Genre: Fantasy

Author: hotchityhotchhotch


On a particularly hot night, Emily awoke to realize that the air conditioning in her room was clearly not working. She was nearly drenched in sweat, even though in her sleep she had apparently kicked off her blanket. She made a face, then freed herself from her sticky sheets before wandering out into the hallway to check the thermostat. It was set to seventy, but the actual temperature was eighty-two.

"Great," she muttered, knowing she'd probably never get back to sleep in this heat. On her way back into her room, she spotted a movie ticket stub from a month ago, right before her and Hotch's falling out. They still hadn't spoken more than a few words to each other in passing since the night Emily had found out Hotch was leaving for Seattle in September. It was now late July, and Emily still hadn't mustered up the strength to go to him. He'd tried several times to find a reason to be alone with her so they could have a private conversation, but she always thwarted his efforts in hopes that she could remain mentally and emotionally distanced from him until the time came in a couple of months when they were physically separated as well.

Tears burned behind Emily's eyes when she thought about how stupid she'd been, thinking she'd be able to keep Hotch around, thinking they were destined for something more than friendship or even friendship with benefits. Thinking that someday he might tell her he loved her, and that as a result, she'd feel some sort of direction in her life.

Only a couple of tears had carved a path down her cheeks when she realized her nose was stuffing up already. She sniffled and picked up the movie ticket stub. Jurassic Park. She remembered nearly shrieking at a few moments, even grabbing onto Hotch once. She'd partly been acting, of course—enjoying the little smile she got out of Hotch when she required his attention. Rolling her eyes at the memory, Emily dropped the movie ticket stub into a small trash can behind her door.

Hotch gave up flipping channels and settled on reruns of MASH. Having had felt particularly sorry for himself that day, he'd stopped on his way home from work to pick up a six-pack and a bag of chips. He was almost done consuming both now, and starting to regret it. On nights like this, when he found himself missing Emily, it was usually because he'd seen her at her home, tried to get her alone, and she'd refused to let him. He felt that if they could just talk about things, they'd be just fine. The best case scenario right now was that Emily just liked to be angry for a long time, and that she'd come around eventually.

Even though he thought he might die if he moved right now, Hotch needed to set his alarm clock. Changing and going to bed couldn't hurt, either. In stepping clumsily out of his jeans, he dropped his wallet. Too full, having had gone far too long without a purging, it spilled open and scattered loose items—receipts, cash, coins—all over his bedroom floor. He sighed, plopped down onto the ground, and moved his trash can in front of him. He started a "keep" pile. He managed to throw away quite a bit of stuff, and the last thing in the pile ("Of course," he thought) was a ticket stub to Jurassic Park. The movie had had its moments, but Hotch remembered a lot more about the person who had been sitting next to him, grabbing his arm, letting out little squeaks when she was startled. Hotch couldn't justify holding onto the piece of paper, so he flicked it into the trash can and finished getting ready for bed.

Emily woke up the next morning surprisingly cool and comfortable for how hot it had been when she'd finally fallen asleep again. She groaned in ecstasy and stretched while she yawned. When she finally peeled open her eyes, she realized she was not in her bedroom. The walls were grey, not white. And then the rest of her senses kicked in. The blanket on top of her was heavier. Much heavier. She peered around the room, propping herself up on her elbows, and recognized Hotch's bedroom. She looked directly to either side of her, looking for Hotch. Had they slept together? How drunk had she been?

But she was the only one in his bed, and she didn't hear a single peep through the rest of the apartment. Something tickled her chin and she reached up to scratch it, only to feel stubble everywhere.

Holy shit, she thought. She looked at her hands—Hotch's hands, with those long, sturdy fingers. She felt her chest—his broad, firm chest. She supposed one final test, before the mirror, would confirm that she was Hotch and not herself. She slowly snaked a hand below the covers and felt it. There it was. And half hard, too. Morning wood. She knew she should have been losing her mind right now—she was in Hotch's body—but she'd always kind of wondered what it would be like to have a penis. With the touch of a timid finger at the tip, it sent a fire dancing through what she had to remind herself was Hotch's body, simply under her control. She grabbed hold of the entire shaft through the cotton boxer shorts that cloaked it, pumped a little and felt it grow a little in her grip. "Just because you woke up in a man's body does not mean you should start the day by masturbating," Emily said aloud, but it was Hotch's deeper voice that she heard. And it was even deeper hearing it inside her head.

What kind of weird dream is this? she asked herself before pinching Hotch's arm firmly with her free hand. No change of state. Everything seemed real, too. Except for the fact that her body was missing and she was instead residing in the body of a man who had a rather impressive erection. She had countless questions now. Number one was probably not "What would it be like to jerk off?" but it was probably the most easily answered at this point in time. She reached inside Hotch's boxer shorts and pulled out his cock, causing his entire body to jerk in surprise. Emily wanted to see what she now stroked gently between two very scared fingers, but she feared it might mess with her a little too much. She kept things under the covers and tried to imagine giving Hotch a hand job. Not only did that make Hotch's penis grow even firmer, but it made for quite a natural action.

She instinctively reached up to play with a breast, pinch her nipple, like she sometimes did when she masturbated with female parts, only to remember upon the arrival of Hotch's hand to his chest that she had no breasts to play with. Hotch did have two nipples, and she was sure that they did their job properly as erogenous zones, but this was just getting far too foreign for her liking. Coupled with the fact that she felt a new sensation between Hotch's legs—most likely the sensation came right before coming—Emily knew she had to stop. This was no longer fun or funny. She let go of her new toy and rolled out of bed. Clearly, she needed a way out of this predicament. As soon as she stood, though, a rush of someone else's thoughts flooded her mind. Voices. No, Hotch's voice, but the voice she heard when she was outside his body, not the voice she heard when she'd spoken on his behalf just now.

I wish I didn't have to leave.

It took Emily a moment to figure out what to make of this thought. Was it Hotch's thought, or was it her imagining what one of Hotch's thoughts should be?

If she won't talk to me after a month, then maybe she's not mature enough after all. Maybe she's not the old soul you thought she was. Maybe she's not worth the trouble.

This confirmed to Emily that these were at least not thoughts that she was subconsciously forcing onto Hotch. No, it seemed as though they were his thoughts. And she wanted more of them, as unhappy as they might be.

Maybe I should ask for a different assignment. Something closer. But then what if she leaves the area? She still hasn't decided what she's doing once summer is over. She's supposed to be finding herself. What if she finds herself somewhere else after I make that sacrifice for her? After all, she is holding a month-long grudge about you me not telling her about something for a few days.

Suddenly realizing she was panting—or he was panting—someone was panting—Emily looked around the room for her phone and called her own number. After the first ring, everything went black.

Hotch rolled over in a half sleep the next morning. When he did, the unfamiliar sensation of a weight on his chest, shifting off of it once he was on his side, struck him. Opening his eyes to the already sunlit bedroom, he looked down at his chest. That chest was definitely not his chest. And now that he looked around the room, he realized it was not his room, either. Had he been roofied? he wondered. Long hair tickled his shoulders when he sat up. Dark brown hair, like Emily's, he realized when he brought the ends of the hair into his field of vision. Was this Emily's body? Were those Emily's hands that held her hair? They certainly weren't his. If he was living in Emily's body, for whatever reason, then certainly…

No, Not right. Besides, he thought, you're in a U.S. Ambassador's home. How's that for a cold shower? But not even the thought of the ambassador probably sleeping somewhere down the hall could stop him. With Emily's small hands, he began to explore her entire body, starting with her pointed nose, her narrow face, lush lips, then down her slender neck to cup her perfect (or what he always saw as perfect) breasts through the fabric of a thin cotton tank top. With a few flicks, one of her nipples hardened to attention. He felt something unexpected between his—well, Emily's—legs. Her body was responding to her touch in a very natural way. He felt a pulsating, he supposed not unlike what he experienced when he was sexually aroused in his own body. The wetness in Emily's panties kept his attention, making him skip past navigating his way down her tight stomach. Without fanfare, he went straight to her clit. He always wondered how, with the right technique behind it, he was usually able to give a woman a mind-numbing orgasm. He almost always resorted to the use of this magical little button, but he had no idea it was this pleasant of a sensation.

Out of nowhere, he was barraged with visions of him and Emily together, from Emily's point of view, with him over her, entering her slowly, whispering her name right at her lips as he did. Kissing her right afterward. He wasn't sure if he was feeling what Emily felt or what he was supposed to be feeling in this fantasy, but whatever he was feeling, it was nice, and it sped along Emily's finger, which flitted back and forth across the very tip of her clit. Just when he was thinking he should probably stop and investigate this mystery a little further, Hotch heard movement in the hallway. He hoped whoever it was—be it Emily's mother or father—would not feel the need to pop in and wish Emily a good morning.

When he heard a soft knock at the door, Emily's heart thrashed violently inside her chest. Hotch didn't answer, not knowing whose voice would come out from Emily's lips. Just in case, he straightened out Emily's body and tucked her hands under the pillows, pretending to sleep.

Ambassador Prentiss gingerly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open a crack. "Em?"

Hotch tried to regulate his breathing, or whosever breathing.

"Em, I know you're awake. Did you want to talk about last night?"

"Last night?" Hotch asked reflexively, glad that at least his utterance came out in Emily's voice. Now that his guise of sleeping was useless, he opened Emily's eyes and sat up in bed.

"Remember? Agent Hotchner asked if he could speak to you before he left, and you let out some, uh, choice phrases, before getting in your car and driving off without telling me where you were going?"

Hotch didn't remember this happening at all. He had to be dreaming. He pinched Emily's arm subtly, not knowing why he hadn't thought to sooner. But nothing. The ambassador remained staring at him.

"Oh, that. Sorry," Hotch said, still not used to the way Emily's voice sounded in his mind.

"You can't take off like that, Emily. I had no idea where you went." Elizabeth let herself into Emily's room, shut the door behind her, and sat at the foot of the bed. "Is something going on that I should know about?"

"No," Hotch thought he said, but he realized Emily's voice was now run completely by something out of his control. He was no longer moving her lips. Her words came out without any help, as if part of her spirit was in her body and was doing the talking.

"Em…"

Hotch witnessed this conversation from a very strange place—from within the body of one of the speakers. Emily sighed.

"Is it a boy?"

Emily brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them, then pouted pitifully at her toes.

"Oh, Em." Elizabeth moved up to sit next to Emily at the side of her bed, then took her hand. "I know we're not very close, but I'm still your mom, and I always will be. You can tell me anything. Absolutely anything. I just want to know what's bothering you."

Emily's head lolled back against the headboard. "You promise you won't be mad?"

The ambassador's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I…can't promise I won't be mad, but I can promise I'll try my best to understand and help you. How's that?"

Emily nodded somberly and combed her hair out of her face with her fingers. "It's Hotch."

"Hotch? As in Agent Hotchner?"

Emily nodded. "Yeah, sorry. It's an inside joke or something. Anyway, before I go any further, you do have to promise me that you won't fire him or give him bad references in the future. This has nothing to do with his job."

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered shut. "Did he get you pregnant?"

"No."

"Then I promise," Emily's mother answered with the tiniest of grins. "Tell me what happened."

Emily shrugged helplessly and tucked her lips in. "You know we've been hanging out a lot this summer."

"More than I thought prudent. Yes. But you seemed happy, and I haven't seen that in a while, so I let it go on. Was that a mistake?"

"No, this isn't your fault at all. I should've known better. He told me when we met that he only had this post for the summer, and that in September he'd have a new assignment, but he didn't know where yet. Well, I finally found out where. Seattle."

"Ah. He told you, then. I was wondering when you'd find out."

"You knew?" Emily cried.

"Em, I had to let him tell you on his own terms, in his own way. Not to mention, that sort of information is classified unless an agent wishes to share it. I wasn't the one to tell you. But I take it he did?"

"No, he didn't tell me. I found the papers at his apartment."

"And then he came clean?" Elizabeth ventured.

Emily laughed darkly. "Yeah, he came clean." She looked angry enough to clue her mother in.

"Emily, did he…lie to you to get something he wanted? You know?"

"You mean did he lie his way into my pants? No. We haven't slept together." Before Emily's mother could sigh in relief, she added, "We came pretty darn close, though. And don't give me that look. You said you wanted to know what's bothering me."

"Sorry, keep going."

"That was a month ago. I haven't really talked to him since except for polite small talk when other people are around, and those choice phrases you were talking about when I think we're alone. I just…really thought we had something going on. I've never clicked with anyone like I did with him. I've dated my fair share of jerks and he didn't seem like one of them. Not that we were ever officially dating."

"Don't you think he might be trying to get you alone to apologize?"

"If he were staying, it would be different. I wish he weren't leaving. Then maybe things could work out, even completely platonically. He's great to just hang out with. But if he's gonna be gone in a couple months anyway, then there's no point in getting back on track with him. I'm just going to be a mess again when he does go."

"And you haven't been a mess the past month?" Emily's mother asked in a challenging tone.

Emily huffed.

"Sweetheart, I think you could be letting a very small thing get in the way of a great friendship. I certainly don't condone my agents dating my daughter, but I also hate to see you hurting. I know you didn't ask for my advice, but I'm going to give it anyway, because I'm a mom and that's my job. You should talk to him." Elizabeth patted Emily's hand, and that was that. Once she was gone from the room, Emily's subconscious—or whatever that had been—let go of the reigns. Hotch had control over Emily's body once more. Before things could get weirder, he got out of bed and looked for Emily's phone.

"We need to talk," Emily said when Hotch opened up his apartment door in the middle of the night in his typical boxers and t-shirt.

"Uh, yeah, oddly, I think you're right," Hotch said, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"First off, I just had the single weirdest dream of my life."

"Me too," Hotch said warily, sitting down on the couch with Emily, who also still donned pajamas, and he scratched vigorously at his scalp.

"Did it involve being in someone else's body?" Emily asked, as if no dream Hotch had had could trump her own.

"Actually, yes."

Emily's eyes narrowed. "Seriously? Whose body?"

Hotch licked his lips and coughed to clear his throat. "Umm, yours, actually."

"No shit…"

"I take it you dreamt you were in my body?"

"Yeah."

"How'd you like it?" Hotch cracked.

"Not the point," Emily said crossly. "Mine ended when I tried to call you…well, when I tried to call my own number, to talk to you, assuming you were inside my body. Anyway, it was just…weird."

"Mine ended on the same note," Hotch murmured. "Do you know what triggered yours?"

"What triggered my dream? No idea. Maybe some enchanted object, but who knows. Let's just…ignore how it happened and talk about the fact that obviously, we both knew from these dreams that we needed to stop screwing around and talk to each other."

"I've been trying to talk to you. But anyway, I suppose you could say something to that effect. Do you want some coffee?"

"No, I want to talk."

"All right. Fine. Go ahead."

Emily thought it a shame that she couldn't see these matching dreams as more romantic than she did. She did truly think that they were signaling to both of them that they needed to sort things out, but she didn't believe she was supposed to sort them out the way she truly wanted to. "You're leaving. In less than two months."

"I know."

"And I have no idea where I'm going at the end of the summer."

"I know."

"I miss you," she said. That part wasn't planned.

Hotch's gaze transferred from the floor to Emily's pleading eyes. "I miss you, too."

Feeling terribly selfish, Emily scooted closer to Hotch and took his face in her hands. She indulged in one long, sweet kiss, her tongue gliding between his lips until he played along. He found her hairline and combed through her hair starting at that point, cupping the back of her head when he reached it. He pulled her in not so politely by the neck. Emily felt herself ready for more and knew that that was her sign to back off. She gave their kiss a few more desperate seconds and pulled away.

"I can't hold the you-not-telling-me-thing over your head anymore, but I also can't pretend that it would be a good idea to get involved."

Hotch figured Emily's kiss was payback for his behavior a month ago, assumed she'd done it just to tease him. He couldn't quite blame her. "Emily, we can make this work if we try. People have long distance relationships all the time. Eventually, I'll get a new post, and maybe I'll have enough seniority by then to make a request for somewhere specific." Hotch reclaimed Emily's hair, tucking it repeatedly behind her ear. He reached for her other hand, surprised that she let him take it.

"Hotch, I want to be friends again. And not the kind of friends that fool around, like we were. Just…normal friends. When you leave—and I'm not blaming you for leaving, because it's part of your job, and I get that—remember who my mother is—but when you leave, I'll already hate it enough just losing a friend. If we were anything more, I just…I just think that would be a bad idea. If we know you're going to be leaving—"

"Then we could solidify this now, while I'm still here—"

"No."

"Em—"

"Hotch, I can't, I'm sorry."

"Look, I know I was a dick—"

"Hotch, don't beg. I didn't come here to make you beg. I came here to get you back, as much as I can safely have you, anyway."

"What was—never mind." Hotch got up and paced the length of the modest living room, his forehead cradled in his palm.

"What was what?"

"What was with the kiss, then? If you came over here on a mission to give me the let's-be-friends talk, then why did you come at me?"

"Moment of weakness," Emily uttered shamefully. "Sorry."

Hotch took a few more strides before stopping. "I would love to be friends, Emily. But you have to make up your mind. Friends, relationship, or nothing. You can't keep bouncing in between whenever you feel like it."

"I said I was sorry." Emily licked her lips and stood as well, closing the distance between her and Hotch in a couple of steps. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his chest. "I'm not trying to mess with you."

"It's okay," Hotch sighed, encircling Emily in return. "Just as long as you're sure now."

"I'm sure. Hey," she said, eager to change the subject, "want to tell each other about our dreams?"

A/N: Pretty please, leave a review!