Disclaimer: I own nothing.

I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. Hotch's POV is the one I am most nervous to write because characterizing him is slightly more difficult for me. I appreciate the reviews and reading very much!

Hotch was washing his hands at the sink in the kitchen, the sound of the Eagles blaring in his headphones. He wiped his hands with a clean dishtowel and went to look at what was going on in the bar. What he saw almost made him laugh. Up at the microphone was Derek, grinning shamelessly into the crowd. His lips were moving, but Hotch couldn't tell what he was saying because of his music. However when he caught sight of Penelope's fallen face and Derek's gaze at a very pretty woman at the sitting at the bar, he knew it had something to do with her.

Rolling his eyes, he went to the back and opened the door to step outside into the cool air. It was fall, so the air was cool and nippy. He looked up at starry sky and let out a deep breath, watching as his breath became visible in a puff. Leaning against the brick of the building, he unplugged his headphones so he could stare upwards in peace and quiet. He was excited for the night to be over so he could go and get a few hours sleep. Around noon he was getting to pick up Jack, and the two of them were going to spend the rest of the day together. He'd even gotten the night off from work so his son could stay the night with him.

As he was standing outside, he thought back to his conversation with Emily. She seemed so shocked that he had a son. It didn't surprise him. He didn't at all seem like the type to have a child. He was grim and stoic, something not usually found in a father according to some.

Despite his grim facade though, he'd cracked a smile.

A smile Emily liked.

Just the thought of her grinning at the fact he was smiling at her brought a smile to his face at that exact moment. A light flared up in her eyes when she told him to give out the smiles, not save them. That twinkle, that amusement of fun mischief made him warm and tingly in the gut. And Aaron Hotchner was not the type to get tingly all over. His ex-wife made sure to tell him that when they were going through their divorce.

When he saw Emily, he found it hard to believe anyone would be cruel to her. But she'd let slip about her ex-boyfriend, the boyfriend she was still legitimately afraid of. She didn't say it outright, but he knew the man she was talking about had been abusive. He didn't know whether it was physical, verbal, emotional, or a combination of the three; all he knew was it happened.

Her body language told him all he needed to know. When he read the look on her face, so full of anxious fear, he wanted to beat the living hell out of this Ian Doyle. How anyone could be cruel to someone as bright as Emily baffled him, and how someone as fearless as Emily could be frightened of someone was equally surprising. Whoever Doyle was, he must've been a mean son of a bitch to leave the brave Emily Prentiss shaking.

Sighing, he kicked a stone lying in front of him on the ground and reentered the bar. Running his hand through his hair, he went back to the window to gaze out over the bar. By now Derek's song was finished and he was taking a bow to the cheering and whistling intoxicated crowd. He sauntered back toward the bar and as soon as he reached it, the girl there threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Derek's eyes went wide with shock, and he was stiff in her grasp. When Hotch's eyes found Penelope, she looked like she was ready to cry.

Hotch felt bad for her. Penelope was kind, and she had a good heart. Hotch enjoyed her bubbly personality. She didn't deserve any heartache. However, Derek removed the other girl from clinging to him and followed Penelope as she hurried off down the hall to the bathroom.

The sight made Hotch roll his eyes, similar to the way Emily did when she saw the spectacle Morgan and Garcia made. They were lucky to be interested in one another, while Hotch was left in the dust with the woman he wanted to know so badly. The fact he was an intensely private person didn't do him any favors. Perhaps if he could open up more and loosen his tense muscles he could gain the confidence to ask the most interesting human being he'd met to have a beer with him.

XXXXX

After Derek and Penelope returned from the hallway that led to the bathrooms, Hotch sighed. He had no idea what conversation they'd had, but based on the expressions on their faces and the closeness of their bodies, he could only imagine the talk it went well. As soon as they returned to their respective jobs, Hotch leaned his elbows against the window that overlooked the bar.

Karaoke night had always been popular at the bar, but Hotch couldn't help but feel like this one was much more crowded than usual. The orders on food had all but stopped, but several people were gathering around the bar. Emily and Derek were both swamped with orders, coming from both people going directly to them and JJ and Penelope going to tables. Hotch was pleased that he was able to relax. He'd been slaving over the hot stove, and the steam had been getting to him.

Even though it might look strange to a bystander, Hotch found himself watching Emily. She moved with ease behind the bar, smiling and throwing her head back with laughter at something Penelope was telling her as she leaned in over the bar. She had a strong, resilient heart and a personality that drew people in. He could easily see himself falling for her. She was the one person he could see other than his son who could bring him out of his stoic shell.

Rubbing his face, Hotch started out of the kitchen and toward the restrooms. When he was done relieving himself, he stared in the mirror as he washed hands. Maybe tonight he would finally ask Emily to have a beer with him. It was certainly weighing on his mind, and after their brief yet telling conversation, it only made him more eager to try his luck. Sighing, he used the paper towels to dry his hands and basketball-tossed the balled up towel into the waste basket.

Maybe not tonight. He was nervous as hell just thinking about it. Wait for another night, he told himself. You'll ask at some point.

As he exited the bathroom into the long, dimly lit hallway that led back to the bar, Hotch heard the sounds of nervous laughter and protesting.

"Hank, you're wasted," a feminine voice was stating firmly. "Let go of me, and go find John. He'll drive you home."

"C'mon, dahling," the voice belonging to Hank slurred. "You're gorgeous, I'm gorgeous. Let's get it on. We all know Morgan and that waitress with the nice ass and tits that don't quit go at it somewhere in this building. Let's make it two of us."

Hotch hoped to God what Hank was saying about Morgan and Garcia wasn't true. He didn't think he would be able to touch any surface in the bar if that was the case.

The woman's voice had become hard and gritty. "Hank, let go. I'm serious."

Frowning, Hotch started for the back of the hall where he was hearing the voices. The woman's voice sounded very familiar. When he realized who the voice belonged to, he felt the blood drain from his face. Breaking into a run, he dashed to the back where there was a curtain to the staff room. In there he found Emily, backed up and looking annoyed by a drunk man who was drunkenly mouth breathing on her cheek.

Fury filled Hotch's chest, and his hands balled up into fists. "Hey!" he snapped, directing his glare toward Hank. "Back off!"

Hank stumbled around to see Hotch's thundercloud face. Giving him a slurred smile, the drunken man said, "Chicken wing man, me and this ravishing lady were having an important conversation. Would you be so kind as to butt the fuck out?"

An idea sparked in Hotch's mind, and he shook his head. "No," he growled, stepping forward with a hint of danger. "Get the hell away from my girl. She's taken, and I'm taken by her. We're each other's. So back the fuck up." He hoped his eyes portrayed exactly what he felt: pure and unadulterated rage.

Shocked, Emily stared at him, mouth agape and eyebrows almost at her hairline. Hotch winked at her, confident Hank's inebriated state would prevent him from seeing it. A small smile lit up Emily's face, and she nodded.

"Is that so?" Hank slurred. "I ain't never seen you two together."

"Just because you haven't seen us together doesn't mean we aren't," Hotch growled back.

Keeping Emily trapped against the wall, Hank glared at Hotch. "Fuck you, man."

"Hey!" Emily hissed. "Don't talk to him like that!" Before Hank could do anything, she lifted her hand and slammed her palm into his nose. With a yelp, the drunkard stumbled backwards, clutching his nose. Blood was trickling between his fingers, and he was groaning the whole time. Emily wasted no time in rushing to Hotch's side. To Hotch's great surprise (and delight) she grasped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Her mouth tasted of spearmint and faintly of the tequila she'd been drinking with the customers. She tasted wonderful, and he found himself wrapping his arms around her slender waist, holding her close to him.

"You okay, hon?" Hotch said, breaking the kiss momentarily, continuing to play the part he'd presented to both Hank and Emily.

With twinkling eyes, Emily gave him a genuine smile. Her fingers were curled into the fabric of his shirt, and she was remaining close to him, so close her breasts were brushing against his chest. She nodded. "Yeah, babe," she murmured, cupping his cheek in her hand. "I kicked his ass." She threw a glare over at the stumbling Hank as he cupped his nose and grumbled his way out of the staff room.

Even after Hank was gone, Hotch kept his arms around Emily, and she in turn kept her arms around him. Their eyes were locked together like a tight iron door, and he held his breath, eyes flicking to a few stray tendrils of her raven hair. She did a quick intake of breath, and for a moment he thought he saw a flicker of feeling for him. When she released him, he felt an ache spread through him. He didn't know why, but he wanted to keep her against him.

Well, he did know why.

"Quick thinking," she said, rubbing her forehead. She gave off a nervous laugh, sounding like a breathy twinkling bell. Rubbing the back of her neck, she added, "I appreciate it. It was a good act."

Clearing his throat, Hotch fought against the sad sensation that tickled its way through his gut. "Um," he said. He ran a hand through his dark hair. It wasn't an act, he wanted to add. However he bit his tongue and kept the words from coming out. Instead, he gave a nod. "Yeah, sure. Any…" He paused. "Any time."

They stood in an awkward silence, neither meeting the other's eyes. All they heard was the sound of the karaoke goers. Hotch could feel his heart pounding in his chest. When he didn't think things could get any more awkward, he attempted to speak.

"So, I was won —" Hotch started to ask.

"Would you like —" Emily tried.

They tried to speak simultaneously, and a rare smile cracked across his face once more. He chuckled and rubbed his forehead. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"There's another smile," she teased. "What have I done to get two in one night?" There was a jesting light in her eye. She wrung her hands together. "What were you going to say?"

He felt like a burning light was shining down on him now, putting him on the spot where he felt most uncomfortable. However, he managed to open his mouth and choke words out. "I was wondering," he began, "if you would like to get a beer after last call?"

"With you?" she asked, eyes going wide.

Swallowing hard, he nodded. "Yes…with me."

A timid smile — a smile that was so unlike her usual grin — spread across Emily's face. It was just as genuine as her sparkling one, but it gave her face a softer light. He could swear he saw a rosy color rise in her lily white cheeks. "Sure," she said, finding her voice.

Instead of the nervous feeling he'd felt moments ago, a warm simmering of confidence filled his gut. Toeing at the ground with his shoe, he asked, "What were you going to ask?"

She laughed. "Well, I was actually going to ask you the same thing," she said. "I was going to ask if you wanted to have a beer…with me."

"Oh!" he said, slightly louder than he meant to be. "Okay, then." Jerking his thumb in the direction of the hall, he added, "I'm going to, uh, head back to the kitchen. I doubt anyone is ordering food, so I'm gonna start cleaning up."

Emily nodded. "Sounds good," she said shyly. As Hotch turned to go, she spoke once more. "Hotch, wait!"

He turned around and noticed the hopeful glint in her eyes. "Yeah?"

Without a word, she stepped closer to him and grasped his hand. He was so startled by the unexpected contact with her that he didn't know what to say. Her free hand touched his cheek, and her eyelids lowered as she rose to her tiptoes to press her lips to his. It was the softest brushing he could imagine, and once more her taste enthralled him. He cupped the back of her neck and returned the kiss, unable to stop himself. When she broke the kiss once more, she smiled up at him, her eyelashes still touching her cheekbones.

"I'll see you after last call," she murmured, disappearing down the hall with a smile on her face.

XXXXX

"Two cold ones," Emily said, plopping the beers down in front of Hotch as she sat on one of the bar stools. She popped the top off both beers with the bottle opener and slid his toward him. Smiling, she lifted her bottle and waited for him to lift his to clink together.

Hotch nodded. "Cheers."

"Cheers," she said with a smile.

Both of them tilted their beers to their lips and sat in silence for a moment. The bar was still and silent now, vastly different from just an hour ago when it had been packed with people and karaoke music. Hotch felt the alcohol flow down his throat and savored the taste of it. He liked this particular beer Emily had picked out. It was a darker brew, and he enjoyed his beer better when there was no color filtering through the liquid.

When he glanced back up at Emily, his eyes fell on her lips. He remembered how she tasted from before, and he wanted to feel the same sensation rolling through him that had when their lips were touching. It felt more perfect than any feeling, save for maybe holding Jack for the first time. He hadn't known how to feel true joy before that, and he didn't think he ever would again. But kissing Emily, that had brought him a feeling of pure ecstasy that he didn't want to forget.

Clearing his throat, Hotch averted his eyes to look out at the bar. JJ had already left, she and Penelope having finished wiping tables and putting chairs on top of tables; Derek was currently walking out of the building. Penelope was nowhere to be found, and their boss was just sitting down at the bar, a cigar between his lips and a glass of amber scotch in his hand. Everyone was settling down for the evening, save for the janitor, Kevin Lynch, who was getting to work.

Part of him was convinced he was gazing around the bar at everyone else's activities because he was too nervous to actually speak with Emily, despite having asked to have a beer with her.

"Hotch?"

His head snapped back in Emily's direction, and his eyebrows raised. "Sorry," he said. "I'm…" His voice trailed off as he lost the words, along with his train of thought.

Seeing that he wasn't going to break his silence, she tilted her beer to her lips and took a quick swig before speaking. "I wanted to ask you something," she murmured, folding her hands in front of her on the table like she was getting ready to lay a proposition out. It made Hotch blink several times. He knew what she was going to ask — she was going to ask why he'd kissed her — but what he didn't know was how he would answer.

"Why did you kiss me?" she asked her eyes lifting to his as she searched his face. "You could have just pulled him off me, but you…instead you said you were my boyfriend, and you kissed me."

He gulped. "Well, I…I guess I…" he stammered. Taking a deep breath, he steadied his voice and decided to plunge in. He never truly spoke what he was feeling, but right now he needed to blurt it out. "I kissed you because I wanted to." She opened her mouth to try and speak, but he put his hands on top of hers. "I'm not very big on words, but I need to say this. I…I kissed you because I think you're amazing. I've always thought that. I'm just not talkative, so I've never said anything. And I see how you are with customers and other people, and I'm just not…fun."

After he finished speaking, he wasn't quite sure how his words would affect her. When he thought about it, they weren't exactly profound, moving words. This could possibly be the worst love confession to ever be spoken.

But just when he thought things were going to drop to the floor, Emily smiled. "I kissed you because I wanted to, too," she murmured. "I always thought you didn't like me, which is why I didn't tell you anything."

"That's not it at all," he assured her hastily.

"It sounds like we just had some miscommunication," she said, sipping her beer. "Some miscommunication that I would like to get around." She swallowed. "If you would like to, I mean." When a smile spread across his face, she grinned. "There's that smile again."

Hotch nodded. "You can have all the ones you want," he murmured, eliciting a laugh from both their lips.

I was really nervous to write Hotch's, so I hope it turned out okay.