AN: Here is my contribution for advertising the Profiler's Choice Awards on Chit Chat on Author's Corner. I hope you all enjoy, and don't forget to vote!...

The After-Party

David Rossi walked out of the annual FBI holiday party with his date, Ilsa, on his arm. They'd taken a cab to the event so that they could relax and have a good time. Ilsa was a good time girl, nothing too serious, and she was exactly his type—blonde, blue eyed, and easy.

"See you Monday, Dave," Aaron Hotchner said. This evening, Hotch's date was none other than Emily Prentiss. Hotch hadn't really reentered the dating scene yet and had thought about not going to the upper management party, but Prentiss had insisted that he go. He'd insisted back he'd only go if Emily went also. Judging by the smiles on both of their faces, it had been a successful arrangement.

Before he could answer, Ilsa gripped his arm. "Dave, I forgot my scarf. Can you get it for me?"

That didn't surprise Dave at all. Ilsa was rather bubble headed and tended to forget things a lot. "Of course."

"We'll wait with her," Hotch interjected. He and Prentiss were waiting for their cab to come, too.

Dave turned and hurried through the double doors back into the FBI headquarters. He flashed his ID, which got him access to just about everywhere in the building, and then took the stairs up to the floor where the party was being held.

As he opened the stair door, he saw a sight he wasn't expecting to see. Erin Strauss was standing on a stool in her beaded evening gown, barefoot, removing tinsel from the fake Christmas tree in the entry way. She was precariously perching, reaching for a strand that was inches too far away.

Nothing new there…It was just like Strauss to be overreaching.

"Oh, damn!" she cursed as the stool wobbled beneath her feet.

"I'd be careful, if I were you," he said, coming up behind her. As he watched her tense—Erin always tensed when he talked to her—he said, "A woman your age could break a hip doing that kind of thing."

Erin turned on the stool and shot him a look. "I managed to avoid you for the nearly three hours of this miserable party, but not for nearly long enough, I guess. To what do I owe this pleasure, Agent Rossi?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Erin," he remarked carelessly. "I was just getting my date's scarf."

She gave him a look, and then turned, saying, "Hmmm…"

Dave stopped in reaching for the scarf. He knew better than to ask, but he was a glutton for punishment. "What was that for?"

"Nothing," she said in a sing song tone of voice, looking over her shoulder at him, and then looked back at the tree, adding, "I'm simply not surprised she'd forget something."

Dave glared at her back. "Haven't you learned not to judge a book by its cover, Erin?"

"Yes," she replied, the smirk evident in her voice, "but the outline written on her backless gown made her pretty easy to sum up…"

He opened his mouth to retort, and then changed his mind. Why he'd spend time arguing with Strauss when he had a perfectly good—and willing—date waiting for him was beyond his comprehension. He snatched up the scarf and said, "I'm out of here. You leaving soon?"

"No," she replied. "I'm in the clean up crew."

"Looks like you are the clean up crew," he answered.

She reached for a string of lights. "Yes, well, the other members of the crew were too drunk or conveniently forgot and went home already. Someone has to do it, so..."

He gave a low whistle. "That's rough."

"Yes, it is," she commented. She gave him a slight smile. "Nothing for you to worry about. Your date is waiting. Happy holidays to you, David."

"Happy holidays, Erin."

Erin wasn't looking forward to the rest of the clean up by herself. Truthfully, she could've asked other people to help or even assigned some underlings to help her, but it was the spirit of the holidays. She didn't want to do that to people who had people to celebrate with. She'd just go home, spend time with Pokey, her Pekinese, and then go to bed. Not a thrilling night. At least this way, she was somewhat productive.

The whole party had been kind of dull for her. She wasn't in the mood to chat with Chief Fickler and some of the other honchos. They all had stories of their glory days that made them—and her—feel like has beens. She'd glanced over at Aaron Hotchner and Sam Cooper and had seen how much fun they were having with their dates. She'd noticed Agent Prentiss was Aaron's date; she'd have to look into that when she had time—interoffice romance was frowned upon.

And of course, she noticed David Rossi. He was singularly impossible to ignore.

Since the first time she'd met him over twenty five years ago, he'd poured out rough charisma and charm like no other person she'd ever known. People were magnetically drawn to him in all situations. He was snarky, wise, funny, and yet had a humility about him that made people comfortable. He'd exuded power from day one, something she'd had to fight so hard to get. She envied him…and that made him her natural enemy.

But opposites attracted, and hate truly was akin to love. As much as she despised his womanizing ways and easy demeanor, she couldn't help but be fascinated by him. She even enjoyed fighting with him whenever she had the chance, and she sincerely respected him.

She stepped down from the stool and headed over to the banquet table. There were still some hor d'ouerves there that looked kind of good, even though they were somewhat cold. She took a bacon wrapped water chestnut, dipped it in horseradish sauce, and popped it into her mouth.

Erin heard the elevator door open again and saw Rossi step out. She frowned at him. "David," she mumbled with a mouthful of appetizer.

"In the flesh." He looked at the table and rubbed his hands in mock glee. "Did you save some for me?"

She swallowed quickly. "What are you doing back here?"

"Call me a sucker for lost causes," he said, shrugging off his overcoat and white scarf, "but I'm here to help. I didn't think it was right for one person to do all the clean up."

Erin felt an unfamiliar warmth in her chest. She wasn't used to people doing favors for her, at least not at work, and certainly not David Rossi. "What about your date?"

"Hotch and Emily are bringing Ilsa home."

Erin snorted. "She looks like an Ilsa."

David gave her a look like he was terribly disappointed in her. "Sometimes I can't believe you. I'm here to help you out, and you still insult me." He shook his head and began stacking chairs for removal.

She stood there, her hands fisted at her side. What was it about him that made her such a bitch? It was more than just his status in the FBI. Maybe because he never really looked at her, never noticed her, even though he seemed to like the Nordic blonde type—her type—just like she liked the tall, dark, Italian look.

Whatever it was, she needed to get over it and get on with her life.

"I'm sorry," she said, her tone more brusque than she had intended. She wasn't used to humbling herself at all.

Rossi glanced back at her with a pleased smile and winked at her. "Don't mention it."

She felt her cheeks heating, and then turned away and began dismantling the tree.

An hour passed, and they'd finished most of the clean up. They were highly efficient, like a well-tuned machine. They had some fun, too. Dave had figured out how to run the loudspeaker and had put on a jazzy station playing Christmas carols, and they'd sung along with a lot of the songs.

She wiped her brow. "Well, that all of it, I think."

Dave scoped out the empty ballroom. "Not a shred of tinsel to be found. We're a good team."

She met his dark coffee eyes and felt that strange rush of pleasure wash over her again. "Yes…we are."

For a moment, they stared at each other in companionable silence. That was a rare thing for Erin Strauss and David Rossi, and both found it pleasurable—if not a bit alarming.

Erin looked up at one of the doorways and saw something hanging from a light fixture. "Oh. There's something."

They both wandered over and looked up to see what it was. Hanging in a cluster of white berries and green ivy was a beautiful sprig of mistletoe.

In all of her fifty-two years, Erin Strauss had never been kissed under the mistletoe. She'd thought it hokey and ridiculous to do such a thing. It was a deliberate set up for romance; there was nothing truly sweet or romantic about it. However, standing under the mistletoe with David, her heartbeat suddenly accelerated, and she found herself both scared and exhilarated.

Dave, on the other hand, had kissed hundreds of women in his life under the mistletoe. It was meaningless fun that sometimes led to adventures that he found himself regretting now. Most of the women he'd kissed, he couldn't remember their names anymore. As he looked into the crystalline blue eyes of Erin Strauss, he saw hesitancy along with a hint of want, and he knew that wouldn't be the case with her.

He had a feeling he'd never forget this.

"Erin," he said softly, taking a step forward.

"Well!" she said, jolting a bit. "I suppose we should get that down." With lightening speed, she stepped back and forced a smile, turning and nearly running for her step stool.

Erin groaned as she reached the other side of the room and picked up the stool. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she chastised herself. Chicken and stupid. Too late now, Erin...Too late!

She was falsely smiling again when she walked back. She put her stool down, stepped up, and removed the mistletoe.

"You'll probably have more use for this," she chided, handing him the mistletoe. She was trying to slip back into that familiar animosity between them. That was much, much safer than what she was feeling.

He shook his head and reached for the sprig. "Thanks."

She was slipping on her shoes, trying to make a run for it. "You're welcome."

"Can I walk you out?"

She tried to slide her coat on herself, but David gave her a hand with it anyway. "Thank you, but I can handle it."

"Too bad; I'm walking you out anyway."

As he slid his overcoat and scarf back on, she thought about how the white scarf emphasized his swarthy complexion. He'd looked brutally handsome tonight. She felt a shiver, and then followed him into the elevator.

They didn't say anything until they got to her car. He opened the door for her and said, "Here you go. Merry Christmas, Erin."

"Merry Christmas, David," she replied, sliding into the driver's seat. Bittersweet longing flowed over her; she quickly tamped it down and shook her head. "Another party over and done with."

He smiled back at her and shut her door. "You know it. Drive safe."

As she drove away, she knew deep down that the party was the only thing that was really done between them.