Notes: So, Nicole (Nicole Berman, id: 444609) and I write fic for fun, just stuff that generally doesn't see the light of day, and we wrote out Emily's arrival at the BAU as shown in the show, with a few minor changes, for one such fic. She was epic awesome and let me use that so I didn't have to write the whole dang thing out again. So aside from returning a few lines to their original wording on the show, and a couple other small tweaks, all of Hotch in that scene was written by her. Isn't she awesome? Yes, yes she is.

Bracing her box of paperwork and personal items on the doorframe, Emily quickly knocked on the door in front of her, her stomach twisting anxiously.

"Come in," Hotch called, never lifting his eyes from the report in front of him.

Taking a quick breath, Emily twisted the door handle, grabbing the box again and stepping into the office. "Hi," she greeted, laughing nervously.

Hotch's eyes flicked over Emily's face as he set his pen down. "Hi," he reciprocated, wondering why he found the brunette so familiar.

She enters the office he'd been given to use, her eyes are anxious but her smile is soft as she greets him. His stomach flutters and he refuses to acknowledge why. When her mother had mentioned she had a daughter going to Yale, he'd expected a woman little more than a girl, not this. Not a quietly confidant woman his own age, sparking with intelligence and subtle rebellion, wrapped with curves that made his fingers twitch.

"Agent Hotchner?" Emily asked, immediately kicking herself. The man was sitting behind the desk in the office clearly labeled as Aaron Hotchner's.

"Yes." He stood up, mentally preparing himself for a fight of some sort. Although the young woman didn't seem the argumentative type, what with the nervous laughter and taking a year to introduce herself, uninvited visitors usually meant trouble in the BAU.

Emily set the box down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. "Uh, I'm," another nervous laugh broke through, "Agent Emily Prentiss." She held out her hand.

She leans a hip against the edge of the desk and he looks up at her. Her eyes are sparkling and her lips shine in the dim light, that just-licked look. He's already noticed it to be a habit of hers. He asks "Can I help you, Miss Prentiss?" and those lips curve into a grin. He swallows at the intent in her eyes.

And? Hotch prompted mentally, shaking her hand. "How do you do." All of a sudden, the name clicked, and the familiarity made sense. "Oh! You're Ambassador Prentiss's daughter."

Emily nodded, her smile turning a little stiff, a little awkward.

"I did security clearances for your mother's staff-it was one of my first commands. I believe you were off to...Brown," he guessed, "at the time."

Emily tilted her head, making a sweeping motion with one hand and corrected, "Actually it was Yale."

"Ah." Hotch nodded, still sizing her up.

He's not sure what made him take her into his arms. He has a wife at home. He knows if he said no, she would smile, shrug a shoulder and leave. He doesn't want that. Their lips meet, and he's fairly certain he initiated it.

"I've been in the Bureau for almost ten years now," Emily blurted out, a reflex against the awkward air of the office.

"Don't tell me that," Hotch replied, feeling every single one of his 40 years. "Has it been that long?"

Emily chuckled a little. "Apparently, sir. I worked mostly in the Midwest. St. Louis, Chicago..." her head bobbed in a drawn-out nod.

She's even more beautiful naked than she is clothed, and that's saying something. She'd caught his eye from the beginning. He worships the curves he'd been aching to touch, and she's so responsive it almost throws him off his game. His wife is never like this. But then, the woman in his arms now is so different from Haley it isn't even funny. Haley is safe. Secure. Comfortable. This woman... this woman is fire. Dangerous, mesmerizing. Deadly. And he craves more.

And now she was in his office. The unanswered question still hung in the air: why? "Uh...your parents well?" he asked, easing the conversation back to familiar ground.

"Yeah, yeah, they're great," she answered, voice a little softer as she nodding, smiling.

"Excellent." An awkward silence ensued, until Hotch prompted, "What can I do for you?"

Emily blinked, a little confused by his question. "Uh, well, I-I guess I was hoping you could tell me where to put my stuff."

He lays her on the floor, looming over her, and she grins at him, soft and sexy, before flipping them over. She winks as she uses her hands to pin his shoulders, not restraining him at all, but he lets her pretend. And then she's sinking down on him, and her head is thrown back, and his thoughts are scattering at her tight heat.


Aw crap. Emily's nervous stutter persisted as she explained, "I-I'm supposed to start here," she reached into the box she'd brought in with her, grabbing the file at the top, "today, heh, at the BAU."

His thoughts ran wild as Hotch attempted to corral them. She was a spy. No, she was a saboteur. At the very least, she was an amateur, something he had no need of at the moment-or ever. "There's been a mistake." He stared down at the paperwork she handed him, and swore mentally.

"I don't think so, sir," Emily said, hoping that Hotch's reputation was a total lie and he was just messing with her.

"There's definitely been a mistake," Hotch reiterated, still staring at the documents. Who had authorized this? The BAU was his unit. Goddamn brass. A knock on the open door made them both look up, and JJ peeked in, saying, "Oh, 'scuse me. We're getting started." Hotch thanked her, adding, "I'll be right there."

Taking in the worry on Emily's face, Hotch tried to sound gentle but firm as he told her, "I didn't approve this transfer, Agent Prentiss. I'm sorry for the confusion, but you've been misinformed." He rounded the desk and handed her paperwork back. "Excuse me. Uh, it's very good to see you again," he added as he strode out of his office.

Five o'clock in the morning and she rests in his arms. He brushes strands of her hair off her forehead, brushes his lips against the same place, and murmurs, "This was a mistake." She tilts her head up, smiles at him in a soft mixture of understanding and resignation. "I know."

Emily shoved the file into the box, grabbed it and hurried after Hotch, stopping in the doorway of his office and watching as he walked away, meeting up with another agent.

Hotch gave Gideon a nod as they met in the hallway. "Did you approve a new transfer?"

Gideon looked toward Hotch's office and the young brunette staring hopefully at them from the door. He looked back at Hotch. "No, I would've discussed it with you."

He watches her dress, and she returns the favor. She kisses the corner of his mouth, and he gives her a small, guilty smile. She laughs at him, a little, tells him not to worry about it. To forget about her, about this night. She winks at him over her shoulder as she leaves the office. He doesn't see her again during the rest of his assignment.

"Well, she's got the paperwork to join the team." Hotch was torn between wanting to save Emily, because she looked like the hopeful doe peering at him from the other side of his truck's headlights, and wanting her gone immediately, if not sooner.

Gideon sighed as they headed toward the conference room. "Want me to make a call?" he offered.

"No, I'll look into it." After all, he was the one with a connection to Emily Prentiss, albeit a tenuous one. She was his responsibility.

It's unfortunate that, standing outside the door to the office he'd been given to use, she doesn't have the courage to step inside. She knows she wants him; she thinks he wants her. But instead of entering the dimly lit office, she turns away, going back to her room and wondering what it would be like if she had just a little more confidence.