Summary: Charlotte goes to her older boyfriend's senior prom, and the night isn't what she expected.

A/N: Again, these are not in chronological order. I will fill in the gaps in the earlier years as I write more of these. Enjoy!

Age Guide: Hotch: 61, Emily: 56, Sean: 46, Jack: 21, Henry: 18, Charlotte: 16; Ryan and Benjamin: 14

April 2027

"Prom at sixteen? I've never heard of a sophomore prom," Hotch said dryly, flipping through a magazine in bed while Emily dabbed on some eye cream in the bathroom.

"Very funny. You know Joe's a senior. It's his prom," she said, her voice echoing off the tile walls.

"When did we agree she could date someone two years older, again?"

"Would you stop? They've been going out for six months now."

"Her seeing someone so much older was bad enough when it started. The second he turns eighteen, things'll change, Emily."

"Yeah, in your head. He's a sweet guy. Give me one good reason why she shouldn't go."

"We play this game every time she goes out with someone new. And you know my answer. Boys are pigs. I was eighteen once. I was no exception to that rule. Do we even know if this guy's a virgin? Wait—Charlie's a virgin, right?" he asked, his heart pounding.

Emily looked out the bathroom door and gave Hotch a consoling smile. "As far as I know, yes. But regrettably," she said as she disappeared again, "boyfriend's virginal status wasn't part of our thorough screening process. Besides, why wasn't that a question, I don't know, six months ago, when they started dating? What makes prom so much different? They've been alone plenty already."

"You don't remember prom?" Hotch asked, his heart slowing a bit with Emily's news that no one had yet violated their daughter. "Every guy I knew at my prom had only one thing on his mind."

"Aaron, boys don't need a prom to think about sex. They just need to be awake. Hell, they don't even need that. And were you even a virgin when you were eighteen?" Hotch didn't answer right away. Emily poked her head out of the bathroom and raised her eyebrows at him. "No? When was your first time, anyway? Have we really never talked about this?"

"I was seventeen," Hotch admitted. "But that's different. That was the eighties. Everyone was doing it."

"Would you listen to yourself?" Emily rolled her eyes at Hotch's well-meaning irrationality and climbed into bed next to him. "It's always going to be that way. There's always going to be that pressure, no matter what the decade. The only difference is how well-prepared the kids are." She lowered her voice. "As far as we know, Jack and Henry are still virgins, right? Unless…Have they talked to you about it? Told you otherwise?"

"They've talked to me," Hotch said. "If they're telling the truth, which I have every reason to believe they are, then yeah, they're still virgins. I think Jack's friend getting his girlfriend pregnant in high school was enough to scare him into celibacy until well after he's married. And you know Henry when it comes to modeling Jack. Monkey see, monkey do."

"See, then? That's great. We have a twenty-one-year-old son and an eighteen-year-old son off at college on nice scholarships who are actively avoiding having sex. We did something right, don't you think?"

"Em, we hardly did anything. I'm sure they learned more at school than from us. All of our sex talks were awkward and hardly productive."

"Maybe all of yours were," Emily said in a self-satisfied tone.

Hotch eyed her suspiciously. "What, did you go behind my back and correct me?"

"No, nothing like that. Just…after the boys would talk to you, they'd still have some questions that they were too afraid to ask you. You know, you're such a macho man sometimes that they think they need to live up to that somehow. I don't know..."

Hotch's face fell slack. "What've they asked you? And is this all the boys?"

"Yeah," Emily said, playing with Hotch's t-shirt sleeve. "They mainly wanted to know why other kids their age were having sex already."

"Even Ben and Ryan?" Hotch asked, astounded.

"Yeah," Emily said sadly.

"But they're so—"

"Young. I know, I know. Anyway, when they ask me that kind of stuff, I tell them that a real man doesn't try to sleep with as many women as possible. A real man waits for a woman he loves. The marriage thing seemed easiest to sell when they were younger, so I threw that in there after the first talk for all of them. And apparently with Henry and Jack, at least, it's stuck, which is great."

"So they've all come to you?" Hotch asked again, seeming more put out than Emily had expected.

"Well, yeah. It's not that they don't value your opinion or don't trust you. They just look up to you and mimic you. You're not always a man of many words, and when they have a serious conversation with you, maybe they figure that's how those kinds of talks are supposed to go with you. Then they come to me and I talk their ears off."

"Does Charlie ask you that kind of stuff, too?"

Emily sneaked a hand underneath Hotch's arm and let it roam around his chest. "Yes, but she's a girl. There's no way in hell she'd want to talk to her dad about sex. Especially since she knows how much you hate her dating in the first place."

"So I'm the bad guy now."

"No, come on. You're twisting my words. You heard every one of them. Now just put them together. I really think Charlotte's got a good enough head on her shoulders to go to a school dance. It's not nearly as a big a deal as you're making it out to be. Even if it is, she and I have talked a lot."

"Have you told her about…you know…"

"My losing my virginity at fifteen and getting an abortion? No. I think she still might be impressionable enough to think that since Mom did it, there's no problem with her doing it, too."

"I think the fact that you got pregnant would be enough to dissuade her, don't you?" Hotch challenged her.

Emily scooted back to her side of the bed and lay on her back.

"Is this about you feeling guilty or something? Ashamed?"

"She can't know that I did those things, Aaron. That would completely sully her image of me and she'd never take my advice on anything because she'd think I'm a giant hypocrite. Trust me, she doesn't need that to convince her to be smart. And besides, there's an easy way to keep sex out of the picture in the first place. And drinking and drugs. Just tell her no parties. She said the whole group is going in a limo that'll pick them up at someone's house, so we'll see her there before she leaves, and one of us will pick her up as soon as the limo drops them off. We'll just tell her she's too young for the partying, which she is."

"They could still sneak booze and drugs into the limo," Hotch pointed out.

"She showed me this contract they have to sign in order to go. They have to promise not to—"

"Well, promises do mean a lot coming from a horny high school boy," Hotch said darkly.

"And," Emily said, glaring at Hotch for interrupting her, "they'll have breathalyzers when they get to the prom, and all the bathrooms will have an adult hanging around. Zero tolerance. We've let her go to much less safe places."

"And those were all your decisions," Hotch said. "And don't tell me I'm always unreasonable."

"Fine. We have to agree, then. I won't override you. What's your vote?"

"I think I should go talk to her first, scope things out," Hotch said, pulling back the covers.

"Just make sure you sound curious and not accusatory. It's that time of month and she almost cried this morning when I told her I really liked the sweater she wore yesterday. She thought I meant I didn't like the one she was wearing today, and…just tread carefully," Emily closed with a smirk.

"Will do." Hotch padded down the hallway and tapped on Charlotte's door. "You awake, Charlie?"

"Yeah, come in," she called. She lay at the foot of her bed on her stomach, feet in the air, with her face buried in a textbook. "Hi, Dad," she said, biting her lip.

"Hey, sweetie. Got a test coming up?"

"Three, and all tomorrow," she said with a troubled sigh. "Bio, physics, and French."

"Well, luckily you've had your own personal French tutor down the hall your entire life. What do you have in that class, anyway, a hundred and seven percent?"

"Hundred and six now," Charlotte replied, clearly not happy about it.

"I wanted to talk to you. Mind if I sit?" Hotch asked, smiling and grabbing the back of Charlotte's desk chair.

"Nope." She closed her book and sat up cross-legged.

Hotch straddled the chair and twiddled his thumbs before looking at the beautiful young woman that sat across from him. "Your mom said Joe asked you to go to prom with him." She nodded, her face now blank as she tried to gauge his reaction. "We haven't made a decision yet. I wanted to have a little chat with you first."

"Okay…"

Hotch truthfully had no idea what he was going to say. He knew what point he wanted to get across, but ever since Charlotte's first date, his ability to communicate openly with her had evaded him from time to time, this being one of those times. "Are any of your, uh, other friends—sophomore friends—going to this?"

Charlotte shook her head. "Only seven sophomores have gotten asked so far, and freshmen aren't allowed to go at all," she said with a hint of pride.

"So the only person you'll know there is Joe?"

"Well, his friends, too. And we've been going out for forever now, so they're my friends, too."

"Mom said you'd be taking a limo?"

"Yup."

"What about money? Did Joe offer to pay your way?" the traditionalist in Hotch needed to know.

"Yup. My ticket, my share of the limo, everything."

Hotch had hoped for a legitimate reason to question his daughter's boyfriend's integrity, so he kept looking. "He hasn't been over in a while. How's be been? What's he been up to?"

"I didn't tell you? He's trying to start a band," she said, excited. Too excited.

Strike one, Hotch thought. "A band, really? What instrument does he play?"

"Pretty much everything, but he's lead vocal and guitar. That's good, right? It shows he's…disciplined."

"Sure," Hotch muttered. "You might not even know the answer to this one, but if you do, I need you to be honest, okay?"

Charlotte's proud smile faltered as she nodded.

"Well first off, I'm assuming you know the kind of stuff that goes on at a senior prom, right?"

"Drinking, drugs…other stuff…yeah, of course. That doesn't mean I'll do any of that," Charlotte was quick to say.

"Okay, that's good to hear. On to my other question. Do you know if Joe has…" Hotch sighed and cleared his throat. He could talk about all sorts of things with Charlotte and it was like he was talking to his best friend, but the ability to smoothly stroll through conversations in this arena was lost on him completely. "Has he had sex before? With a previous girlfriend?"

Charlotte folded over, as if curling up in a ball would keep Hotch from questioning her any further. She shrugged. "I dunno. I've never asked him."

"Well, have you heard anything? Rumors, maybe? He's pretty popular, right?"

"Pretty popular, but…I don't know, that doesn't really matter to me. I think I might be…" Charlotte sat up straighter and gave her dad a hopeful look, not knowing how fast his heart was pounding right now, how many miles an hour his brain was racing. All she could think about was how easy it used to be to talk to her dad, and she now tried to rediscover that rapport. "I think I might be in love with him."

Hotch was torn between being terrified that the daughter he cherished thought she was in love with a boy she probably wouldn't see after he graduated and being thrilled that she had shared this with him but not her mother, as far as he knew. "Wow, that's pretty heavy, sweetheart. That's kind of deep for high school, don't you think?"

Charlotte scowled and Hotch knew he had made a misstep. "You don't really know him, Dad. You don't know what our relationship is like. And besides, you were in love in high school, weren't you?"

"That's hard to say. I did end up marrying my high school sweetheart later in life, yes, but I don't know if what we had in high school could really be considered love."

"I shouldn't have said anything," Charlotte spat, lying back down over her textbook and opening it up. Her face was completely flushed and her breath shook in an unmistakable sign that she was about to cry.

"Honey," Hotch murmured, moving to the foot of her bed and crouching down in front of it to get at her eye level. "Don't cry," he said in a panic. "I didn't mean to insinuate that you don't love him. I just…I love you, and I want to make sure you only give your heart away to the right person."

"He is the right person," Charlotte insisted.

The guilt dug deeper into Hotch's heart once he saw the tears in Charlotte's eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by that, either. I love you. You know that."

"I know," Charlotte said with a sniffle. "I'm not a little kid anymore, you know. And just because I'm your only daughter doesn't man you can have all these double standards. Henry and Jack got to do so much stuff that I still haven't done even though I'm older than they were when they did it. You know I'm way more mature than they were at my age, but you still haven't given me the money to sign up for driver's ed. You need to, like…let go, Dad."

Hotch rose in preparation to make his exit before Charlotte could see what she'd done to him. "Okay. I'll let go. But just a little. You can go to the prom, but your mom thinks—and I happen to agree—that you're still too young to go to any after-parties. Sound fair?"

Charlotte's hands shot to her mouth and she flew out of bed. "Are you serious?" she asked, throwing her arms around his middle. She had been small as a baby and that hadn't changed as she'd grown. She was only five-foot-two and her growth had slowed to a near halt the year before. The top of her head didn't even touch her father's shoulder, so she buried her face in his chest. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she moaned. "You're the best."

Hotch had to settle with being happy that Charlotte was no longer crying. Her vice-like grip on him was heartwarming, as well, but their conversation would keep him tossing and turning all night, he was sure. He wondered if he had been entirely naïve in thinking that he could avoid losing his little girl to the rest of the world, in thinking that other fathers going through the same thing were just missing something or doing something wrong. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too. I'll let you get back to studying. Don't stay up too late, okay?"

"I won't."

Hotch dragged his feet back to his room, spotting the smile on Emily's face before it disappeared.

"I heard her thank you, what, three times? I assumed you said yes," Emily said, confused at Hotch's down expression.

"I did," Hotch said, heaving a sigh as he fell back into bed. "Did she tell you that she thinks she's in love with him?" he asked, knowing he was breaking confidence but unable to bear the burden alone.

"In love?" Emily said, her tone conveying that this was not-so-welcome news to her as well. "Wow. That was probably near the bottom of the list of things you ever wanted to hear coming out of her mouth."

"Tell me about it." Hotch folded his hands behind his head and successfully warded off his tears for now. They could wait until he was alone. "She told me I needed to let go," he added.

"Ouch," Emily said sympathetically. "I'm sorry, that's…rough. Are you sure you made the right choice? You sound more upset than before."

"She's happy." Hotch rolled onto his side to fluff his pillow and turn out his lamp.

"Going to sleep already? You said before we came to bed that you wanted to fool around. It's been a while."

"It has, I know, and I'm sorry. Not only am I in a shitty mood, but I can't get her out of my head, and that's the last thing I want to be thinking about when I—"

"Gotcha." Emily set down the book she was going to read and turned out her own lamp, curling up next to Hotch.

"Tomorrow night, I promise," Hotch said, sliding an arm around Emily and scratching at her side.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about you. I like to think I understand how this must feel for you, but I'm sure I'm nowhere near close. I can listen, though, if you just want to think out loud."

Hotch shook his head. "I'd rather try and sleep."

One Month Later

"It's a Saturday. Why exactly are you wearing a suit?" Emily asked Hotch as he tightened his tie in front of their bedroom mirror. She knew exactly why, though. Charlotte had convinced her parents to let her boyfriend come pick her up for the dance, promising them that they could come take pictures of the entire group when it was time for her own prom. Hotch had of course been reluctant, but Emily had overridden him again. Joe had been driving since before he and Charlotte had started dating, and he didn't seem stupid enough to drink at the dance, let alone drink and drive. After Hotch had not gotten his way, yet again, he had decided to do what he could to intimidate the enemy.

"Charlie's all dressed up. I can't be sitting there in jeans and a sweater," Hotch explained.

"Ho-kay," Emily mocked, laughing at him. "You've already met the kid on several occasions. You really think you can still scare him?"

"Why do you think he doesn't come over anymore?" Hotch posited.

"Eh. Good point. You might very well be that reason. Seriously, though, a suit and tie? Once she figures out what you're up to, she'll have your head."

"Yeah, well, she cried her way into getting my permission to go to this thing in the first place. She can deal. And if a guy doesn't want her enough to put up with her crazy dad, then he's not worth her time."

"It normally sounds so sweet when you say things like that," Emily said, "but now you're just scaring me."

"Good, then it's working." Hotch opened his nightstand to get to his gun safe.

"No, absolutely not." Emily's eyes grew wide when she realized Hotch was serious.

"It's not loaded," Hotch said, showing Emily that he was leaving the clip locked away.

"You're going to mortify her, Aaron. All it takes is for Joe to say something to one of his friends, and then the next thing you know, all the kids at school know Charlotte's dad had a gun at the table when he already knew the boyfriend. No one's going to want to date her after that."

"Even better. Anyway, I told you," Hotch said, stashing the gun at his back, underneath his waistband, "it's not loaded. And I'll make sure he knows that, too."

Emily shook her head as she searched through her jewelry chest for a pair of earrings. "I do not approve of this. When Charlotte is ready to murder someone, it's going to be you." She didn't sound the least bit amused as she finished her sentence on her way out of the room.

"Come in," Charlotte said when Emily knocked on her bedroom door.

"Here, try these," Emily said, proffering a pair of pearl earrings. At the last minute, they had discovered that their carefully chosen jewelry didn't match Charlotte's even more carefully chosen dress. Charlotte had consequently asked to borrow the pearls Emily's mother had given her on her wedding day, but Emily had refused to let a family heirloom go to a high school dance.

"Thanks," Charlotte said. "Is Uncle Sean here yet?"

"Yeah. We're all just waiting for you," Emily said with a smile. She walked up behind Charlotte and pinned a stray tendril of hair back into her up-do.

"No Joe, though, right?"

"No, not Joe. He's still got a while. Turn around, let me see." Emily could see Charlotte's reflection in the mirror, but that didn't do her justice. Hotch didn't want anything shorter than tea-length or for any curves to be pronounced, so they had met halfway with a floor-length, form fitted black gown. "Oh, sweetie, you look beautiful. Just…wow. Makes me wish I was your age again just for a night. Ready to go downstairs?" Emily cupped Charlotte's shoulders and gave her a lipstick-free kiss on the cheek.

Charlotte nodded and followed Emily downstairs and into the living room.

"Don't sit on the couch, unless you want to bring a little bit of Mitch to the dance with you," Emily said, glancing at the aging golden retriever that slept in the corner on the floor. Judging from the looks of the fur-littered couch, he had just recently moved.

Sean, who now lived only a few minutes away and was able to be around much more often than he had in the beginning stages of the family, was the first to steal a hug. "Hey, Charlie Brown, you look gorgeous."

"Thanks," she said with a shy smile for her only uncle, unless one counted Jessica's husband, which no one did on the count of his general lack of interest in the family. What Jessica saw in him, no one was sure, but his aversion to this particular household never kept Jessica away. She took a quick picture of Emily, Elizabeth, Garcia, and Charlotte together. Emily's father then took the camera from Jessica so she could round out the group of five women for another picture.

"I want a picture with you and your brothers," Emily said, taking the camera from George and motioning for the twins and Jack and Henry, who were both back from school for the summer, to gather around Charlotte.

"You said you wouldn't take a bunch of pictures," Charlotte protested, rolling her eyes when Jack, towering a head above her, wrapped her arms around her neck from behind, pretending to strangle her. "Come on, don't mess up my hair."

"We said we wouldn't do pictures at the house where the limo's picking you up. We didn't say no pictures at all," Emily corrected.

Ryan, still very much blonde-haired and blue-eyed, smiled for the camera and said, "I'll be there for that, too. If none of your hot friends ask me to prom when you're seniors, I'll at least wanna go check 'em out."

Sean chuckled, knowing the lewd remark was due to his presence. His role as the fun uncle had been solidified by the fact that he was the only uncle at all and had, for unfortunate reasons that were now history, decided not to have a family of his own.

"Don't be disgusting," Emily scolded her youngest as she snapped a picture. "And can we please get one picture without an ugly face, Ben? The longer you goof around, the longer you stand there."

Sean sat down in the corner of the room with Hotch, not bothering to ask about his attire. "You sure those two aren't mine?" Sean cracked about the twins' colorful personalities.

"You know that joke's never going to be funny," Hotch said under his breath, casting Sean a sidelong glance.

"Emily figured you'd only think I was joking. Can't say I didn't try to 'fess up…" When Sean didn't get even another nasty look out of Hotch, he rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. She's going to the prom, not getting married. Pull the stick out of your ass."

"You've met the kid. Do you like him?" Hotch challenged before he got up and took his place for a picture. He complimented Charlotte on her hair and dress, leaving a kiss on her forehead and hoping that his relative silence wouldn't be off-putting to her. Spending any more time acknowledging how lovely she looked would only get him thinking about how many boys would be looking at her in all the wrong ways that night. The thought made him somewhat queasy, so he went into the foyer to be alone. This gave him the added benefit of robbing Charlotte of her chance to ask if he was trying to scare Joe off with his suit.

"It'll get a little easier once she hits forty or so," a slowing, familiar voice said from behind him. He turned with a smile to see his father-in-law trudging along, a cane in one hand.

"You didn't have any misgivings about me?" Hotch asked, knowing George would laugh at the gun that he took out but wouldn't argue over it. He placed the gun on a small table against the wall, moving a plant out of the way to fit it and getting a chuckle out of George as he had predicted.

"Oh, of course I did. But I figured you were getting up in years enough not to be fooling around. I figured you were serious, moving in and starting this family with her and all. That made it a little easier. It's not like you gave me much time to form an opinion, anyway. You only dated for a goddamn week and a half before you married her."

Hotch laughed softly at George's language, which had grown foul but amusingly so with his old age.

"Why do you have a gun?" Ben inquired, brow furrowed.

"I've had a gun in my house for thirty-five years," Hotch said.

"I've never seen it."

"Haven't needed it till now."

"Are you gonna shoot him?" Ben asked, a smile lighting his face.

"See, no one likes him," Hotch said dryly to George, raising a smug eyebrow.

"Mitch doesn't even like him," Ben said in agreement.

"Is Charlie the only one who does?" George wondered.

"Quite possibly." Hotch checked his watch. "He's got two minutes…"

"And what? You're gonna tell him to go home?" George asked, sitting down on the upholstered bench next to the table and groaning, batting away his grandson's arm when offered assistance.

"Don't tempt me," Hotch said.

Joe—tall, dark, and what Hotch thought to be rather homely—arrived right on time, his parents seemingly not into the prom ordeal enough to come along. That was just as well, Hotch figured. The one time the four parents had met had been utterly boring.

Emily got her way with dozens more pictures of Charlotte and Joe together. Just when Hotch thought his stunt would have gone unnoticed, Charlotte came to give him a hug and she saw the gun. "Dad!"

"It's not loaded," he said firmly, adding nothing more. Joe sneered at him when he thought no one else was looking, as if he had been given this treatment before and was challenging Hotch to do better than that. The dog seemed more than happy to back up his master later on, walking out to the front yard where the last of the pictures were being taken and letting the intruder know what he thought of him with a deep growl.

"I cannot believe you actually did that," Emily hissed at Hotch, smacking him lightly on the arm once Charlotte and Joe had left.

"Did you see the look he gave me?" Hotch asked, grabbing beers for himself and Sean and heading into the den to pass the time with whatever baseball game was on. They had lived in this house for thirteen years now, the addition of the twins making it a very tight fit in the old house. The new one provided many more places to hide out, including a recreation room in the basement that was the favorite hideout of all four boys.

"Every time he looks at you, he gives you a look," Emily jeered. Part of the drama was for show, he knew, but part of her disdain for his behavior was genuine.

"I thought it was funny," Sean mumbled once the two of them had been left alone and had kicked back in twin leather recliners.

"Had to put the fear of God in him," Hotch said, tipping his bottle to Sean.

"Remember how I told you to pull the stick out of your ass? Well, you can keep it up there. I saw that look he gave you. Am I allowed to call him a little prick if he's your daughter's boyfriend?"

"Be my guest. Just don't let Em catch you."

—

"I have had at least twenty cups of coffee today," Garcia moaned when Emily offered her one more around eleven that night, desperate not to be in the house with a sullen Hotch without Garcia's optimism. "I can't keep doing that to my poor old body. I know what someone else can do to your old body, though," she quipped, winking at Emily and jabbing her elbow in the direction of the den, where Hotch watched television alone.

"Gross," Ben muttered, eliciting laughter from Jack and Henry, who had endured enough jokes about their parents' sex lives (mostly from Sean and Garcia) to be rather immune to the gross-out factor.

"She's just joking. They don't do it anymore," Ryan said with confidence.

"Oh, honey, you are so sadly misinformed," Garcia said, watching Emily's eyes twitch their way into the back of her head. "What is so bad about knowing your parents have a loving relationship? If it weren't for them feeling the love, you two wouldn't be here," she said, pointing at Ben and Ryan, whose noses scrunched in disgust. "You guys do know how you were created, don't you?"

"Please don't, Aunt Penny," Ryan groaned, dragging his hands down his face for dramatic effect.

"Good, so you know how you were made. Do you know where you were made?"

"Not funny," Ryan grumbled.

"Chevy—"

"Goodnight, Garcia," Hotch cut her off, strolling out from the den and smirking, though he was anything but amused.

"I can't believe you still haven't told them that story!"

"Oh God, there's a story?" Jack asked, cringing. "Too much, even for me. I'm out. Pizza?" he asked his three brothers, jingling his car keys in his pocket.

"It's eleven o'clock," Emily said, crossing her arms and watching the twins' pale faces with a bit of a smile.

"And we're hungry," Jack said, knowing Emily was only noting how late it was but not forbidding them to go out. "Can we borrow some money?"

Emily snickered. "Nice try. Have fun."

"They truly are scarred for life, aren't they?" Garcia asked in awe once the front door was shut.

"Yes, thanks for that," Emily said dryly.

"Hey, you can't be conceived—or maybe conceived—in the backseat of a car and not know about it. If you were conceived anywhere out of the ordinary, you should totally know about it. Makes for great stories."

"Not so much when you're fourteen," Hotch said.

"I was conceived somewhere in the Rocky Mountains. I always thought that was cool, even when I was their age," Garcia said with a shrug.

"Yes, well you're a very special kind of…everything," Emily said, walking to the door with her friend. "You sure you don't want to stay longer?"

"Sorry, my love, I must be on my way. But seriously, you have an empty house now. For at least a half hour. I'd take advantage of that."

"Goodnight, Garcia," Hotch said, again, this time calling from the kitchen.

"Did I embarrass him?" Garcia whispered to Emily as she picked up her purse.

"Pretty sure."

Garcia beamed. "I just embarrassed roughly...fifty-seven percent of your family in one fell swoop. I may be old, but I have not lost my touch."

Once the house was completely free of company, Emily found Hotch thumbing through a travel magazine at the kitchen counter. She sauntered up behind him and leaned into his back, slinging her arms around his waist. "You doing all right?"

"What time is she supposed to be back, again?" Hotch said, ignoring Emily's question and knowing the answer to his own.

"Limo drops them off at eleven-thirty. Why don't you come up to bed? Being the creepy crazy dad must be exhausting. I can pick her up instead."

"It wasn't loaded. And did you hear the dog? He's like that every time that kid comes over. I'm not the only one who doesn't like him. Sean didn't get good vibes tonight, either."

"Over-protective father, his only semi-sane brother, and a dog. Wow, what good character witnesses…" She kissed him through his dress shirt and raked her fingernails down his back. "Okay, that was a low blow."

"A bit."

"Sorry. Do come to bed for a few minutes, at least. You're tired and I happen to be in the mood to rub your back. Or do whatever you want, really. I'm pretty…flexible," she whispered into the crook of his neck.

"I'm so far from in the mood, it's not even funny," Hotch said, still not turning from his magazine.

"Hopefully you'll feel more at ease once Charlotte is home. I'm gonna go get ready for bed. Feel free to join me, expectations-free, when you get home," she said as lightly as she could considering how sourly Hotch was acting.

"Wait," he sighed, clutching her hand before it got out of his reach. "I'm sorry. I'm not very pleasant right now, I know." His eyes pleaded with Emily to understand. "I just…really have a bad feeling about him. I know part of it's simply because he's a boy who's interested in Charlie, but there is a genuine bad feeling in there, too. You're right, I'll feel better once she's home."

"What about Monday when she goes back to school and sees him?" Emily asked gently, coming back toward Hotch and leaning into the counter. "I'm not trying to provoke you," she said quickly. "I'm just saying, this is just prom. At the end of the night, unless something crazy happens, he's still going to be her boyfriend. How will you handle that? You can't pull out a gun every time."

Hotch shrugged hopelessly. "I don't know." He squeezed Emily's hand and waited for an answer to come to him. "So you really like him?"

"Nothing about him strikes me as out of the ordinary. He just seems like a typical teenage guy," Emily replied.

"You didn't answer my question," Hotch pointed out.

Emily's phone rang on the counter; she glanced at the screen before answering. "It's Charlotte," she mouthed to Hotch. "Hey, honey. What's going on? Yeah, he's right here," she said, casting Hotch a sidelong glance. "Okay, I'm going into another room." She motioned for Hotch, whose face had lost all color, to stay put. "Honey, what's the matter?...Yes, of course I can come get you, where are you?...Okay, I'm leaving right now…No, just me, not your dad," Emily said calmingly. "I'll be there soon. I love you."

"What's—"

"I have no idea," Emily answered before Hotch could ask. "All she would say is that Joe left her at the school, but she's in hysterics. I can't get anything else out of her." She walked to the front closet and stepped into the first matching pair of matching shoes she could find.

"Is she hurt?" he asked in a quiet panic.

"Again, I don't know. And I don't know why, but she doesn't want you to come."

Hotch had gathered that much from Emily's side of the conversation. His pulse pounded both in sheer hatred and in utter terror as he watched Emily leave.

—

Emily was about to call Charlotte once she'd arrived at the school, but there was no need. Charlotte was one of the few people left mingling around the front entrance, with a few chaperones trying to get the premises vacated now that the dance was over. Even in the darkness, she and her black dress stood out. Seeing the car pull up, she got up from her seat on the concrete steps and traveled as fast as her heels would let her.

"Hi, sweetheart," Emily said gently, seeing the tears in Charlotte's eyes and beginning to produce some of her own. "What happened? Why on earth did he leave you here all alone?" she asked, fearing she knew.

"We broke up," Charlotte mumbled with a sniffle as she buckled her seatbelt. Emily didn't pull away from the school just yet.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," Emily breathed, reaching over to pull Charlotte into a tight embrace. "What happened?"

Charlotte shook her head but still clung to Emily like a small, terrified child. "It's stupid."

"It is not stupid. Come on, tell me what happened."

"Please don't be mad at me…"

"You called me in the middle of the night crying your eyes out. How on earth could I be mad at you?" Emily drew back and rested her palm softly on Charlotte's soppy cheek. "Tell me."

Charlotte's shining eyes rolled into the back of her head as she gathered herself. "Can we leave first? I really don't want to be here," she said miserably.

"Of course." Emily put the car into drive and they were halfway home before she repeated her question, reaching for a hand of Charlotte's to hold.

"I was so stupid," was Charlotte's intro. "Dad was right."

"Right about what? And why were you so adamant about him not coming with me?"

"Because you know he'd just gloat."

"Your dad loves you more than anything. He'd never gloat. To me, maybe, for trying to convince him Joe was nothing to worry about. But not to you. We're almost home. Give me the gist of things before we get there."

"Fine…Our song came on at the dance, and I did this stupid thing and told him I loved him, but then he said it back. And I was so happy. Then he asked if I wanted to go fool around in his car."

"I thought you guys took a limo?" Emily asked, setting the "I love you" and fooling-around-in-his-car issues aside because she simply didn't know how to handle them.

Charlotte shook her head. "When we left the house, he said it would be more romantic if we went alone, so we did. Anyway, it's not like we've never made out in the backseat before, you know?" Charlotte said, making Emily's stomach lurch. "So I went with him, and things got really…you know…and he asked if I wanted to do it…and I said yes." Charlotte hid her eyes from her mother. "And we did," she went on, her voice losing any steadiness it might have had as she tried to mask the tears that returned full force. "And it—hurt. But it—it didn't last very long, at least."

Feeling sick to her stomach, Emily wondered whether going home was the best idea. Hotch would certainly want to know what was going on, but she could understand why Charlotte wanted nothing to do with him right now. She continued on the route home anyway, hoping an idea would come to her. She squeezed Charlotte's hand, knowing all too well how she was feeling right now. "I'm still listening."

"And when it was over, he said he didn't really think things would work out between us once he graduated, so he thought it would be better to—break things off now. And then he said, 'You can just get one of your crazy dad to come get you, right?' because there was this party he wanted to get to. God, I'm so stupid…"

Emily pulled into the driveway at that moment and parked the car. "You are not stupid," Emily stated simply. "Come here." She pulled her daughter back into her arms again, swaying her just as she would have ten years ago after a bad dream. "Joe's the one who's stupid."

"Can we never say his name again?" Charlotte asked pitifully. "It makes me want to hurl. I hate him."

"Of course. Come on, let's go inside."

"I don't want Dad to see me," Charlotte said, shaking her head.

"I'll go in first and tell him to go hide out, okay?"

Charlotte nodded. They both got out of the car, Charlotte taking off her shoes with shaky hands while she waited for Emily to come out and tell her the coast was clear.

Hotch's reaction to Charlotte's demands was far from understanding. It was only when Emily promised she would enlighten him later on that he agreed to retreat to the den again. Emily then led Charlotte up to her and Hotch's bedroom. "I need a shower," Charlotte said shakily, one hand crossed over her stomach while her other hand swiped at the makeup that had streaked her face.

"Use ours," Emily insisted. "Your brothers went out for pizza but they'll probably be back soon and they'll be snoopy if they see you upset. You can just camp out in here until you're calmed down, or for the night if you want to."

Charlotte nodded, beginning the task of removing dozens of bobby pins from her hair. Emily stepped behind her and helped her. As they both hunted silently for bobby pins, Charlotte's weeping came back with a vengeance, tempting Emily to break down as well, but the most she let herself go was in crying a few silent tears, then turning Charlotte in her arms and holding her once more.

"I'm not asking this judgmentally, but I need to know…did you guys use a—"

"Yes," Charlotte said hurriedly.

"Did it break or anything?"

"Not that I know of," Charlotte replied with a shrug. "But I don't know…if it did break, he probably wouldn't have told me. Oh God, Mom, what if it did?" She broke away and paced the room.

"Get in the shower and I'll go to the drugstore and get you the morning after pill, okay?"

"What's that?" Charlotte asked.

"I guess they didn't cover that in your sex ed…that's nice. It'll start your period so you can't get pregnant, okay?"

Charlotte nodded. "Okay. I need some pajamas," she realized.

"I'll put some on the bed for you. Take a nice, long, hot shower and I'll be back in a bit."

"Thanks," Charlotte said, sniffling, "for, you know…not being judgmental."

"I'm your mom, Charlotte, and you're heartbroken. Judging your decisions is the last thing on my mind right now. " Emily walked into the master bathroom and started up the shower as her final plea. "Want anything else from the store? Ice cream, maybe?"

"I dunno. Maybe." Charlotte finally heeded Emily and came into the bathroom. Emily left her with a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead.

Hotch heard Emily's lone footsteps coming down the stairs and he was waiting for her in the kitchen, his arms folded in front of him and his eyes red with worry. "What's going on?"

"Charlotte's taking a shower. I'll be right back."

"Emily, you can't leave me in the dark like this. Our relationship with each other trumps our relationships with the kids. You said you'd tell me. And whatever it is that happened, you know Charlie won't want to tell me herself. I take it that lowlife had something to do with this?"

Emily nodded concedingly. "She thought the moment was right, she told him she loved him, he said it back, and they…had sex," Emily murmured, as if saying it quietly would make it less true, "and then he told her things weren't going to work out after graduation, and he left her there." She took Hotch's hand and brushed the back of it with her thumb while she watched him crumble. "You were right. I can't believe I thought he wasn't an asshole, just a normal teenage boy. Then again, I guess normal teenage boys are pretty much pigs, at least from what I remember."

Speechless, Hotch as he took a barstool at the island, his fingers still interlaced with Emily's. "I don't remember the last time I've wanted to hurt someone so badly," he managed after a while.

"I know. Listen, I asked if they used protection and she said yes, but she's not sure that he would've been honest if the condom had broken, so I'm going to get her the morning after pill. Are you okay with that?"

Hotch nodded faintly, letting go of Emily's hand and clasping both of his, using them to prop up his forehead on the counter.

"I just…can't let her go through what I went through, if there's any way to stop it. And she's going on the pill after this, even if she thinks she'll be waiting until she's married. I can't—"

"Go," Hotch said calmly. "We'll talk about that later. Go get her what she needs."

Hotch resisted the temptation to go knock on his bedroom door when he heard the shower turn off. As much as his heart was torn to shreds knowing that someone had taken his daughter's innocence and left her feeling so ashamed, he was destroyed even further by knowing that he, her father, was certainly the last person she wanted to see or talk to right now. So he remained planted at the counter, occupying his mind with thoughts of how he could take vengeance while abiding by the law.

Emily was back ten minutes later with a plastic bag. She wasn't entirely surprised to see that Hotch hadn't budged. "I'll try and convince her to let you in," she said, palming Hotch's shoulder. "I know you just want to hold her, and I'll try my best to remind her of, well…how much she needs her dad. Far more than she needs me."

"I'm not jealous. That's not what this is about at all," Hotch said, turning to place an arm around Emily in return. He kissed her briefly, somehow finding a moment to fall a little bit more in love with her. He watched her pull out a box from the plastic bag, then shove the bag and its remaining contents into the already crammed freezer. Once he was left alone again, he helped himself to a glass of whiskey and made himself as comfortable as he could in the den once again.

"Do you feel any better?" Emily asked Charlotte once the bedroom door was shut.

Charlotte nodded from her spot in the middle of the bed, where she sat curled up in a ball. "A little."

"Good, that's a start," Emily said. She ducked into the bathroom and came out with a glass of water, handing it to Charlotte. "Here, let's get this out of the way," Emily said, handing her two pills as well.

Crying all over again, Charlotte put back the pills with a large swig of water, and handed the glass back over. Emily set it aside and pulled back the covers until Charlotte had no choice but to climb in under them. Emily took one of the decorative pillows that normally got stashed in a chest at the foot of the bed and put it in her lap, tucking Charlotte's damp hair behind her ear when she rested her head there.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," Emily repeated. "So, so sorry."

"It was my fault. It's not like I told him no."

"You gave yourself to someone you thought loved you, honey. There's nothing inherently bad about that. He's the one who did you wrong. And you know what? As cliché as this may sound, know that I mean every word of what I'm about to say. He's an idiot for doing what he did. You are such an extraordinary person. You're smart, beautiful, loving, generous…somewhere out there, there's a man who will know and appreciate all those things, and he'll realize how lucky he would be to have you. And you'll find him someday."

"Is Dad the only one you ever felt that way about?" Charlotte asked, seemingly happy to move into a less depressing conversation.

"He is, but there were men before him that I thought I loved. Your dad and I had some ups and downs, but when we finally got to a certain point, I realized how wrong I was. And I know how…overbearing he can be. And I know it's annoying and embarrassing, but it's only because you're—"

"Because I'm his little girl. I know." Charlotte hugged her pillow.

"And no matter how old you get, you always will be. He wants nothing but the best for you. He wants you to keep your standards high."

"I failed him pretty miserably, I'd say."

Emily laughed softly. "Like he would ever blame you for this. I know it takes two to tango, but I guarantee you he's looking at this as you being used, not you making a mistake."

"Do you think he'll go after you-know-who?" Charlotte wondered.

"I think as much as he'd love to tear that guy to pieces, he'd rather make sure you're okay. So I think his interactions with you-know-who are over."

"Dang. I was kind of hoping he'd at least slash his tires or something."

"If you say that even jokingly, you can bet he'll do it," Emily said with another chuckle.

"I hope I find someone like him someday. Not exactly like him, because that'd be creepy, and he's kind of annoying sometimes, but you know what I mean."

"I do. Don't ever settle, okay?"

"I won't."

Emily wondered whether she should relate her own teenage tales to Charlotte, but concluded that talking about herself and Hotch had already made this moment more about herself and less about her daughter. She shelved the topic for another time, knowing that Charlotte was probably at a suitable point in her life to learn those things about her mother.

Together they lay in silence for quite a long time, Emily still stroking Charlotte's hair in her lap. They eventually heard the front door open and the boys pile into the house, making a racket.

"Where were they, anyway?" Charlotte asked.

"Out for pizza. Want me to see if they brought any leftovers home?"

"I'm not really hungry."

"All right. Hey, are you in any pain at all?" Emily asked, gathering all of Charlotte's hair into a pile and brushing the back of her hand across Charlotte's tear-stained cheek.

"A little."

"I'll go get you some Tylenol."

"Mm-mm," Charlotte objected, grabbing the hand that lay on her cheek and squeezing it. "I don't want to move."

"Okay, we can stay here." Emily contemplated asking Charlotte if she wanted to talk about the matter any further, but decided against it when Charlotte yawned and brought her pillow up to Emily's shoulder instead. "Want to go to sleep?"

"I wanna try."

"Okay." Emily reached for her lamp and turned it out, leaving them cloaked in darkness and heavy blankets. "I love you, honey. Do I say that enough?"

"If anyone doesn't say it enough, it's me. I love you, too."

Her hands traveling up and down Charlotte's back, Emily pulled her closer and planted a kiss in her wet hair. "It's not your job to say it. Let's get some sleep."

—

Emily awoke a couple hours later to empty arms. Charlotte was sitting up, her hands in her face, but from the sound of it, not crying.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Emily said groggily. "Did you have a nightmare or something?" She sat up herself and grasped Charlotte's shoulders.

"I guess you could call it that," Charlotte said, her voice quavering. "I'm okay, though. I just can't get back to sleep."

"I'm sorry. You know what?"

"Huh?"

"I think I should have your dad come up. I'll tell him not to force you to talk, but there's no safer place to be than with him. I think it will help."

"Did you tell him everything?" Charlotte asked, surprisingly without anger, only curiosity.

"I had to tell him, yes, I'm sorry. It would have killed him not knowing."

Charlotte nodded understandingly, leaning into Emily for one last hug.

"Did she fall asleep?" Hotch asked when Emily found him in the den flipping channels; he saw that as the only logical explanation for why Emily would come downstairs, leaving Charlotte alone.

"She did, but she woke up again," Emily said quietly. "She's having nightmares."

"Nightmares?" Hotch asked poignantly. "She hasn't already been through enough?"

"I know. I convinced her to let you in, if you want to go up there."

"You did?"

Smile smiled softly. "You've always been the go-to man for bad dreams," she said, combing her fingers through his hair. "Just don't force her to talk if she doesn't want to. And get her some Tylenol or something."

Hotch nodded and thanked Emily with a kiss on the forehead after he got up.

"Are the boys all in bed?" Emily asked.

"As far as I know."

"Okay." Emily followed Hotch upstairs and took the guest bedroom. She was tempted to take Charlotte's, but figured that if Charlotte chose to move to her room for the night, it would be so she could be alone.

"Hey, sweetie," Hotch said with sad eyes when he let himself into his room.

"Hi," Charlotte barely said.

"Hang on one second, okay?" Hotch took the glass of water from Emily's nightstand and went into the bathroom to refill it and get a pain reliever. He came out with Charlotte's prom dress as well. "I'll hang this up for you. You did look very pretty tonight. I'm sorry I didn't say it more than once."

"Thank you. Sorry I just left it on the floor. I know it was really expensive."

"I'm sure you'll have more chances to make it worth two hundred dollars," Hotch teased as he crawled under the covers. "Or we could burn it and buy you a new one for the next dance," he said quickly when Charlotte shot him a look that said he was preposterous for suggesting she even touch the dress again, let alone wear it. Despite her fears that she'd tarnished his image of her forever, she readily curled up into his open arms after taking one last pill, dragging the covers up over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she struggled to say, biting down on her quivering lip.

Hotch pressed Charlotte's cheek to his chest. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Charlotte gave up on that front quickly. Emily had been right. Charlotte had never felt safer than she felt in her dad's sturdy, protective arms that were still as gentle as though he were holding a baby.

"Mom said you were having some nightmares," Hotch said.

"Kind of. Just…replays."

Hotch couldn't help but draw a parallel between Charlotte's nightmares and Emily's flashbacks. "Was this completely consensual?" he asked. "Did you at any point say no, or express that you didn't want to, or that you wanted to stop?"

"It was consensual," Charlotte said, her voice squeaking through yet more tears. Not only did she sound traumatized by the event itself, but also rightfully embarrassed to talk to her father so directly about sex. "It hurt, and I hated it, and he went too fast, but…I never asked him to stop or anything. I know what you're thinking. It wasn't…I hate that word. It wasn't that. I promise."

"Okay, I just wanted to make sure."

"I kind of wish I would've said something, but then I wonder if he would've stopped, you know?"

Tears streamed down Hotch's cheeks, unseen by anyone. "If you're ever in a situation like that where you're uncomfortable, you're allowed to say no."

"I know…I just didn't want to screw things up. A lot of my friends had already done it and they said the first time was supposed to hurt and not really be much fun, just…romantic. Ugh, I can't believe I'm talking to you about this."

Hotch chuckled, his congestion obvious. "You can talk to me about absolutely anything. Just like you always have."

"I don't think I have anything left to say, anyway. Besides that I wish I could rewind tonight, or even the last six months."

"Trust me, I wish you could, too. I don't think there's anything that gets to me more than seeing you or your mom or your brothers in pain."

"I'll be okay." Charlotte said bravely, sniffling one final time.

"Listen, I'm sorry if I was a little over-dramatic today, with the gun, the suit…My aim wasn't to embarrass you."

"Actually, you-know-who started blabbing about you to everyone when we got there, and one of the senior girls said she was jealous of me. Her dad was home when she left for the dance but he didn't care enough to come see her in her dress before she left. She said I was lucky."

"Oh? So I can use that again next time?"

"You get one free pass," Charlotte replied. "Never again."

A fleeting smile crossed Hotch's lips and he took to squeezing Charlotte's top shoulder. "You know…" he said quietly after a long silence during which he thought Charlotte might have fallen asleep.

"Hmm?" she said, confirming that she hadn't.

"When you were a baby, you used to fall asleep face down on my belly all the time."

Charlotte giggled. "Really?"

"Really. Mom's got the pictures saved somewhere. She already had the world's biggest crush on me but I'm pretty sure that sealed the deal. She thought it was adorable. But don't you go falling for men with babies, okay? Not at your age."

"Oh my God, I can't imagine having kids. Not even one, let alone five. How do you and Mom deal?"

"There have been times we've considered selling you all into slavery, but we realized we wouldn't get near our asking price, so we trucked through it," Hotch said cavalierly with a shrug that made Charlotte laugh again. "I hope you change your mind about kids, though. I want some grandbabies someday. Just…not yet. Please."

"Pretty sure I'm done with boys. No need to worry."

Hotch sighed. "As much as I wish that were the case, that you wouldn't have to go through this heartbreak again, there will be other guys. Ideally, just one more, but we need to be realistic, not idealistic. You'll probably have at least a few more boys in your life. And some of them will probably hurt you. I wish I could stand in front of you and somehow protect you from all of that, but I can't. That's what tears me apart."

"I know."

"I will be here whenever you need me, though. You can always come to me or Mom with anything, no matter what it is."

"Even if I get pregnant after my own prom?" Charlotte joked.

"That one you might want to bring to Mom first."

"I'll keep that in mind." Charlotte let out a relatively content whoosh of air. "I'm getting tired again."

"Good. Get some sleep."

"Can you stay with me?" Charlotte asked, unabashedly desperate.

"Absolutely."

A/N: Reviews are love! Oneshots revolving around other characters (including Sean!) will come, I promise. This was one I really, really wanted to write.