Hi everyone, I am so sorry it has taken me this long to update this fic. I seemed to have lost my humor mojo there for a while, and it's still not back in full force. Doubly sorry about that. Anyhow, here is the next instalment, and please be patient. My other fic is still my priority, but I do thank you all so much for reading and favoriting this fic. I am really glad you are enjoying it.

This chapter is dedicated to my friend, saturdayslump, who's been having a rough time at work. I hope this cheers you up a little!

Bzzzz... Bzzzz...

How the hell did a bee managed to get into the conference room, thought Hotch vaguely. Was he actually feeling faint? No, that was impossible. Just like Chuck Norris, Aaron Hotchner never faints. Still, he couldn't seem to move his limbs in any way, shape or form.

"Hello? Hello? Hotch, are you in there?"

Something white (was that a hand?) was being waved back and forth in front of his face.

"Morgan? Rossi? Dr Genius?" That same voice again. "Are you guys trying to punk me? Cos I'm not falling for it, you know. Hey, come on guys, say something before I start thinking I've stepped into another dimension. Oops, too late." Pause. "All right, that's it."

Hotch felt his chair being turned around. A moment later, Garcia's face appeared in his line of vision. Up close and way too personal.

"SIR! Snap out of it!"

He blinked. Something Garcia had said earlier was very important. What was it?

"Sir, if you don't say something to me right now I'm going to call for help. And that help could involve a defribillator being employed. Do you understand me, sir?"

"Garcia. Baby girl, you can stop shaking him now. I don't think Hotch would appreciate getting all his fillings redone."

As the Unit Chief slowly came back to reality due to his teeth rattling too loudly for him to ignore, his subordinates continued to talk.

"What, by the Seven, is going on with you guys? I come in here to find you all drinking Blue Moons with, oh my God." Garcia's eyes widened. "Is that Gina's mother's ass frozen up there on the screen? What is wrong with all of you?"

"It's not what you think, Garcia." Hotch turned to look at Reid, who was staring at the tech analyst with earnest eyes. "We were absolutely not examining Gina's mother's back profile, we were just trying to find out who Hotch had sexual intercourse with that night. And now I guess we know."

Sexual intercourse? Fucking hell. Hotch felt his face start to boil at the silence that followed.

Apparently no one knew what to say and Garcia was now too stunned to say anything, her mouth having dropped open wide. Until Dave spoke, that is. About something totally off topic.

"Hmm...I never would have thought Emily would be into spanking. Interesting." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Hotch, I knew you're into that, but Emily?" He shook his head.

Hotch stared incredulously at his friend as chokes and gasps echoed in the room. He seemed to have lost the use of his vocal chords.

"I would've thought Hotch would be more into BDSM. Not as the dom though, more the sub." Morgan offered his opinion, eyes flashing devilishly. "You know, he'd be the recipient of the spanking. You sure you didn't hear Hotch asking for some, Rossi?"

"I don't think so, but maybe some of the squealing could be – "

"WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP!" shouted Hotch jumping out of his seat. "Damn it! I need to think!"

The team went quiet.

Shit, shit, shit. Emily. He had slept with Emily. No, not really. There had been little sleep involved. In fact, they'd fucked each other's brains out. Literally, it seemed. How the hell could he not have realised that it had been her? The more relevant question at the moment though, was what the hell was he going to do?

"I have to go see her," he said suddenly. Too loudly. He had almost made himself jump at the sound. Talk about embarrassing.

"Ah, our fearless leader finally speaks," said Dave dryly. "Inspired idea, Hotch. Five stars."

"Shut up, Dave. If I had wanted your opinion I would have asked for it. And..." Hotch paused pointedly. "See? Nada."

His friend ignored him. "My advice is you should go to her place, knock on the door, and when she opens it, fall on your knees and declare your undying love. The strong, silent, alpha male strategy isn't going to be a winner here."

Hotch slammed close his laptop irritably. It didn't stop his team.

"And then take her into the bedroom and make sweet love to her until she can't think straight." Morgan's suggestion. "Although I'd probably not do the whole spanking thing tonight. It's not really appropriate for romance, if you know what I mean."

The Unit Chief gritted his teeth as he put his jacket on. No way in hell he was dignifying that with a comment.

"And try not to frown so much, Hotch. It makes you look unhappy, not an emotion you want to communicate," piped up Reid.

"I don't think Hotch is going to be frowning while he's having relations with Emily, genius." Morgan stopped short when Hotch shot daggers at him with his eyes. "Or do you? Is your frown really permanent?"

"Aargh!" Hotch wondered if there was steam coming out from the top of his head yet. He was finally starting to understand how it felt before one went postal. And his Glock wasn't going to cut it. He was going to need an M-16. He took a deep, fortifying breath and walked around the table, heading to the door.

"W..wait, sir!"

Frowning his blackest frown, he looked up at Garcia. "What is it?" he asked impatiently. Apparently she had finally recovered from the shock of discovering the identity of her best friend's one-night-stand.

"Uh...it's Emily, sir. Sh..she's..." Her voice trailed off.

"She's..." Hotch raised his eyebrows.

"P..pr..pr.." Garcia stammered.

"Oh my God!"shouted Reid, making everyone jump.

"What the hell, Reid!" exclaimed Morgan, looking crankier than a woman having PMT.

"WHAT?" exploded Hotch. Fucking hell, he was really going to kill someone. In the next 1.5 seconds.

"Pr..obably not at home, Hotch!" shrieked the tech analyst, looking frantically at Reid, her wide open, rolling eyes making her look like she was letting her crazy out.

He didn't know what the hell was going on. It was like his team had either been possessed by clowns or had turned into certifiable lunatics.

"Okay. Where is she?" Hotch dug his fingers into his palm to calm himself at sight of the gleeful enjoyment on Dave's face. There was going to be blood soon. A shitload of it. Arterial spray, even brain matter. The whole she-bang.

"She's uh..at the Sentara Medical Center getting checked out. You know, uh, after the flu and everything." Garcia was twisting her hands nervously and Hotch frowned. Whatever. He really had no time for this crap. Now that he knew that it was Emily, everything had changed. He needed to see her now.

Preferably before he committed multiple homicides. He was pretty sure inmates in high security prisons didn't get conjugal visits. And he wanted to make love to Emily again. This time without the influence of alcohol. He really wanted to remind himself what it felt like to make love to her.

And spank her. Damn. Hotch felt himself stir under his slacks. Thank goodness they were baggy. He saw Dave's eyes narrow like a shark scenting blood. Hotch quickly spoke as he leaned over and picked up the sandal on the table. "I'm going. Read my lips. Do. Not. Follow. Me. Or you will regret it."

Morgan flashed his full set of white teeth. "You gonna spank us, Hotch?"

Dave laughed. "From the look in his eyes, he's thinking more whips and anal probe with spikes. Go on, Hotch. We'll be here, cheering you on in spirit. And highlighting parts of that Fifty Shades of Gray novel for you to try out with Emily."

"Fifty Shades? That's tame, Rossi. Emily's a much more adventurous gal than that," scoffed Garcia, eyes sparkling.

"Yeah, I don't know about that book," said Morgan. "I've always been a proponent of using jute. Or cotton. Not ties. I know you have a lot of those, Hotch, but I just don't think they would work."

"I agree," said Dave nodding. "My personal favourite is dacron rope, the braided type. It comes in a number of colours, you know. Much more fun."

"And aesthetically pleasing for your partners. Interesting." Reid actually looked amused.

"Oh God!" groaned Hotch incredulously. "Will you all shut up? I am not tying Emily up!"

"Fine, fine, sorry. We can talk about vibrators instead. Or dildoes. Whatever rocks your boat," offered Morgan generously.

"Eggs are good," chimed up Garcia. "Especially the vibrating ones."

"FUCK! That is it. I'm leaving. I can't bear listening to any more of this." Hotch strode out of the room just as Reid spoke up in a puzzled tone.

"Fifty Shades of Gray? Will someone tell me what that is?"

Twenty-five minutes later, Hotch walked up to the examining room where he had been told Emily was in. He still had no idea what he was going to say to her.

Various lines came to mind as he paused outside the drawn curtain. "Hi, just in case you were wondering, I'm the guy who schtupped you senseless and then forgot who you were. But can we do it again? Even though I'm technically your boss and fraternisation isn't allowed?" Or how about, "Hi, I'm the guy whom you sucked off like a Hoover, then abandoned like an unwanted toy the next morning." Hmm, bitter much, Hotchner? Maybe, "You remember when we were in Topeka for Gina's wedding? We both had a little to much to drink. Then one thing let to another and – "

Suddenly the curtain was pushed open and he stepped aside quickly, narrowly avoiding being flattened by a very large nurse who was coming out. He looked up to see Emily lying on the bed, a ultrasound wand held by the attending physician on her flat stomach. His brain was obviously not operating at full capacity because the only thought that wandered through it was whether her skin there was as sensitive as he remembered.

"Hotch?" Her dark eyes widened. "Wh..what are you – "

"Hello there!" boomed the heavily bearded doctor. "I'm Dr Aleksandrov. You must be Emily's husband, da? Come, come, do not be shy."

What in the crazy hell was going on? Hotch slowly stepped up to Emily's bedside as she tried to explain.

"No, no, he's not my husband, doctor, he's – "

"Ah, he must be your lover then, my profuse apologies. Nevertheless, I presume he is the sperm donor. And what virile sperm he has. Because look. I see not one, but two healthy embryos."

Hotch was suddenly hearing a loud buzzing in his ears that was beginning to sound all too familiar. His head spun ferociously and he almost staggered.

"What? Doctor, are you sure?" His usually imperturbable SSA looked completely freaked out as she half sat up in shock.

"Hmm..." The physician's bushy eyebrows lowered and Hotch watched numbly as the wand moved on her abdomen. "Actually...I beg your pardon. I was incorrect, it seems."

Hotch didn't think that the fact that it was only a single baby would help at this stage. He groped for the edge of the bed to hang on to, heart pounding so hard he felt nauseous. Emily was pregnant?

"There are three babies in your uterus! What an incredible miracle! Congratulations my dear, you are having triplets!"

That was the last straw. Darkness consumed Hotch's vision and he dropped to the ground in a dead faint.

Hey, come on. Even Chuck Norris would have been knocked for a loop if that little bombshell had been thrown at him.

: ) Hope you enjoyed that. I'll post as soon as my muse lets me. In the meantime, do leave me a review if you can. It will cheer me up no end!