gifts. And he had really poured his heart into those notes. It hadn't been easy for him. He'd felt strange showing that much emotion. Even if it just was on a piece of paper. But he wanted Emily to know how he felt. And now she wasn't coming. Maybe she figured out the notes were from him and now she was avoiding him not wanting to make things awkward between them. God, this was not how he'd imagined this evening.
***
After three hours and three Martinis Emily gave up. No one had come up to her and revealed himself as her mysterious gift giver. She hadn't seen anyone familiar in the last three hours. So that was that then? That was what came from those oh so romantic little notes? Being stood up and not even knowing by whom.
Maybe it had all been some sort of prank. Or maybe whoever send her the gifts had chickened out at the last moment. Frankly, right now she didn't even want to know. Right now all she wanted to do was to go home, crawl into bed with a bottle of wine and a pint of double chocolate ice cream and forget this ever happened.
* * *
Hotch walked with slow steps back to his SUV. The pink roses hanging limp in his hand. He realized that he was still holding on to them and in a sudden fit of rage he threw them across the street. Breathing heavily he told himself to calm down. Nothing good would come from him losing his temper in a public place. He'd just have to go home to his empty apartment. Maybe open that bottle of bourbon Dave had gotten him for his birthday and try no to think about having to go to work the next morning... where he'd have to face Emily.
A/N: Ooooh! How will this turn out!? One chapter left... and then I can be persuaded to write some follow ups...
Please let me know what you think! I'm addicted to reviews... please feed my habit...