A/N: I think this has been my favourite chapter to write so far! I have great plans for this story, so stick with me guys. And please don't forget to leave me a review. All your awesome feedback so far has been amazing so far!

Chapter Three

A few hours later Emily was pacing back and forth in her room, frustrated at how much of a shy, insecure girl that Hotch had turned her into. Nothing seemed right for this non-date and finally she just sighed and threw something on. She wasn't this type of girl who cared what she wore or what other people thought of her. It had never mattered to her before and she certainly wasn't going to start letting it matter to her now. Besides, her security agent wasn't going to be stuck in yet another suit and tie. The safest bet seemed to be jeans.

When he showed up at her door shortly after, she was pleasantly surprised to find him in a pair of faded blue jeans and grey long-sleeve shirt. The shirt clung in all the right places and she knew his butt probably looked fabulous in those pants. Instantly the butterflies started again in her stomach.

"Hey," She murmured, leaning on the door.

"Hello," He said back, as monotone and expressionless as always.

"Where are we going?"

"I figured you could decide. I'm not picky." Hotch offered. Emily closed the door behind her and the pair walked down the front walk to the car. He was close enough to make her tremble with excitement.

"I was thinking pasta." She suggested.

"Okay."

The car ride was awkward and for the most part silent. The dynamic was so different now that they were alone. He wasn't security and she wasn't the boss's daughter. She was just Emily and he was just Hotch and they were together. It wasn't often that she didn't have something to say, but Hotch did appear to have that affect on her. When they were finally in the restaurant she relaxed when he offered her a menu and struck up conversation.

"What are you going to have?" He asked, glancing over the list quickly before setting the menu back on the table.

"I think the seafood pasta." Emily replied slowly, frowning as she tried to make up her mind. "Or maybe the one with the spinach and chicken. Oh, I can't decide. What are you having?"

"The special." He told her.

"What was the special again?"

"I'm not sure, I didn't ask. I can't make up my mind either," He admitted, smirking at her. "Why don't you have the special and maybe it'll be good. Or it will be awful and I'll take you something for dessert after."

"I love dessert!" She exclaimed, grinning at him.

When the waiter arrived they both ordered the special and Hotch picked out a bottle of wine for them to share. She was mildly surprised at his choice, being somewhat of a wine connoisseur herself. Something had suggested to her that he was more of a beer man, but she should have known better.

"How was the rest of your day," Hotch asked.

"It was uneventful really. Alexander came home earlier than I had expected and told me Mother will be home in a few days. I'm not completely sure why she would send him home to be honest. He's always been the one she trusted most." Emily mused.

"Maybe she doesn't think one agent is enough to handle her daughter," Hotch suggested, swishing the wine around in his glass before taking a long drink.

"Excuse me? I would think if anyone's capable of handling me it would be you," The connotation in her voice was obvious but Hotch made no notice of acknowledging it.

"You know, I really don't feel like talking about work anymore." He replied.

"Then tell me about yourself. I feel like I barely know you."

"That's because you do barely know me," Hotch smiled. "What do you want to know?"

"Oh, I don't know. Tell me about why you're in security. Where did you go to school? What's the ultimate dream?" Emily asked.

"The ultimate dream? Working in the FBI. I haven't quite decided where yet but I know that national crime prevention is something I've always wanted to work in. Maybe terrorism or counterintelligence.

"Right now I'm working security now because it's the best option I have. And when the US Ambassador specifically requests you onto her detail you don't say no. It's interesting for now though. Not to mention your Mother will be a good contact to have in the future." He admitted.

"So you're just here to network before you go on to bigger and better things?" Emily asked, not surprised.

"I guess you could say that. What are you going to school for?"

"Criminology. I'm hoping to go into International crime prevention eventually. Growing up around the world I can't imagine not travelling constantly. And the languages will come in handy I'm sure."

"Languages?" Hotch asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I speak six languages." Emily explained, sipping from her wine. "They didn't tell you that when they were giving you your Emily Prentiss 101 lesson?"

Hotch looked impressed. "No, that never came up. Six? That's incredible. Which ones?"

"English, obviously. We were also in the Middle East for a few years and Arabic is probably my second best. Then I also speak Italian, Spanish, French and Russia although it's been a long time and I'm sure I'm rusty." Emily explained, flattered by how surprised Hotch was.

"I'm jealous," He replied, nodding in thanks to the waiter who had come to deliver their supper. "I speak English. Boring, plain old English."

"Maybe I can teach you some later." She suggested, smiling.

"Maybe you can."

Their supper was so delicious that Emily found little time to talk between bites. The special had turned out to be a cheese tortellini with a mushroom and pea white cream sauce. She thought it was absolutely fabulous, but it didn't escape her notice that Hotch only picked at his food. When she had finished he politely pushed his plate aside, only finishing half of it.

"I feel fat." She remarked, "I just ate that entire bowl and you look as if you barely touched it," She laughed, shaking her head.

"You are anything but fat." Hotch assured her. "You're gorgeous."

"Thanks," She flushed, awkwardly looking away from his piercing gaze. Sometimes it felt like he was staring right through her.

"So, uh, are you ever going to tell me your actual name?" Emily asked, changing the subject. Hotch laughed.

"It's Aaron," Hotch replied.

"Aaron. I like it." She said, trying his name out on her lips. "Aaron." He shot her a bemused look. The waiter returned and he signed for the cheque.

"Did you want to go somewhere for dessert?" He suggested, standing to leave.

"I don't know I'm pretty full…"

"Come on, Em, dessert is the best part!" He exclaimed, pulling her up out of her seat. Inside she was doing backflips. The way he touched her so freely, and even calling her Em, she was intoxicated with him. With Aaron.

Hotch didn't bother with the car, instead the pair just walked down the sidewalk to the ice cream shop down the street. "It's the best ice cream I've had," He promised her.

"Well let's go then!" She exclaimed, taking his hand and hauling him down the street. He laughed, deep and carefree. The sound was a rich, like dark chocolate, and Emily didn't think she'd ever get tired of hearing it.

When they reached the shop he didn't let go of her hand, slipping his fingers into hers and pulling her closer while they waited. Fighting the urge to rest her head on his shoulder, she ordered her ice cream and they waited patiently. The signals he was sending her were all over the map, but she wouldn't complain.

"Do you want to walk back?" Hotch asked. It was a beautiful, mild evening and she agreed, wandering back down the street to where they had left their vehicle.

"It's so beautiful out," She mused, sneaking her hand back into his. Hotch didn't move away, loosely holding her small hand in his while he licked at his ice cream cone.

The air was humid and cool, raising gooseflesh on her arm. It was late enough now that the stars began to peek through the clouds and the streetlights had come on. This was almost like walking through a romantic novel, Emily mused to herself.

"It is," He agreed.
"I enjoyed our date," Emily told him.

"It isn't a date."

"Are you sure? There are lots of perks to calling it an official date," She teased, tugging at her hand. Hotch refused to let go, instead pulling her closer.

"Such as?"

"Well there's hand holding," She squeezed his fingers, "And there's ice cream sharing," She offered up her ice cream which he gratefully sampled, "And there's kissing."

"Is there?" Hotch asked. It was torture, the way he was toying with her.

"But I guess this isn't a date," She sighed, "It's just you, taking pity on the poor lonely girl. I really should just be grateful to even have one friend in this lonely world."

Hotch laughed, "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

They had arrived at the car and Hotch was fishing for his keys. "I know," She replied as the car clicked open.

"So you're sure this isn't a date?" She asked.

"No,"

"Because it would be a very good time to kiss me."

"It's not a date,"

"Okay," She pouted, reaching for the door, "If you're sure."

"Damnit," He muttered, "Why are you so frustrating?" Hotch stepped towards her and glanced down at her mouth. A breath caught in her throat, her hand still on the door when he leaned in and pushed it shut behind her. Just an inch away, his mouth hovered over hers. The deliciously tempting moment of suspense before his lips pressed down on hers drove her wild.

Then, finally, her rigid and serious security agent bent his head and kissed her.

His mouth was just as she had imagined it would be. Soft and sweet but demanding on hers. One of his hands curled around the side of her face, drawing her closer. Running a hand up his arm she sighed into his mouth, pressing her body up against his.

Then the kiss turned rough and Hotch pushed her back against the car, gripping her hip. Emily gasped and instantly responded, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. Their lips met again and again, tongues dancing until she could barely breathe with wanting him.

Without warning, Hotch pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, panting.

"Not a date," He murmured, kissing her lips gently again. Then he pulled away, opened her door and closed it behind her. Emily sat there, beaming and dumbfounded. When he got into the car next to her she leaned over the console and surprised him with a soft, sweet kiss.

"You're right. Not a date at all."

Hotch's face dimpled into a smile as he reached over and took one of her hands. It was the best non-date she could have imagined.