Title: Felt
By: dancerindisguise
Pairing: Prentiss/Hotch
Rating: PG-13
AN: Hm. Strange, I was trying to write an essay here. Guess I needed my H/P Christmas fix. Merry Christmas anyway!
Disclaimer: Santa Claus disappointed me again. Still not mine!
Summary: The best thing was that it felt. A Hotch/Prentiss Christmas one-shot!

***

It felt strange, lying here, in the arms of the man she had been hiding from for so long. It felt crazy, like it was a mere dream and she would wake up and be alone again; it felt strangely like home. Part of her resented the fact that he could make her feel so great just by being there, and part of her loved that very same fact. It was a formidable feeling, the one that was welling in her heart at that moment, that was she had so carefully barricaded away from herself in order not to act rashly. It was a funny, happy feeling.

For a long time she had refused to admit it to herself, and when she finally had, she had blocked it out and stuffed it into its own compartment, never to be let out for fear that it would ruin her professionalism. There it had lain for a very long time, growing and seething, until one day the jar had all smashed itself to pieces and all that pent-up attraction came pouring out.

She blamed it on the mistletoe.

There they had stood, two silhouettes shaded in by the waning sun, underneath that sprig of green, awkwardly glancing around the office. There was no one there. Her heart raced in her chest. She bit her lip.

She wasn't even sure who had initiated it in the first place. All she could think about was the fact that he tasted like coffee and gingerbread and that he was warm. "Come with me tonight, Emily," he said, his eyes warm.

She couldn't refuse him.

Now they were here, spooning by the soft glow of his fireplace, and it felt great. She knew there would be issues and that there would be repercussions with the Bureau if and when they decided that they wanted this to be real, but she was in this for the long haul and she had the feeling he was too.

A clock somewhere in the house chimed twelve times. She felt his arms tighten around her as he leaned down. "Merry Christmas, Emily," he whispered into her ear, the warm air tickling.

"Merry Christmas, Hotch."

There were so many ways she could try to describe how it felt—but one thing remained at the heart of the matter: after so long trying to hide it, the best thing was that it felt.