He's seen it coming in the number of candles on the birthday cakes and the slow, steady appearance of posters on the bedroom walls, but Hotch finds himself feeling thoroughly unprepared for life with a teenage son.

He comes home after driving Jack to school, sits across the kitchen table from Emily, and she lowers the book she's been reading, one eyebrow raised. "Did he say anything in the car?"

"Nothing," Hotch replies, rubbing his temples, trying to ignore the increasingly amused expression on her face. "Well, no, he said 'thanks, love you, see you later'."

"That's sweet," Emily says, her smile softening. "He's still so sweet."

"Then he messed up his hair in the wing mirror before getting out of the car."

"Ooooooh," Emily breathes.

Hotch buries his head in his hands. "It's a crush."

"It is a crush." She gets up, stands behind him with her hands on his shoulders until he leans back into her. "Talk to him. He's only being so quiet because he feels awkward about it. It's embarrassing. Just show him it doesn't have to be."

Jack slides into the passenger seat, drops his backpack at his feet and clips his seatbelt on. "Hey," he mumbles, looking past Hotch toward the far end of the parking lot.

Hotch resists following his gaze – he starts driving, and spends the next ten minutes steeling himself to say something. "You know you can talk to me about it, if you want to," he says, eyes very much on the road.

Jack's quiet for a long time, so long Hotch thinks he's going to have to try to start the conversation all over again. Eventually, he sighs. "How'd you get Emily's attention when you had a – you know – when you liked her?"

Hotch glances over, surprised Jack has taken to the subject so easily, when he gave him an easy out to talk about something else. "I guess it was different for us. We just…" He thinks for a moment about a way to phrase the beginning of their relationship that's appropriate for his teenage son, and shakes his head. "When I was in school, it was your mom's attention I was trying to get."

He rolls to a stop at a red light and turns to Jack – he's looking back at him, those same big brown eyes full of questions he had as a little kid. "What was she like?"

"She…" It rolls over him in a wave, the guilt that his son will never really know Haley. Not like he should have – he has memories of a loving mother, but none of the woman Haley was. He swallows hard and turns back to the road.

"You don't have to -"

"She was beautiful," Hotch says, when he can trust his voice. "And funny. I didn't know her well, not at first, but every time I saw her, people were laughing around her. She was so… So happy. And smart, too. She worked hard and she was great at pretty much everything she ever did. She was out of my league."

"Apparently not," Jack says with a quiet smile, gesturing to himself with raised eyebrows. It occurs to Hotch for the first time that Jack might actually be thinking about having sex – he pushes that to the back of his mind to deal with another day. He smiles, and Jack continues, "How'd you get her to notice you?"

They're pulling up outside the house now – Hotch unbuckles his seatbelt, but doesn't get out of the car. He turns toward Jack, half smiling. "I auditioned for a play."

Jack chews on the smile forming on his lips, a gesture that is so Emily. "What was the play? Were you good?"

"The Pirates of Penzance. I was terrible. But she couldn't really fail to notice me… I think I still have the hat somewhere, actually."

Jack collapses forward with laughter, eventually looking up at Hotch and repeating, "The hat!" in a snigger.

Hotch smiles, eyebrows raised, waiting for Jack to compose himself before continuing. "Well, like you said. It obviously worked. I looked like an idiot. I kind of felt like an idiot. But it… It showed her I could do that, I guess. That I could have fun, and give something a try even if I wasn't great at it, and…" He shrugs. "I guess she liked that. I guess everybody likes that."

Jack nods, looking thoughtfully out of the windshield. "I never thought of you like that. As a kid… Being bad at something, even."

"I'm bad at plenty," Hotch replies. He spots Emily spying on them from the gap between the blinds, gives her a half wave: we're coming.

"The uh – the person I…" His cheeks flush and he shakes his head. "I've been thinking I might start learning guitar."

"I think that's a good idea."