A/N: This is for romiross, who wrote review #200 for Someone to Save You. She wanted to read about Hotch's reaction to Morgan's over-protectiveness of Emily, and what Hotch would do to "claim his soon-to-be girl." :)

Hotch thought he had been doing the right thing. Pairing Emily with anyone but himself helped keep his mind clear, ready for the applicable task at hand. Helped was the key word. It didn't always work. For instance, this morning, she had brushed her hand against his shoulder as she squeezed by him in the roundtable room to find a seat. And now, even though he hadn't talked to her all day, she was still running through his mind.

To his surprise, his thoughts stayed pretty innocent during the day. He'd never been able to hide the maturity level of his thoughts very well, so for years he'd learned to keep sex off the brain unless he knew he'd be sitting behind a desk until he could get rid of any hard evidence.

Often times he thought of something Emily had said to him over two years ago. That he wasn't alone. As much as she maybe feared that he might have forgotten those words, that moment, he never had. A month before that, the blurry vision of her sitting at his bedside after he'd woken up at the hospital had solidified in his mind the fact that they were—or were meant to be—something more than coworkers.

Lately, with all that they had been through, and with time simply running its course, that "something more than coworkers" had morphed into "something more than friends." But with Strauss looming over his shoulder, he couldn't risk an intraoffice affair. Hence sending Emily off with someone else more often than he normally did. That someone else was Morgan more often than not, as Hotch felt they worked well together. He couldn't cut off interactions between himself and Emily completely, as, firstly, that would be too suspicious, and secondly, he and Emily worked impeccably together. Even better than she worked with Morgan. To rob the team of the ability to hunt down criminals just because Hotch couldn't control his one-track mind wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to victims, either. So he had needed to find a balance.

He'd thought he'd struck it.

That was until, about three months ago, when, after a long case during which Morgan and Prentiss had been paired up quite frequently, Hotch noticed Morgan board the jet, then saw Emily sit as far away from him as possible. It hadn't just been by coincidence. There was an open leather seat, a favorite of Emily's, right by where Morgan had taken up residence. She had taken a cramped corner seat on the other end of the jet instead. That seat happened to be right by Hotch.

"You all right?" Hotch had asked.

"Fine," she had sighed, offering a short smile, then looking back down into her lap, where she dug through her go bag for a book to read.

This hadn't happened again, even though Emily and Morgan and worked together since. Truth be told, it had almost escaped Hotch's memory entirely. That was until this morning, when he'd been making his way along the catwalk and overheard a heated argument between Emily and Morgan, in the latter's office behind a closed door, that he couldn't exactly ignore. He'd convinced himself it was his responsibility, as their leader, to be aware of any conflicts within the team. He was the king of justifying inappropriate behavior.

"I'm sick of this," Emily had fumed.

"I was only doing what I thought was necessary, Prentiss," Morgan had said back more calmly.

"Just because I have tits and an ass doesn't mean I can't handle myself in the field. I went through Academy training just like you, and I was at the top of my class."

"And you had a guy twice your size yellin' in your face, Prentiss! The guy was bad news, and you know it."

"He was bad news because you decided he was bad news. Yes, he was angry, but he was posing no threat to me whatsoever. Rossi's big. You're big. Hotch is big. Does that mean I should be scared of you three, too, just because you're men and you're big?"

Hotch had paused outside his own office door, just close enough to hear the conversation. He'd opened up a case file he'd been carrying and leaned against the wall, pretending to be too lost in thought to make the one step further to his office door. To his knowledge, none of his team members were down in the bullpen. The fight was loud enough to draw an occasional glance from someone from another unit, but that was it.

"Prentiss, you know that's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean, Morgan? Enough of your sexist heroic bullshit! I'm done with it! This isn't the first time and you know it. If you want to coddle Garcia or JJ, that's up to them. But I'm done being treated like a little girl. I have more balls than you'll ever have."

Hotch's reaction time was good—good enough to get him to his office door before Morgan's office door had opened and Emily had strode briskly down the catwalk and to the stairs outside of Hotch's office.

He had spent the rest of the day wishing he'd get a chance to broach the subject with one or both of them without revealing that he had eavesdropped, but such a convenient chance never came.

"Come in," he said when a knock sounded on his door frame later that day. He didn't even have to look up from his work. Each of his team members had a different style knock. This was Morgan's.

"Hey," he said when he approached Hotch's desk.

"What's up?" Hotch asked offhandedly, hoping he didn't sound too eager to talk to Morgan.

"Can I shut the door?" Morgan asked, on second thought.

"Of course." Hotch put his work to the side and sat up straight. Morgan crossed the office to shut the door, then came back and sat in one of Hotch's visitors' chairs.

"I have to bring something to your attention before you hear it from someone else."

Hotch tilted his head and squinted. "I'm listening."

Morgan dragged a hand down his face and muttered something about sexual harassment.

"Come again?"

"Prentiss threatened to file a sexual harassment complaint against me."

Hotch immediately wondered if the conversation between Morgan and Emily had continued, or if there was more that had happened before their argument that he didn't know about. "Do you know why she would do that?"

Morgan shrugged. "Apparently I embarrassed her on our last case when I intervened when she was interviewing someone on our list."

"You two weren't even interviewing suspects," Hotch said. "You were just questioning those close to the victims. Prentiss shouldn't have been in any danger."

"I know, Hotch. But you should've seen the guy. He could have crushed her with his bare hands."

"So could most of the unsubs she's dealt with, Morgan, much less mere persons of interest. She's proven herself many times. We've all gotten hurt on the job, regardless of our size or sex. You know this."

"Still, I don't get why she's so worked up, Hotch. It's just reflex for me to be protective like that."

"Well, Morgan, to her, it isn't seen as being protective. She obviously feels emasculated." He had to confess. "I…overheard your conversation this morning. And if this has been a pattern…"

"She's being Prentiss, Hotch. She's over-analyzing it and slapping a label on it that doesn't belong there. She wants to be pissed at me so she's making up reasons. Even when I tried to apologize, she threatened me with the sexual harassment thing. She just wants to be angry."

"How do you feel when I have to pull rank on you?" Hotch asked pedagogically, clasping his hands in front of him.

"Not the greatest."

"What you do to Emily when you intervene like that is having a similar effect. You're of equal status on this team, and you're of equal ability, but you're effectually pulling rank on her, telling her she doesn't have the power in the situation, telling her that you know better or you can do better. I'm not saying that's your intention. Clearly it's not. But Emily isn't like many women. Just keep that in mind."

"And what advice do you have for fighting a sexual harassment claim?" Morgan asked impatiently.

A grin popped up only in Hotch's eyes. "She doesn't have grounds for a sexual harassment complaint. She could file one, but honestly, whether it would go through isn't important. She won't do it anyway."

"Then why would she say she would?"

"To scare you into behaving. So behave. And Morgan," Hotch said when Morgan stood, "if I hear whisperings of this sort of thing happening again, things won't be pretty for you. You need to give her the respect she deserves. Up until today's argument, she's shown you nothing but respect as far as I know."

Morgan sighed and left without another word. Hotch sent Emily a text message asking her to come and see him at her earliest convenience. She looked peeved when she entered his office a minute later.

"Door, please." Hotch gestured for Emily to close it.

"I know what this is about," Emily said when she sat across from Hotch. On top of looking annoyed, she looked somewhat ashamed as well.

"If it looks like I think this is funny, then I have to go on the record as saying it's absolutely not funny. You can't go making empty threats of sexual harassment complaints against Morgan when you're angry at him."

Emily's expression changed to slightly self-satisfied. "You do sound like you think it's funny."

"Like I said. Not funny."

Emily's smile faded. "I didn't intend for it to be funny. I really just wanted to impress some things upon him. I saw he was up here talking to you earlier. I take it he told you what happened?"

"He said he intervened on the last case because a man you were interviewing was physically intimidating."

"Only because he was big and angry. He never actually threatened me. Never so much as leaned toward me or raised his voice. And this isn't the first time, Hotch. It's been going on for months," Emily said.

"I gathered," Hotch said, holding up a pacifying hand. "I told Morgan he needs to stop treating you like that. I told him you're not like most women."

Emily's thin eyebrows rose up her forehead. "I'm not?"

"You know you're not. You don't need me to tell you that. You don't need anyone to tell you that. Actually, the fact that you don't need approval from others is one of those things that sets you apart."

"Oh, please. I was practically on my hands and knees begging for approval from all of you when I started here."

"When you started," Hotch said with a shrug. "That was five years ago. You've grown."

The smile he loved—the smile he daydreamed about far too often when he deemed his location inappropriate to daydream about more adult things—spread across her face. "Thanks," she said.

"Of course. If I were you I'd be expecting an apology from Morgan soon. Just know that he means well. You know he's a good guy."

"I know, but it grinds my gears when he won't listen to me telling him it's not okay."

"You need to relax."

"I'm perfectly relaxed."

"Your knuckles are white," Hotch said, nodding toward Emily's hands, which had a death grip on the arms of her chair. She let go.

Hotch licked his lips and spoke without thinking things through, which was one of his specialties when he was emotionally invested in a conversation. He glanced at his watch. Quitting time was an hour ago. "I'll only ask you this once, because if you say no and I ask again, then you could really file a complaint against me if you wanted, but can I buy you a drink?"

"A drink?"

"A drink," Hotch repeated.

"Just…as friends, right?" Emily asked.

Hotch had the feeling she might not have asked for clarification had he not mentioned sexual harassment. He had a chance to backpedal. He could say yes, that the drink would be from a friend to a friend, and enjoy an evening out with Emily, and have that be it; or he could say no, and open windows of opportunity. Maybe he could have what he wanted. Emily valued her career, possibly more than anyone on the team besides himself. If she were to accept his offer, it would mean she was willing to take the plunge with him, to forget about what Strauss and the others thought. She wouldn't date a coworker in secret. She was far too passionate a person for that. If he turned the offer beyond friendly and she accepted, he knew he was in.

"Just as friends?" Emily repeated with even more uncertainty this time.

"No."

"Good. You have balls."

"Excuse me?"

"Uh, figuratively. Well, literally, too, I'm assuming. Okay, you know what? I'm going to shut up now. Yeah, a drink sounds great."

The End

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review. They make this author very happy.