Author's Note: Just thought I'd give you all a little Hotch/Emily drabble. Please let me know what you thought. As ever, I own nothing.

Fast Food Confessions

He could only stare at her, wide eyed, in horrified astonishment. It couldn't be. Not the ridiculously fastidious Emily Prentiss. Cool, composed, neat...elegant to a fault. And yet, here, in the only greasy spoon diner they'd found open at the witching hour, she sat, ketchup dripping down her chin as she bit into a cheeseburger almost as big as she was.

Perhaps he was hallucinating from the recent sleep deprivation from the case. Perhaps he was in the middle of a nightmare from which he would awaken, the world returned to its normal axis and all things as they should be. Perhaps. But he doubted it. This was actually happening.

Watching in stunned amazement as she inhaled the messy sandwich, he could only prop his hand on his chin and continue staring as she attacked the huge mound of salty fries next, dipping each one in some hideous ketchup and vinegar mixture she'd concocted on the plate where her previous burger had resided.

"How can you eat like this?" Hotch finally asked in sheer disbelief as she devoured the last crinkly French fry, automatically pulling her saucer of chocolate creme pie toward her next.

"Huh?" Emily grunted, not pausing as she reached for her fork, stabbing with relish at the at the barely browned meringue topping. Raising her gleaming eyes, she smiled, head tilted as she slipped a hefty bite of the chocolaty goodness on her tongue. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

Looking from his half eaten pathetic looking salad to her demolished plate to the pie saucer in front of her, he shook his head. There were no words suitable to even question what he'd just seen.

Seeing his amazed face, Emily grinned ruefully, shrugging her shoulders as she rested her elbows on the fake wood table. "I don't usually eat like this."

"I know," Hotch nodded in agreement. "Why do you think I'm stupified over here?"

"Well, believe it or not, you've just witnessed a huge insight into my psyche," she murmured, shoveling another forkful of the creamy chocolate pie between her lips.

Watching as the bite slowly disappeared between her pink lips, Hotch suppressed a grin. "This, I've got to hear."

Pointing her bent silver fork at him, Emily narrowed her dark eyes. "This falls under the seal of friendship confessions. It can not be used against me at a future date. Understood?"

Unable to bite back his chuckle, Hotch laughed softly as he inclined his head. "Understood, Prentiss."

Cocking her head to the side as she raked the fork over the half-empty plate, capturing a bite of pie filling that had tried to escape, she said, "We all have our coping mechanisms. After a difficult case, you know. For Rossi, it's that bottle of scotch he keeps in the bottom drawer of his desk. For JJ, it's going home and holding her son. For Morgan, it's his IPod until he can find the nearest willing woman. Reid goes to a meeting. Garcia plays those God awful online games. And you bury yourself in the next file on your desk."

"And you?" Hotch prodded, arching a black brow as he watched her fork the last bite of pie into her mouth, the fork clattering down with finality against the restaurant grade plate.

"I," she said slowly, running her index finger around the saucer, catching the crumbs against her moist finger, "find the most convenient restaurant and order the unhealthiest meal I can find and proceed to make a glutton of myself." Popping her finger in her mouth, she moaned as she swallowed the last of her decadent meal. Slowly opening her eyes, she silently noted Hotch's flushed cheeks and flashing eyes.

"It works for you," Hotch said with approval. Staring across the table at the obviously satiated woman facing him, he said quietly, "That may be the first time you've ever voluntarily confided something personal to me."

"Stick around, Hotchner. I'm full of surprises," Emily promised, winking at him as she motioned for their waitress. Grinning widely, she asked softly, "Tell me, Aaron. Have you ever shared a banana split?"

"I'm not sure I want to risk touching any food that you might have claimed as your own," Hotch grinned back, letting his eyes linger on her beautiful lips. "Especially tonight."

"I promise not to bite," Emily swore with a hand raised in the air as the waitress approached their table. Under her breath, she added, the grin returning, "This time."

FINIS