Author's Note: This story is a pinch hit for bouncing off the walls again in response to the Christmas Fic Exchange from CCOAC.

This is a gift written especially for destinyisms and the following prompts were requested: Carol of the Bells, Decorating the Christmas tree, Christmas lights, and snow. All of them will be used.

Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to review the last chapter!

"Do you want me to take you home?" Hotch asked softly.

Prentiss studied his face for a moment, her gaze unblinking. "Can I stay?" she returned.

He nodded wordlessly. "Do you need something to sleep in?"

"A t-shirt is fine," she told him.

He stood up and headed for his dresser, rummaging about for a moment before finding one that wouldn't hang off her. When he turned back around, he was surprised to find Emily standing beside the bed in nothing but her bra, panties and…a garter? He would have laughed if she hadn't just poured her heart out to him—and if that garter hadn't been staring back at him…taunting him. His hand was suddenly blazing with need…his fist clenching and unclenching by his side as he fought his desire to touch her. He'd never noticed how pale her skin was; her breasts were pressing against the light yellow fabric of her bra, and he could make out the pink flesh of her nipples beneath the lace.

He forced his eyes to look up, then stepped forward abruptly and tossed the t-shirt across his bed; it landed just in front of her on the mattress and he turned back around, waiting for her to change. It was silent for a moment, and then heard a 'whoops' followed by giggling. He turned back around and Emily was sitting on the mattress, the t-shirt a crumpled heap in her lap. She sighed as she turned her head to look at him. "I can't get it on," she said with a pout. "I'll just have to sleep in this."

When she started to crawl beneath the covers, Hotch sprung into action. There was no way he'd get a lick of sleep tonight if she was beside him in that. He pulled the blankets back and reached for the t-shirt, his fingertips grazing the soft skin on her leg. He suddenly hated that garter even more.

"Sit up, Em," he coached softly.

Emily did as she was told, then lifted her arms in the air. They were wobbling back and forth, and he had to hold them, first one, then the other, as he slid the t-shirt over her head.

"Thank you," she said softly, falling back against the pillows, her eyelids fluttering closed.

Hotch bent down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "Good night, Emily," he whispered.

Hotch chuckled. "I laid it out on the bed for you," he lied smoothly. He'd tell her the truth…eventually. But he knew Emily; there was no way she was going to relax around him if she thought he'd seen her almost naked. "And then I left the room. By the time I got back, you'd already changed. I didn't see a thing."

"Oh," she said in relief. "That…that's good."

"That's not to say that I didn't want to," he informed her.

She turned her head to look at him, but he kept his gaze steadily on the road. The words he'd said to her before she'd left his house that morning almost a week ago tore through her mind…Emily, when you and I finally do, the one thing you can count on…is that you won't have to ask me about it.

And there was no doubt in her mind that he was right.

Hotch suggested they have hot chocolate at home while decorating the tree, and Jack was quick to agree. They'd had to stop for whipped cream, and Emily had waited in the vehicle with Jack while Hotch went inside to make the purchase.

When they made it to the apartment, Emily managed to help Hotch carry in the tree. In true masculine fashion, Hotch and Jack had picked the largest tree on the lot, so it had been no small feat. Hotch had taken out everything they'd need to trim the tree before he and Jack had left the house, and after getting it to stand up straight, he started opening up the red and green totes one at a time. Jack was right behind him, peeking at the contents inside each one. Emily could tell by his reaction which one contained the ornaments. He let out an excited screech, then pulled a box out and made a beeline for the tree.

"Wait! What about the lights?" Emily asked. "Shouldn't those go on first?" There were strict guidelines for putting the tree up, and as far as Emily knew, it started with the lights, followed by garland, and then the decorations. None that were homemade, of course. The tree had to look department store perfect for visitors.

Hotch looked at her and grinned as he followed his son to the tree. "Not how we do things in the Hotchner household," he informed her.

"Come help us, Emily!" Jack said animatedly.

"Yeah, Emily," Hotch said in a light tone, taking an ornament from the box at Jack's feet and holding it out towards her.

Emily hesitantly stepped forward and took the decoration, searching for the perfect spot on the tree.

"It's not rocket science, Emily," Hotch whispered after a moment, his breath tickling her ear as he stepped past her to place his own decoration on the tree.

She shivered at the contact and Jack looked up at her, frowning.

"Are you cold, Emily?" he asked.

Hotch looked at her expectantly, a smirk on his face and she could feel her cheeks heating.

"It is a bit chilly in here," she lied.

The tree looked gorgeous, the homemade adornments adding so much love to the already warm atmosphere. Emily felt as though she were intruding on a private moment between Hotch and his son, like she shouldn't be here. They'd done everything they could to make her feel included, and she wondered how long before she actually felt that way.

"I need more whipped cream, Daddy!" Jack declared, holding his mug of cocoa up for his father to inspect.

Hotch nodded. "OK," he said.

Jack disappeared into the kitchen, then came sprinting back into the room with the can of whipped cream. "Can I do it myself, Daddy?" he asked, standing at the coffee table with his cup in front of him.

Hotch nodded, and Jack squeezed the tip of the can as hard as he could, but he couldn't get it to work. He handed the can to his father, who was sitting on the couch. "I can't—"

As soon as Jack opened his mouth, Hotch stuck the dispenser in and squeezed, the little boys mouth overflowing with the white cream. When Jack started giggling, little drops of the whipped cream landed on his father's shirt.

"Thanks a lot," Hotch said, the amusement evident in his voice.

Jack swallowed the whipped cream, and then jumped up and down clapping his hands. "Do Emily, Daddy!" he ordered enthusiastically.

Hotch looked at her and lifted a questioning eyebrow; she held her hands up in front of her to decline.

"Oh, no," she said shaking her head. "I'm not—"

Hotch reached across the cushion that separated them and filled her mouth before she could finish her sentence; she had no choice but to swallow the white cream.

"You missed some," Jack informed her.

"I did?" Emily said, surprised. "Where?"

"Right…" Hotch reached over and ran his middle finger across the outer corner of her lips. "Here," he said triumphantly, then stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked the whipped cream off. He locked his gaze on hers and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Only one thought crossed Emily's mind…her boss was naughty.