I need to give a huge thank you to those of you who reviewed my past stories: seven days later, Angel N Darkness, allthatisevil, baobei, carez123, TML, and Cosmic Castaway. I also won't forget the load of anonymous reviewers that bothered to give me comments/criticism!

I'd also like to throw a little note to seven days later~ yes, Miranda from The Devil Wears Prada reminds me of Strauss. I thought that as I was writing. I'm happy someone thought that!

BUT ANYWAY...

This particular story is told from Emily's perspective. It's her thoughts on how she fell in love with Hotch. Yes, it sounds rather cliché and cheesy, but I can't help it. Sue me.

xoxo , Dani

I've read so many cliché novels depicting a beautiful, fairytale-esque moment where the princess realizes that she is in love with the prince. Stars appear in her eyes as her gaze rests upon the one she loves, a silent promise that she will belong to him for the rest of her life. They face all of life's hardships side by side and manage to fend off the evil queen at the end of the story. Then they live happily ever after and ride off into the sunset, sharing a brief kiss before fading out of view.

As a little girl I fantasized about falling in love this way. I wanted a sudden burst of feeling, that one moment where everything just seems so right and true. I was no different than any other female child my age. I wanted my prince charming. You hear stories about that too. Little girls dreaming of their future love seems to be a widely discussed topic in literature.

I grew older and realized that life, as a whole, is absolutely nothing like those fairytales, and that's why you need to appreciate those small moments. You'd be surprised at what you find when you simply stop and think. Although I deeply regret flying through the first half of my life, I do like where I've landed.

I only began to truly appreciate things after I grew close with the BAU team. They taught me to do what's right rather than worry about the rules. They're the cause of everything good in my life. They made me see the possibilities that I had ignored, and I can't begin to thank them enough for that. They made me see him in a new light.

You know, I tend to laugh when I think about that last part. It was so blatantly obvious and we were the only ones who didn't realize it. It took so many months.

It started when I visited his apartment shortly after Haley's death, much to Rossi's urging. In fact, the entire team constantly pressed me to 'help him out.' If only I would have known of their true intentions.

I just wanted him to feel like he wasn't alone on this. In the beginning I would just make sure he was still there; I would say one word to him and leave.

I'm not sure when he began to open up to me.

Some nights we found ourselves talking for hours. I felt like I was at home every time I spoke to him; every single thing I did in his presence felt so natural and right. I wasn't afraid to show emotion or to break barriers and let my guard down. It was such a new, thrilling experience for me, being able to open up to someone. A common ritual consisted of going home and replaying the night's events until I fell into a deep slumber, shutting it out of my mind the moment I woke. I did this a lot, especially when Jack was there. The entire atmosphere was so much lighter whenever he was around. I fell in love with that little boy. Everything was wonderful.

And then one night it just... happened.

We had been talking about work like we had done so many times before. There was nothing special in the air, nothing indicating anything out of the ordinary or strange.

"I'm sorry, I need to go," I had told him, glancing at my watch. He nodded his understanding and we both stood in unison, neither of us uttering a word. I walked with him to the door, grabbed my coat, and turned to face him. "Thanks for everything, Hotch."

"Same to you," he replied. We both just stood there, looking at each other with these stupid, dreamy expressions on our faces.

Then we kissed.

I unconsciously put my arms around his neck to pull him closer for a brief moment. His arms, in turn, wrapped around my waist, touching me with the gentleness of a feather. And as quickly as the contact began, it ended. My arms dangled down at my sides, completely numb. We stood there in silence for the second time that night, just staring at each other. I was the one to break the moment.

"Good night, Hotch," I whispered, briskly walking out. I practically sprinted outside and hopped into my car, already feeling the unexplainable tears well up in my eyes. There was no reason for them.

I made it back to my apartment in record time.

After chucking my keys on the counter and throwing on an over sized t-shirt, I climbed into bed, pulled the covers to my chin, and stared up at the ceiling. My mind was cluttered with the image of his lips lightly touching mine. I could still feel my body pressing against his with such raw emotion that it scared me. The feelings I felt were overwhelmingly strong and, as a result, my conscience was interrogating me.

Did you know that would be the end result? Yes. I knew it would happen a full ten seconds before it actually did; what kind of profiler would I be if I hadn't? I also knew that I had plenty of time to turn and leave, but I just stood there. So did that mean that I wanted it to happen? I hadn't really considered that. Rather, I had blocked that option out of my mind.

Maybe I wanted it to happen. There was something there when he kissed me - when we kissed. Not fireworks, but more of a sensation akin to... happiness? Relief? Nervousness? It had to be a good feeling if you were willing to react. . But it was Hotch, my boss, colleague, and widely proclaimed ice man; I had never harbored any strong feelings or emotions for him until that night.

Well, admittedly, that's where it got a little fuzzy.

In all honesty, I had thought about him romantically a few times, but it's not as if I acted on them. Every woman fantasizes about handsome men; it was more or less a small crush than an actual need. Never had I imagined that a relationship with him was even possible.

Anyway, he was my boss. He had lost his wife a year before.

It was in that moment that I realized that I hadn't even given him a chance. I hadn't let him into my life and vice versa. I think we both subconsciously knew where our friendship was headed but opted to let things run their course. He was afraid to love again and I was afraid to hurt.

I knew that Haley would never be forgotten. Every time he looked at Jack he would be reminded of her. But he didn't love her anymore; that was gone the moment the divorce papers were signed. That fact prompted me to wonder how long this was destined to be. How long had the team known? Hell, I still don't know the answer to that.

Maybe he wasn't untouchable.

The next morning at work still remains number one on my list of awkward moments.

"Hey," Morgan chirped the moment I walked in the door. "How are you?"

"Tired," I replied honestly, ignoring the rest of the team. They were staring at me.

"Any exciting events happen last night?"

"Unfortunately, no," I said, lying through my teeth. I laughed. "I wish."

And, of course, Hotch walked out of his office right on cue. "Conference room in five. We have a case. Kansas."

I was about to bang my head on a desk. This meant that I would either have to have to discuss the previous night's events in Kansas or wait a week to say anything. I didn't want to do either. I walked to my small desk, practically threw my briefcase onto the swivel chair, and double checked that my go-bag was full. I soon found myself sitting around a table with the team, completely avoiding eye contact with Hotch. He was doing exactly the same thing. We both pretended not to notice.

"Three women were beaten, raped, and killed over the past three months..." JJ's words were going in one ear and out the other, although I appeared extremely focused to the rest of them. I couldn't just sit there and look like I kissed Hotch last night. Whoops. I wondered what he was thinking, although I later found that it was the same thing I was. I still take pride in the fact that I can make him so uncomfortable.

"So I take it we're going to Kansas?" Morgan had asked. JJ nodded. Thump. Thump. Thump. I imagined hitting my head repeatedly with a book. "When?"

"As soon as possible," Hotch answered. I remember suppressing a groan and attempting to show no emotion. "Grab your go bags and we can head out."

We found ourselves standing in the empty town of Courtland, Kansas, staring at a bloody body. The first day was always a mess a mess, and this was certainly wasn't an exception. We examined the latest crime scene, went over the case file several times, and formed the platform for a profile. White male, late thirties to middle fourties, reserved. Alone.

Aaron Hotchner?

At this point I was ready to point a gun at my head. Why did everything suddenly relate to him? Damn. I knew that I had to talk to him the moment I got the chance. I decided that the hotel would be the most reasonable place to do it.

So then I was knocking on his door, feeling an odd case of Déjà vu as he opened up.

"Hey, Hotch," I said.

"Hey."

"Can I come in?"

"Of course," he said quietly, stepping out of the doorway and allowing me full access. I immediately walked over to the bed and sat on it, watching silently as he shut the door and turned to face me. "I take it that you're here because of what happened last night."

"Yeah," I said, averting my eyes.

"I'm sorry. It was unprofessional," was his reply. For some reason this irked me.

"Why does everything have to be about professionalism?" I asked, standing up and moving my gaze back to where it belonged. Acid was already spilling out of my mouth. "Why can't it be about what you want? Everything you do revolves around work. You don't even have the time to see your son."

He looked unfazed. "It's who I am."

"I know," I breathed, looking away, guilty.

He heaved a monumental sigh, closed his eyes, and moved closer to me. "Emily..."

"What is this?" I whispered. "What are we doing?"

He paused. "I don't know," came the reply.

And then it just happened for the second time. We both leaned in and let our lips touch, this time with more desire and emotion than before. It was longer, slower, more controlled. His grip on my waist wasn't gentle this time; he held onto me possessively. I responded by kissing him deeper, pressing my body into his, wanting him as close as possible. We didn't let each other go until our breathing was impaired.

"Will this work?" I finally asked.

"I'll make sure of it." I smiled at his confidence. That's how I knew I was in love with him. There were no fireworks, no instant moment of clarity, no background music depicting what had just happened. I just felt it.

I love you.

And as I sit here on the front porch, watching a blonde haired boy rolling down a hill with his father, I am reminded of why.

Unfazed is a word meaning 'not dismayed or disconcerted'. Just in case grammar sticklers come up and try to tell me that unphased is the correct word to use.