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Here's the Emily POV! It overlaps with the events from the previous chapter. I hope you'll like it. I appreciate the reviews, follows, and favorites on it so far :)

Spencer Reid possessed an adorable awkwardness that was endearing to Emily. Every karaoke night brought it out in him, and it made her chuckle whenever she saw it.

He waved to everyone, tugging at his shirt collar. "Uh, hello there," he began. "So, uh, you all know how this goes. I'm running the song selection, just let me know what you want to do, and I'll put it on if we have it. So…first come, first serve. Just no fighting for it, or you'll get bounced. Trust me, it's happened before."

Emily remembered the specific time he was talking about. A fight had ensued up at the microphone, and both Hotch and Morgan had gone up to try and help the bouncer break it up. Hotch had ended up with a broken nose and was forced to get driven to the ER by Emily to get it fixed.

"Can I get a beer, Emily?"

Looking up from the drink she was mixing, Emily's eyes found those of her friend, Mick Rawson. She grinned at him, stirring the rest of the drink. "Well, if it isn't my favorite Brit," she purred. "How've you been?" She held out her fist to bump with his.

"I'm well, Emily darling," he replied cheekily. "Very well. I'm off for a week, and ready to get my drink on. Which is why I'm over here…have a shot with me, doll, before you get me that beer."

Batting her eyelashes, she deposited the drink she had been making to its respective customer and turned to Rawson again. "I'm honored," she said, tipping her head to him. Pulling up two shot glasses, she filled them. "Here ya go, my good sir." She raised her shot glass. "Cheers."

"Cheers," Rawson echoed. They clinked glasses and downed the shots. The He grinned cheekily at her. "Now how 'bout that beer?" Grinning at him, Emily started pouring him his beer. He leaned against the counter as she was doing it. "Hey, so how're things going with your knight-in-brooding-armor? Any luck on that front?"

Frowning at Rawson, Emily arched a brow. "Do not make me spit in your beer," she snapped. "I never should have told you about that."

"Ah, well, drunkenness is a bitch," he laughed. "You're just unlucky that I don't forget things when I get shit-faced."

Emily glanced behind her at the kitchen window where Hotch was still working diligently. She sighed before turning back to Rawson. "Unfortunately for me, Mick, he doesn't really like me. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, but every time I see him, he's so stand-offish." She handed over his beer.

He used his finger to motion for her to come closer. Sighing, she humored him and set her elbows on the bar. "You, darling," Rawson said, tapping her nose, "are a complete catch, and if Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Holden Caulfield doesn't seen that, then he's an absolute wanker."

Unable to contain her laughter, Emily kissed his cheek. "That beer's on me," she said. "I appreciate it."

He raised his beer to her. "Not a problem, doll," he said before turning around to head back through the crowd.

Emily sighed. Hopefully Mick was right about Hotch. She really liked him. He was handsome, intelligent, respectful towards her and everyone else, but he kept to himself so much it was difficult to see if he liked someone or not. Most of the time when he was around her, he was so silent and his face so blank, she could barely tell if he was annoyed or simply disinterested.

As she was serving customers, she noticed the majority of the flow of them were coming in her direction. She worked furiously to fill out all their orders, but when she glanced down the bar to see why Morgan wasn't getting as many customers, she noticed why. He was glaring viciously into the crowd of customers that were dancing and talking in the bar. More specifically the men who were talking to Penelope. It made Emily roll her eyes. Here she was, having the worst luck in the world with the man she had it bad for, and Derek and Penelope were going back and forth with the googley-eye game they'd been playing for years.

That would have been much more preferable to Emily if she and Hotch could be like that. But here she was, stuck in the friendzone. And she wasn't even sure they were friends either.

As the song on the karaoke machine was changing from Lady Gaga to a romantic song someone was singing to their fiancé, Morgan was glaring after a man who'd been blatantly staring at Penelope. He kept the ferocious expression on his face, even as the massive man who'd wronged him was heading off.

He began pouring whiskey into a tumbler, and Emily called down to him, "You know, staring at her and not asking her out isn't going to do anything to help." She snickered at the expression on his face. If she could tap into his irritation, she was going to do it.

Derek glared at her, but he didn't give her any other indication he knew what she was talking about. "Huh?" he grunted, feigning confusion.

Arching a dark brow, she snapped, "Cut the bullshit. You know what I'm talking about."

When he fired back his reply, she was too shocked to give a witty retort. "Yeah? Well, why don't you cut the bullshit and tell him how you feel?" He tilted his head toward Hotch. Emily was thankful for the fact Hotch's head was down as he concentrated on his cooking, his head bobbing up and down to his music.

Swallowing hard, Emily turned back to a new customer. Her face didn't get red often, and usually she had a snarky reply to whatever Morgan tossed her way, but at that moment, nothing came to mind. Sulking, she continued giving drinks to people, glancing over at Hotch every so often to see what he was doing. Currently he was handing a basket over to JJ and nodding to her.

Why couldn't Hotch talk to her, or at least look her in the eye? Anytime she tried speaking to him, he averted his gaze so she would end having to look around awkwardly.

The night continued on, drink orders coming in and drink orders leaving to go to the people who wanted them. All around her, the bar was bustling with activity. Bar-goers were drinking and laughing, or some people were dancing to the varying levels of on-key or off-key singing. Down the bar from her, Morgan and Garcia were engaged in a battle of jealousies and who could make the other greener with it, and Hotch was bobbing his head up and down to whatever he was listening to on his iPod.

As an Elton John song started up on the karaoke machine, Derek huffed and looked over at Emily. "What? You've been giving me looks all night?"

Emily glared at him. She was giving him looks because she was pissed as hell at him for not realizing what he had with Penelope, while she was begging for a bone of anything from Hotch.

"Because you're the most ridiculous human beings on the planet," she snapped.

"Hey, honey," a woman on the other side of the bar called to Emily. "I need two Blue Moons!"

Leaning down, Emily grabbed two bottles of beer from a fridge and popped the tops off of them. "Here you go," she said, handing the beers over and taking the money from the woman. She redirected her gaze to him. "You wanna know why I say that?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "I get the feeling I'm gonna hear it even if I don't want to," he groaned.

"You bet your ass I'm telling you even if you don't want to hear," she answered with a deep and bitter laugh. She was tired of her friends' behavior when they had it easy and she was dealing with the sting of rejection. "You come in here every night, and you play the googley-eye game with Penelope, but neither of you ever does anything about it. Both of you act like you're not interested, but you're both….eye-fucking each other from across the room! It drives me crazy." She furiously bit her lip to keep from hollering at him in a serious way that would change the mood of the evening for the whole bar. It took all her energy not to go over and throttle Derek. Once again, her eyes were drawn to Hotch, and a feeling of soreness slithered into her heart like an insidious snake.

Hotch merely went on bobbing his head, cooking his famous chicken wings.

She looked back at Derek. There was a smirk on his face that was saying something she couldn't quite read, but she knew her friend well enough to know he was thinking about Penelope. Her annoyance was only growing with him, even if he was one of her best friends. Instead of shouting at him, though, she gave him a tight smile. "I swear to you, every time I see you, it looks like you are — in your own weird way — head over your heels in love with her," she taunted. If he was going to give her shit about Hotch, she was going to give him shit about Penelope.

Her last accusation struck gold, and she snickered wickedly at his expression. Payback was oh, so sweet. "I don't do head over heels love," he grumbled defensively. "My relationships last from the time the girl enters my room, to when she leaves my bed."

Pointing a bottle in the direction of Penelope in the crowd, Emily snorted, "That'll end when she enters your bedroom."

Once again, though, Derek knew the exact way to get back at Emily. "If anyone is gonna be lecturing on being head over in heels is love with someone, it shouldn't be you. How long have you been into our master chef over there?" A challenge flared up like a firework in his eyes.

Emily's eyes went wide as plates. She glanced at the "master chef" that Derek was referring to and gulped. He'd finally looked up and was observing her and Derek's conversation. He arched a brow, and for a moment Emily thought he'd heard what they were talking about. However, his earphones were still in, and his gaze didn't linger on them much longer than a few seconds.

Whew. He didn't hear us, she thought with a large sigh of relief.

XXXXX

After another hour of karaoke singers, drinks, and wings, Morgan was going around the other side of the bar. He had a devious look on his face that made Emily roll her eyes. When he turned to her, he raised a hand to get her attention.

"Em, I'm taking a break," he hollered. "Take care of the orders."

"I get any tips they give," she replied snippily. She was still pissed at him for almost alerting Hotch to their conversation. Any money that was supposed to be his was going in her pocket without a second thought. However, Derek didn't seem to care at all. He just flashed her a thumbs up and dashed off like an excited toddler to do God-only-knew-what.

Even though Derek had gone off, and Emily was taking any tips that would have gone to him, the flow of people had slowed down significantly. Most of the customers already had drinks and were dancing to the people singing at the karaoke machine. As Emily was working, her flow stopped long enough for her to start wiping down the bar.

"How's your evening going right now?" a voice said from behind her.

Emily jumped slightly and turned around. Standing bedside her, fiddling with his earbuds, was Hotch. He'd turned his hat around so it was backwards on his head, and he was studying the crowd with watchful eyes. Her stomach fluttered when he crossed his arms over his chest and his arm muscles stood out. A parched, cotton-dry feeling entered her mouth, and she gulped.

"Oh…uh, hi," she said, waving awkwardly with the towel she was using to wipe the bar down with. "Fine, I suppose. What about you? How's the cooking gone?" She attempted a charming smile, but she was sure it was coming off as tense and awkward.

"Well, it's slowed down a lot, considering everyone, including one of the waitresses who brings in most of the orders for the food, is dancing," he said. It was difficult to tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but she giggled uncomfortably anyway just in case. When she looked out over the dance floor, she caught sight of Penelope and Derek, both dancing with other people and attempting to out-show the other with jealousy.

"Those two are —" Emily began.

"Ridiculous," he finished for her. "Yeah, I know." He glanced over at her and gave her a small smile, one so minuscule she was unsure if it was actually a smile. Even if it wasn't much, she liked it. It was heartwarming in a way that she couldn't quite pinpoint, but it made her feel like she was surrounded by a cozy and secure sweater.

There was something about Aaron Hotchner's smile that made Emily feel good.

Deciding to go out on a limb, she feigned confidence and lightly punched his arm. "Are you smiling?" she said with faux-astonishment. "Is Aaron 'Hotch' Hotchner actually giving me a smile?" She grinned cheekily. "To what do I owe the honor of getting a smile from you?"

He chuckled. "Well, I guess I don't really smile a lot," he said. "I try and save them up."

She turned to lean against the bar and study him. "Why would you save up smiles?" she asked. "You have such a nice one. You shouldn't save them up, you should give them out." To emphasize her point, she grinned brilliantly at him.

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet, Hotch averted his eyes once more. "Uh, I try to keep them for my son, Jack," he said, softly. "I guess."

Emily's jaw dropped. "Huh?" she blurted. "You have a son?" She was startled. Stoic, chicken-wing cooking, never-smiling Hotch had a child? She never would have guessed. What more, though, was how he managed to keep such a huge secret from the whole staff at the bar. A slight pang of dejection hit her as well. A son likely meant a significant other, as well. "But…how did you keep that a secret? I mean, I had no idea you were even married!"

Hotch shook his head. "Oh, no," he said. "No, I'm not married anymore. Haley and I divorced a few years ago. We didn't really work. Got married young, didn't really think things through…that sort of thing." His face became eerily still.

"Why?" she wondered, not realizing she'd spoken it aloud. She couldn't believe anyone would want to divorce from someone like Hotch. The idea astounded her.

He shrugged before leaning on his elbows on the bar and string out at the dancing crowds. "Eh, I guess I didn't smile enough for her." He turned to look at her with a serious expression, and all she could do was blink at him. What did she say to that? Out of nowhere a smile broke out on his face again. "I was joking," he teased. "Haley and I just didn't…work. We tried, but it wasn't enough for us."

"I had a relationship with a guy named Ian Doyle," she said, not thinking about what she would say before blurting it out, "and it did not go well either. He was actually pretty awful. I was so scared of him it wasn't even funny." She had never told anyone at work about this, but around Hotch she felt safe enough to trust him with the information of her least successful, borderline abusive relationship.

"Huh?" Hotch turned to her with shock on his face. "He…he…" His voice trailed off.

Immediately Emily knew she'd made a mistake by telling him that. Coughing uncomfortably, she averted her eyes once more. C'mon, c'mon! I need a customer to get me out of this hole I dug myself into!

Someone up above answered her wishes. A group of people came up, all rowdy and tipsy. "Sweetie, get us some shots! We need 'em!" one of them sputtered, stumbling against the bar.

Sighing, Emily turned to apologize for shutting the awkward conversation down, but Hotch was already walking away. She could have slapped herself in the forehead for letting things slip. So instead of dealing with how she was feeling, she began downing shots with the group who'd asked for them.

When Derek returned with some Barbie doll he was using to make Penelope jealous, Emily groaned internally, wishing Morgan could see that things were easy for him while she was stuck in the friendzone….if she even qualified as Hotch's friend.

Next POV is Penelope! Hope you liked this one :)