It was a Tuesday. Hotch could never get the hang of Tuesdays.

"Ok, so I told Anderson to give you the Armenson files, did you receive them yet?" Rossi strode into Hotch's office looking, for all intents and purposes, like he owned the place.

"No, when did you tell him? You do know that I needed those files by today at 3?" Hotch rubbed his forehead, wondering if you could get a migraine from overexposure to irritating Italians.

"I texted him yesterday around 10."

"AM or PM?"

"I plead the fifth," Rossi looked down, studying his nails thoughtfully. Hotch took a deep breath and gazed out into the bullpen, counting down from 10 and trying not to self-destruct.

"You do know that we have a case today, right?" Hotch looked up at his friend pleadingly, wondering if this would sway him at all. "I need those files by 10:30."

"Well you said 3 earlier, so I don't even know what to do now. By the way, have you and Emily actually gone out on a date yet?"

"What in the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, I was just trying to save my skin. But have you?"

Hotch leaned down, opening up a drawer and pulling out some extra strength Tylenol. He dry-swallowed two and looked back up at Rossi. "I am not talking to you about this."

"Oh come onnnnn," Rossi slumped down in the chair in front of Hotch's desk and blinked hopefully. "What if I told you it was important?"

"Then I would tell you that we have a case to look at right now and we need to go to teh conference room."

"Party pooper."

Hotch rolled his eyes, standing up and wondering if he had actually hired a 5 year old for the job.

"But you guys have had sex at least, right?"

Yeah, it was definitely a Tuesday.

"Dave I swear to God."

"You're afraid to get back on the bike, aren't you," Rossi patted Hotch's shoulder comfortingly and the younger man swatted it away, wishing he had his gun on him right now.

"Its okay, Aaron! You know what they say about riding a bicycle..." Rossi trailed off as he sat down in the conference room, Reid turning towards them as the two spoke.

"Who's getting a bicycle?"

"Nobody." Don't look at Emily, don't look at Emily, don't even glance her way. "Let's get started."

"Uhhh, okay." Garcia stood up, beginning the slideshow of gory images that barely even affected the team anymore.

"Hey, Emily," Rossi kept his eyes down, specifically not looking away from the case file. "You know I'm a very wealthy man and that Penelope is a very nice girl..."

"Ew, Rossi, not in the workplace."

"Yeah, you're one to talk. But no, not what I was saying. I meant that I owe her for ... something that occurred a while back and now she wants that debt paid. And, of course, she wants payment in the form of information. So, because of this I was wondering if-"

"You can tap Hotch for literally as much information as you want, but there is absolutely no way you're getting anything from me," Emily looked up and tapped a pencil against her jaw thoughtfully. "Also, I like to see you grovel."

"You are a hard woman to please, Emily Prentiss."

She snorted, scribbling out a note.

"Ask Hotch about that."

OoOoOoO

"Okay, Rossi, out with it. Tell me everything."

"I. Don't. Know." The man leaned forward, eyes flicking to Emily whose poker face was dead straight.

"You know, statistically widowed men start dating much faster than females but Hotch is refuting the data."

"Venus has aligned with Mars which means love is in the air for Bossman and our little Gumdrop and oh! Maybe we'll even get weekends off!"

Derek cleared his throat, giving Emily a look as she continued to pretend she was oblivious to the entire conversation being held around her.

"What?" Emily smirked as she shut the case file and looked up, positively beaming at Hotch as he glowered at the four people and laptop. "Is he standing there? He's standing there, isn't he."

"Hello, Garcia."

"Emily, I hate you. Somebody, please, talk about the case."

Emily just grinned, looking up at Hotch and waving cheerfully.

OoOoOoO

Hotch didn't even know what day it was now, but he was sitting on the couch in his office and drinking scotch.

Maybe somehow it was Tuesday again. Or Wednesday. Or Thursday. Hell, he never could get the hang of any day, really. They were all contaminated now that he had to almost physically outrun Rossi just to have a moment alone (or better yet, one with Emily).

"Knock, knock, I'm back!"

Shit.

"I barricaded the door, come back tomorrow!" Hotch called back, downing the last of the small tumbler and setting it down on his desk.

Rossi rolled his eyes outside of the office and easily pushed the door open, crossing his arms and shaking his head at the younger profiler.

"Really, Aaron, I thought you knew me better than that."

"I swear to God I will run you over with my car, Dave."

Rossi nodded, taking in the information and apparently not caring. "And I'd call it sexual tension."

"Get out."

"Oh, come on Aaron, what are you scared of? It's not like anyone on the team is going to bust your balls over you dating Emily. We're happy that you're happy. Now let us fix you two up on a date or something."

"We're supposed to go on one tomorrow but... I don't know."

"You live with this woman, Aaron. I'm assuming you've seen her naked and at least once thought about her wearing a ring. Go on the date, Aaron or I'll go on it for you."

"That would be scary if you were 20 years younger, old man."

"Please," Rossi raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Now, are you going to go on the date?"

"Is it too soon?"

"It's not soon enough."

"But what if it doesn't go well?"

"You've worked together for 6 years and lived together for something like a month. If it doesn't go well I'll eat pasta from Olive Garden."

Hotch laughed and stepped towards his door, about to flick off his lights and usher Rossi out when the other man paused in the doorway.

"No briefcase?"

"No, uh, Emily convinced me to stop bringing work home."

"Dear God, man, you need to go on this date."

Rossi stepped out of the office and moved along the catwalk into his own office, shaking his head as Hotch paused, hand on the light switch as he surveyed his own office, mind elsewhere.

They were going to the park tomorrow, with Jack. It was what had come to be known between the two of them as, 'The Date That Would Have Been'. A pipe dream, a frayed grip on reality.

Except it was real. This was real. She was very real.

With a smile, Hotch clicked off the lights and shut his office door.

From the Clouds – Jack Johnson