A/N: I have absolutely no idea where the idea for this one came from. But it's my last day of vacation before class tomorrow, so I thought that now would be as good a time as any. Plus, all you guys were absolutely amazing at reviewing "Feel"; you caught me completely by surprise. So, here's a little fun fic. As always, please leave me your comments at the end! They always make my day.

Disclaimer: Never has and never will belong to me. Darn it.

Jennifer "JJ" Jareau glanced at her watch impatiently and blew out a breath. It was the first real break the BAU team had had for months, and the entire team had planned to meet at a bar in DC for a night of drinking and dancing.

At least, everyone except them. Emily Prentiss obviously had other ideas, because she was taking a ridiculous amount of time to get ready. Who knew that the normally prompt, always prepared woman would be such a girly-girl?

"Emily, we're gonna be late!" she shouted up the stairs from her position on Emily Prentiss's couch.

"I'm coming!"

"You said that twenty minutes ago!" The diminutive blonde shook her head and stood up with a sigh and a groan. Once again, she silently cursed Will for her pregnancy. "I'm coming up!" she shouted as she crossed the living room to the stairs.

She found her dark-haired friend staring forlornly at the wide-open closet by her bed. It was almost a comical sight. Dressed in a tank top and shorts with her hair pulled back in a clip at the back of her head, Emily stood at the foot of her bed, her hands resting on her hips. The dark eyes glared at her closet, almost willing it to produce something.

"Emily?" JJ asked, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice.

"I don't have anything to wear." It sounded so childlike that it was all JJ could do to keep from laughing.

"You mean in that huge closet, you have absolutely nothing to wear?" JJ cocked an eyebrow at Emily and grinned. "Somehow I doubt that."

"Hey, I'm used to wearing fatigues or business suits."

"Surely you have something nice in there. I can't believe that you go to your mother's dinners in your fatigues."

Emily snorted. "I try to avoid those."

"I bet I can find something." JJ immediately crossed the room to Emily's huge walk-in closet and began shoving aside hangers. Within minutes, her mouth dropped open. "Wow," she breathed.

"Wow what?"

JJ pulled out a beautiful black dress and held it up for Emily. It was a simple black cocktail dress, but JJ knew it would contrast beautifully with her friend's pale skin tone and deep brown eyes, and it was low-cut enough to tastefully display a little cleavage. "What about this?"

"Nuh-uh." Emily shook her head and crossed her arms stubbornly.

"Why not?"

"It's not appropriate!" She stepped forward and gently grabbed it from JJ's hands. "It's too low-cut."

"I highly doubt that."

"It's too short."

"Don't think so."

"It's too – "

"Gorgeous?" JJ cocked an eyebrow at Emily. The older woman's mouth snapped shut, and JJ grinned triumphantly. "Try it."

"I can't wear this."

"Why not? Emily, we're going to a bar, not a crime scene. You can live a little."

Emily sighed resignedly, and JJ knew that Emily knew she was right. She wanted to see her friend let go a little and have some fun. After a trying couple of months, they all needed a break from the death and destruction they saw on a day to day basis.

"So," JJ said, holding out the dress. "Are you gonna go willingly, or do I have to put it on you myself?"

Derek Morgan expertly juggled three beers as he skirted through the crowded bar toward his table. He grinned widely at his three colleagues waiting patiently. "Let the par-tay begin!"

Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner gratefully took one of the beers from his friend and handed it to the tall, skinny Dr. Spencer Reid seated at his left, while Dave Rossi returned to the table with his scotch. He sipped his own beer, thankful for the change in pace and the chance to be away from cases for just a night. Between the messy divorce from Haley, his injury, and the almost-obsessive drive to stay busy with work, he hadn't had much time to simply relax. Which, he suspected, was the reason his colleagues dragged him out to this bar. He knew they recognized his tendency to throw himself into his work.

They'd decided on a swanky bar in Alexandria, one that had couples dancing on Friday nights. The manager played all the old favorites – Sinatra, Darin, Sammy Davis, Jr., Dean Martin, and other famous singers and songwriters from the '40's and '50's. It was packed with couples, both young and old. Real dancing, according to Emily and Rossi, was a forgotten art.

"Where could the girls be?" Reid asked, glancing around the room and virtually ignoring his beer.

"Oh, you know girls. Always fashionably late," Morgan replied with a grin.

"So what's your excuse?" Rossi shot back. A rare smile quirked the corners of Hotch's mouth.

"Funny. Really funny, Rossi," Morgan muttered into his drink.

"Morgan's right," Hotch interjected, taking another sip of his beer. "They're probably just late getting ready." He remembered having a hell of a time trying to get Haley to leave on time.

"Women like to dress up for stuff like this," Rossi added.

"Why?" Reid furrowed his eyebrows. "It's just us. It's not like they have to impress us."

"Doesn't matter to a woman. I'll tell you what, though." Rossi sat back in his chair, allowing his back to rest against the wooden support. "I'm actually looking forward to seeing them like this. It'll be a nice change."

Hotch opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly spotted Penelope Garcia's pink and blonde hair in the crowd a few yards away. He closed his mouth quickly and stood up to motion them over…

And then his jaw dropped in shock.

Emily Prentiss looked positively gorgeous. She'd pulled her long, dark hair back into a bun at the nape of her neck and pushed her bangs to the side. But what made Hotch almost start drooling was that little black dress that hugged her curves perfectly, that showed just enough cleavage to get his imagination fired up, that showed off her creamy skin in ways he'd never imagined before. The bottom hem of the loose skirt hit at just the right spot – just at the knees – to show off her long, athletic legs.

"Hotch?"

Vaguely he heard Morgan call his name, but he just couldn't move. He was so focused on watching her move through the crowd that he missed the knowing grin Morgan gave Rossi.

"They sure look beautiful, don't they, Hotch?" Rossi asked him quietly.

"Yeah," he whispered. "She does." If he hadn't been so captivated by the raven-haired woman approaching them, he would've heard Morgan's ill-disguised snicker.

"Hey, guys, sorry we're late," JJ said, looking beautiful in a light blue dress shirt and dark jeans.

Finally Hotch found his voice and his legs, and he nodded, swallowing hard, moving aside to let them into the booth. His eyes never left Emily, who almost immediately noticed his unabashed stare. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he tried unsuccessfully to hide a blush.

"You all look lovely," Rossi said, standing up to let Garcia slide into the booth next to Morgan. "Emily, I don't suppose you'd be willing to let me have a dance?"

She smiled and handed her bag to JJ. "I'd be happy to." She took his proffered hand and let him lead her to the dance floor.

"C'mon, Sweetness," Morgan said, nudging Garcia. "Let's show 'em how it's done."

Garcia smiled wide. "Lead on, Hot Stuff." Soon they were out on the dance floor with Emily and Rossi, effortlessly dancing to the familiar strains of Sinatra's most famous dance tunes.

Hotch watched as Rossi's hand settled just below Emily's shoulder blade, and the older man expertly spun her in time with the beat. Part of him wanted to whisk her away from Dave right then, Bureau be damned. But he held his body in check. That didn't mean, though, that he took his eyes off her. He'd never seen her so graceful, so cheerful. She laughed at something Rossi said to her, and Hotch felt his heart skip a beat.

Where the hell had that come from? He'd never really thought about her in that way. Sure, the attraction had been there, but nothing really more. She was a beautiful woman – he'd known that the minute she walked into his office. But she was his subordinate, which meant that she was off-limits. Her intellect blindsided him sometimes, though, a quality he found extremely attractive. And then there was her ability to empathize with their victims. And then there was her stubborn resolve. And then…

"Hotch!"

JJ's shout jolted him back to reality, and he glanced at her. "What?" he asked, slightly flustered.

"Are you okay?" The corners of her mouths tilted up slightly. He knew she knew.

"I'm fine," he replied shortly.

"You don't look so fine. I was beginning to wonder if you were gonna pass out on us."

He glared at her. "Nothing's wrong."

"Really? 'Cause I just yelled your name three times and you didn't hear me at all. Didn't think the bomb affected your hearing that much." She turned slightly in her chair and watched Rossi smoothly dip Emily, and he immediately knew that she knew the cause of his distraction. "She looks good out there, doesn't she?"

Hotch didn't reply. She knew the answer. She was just trying to get him to admit it out loud.

"You know, you should ask her for a dance."

"Why?"

JJ shrugged. "I bet she'd say yes. Besides, you never know what might happen." She raised her eyebrows at him meaningfully.

The music hit its crescendo, signaling the end of the song. Hotch watched as Rossi spun Emily, causing the dress to fan out as well. She thanked him for the dance and allowed him to lead her back to the table.

That was it.

Hotch had had enough.

He slid out from the booth, ignoring JJ's sly grin and Morgan's knowing looks, and walked right up to Emily and Rossi. "Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey," Emily returned, her smile bright and cheeks slightly flushed from the dancing. God, Hotch just wanted to take her away right then.

Rossi glanced back and forth between his two colleagues, his eyebrows lifting slightly. Oh, he certainly knew what was going on there. "I think I'm gonna hit up the bar for another drink." With that, he disappeared into the crowd.

Emily turned her gaze back to her supervisor's face. He looked as cool as always, but there was something behind those dark eyes that she just couldn't put her finger on. The attraction between them was undeniable, but she'd shoved it aside to properly do her work. She had to admit – Hotch was exactly what she'd wanted in a man. One that understood the pressures of the job, one who didn't expect too much out of her, one that knew the kind of demands she placed on herself daily.

"May I have this dance?" He held his breath, eyes never leaving her. A steamy salsa beat began in the background, and couples raced past them for the dance floor.

"I haven't done the salsa in a while," she replied, suddenly very nervous.

A slight smile spread across his face. "Neither have I." He held out his hand toward her.

Suddenly she grinned. What the hell. "I guess we can look bad together, then," Emily said, taking his hand. A shiver ran down her spine as his fingers closed around hers, and it frightened her just a little. She hadn't had that reaction to a man's touch in a long, long time.

He led her to the dance floor and slowly turned to face her, keeping her hand tucked safely in his. Hotch let his other hand settle on the firm muscle of her hip, right where it was supposed to land for a sexy dance like the salsa, and he pulled her lower body into his. Without hesitation, Emily reached up and rested her hand on his shoulder.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

They stepped back and forth, perfectly in time with the smooth rhythm. Before long, Hotch's hand moved from her hip to rest on the small of her back. Emily simply stared at her supervisor, her brain working in overdrive, trying to figure out what it meant.

But she couldn't really think straight with his hand on her like that, his body brushing against hers.

Damn that attraction!

Hotch spun her out, the dress coming up ever so slightly to show him just a little bit more of those wonderful long legs. Then he spun her in, relishing the feel of her against him. He didn't really want to think about where it might lead. He didn't want to think – period. He just wanted to concentrate on the woman in his arms.

Then he did something that caught them both completely by surprise.

As the music swelled in the bridge, he pulled her out of a spin and right into his body. For a split second, he could see her eyes widen, completely stunned. Her lips parted slightly, fully intending to protest. But then his lips descended on hers, effectively silencing her protest. There was absolutely no first-kiss hesitation on his part. Hotch slipped his tongue in, trying desperately to find hers, his hands cupping her cheeks to pull her closer.

Emily's body ignored her screaming brain as she gave in to him, fisting her hands in the material of his dress shirt as she kissed him back thoroughly. She certainly couldn't go back now, not when he was kissing her like that. Not when she'd wanted it for far too long.

Finally he pulled away, pride swelling as his eyes took in her kiss-swollen lips and flushed cheeks. To think, he did that to her!

"What brought that on?" she mumbled, looking up at him. He was thrilled to see her dark eyes sparkling. That meant she wasn't completely pissed.

"I wanted to do that for a while."

"You still haven't answered my question."

Hotch sighed and brushed a finger through her bangs. "That black dress."

Emily's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yeah. You looked…" He looked back down at her, smiling slightly at the quizzical expression on her face. "Hot," he finished.

"Hot?"

He nodded. "Hot."

"Hmm."

"Hmm what?"

A hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth. "If I had known that, I would've worn this thing a long time ago." And then she quickly kissed him again.

A few yards away, the rest of the team stared happily at the oblivious couple still out on the dance floor. "It's about time," Morgan stated.

"I thought they'd never admit it," Rossi said thoughtfully, taking a sip from his glass.

"Me too," Garcia added. "Freakin' stubborn."

JJ just grinned triumphantly. "I knew that dress would do the trick." She shrugged as the other four looked at her. "You don't have to be a profiler to see that one coming."