Author's Note: This is later the same night of the Target trip. And see if you can guess what they're discussing, before Hotch explains what they're discussing :)

And I totally forgot to send a "hey, everybody!" out on the last chapter. See, the stories aren't orphans! I really do intend to finish them all eventually! We're just all going to be a LOT older and greyer by the time they're all done :-)

Early January: Saturday Night

Defensive Maneuvers & Earning Your Smoking Jacket

Hotch sighed as he bent his arm to prop his head up on the pillow. Then he looked over at Emily lying next to him in bed.

"Emily," his brow wrinkled unpleasantly as he shook his head, "I really don't want to."

How was it possible that great sex was now taking such an unwelcome turn?

"Come on Aaron, pleeease . . ." Emily whined, as she sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest.

"No, sweetheart," Hotch came back again, "I just don't . . ."

But the second denial of his girlfriend's request was cut off by her pouty, "for me," which she punctuated by dropping the sheet down to her waist.

Now he was trying to say no to the pout, the eyes, and . . . his own eyes dropped and locked . . . those fabulous breasts.

Damn it.

"All right," he sighed again as his gaze snapped back up to hers, "I'll do it."

"YAY!" Emily clapped as she leaned down to smack a sloppy kiss on him, "you're the best."

Boobs worked every time!

But of course the drawback of the boob misdirection . . . especially as she had just leaned back in . . . was that he was now trying to use them against her.

Those wonderful fingers were setting up camp again.

"Uh uh," she brushed them away while chastising, "play first and then," she smirked as his hand moved down to her thigh, "well, I guess play again later. So," she moved the wayward fingers back to their owner as she inched back slightly to sit cross legged next to him, "stop trying to distract me. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can get back to that."

Thank God she'd taken that nap, because there had definitely been much 'clarinet playing' that evening. But now . . . she flashed Hotch a quick grin which he returned with an amused eye roll . . . it was time for a new activity. Well, an old activity really. One that went back to the earliest days of their relationship.

And that was . . . she squeezed his hand . . . Hotch trivia!

YAY!

"Okay," she curled her fingers back as she straightened up and wiped the smile off her face.

Time to be serious.

"First one," she raised her eyebrow," The Sure Thing or Better Off Dead?"

Starting off with a meatball. And sure enough, Hotch immediately shot back without hesitation.

"Sure Thing."

She nodded in approval.

"I concur. All right, Stand By Me or Sixteen Candles?"

"Stand By Me."

"Again, I concur. LOVE that movie. Kiefer Sutherland, though evil, was gorgeous."

Ignoring the look she got for that . . . eh, Hotch's ego could take it . . . Emily scrubbed her hand across her chin.

"Next one . . . next one . . ." her brow furrowed, "God, how is it so hard to think of, OH!" a good one popped into her head, "I know! The Grifters or Bob Roberts?"

"Hmm," Hotch bit the inside of his cheek, "that's kind of a toss-up, but I think I'm going to have to go with The Grifters."

"Yeah," his girlfriend nodded back, "that was technically a trick question. There was no wrong answer."

One side of Hotch's mouth quirked up . . . only in Emily's mind could there be a 'wrong answer' to any of these questions. But of course in her mind there was always a right or wrong answer.

He'd learned that last summer.

Which was why . . . he bit back a sigh as she started wracking her brain again . . . he still couldn't believe that he'd gotten himself into this situation tonight. Not that he didn't enjoy her little trivia games, he did. But not when they were both naked.

When they were NAKED there were much better games to be played!

But ten minutes ago . . . shortly after they'd finished making love . . . Emily had started talking about a John Cusack movie coming out on video that she wanted to see. Then one thing led to another . . . as Emily would say, "yada yada" . . . and somehow HE had made the ridiculous mistake of letting it slip that he'd seen every movie John Cusack had ever made.

Damn post coitus idiocy.

Of course Emily's face had lit up like it was Christmas morning again . . . this was new trivia and God did she LOVE trivia . . . so two seconds later she was begging him to play what she'd immediately dubbed, "John Cusack: The Home Game."

As they both knew he would . . . he had resisted. But as they also both knew he would, he'd caved within minutes. His resistance was always futile. Really he was a goner long before she'd pouted and dropped the sheet. The bottom-line was, she was excited about something, and there was no way that he could disappoint her when she was excited about anything.

Hmm . . . he thought back to the afternoon with his son at Target . . . his Pavlovian response to Emily seemed to be a bit echoey of her Pavlovian response to Jack.

Neither could tolerate there being even a moment's unhappiness for the other person.

And although Hotch knew that was something he might need to give some further introspection at a later date, given Emily's current health concerns, he dismissed it outright for the foreseeable future. Because right now basically whatever she wanted . . . his eyes crinkled slightly as he refocused on her pretty face . . . if it was within his power to give it to her, she was getting it.

And he was okay with that.

"Grosse Pointe Blank or Con Air?"

It took him a split second to realize that she'd come up with another one, but it was a no brainer so he was still able to bounce back immediately.

"Grosse Pointe Blank."

Hands down, no contest. However . . . a thought occurred to him and he raised his arm slightly to point at Emily.

"Though it is cinematically inferior to Grosse Pointe Blank, did you know that in fact, Con Air also stars Nicolas Cage?"

Cusack and Cage, that was a one two punch right there!

Not one to allow any of her games to be usurped by another . . . even if the other was the gorgeously naked man in front of her . . . Emily nodded as she flapped her hand dismissively.

"Yes, yes, I know, Nicolas Cage. The greatest living actor of our generation."

Seeing the immediate darkening of Hotch's brow . . . Cage was always a topic of some sensitivity . . . Emily realized that she might have been a little too dismissive. After all just because Hotch was well, The Terminator, he was still entitled to have the same (goofy) obsessions and idol crushes as the next person. So she quickly made amends with a pout.

"I'm sorry, honey," she said contritely as she leaned over to rub his chest, "I didn't mean to be rude. You know that I love Cage in Raising Arizona, but he's just not the topic for tonight." Then she smiled brightly, "we can do him next time!"

Hotch rolled his eyes at the offer . . . as though this game would become a regular bedtime occurrence.

He'd rather have Garcia pick out his outfits for a week.

Still though . . . he bit back a sigh . . . she was trying to make amends for her totally uncalled for Cage shot, so he tipped his head.

Apology accepted.

Seeing that Hotch's feathers/eyebrow had been properly smoothed out, Emily shifted gears back to her own game. And as she focused in on the answer to his last question, she became very excited.

"Grosse Pointe Blank is on my top ten list! Remember the kickboxing? I love kickboxing," she shot him a saucy wink, "it's very hot."

Hotch raised an eyebrow . . . of course Emily was aware that he held multiple belts in this defensive art.

"So now it comes out," he shook his head in exasperation as he reached over to grasp her hip, "you only fell in love with me for my kickboxing."

"It's true," Emily responded with a sad face as she pushed Hotch over and onto his back again, "I'm sorry that you had to find out this way."

Yes, there were about ten million more films in the John Cusack collection, but as Hotch pulled her down to straddle his chest, she decided that those films could be tabled for "Cusack, Round 2."

After all, she didn't take that nap just to chit chat all evening!

Hotch's brow quirked up in amusement as his right hand began stroking along Emily's bare thigh.

"So, Agent Prentiss," his lips twitched, "now that we've established you only fell in love me because of my ability to break a man's face with my foot," his hand slid a little further up the inside of her leg, "are there any particular reasons why you stay with me?"

See, now this was a MUCH better game to play!

Emily smiled smugly as she leaned over to trace the muscles on Hotch's chest. "I can think of a few reasons."

"Such as?" He asked with a quirk of his brow.

Emily tipped her head to look up at the ceiling.

"Oh geez, Aaron," her hair fell back as she gave an exaggerated sigh, "I'd really have to think about it."

Seeing the obvious challenge being presented to him . . . Emily's version of 'prove yourself big man' . . . Hotch continued his gentle activities on the right side of her body, as his other hand swiftly moved up for a sneak attack from the left.

"Like that for instance?" He asked with a smirk.

Emily's eyes twinkled as Hotch's skilled fingers settled into their now well practiced routine.

He knew exactly what she liked.

Still though . . . her head tilted slightly as she pretended to give his question a bit of thought . . . best not to give in too quickly.

God forbid he thinks he's won a game this early on!

"Nooo," her brow furrowed slightly, "not that. That engenders more a sense of 'companionship and cordiality'."

Hotch snorted . . . companionship and cordiality his ass. Still though . . . he flicked his right wrist ever so slightly . . . he was playing to win here.

"How about that?"

She loved that! He KNEW that she loved that! And even now he could see her breath hitch for just a second before she got it under control again. Then she tipped her head to give him a sweet smile.

"That's very nice, but still no," she shook her head slowly, "it's not one of the reasons I stay with you."

Hotch narrowed his gaze . . . her control was impressive this evening. Usually either one of those moves would have immediately declared him the winner in this little skirmish.

But . . . he shifted her body slightly . . . he always had the ace. And the ace never failed. So he slid the hand still resting on her left thigh down and over her curves, dipping to a spot a few millimeters south of that tiny little mole that was now his alone to see.

And as his fingers went to work, Emily's teeth sunk into her lip and her eyes fell shut.

"Good job Sherlock," she gasped, "you finally got one."

He smirked . . . and the ace wins again. And once he'd given the ace another few victory laps around the winner's circle . . . and Emily had caught her breath . . . he flipped them over so she was lying beneath him. As she started to giggle, he waggled his eyebrows.

"Time for round two!"

A/N: Lightning Round, the NC-17 version :) Though that was really more of a PG-13 scene. And keep in mind that I originally wrote this chapter/story LONG before I wrote any of the actual Lightning Round scenes in Girl, so basically this bit of their back and forth exchange was the trailblazer in that medium of their banter.

From the original Hours posting, and it amused me so I'm leaving it here, "reviews, though not as fine as John Cusack or Thomas Gibson, are still very fine things :)"