Episode: Memoriam
"With all due respect, ma'am, one of my agents just gave birth and I feel like I shouldn't leave for tonight. "
Emily edged quietly out of the hospital room, currently occupied by a sleeping JJ and Henry. Will had stepped out to make phone calls to his friends and family and Emily could just hear him now, talking animatedly to his mother. She frowned as she heard Hotch's voice and rounded a corner to see him looking extremely pissed.
"No, I am not the father. The agent in question is Jennifer Jareau and the father is Detective William LaMontagne Jr." A pause as Hotch rolled his eyes pointedly, still not seeing Emily. "Now, about this event, I- Right, sorry. About this gala." Hotch hissed out the word poisonously, spinning to the side and spotting Emily. He held up his hand before she had a chance to speak and then covered his ear.
"Yes, but I feel like it would be important for me to- Yes, I am aware of that, I have a son too. Yes, I do." Hotch moved his hand from his ear to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in frustration. "Ma'am, if you'd just let me- Yes, I do, but I-" Hotch suddenly pulled the phone away from his ear, looking disgustedly at it before hitting a button and shoving it into his pocket. He turned to Emily looking tired and pissed.
"Hey," He sighed, moving closer to her.
"What was all that about?" She asked, nodding towards the phone he had stowed away.
"Strauss is insistent that I attend some FBI gala tonight. Not to mention the fact that I need to bring a plus one because it, quote, 'Would be a better representation of the BAU' end quote."
Emily laughed bitterly. "Hey, at least you tried to worm your way out of it. Also, good to know that you aren't Henry's father." She flashed him a teasing grin and Hotch just shook his head slowly.
"It's bull. Anyway, it's tonight at 7 so if you know anyone, anyone at all, who's free..." He trailed off, suddenly realising how pathetic he sounded.
"Well I'm not doing anything."
Hotch frowned. Was she agreeing to go to this as a friend or as his date?
"You sure? It would help me out immensely, but wouldn't it be too weird?"
"Right, because we've never gone out for dinner in public before." Emily rolled her eyes.
"Not alone."
"Yeah, I'm sure at a fancy FBI gala we're going to be alone. All the romantic implications of an open bar." Emily was awarded a small smile and she continued. "They are having an open bar, right?"
"Don't worry, even if there isn't I'll pay your tab as a thank you. Just, ah... don't get as drunk as you were on the ride back from LA." Hotch smirked as he saw the light blush cross Emily's face.
"Please, you guys were all being boring. At least I was enjoying myself."
"Right. Anyway, its black tie so be wary. I can pick you up at 6:30, ok?" Hotch raised an eyebrow, asking her for the sole purpose of letting her back out still. Instead, she smiled slightly (an expression which caused his stomach to turn uncomfortably) and turned around adding, with a light, musical tone,
"I can't wait."
OoOoOoOoOo
The doorbell was ringing much too soon for Emily's liking as she glanced down at herself, cursing the fact that she wasn't even dressed properly yet. Her makeup was gorgeous, hair in rings that she planned on putting up as soon as she found something to wear. At the moment, her clothes were exactly what she'd been wearing all day. Ruefully, she opened the door to see Hotch standing there looking... amazing.
Emily sucked in her breath lightly, her eyes scanning his body at a leisurely pace. His usual work suits were no match for this tuxedo, which was just a touch tighter than his suits usually were, the dress shirt underneath leaving very little to the imagination. And his bowtie, albeit a very formal black, was just adorable.
"When I said black tie, Prentiss, I didn't mean just me," Hotch sniffed, trying not to laugh as he leaned casually against the doorframe. He hadn't missed how her eyes had run over him for just a few seconds too long, and had his stomach not turned yet again at the thought, he would definitely have been teasing her about it.
"I know, I know, I'm sorry. I was just, ah, running a bit late."
"Take your time, I doubt we'll be missed too much if we aren't there right at 7," He replied, stepping into the apartment as Emily hurried up the stairs, calling down,
"Make yourself at home; I'll be a few minutes."
He paused, then made his way over to the couch and sat down. Suddenly overcome with memories, Hotch bit his lip painfully and looked away, ghosts of suppressed thoughts suddenly haunting his vision. Lips on lips, words clashing against words, pleas of hope and promises for tomorrow. It was only when a soft voice came from the stairs that he blinked his way back to the present. Glancing up, it was Hotch's turn to have his breath taken away. He stared hungrily as Emily descended the stairs, stepping onto the floor finally, looking down nervously at her dress.
It was perfect, hugging her curves so wonderfully that he could see the exact outline of her body. And she definitely didn't disappoint. It hung down just above her knees, held up by a thin string that was tied on one of her shoulders, the other beautifully and wonderfully exposed. It was all Hotch could do not to stride across the room, tear it off and take her right then and there.
"Is this fine? I feel like it's a little too-"
"It's gorgeous."
Emily glanced up, nervous for just a second at the look in Hotch's eyes. It was darker than she'd ever seen and for a moment, Emily couldn't read him at all.
"Hotch? You, uh, ok?"
"Mhm," was all he could manage before he gulped and stood, striding across the room and to the door. "We should probably go, it's getting late and I'm not 100% sure of the directions."
"Strauss hang up before she could tell you?" Emily smiled as she passed by Hotch, making her way out the door and locking it behind her. All he could do was nod painfully as the smell of her hair (strawberries) filled his nostrils and perfumed his mind, causing Hotch to momentarily forget his own name.
He followed Emily down the hallway, making their way outside to where his car was parked. As they drove in silence, Emily stared out the window up at the sky, contemplating why she was doing this.
I'm just a friend helping another friend out.
She almost laughed at that, stopping herself as she realised that Hotch would ask her why she was laughing.
Emily exhaled deeply, leading Hotch to glance over, seeing her lost in thought as she stared out the window, the light from the moon on her face driving him up the wall.
How in the hell was someone allowed to be that beautiful?
The question plagued him until they got to the hall where the banquet was being held at. Neither Hotch nor Emily moved to leave the car. Both were lost in their own little worlds which, ironically enough, were filled only with each other. Eventually, Hotch snapped out of his reverie, stepping out of the car and going around to the side, opening the door for Emily, his hand immediately going around her waist as they made their way to the door.
"You ok?"
"I'm great," She looked up at him as the two stood on the step in front of the door. He looked down at her and for a moment Emily let her guard down, surprised as she felt Hotch's lips touch the top of her head.
"Good, because I just remembered that Strauss said that this was going to go on for about 3 hours."
OoOoOoOoOo
It took Emily all of 3 minutes until she broke. Pardoning herself from a horribly mundane water cooler conversation with some young blonde from counterterrorism (who wasn't even trying to hide her appreciation of Hotch and his clothing choice), Emily set off in search of alcohol. And lots of it.
Returning with two glasses of champagne, Emily noted the sound of dwindling conversation between Hotch and whatever-her-name-was. She felt Hotch's arm slink around her waist yet again as the blonde counterterrorism girl became bored and wandered off.
"Thanks," He whispered, draining half the glass in one slurp. Emily flashed him a smile and began to appraise the room.
"How is it that pretty much the most fast pace and intense jobs have the absolute most boring people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting?"
"Mmm," Hotch nodded in assent, scanning the crowd as well, tightening his grip on Emily's waist. He'd never tell her, but he didn't mind the mind-numbingly boring conversations as long as she was planted firmly against his side.
"Hotch, not that I don't find your alpha male quirks very... fascinating, but Strauss is making her way over here and she might not be overjoyed to see your arm around me. Fraternization and all," Emily glanced up as Hotch contemplated this, deciding finally to relinquish her from his grasp. The moment his arm fell to his side, though, he felt strangely empty. It pained him, but he hid it by taking another sip from his now empty glass.
"Aaron," The older blonde greeted him stiffly, her eyes going from Hotch to Emily, then back to Hotch. "I must admit, I expected somebody outside FBI."
"I'm only here as a friend, ma'am," Emily replied smoothly. Too smoothly. So smoothly that Hotch felt his heart thump painfully and he glanced down, wondering if he could get another glass of something stronger.
"Ah, of course. And how's Agent Jareau? Healthy, I hope?"
"Yeah, she and the baby are doing fine," Hotch replied. "Sorry, if you'll pardon us, we were just going to go get a drink."
` "Don't let me interrupt. Enjoy your night, agents."
Emily frowned quizzically as Hotch pulled her away to the bar, ordering another two champagnes.
"She seemed normal, what gives?"
"Oh, nothing. I'm just suddenly really tired," The last part was true, though. Hotch was dog-tired from two back-to-back cases, despite the fact he had been home for the last one. He didn't want to even look at another piece of paperwork for at least another day.
"Shall we leave, then? If you want to go home I can just grab a cab, or-"
"I'm giving you a ride, Emily."
She gave Hotch a wry smile and dipped her head. "Figured as much. One last drink and round, then we'll go, ok? Wouldn't want the Strauss thinking we're leaving early."
"God forbid she thinks we're slacking off on our after-work gala duties," He deadpanned. Emily grinned, taking the champagne from the counter and sipping from it, Hotch's arm going around her waist again.
They were just about to leave when music came on and Hotch noticed Emily dragging her feet slightly whenever he mentioned leaving.
"Emily?" He nudged her lightly in the side and smiled as she swayed very slightly to the music.
"Mmm?"
"Would you like to dance with me?"
Emily's head shot up, her eyes fixing on his. For a split second, he thought she was going to decline and he realised with surprise how scared he was that she was going to say no. Hotch blinked.
"Of course. I wouldn't be a very good date if I said no," Emily smiled too as Hotch tugged her towards the middle of the room, his arm settling easily on her waist, other hand clasped in hers. They swayed slowly, turning in a small circle.
Neither would ever know, but both were trying to grasp a word to describe how they felt. And, after about 30 seconds of contemplation, both landed on the same word.
Serene.
"You look beautiful, by the way. Did I mention that?"
Emily laughed, shaking her head, "No, but it's always welcome."
"Well in that case," Hotch leaned forward, his lips brushing her ear as Emily tried not to turn into a puddle of goo. "You, Agent Prentiss, clean up very nicely."
"So I went from being beautiful to cleaning up nicely?" Emily feigned hurt as she turned her head away, only to feel Hotch's hand pulling her chin back to face him.
"Let's call it a draw and say you both clean up nicely and are very, very beautiful."
"Careful, Hotch," Emily bit her lip as they resumed swaying. "Strauss might be watching and get the wrong impression."
"Then this is going to give her a very wrong impression."
Before Emily could react to his words, his lips were on hers, the fire that had sparked within her so long ago suddenly rekindled and burning bright. Heat radiated from their lips and Emily could hardly focus as Hotch's arms slid down her waist, his hands twining with hers, all pretenses of dancing forgotten.
Emily wasn't in love with him then. Not yet. She doesn't fall in love with him until she stares through a glass, separated from him not only by that, but by the defeated look on his face as he lies on the hospital bed knowing in his heart that he can't save everybody.
Wow, I originally just wanted a fic with Hotch and Emily going to a party together. Now it accidentally became their second kiss.
Awkward because it's only Season 4. Awkward because Emily doesn't love him. Awkward.
Ah, well. Hope you guys loved it, even though it wasn't supposed to be anything even remotely like this!
Shake, Shake, Shake – Bronze Radio Return
