Title: Stardust and Serendipity
Authour: hopskotch_hotch
Pairing: Hotch/Prentiss
Rating: Mature/FRAO
Word Count: 5,333 words
Warnings/spoilers: Some minor references to situations in Season 3 and 4 episodes.
Summary/prompt: A Christmas party kiss lingers longer than it should, and chance, (or something else altogether), conspires to make Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss take up where they left off, to see where it might take them. Pure festive corn, tinged with some smut. Definitely not intended as solid canon.

***

True love shall live thro' sorrow's wintry storm,
And bloom afresh on this glad Christmas morn.



****************************

The team held their usual cheerfully contained Christmas gathering in the otherwise deserted bullpen "“ just the small group, some finger food, and a few bottles of champagne. December twenty second, and the build-up to the holidays had reached its zenith. The final case of the year had wound up successfully, and everyone was in a rare mood to celebrate.

An obscenely large clump of mistletoe had been strategically placed right in the middle of the open space, dangling precariously from a string. Dave, who had mysteriously disappeared for an hour that afternoon, was the chief suspect. It transpired later on that he had cleared out the local florist's entire mistletoe stock, and had hung it while the rest were busy gathering the food and drink. Everyone seemed game for a kiss or two that evening, even the usually restrained SSA Aaron Hotchner. A glass of champagne had sloughed away his inhibitions. He had even opened the top button of his shirt and loosened his necktie a notch "“ his own special nod to party mode.

Garcia always maintained that a kiss on the cheek was a kiss for wimps, much like air kissing and timid pecking. If you were going to do it at all, you had to do it just right. A complete lip lock was the ultimate aim. Raucous laughter filled the pen as the lip pressing commenced beneath the mistletoe. Accusations of too much tongue and 'washing machines' were bandied about gleefully. Emily was the recipient of Derek's classic tonsil-hockey overkill, and she giggled as Dave's beard tickled, not unpleasantly. Spence's kiss was a quick smacker, but she made him linger that little bit longer until he blushed crimson, just for the heck of it. She even engaged JJ and Penelope in dramatic heated embraces, much to the delight of the boys.

Her courage faltered when she was faced with Hotch. He too appeared initially uncomfortable, unable to meet her gaze directly.

"Come on Hotch!" Derek hollered encouragingly.

"Better put him out of his misery and get this over with," Emily thought to herself, making the first step forward. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he bent his neck towards her. She was certain that he was opting for a chaste kiss on the cheek, but when his lips met hers, all thoughts abandoned her, and she closed her eyes at the contact. The world around them disappeared for a moment in time. He hooked an arm around her waist to bring her closer, but couldn't hold her properly because he still clasped a champagne glass in his hand. Maybe it was just as well. The others would later say that if the clinch had gotten any hotter, the sprinklers would have gone off and ruined the canapés. Even Reid was heard to quip that although his forte in the sciences was physics, he knew full-on chemistry when it staring him in the face.

Their embrace deepened and Emily emitted a small moan that only Hotch could hear. The sound was surprising, but pleasing. The light scent of her perfume and the softness and pliability of her lips giving way to his, but engaging completely all the same, gave him a feeling of falling into something profoundly familiar, but intensely good. Her hand unconsciously moved from his shoulder to lightly touch his jaw line. She found herself wanting more, forgetting that they were surrounded by a group of gob-smacked colleagues.

They were brought back to their senses by the sound of clapping and wolf whistles from their assembled teammates. They could barely believe that Hotch was playing along and then some. Usually, he kept the peace and observed soberly from the sidelines. He was the straight man.

"o why don't you just tell us the last thing Em ate, Mr Eager Beaver?!" Garcia laughed, nudging the Unit Chief as he and Emily broke contact and moved away from one another.

Hotch licked his lips thoughtfully.

"Chocolate profiteroles," he answered without skipping a beat.

"Oh man, I want whatever he's drinking!" Derek laughed.

"Me too!" Dave chimed in.

It was Emily's turn to blush.

Hotch's dark eyes flashed a flicker of something playful in her direction as he took a mouthful of champagne from the fluted glass. It tasted bitter in the aftermath of her pleasing sweetness.

She felt a little dazed as she barely absorbed the friendly insults from her friends. She wouldn't live this down for months. What was he playing at?

They had become comfortable with each other lately; taking coffee without the others, acting as seat buddies on long plane and SUV journeys. It was as if she could anticipate his thoughts and actions and he had come to rely on her as his right hand woman. And his left hand woman, come to think of it.

When the excitement and cheer of the gathering had quietened to something more sober, they exchanged small gifts and said their goodbyes. Derek was heading home to his mother and sisters in Chicago; Garcia and Kevin Lynch were spending the holidays in Paris. Rumor had it that Bowie might be throwing a small performance there; JJ and Will were bringing Henry to New Orleans to meet his grandma, aunts, uncles, and assorted kith and kin. Hotch and Emily were the only two remaining in DC. Emily waved away enquiries about how she would be spending the break. Derek guessed a long spell in a hot tub with a batch of profiteroles, and she gave him a withering look. Everyone sidestepped the Hotchner family issue. Would he be alone? Would he see Jack, or maybe even Haley at some point? Would it be a microwave turkey dinner for one in a lonely apartment on Christmas afternoon?



Two days later Emily decided to go food shopping. It wasn't a pleasant prospect, but neither was the thought of bare cupboards at Christmas. Shopping for one was no fun, but it was a necessary evil. Food shopping at Balducci's gourmet market in Georgetown wasn't all that bad. At least she could indulge in everything she forced herself to stay away from for the rest of the year.

She was staring at a jar of sun blushed tomatoes when he almost ran straight into her.

He was wearing a grey zip-up cardigan with an olive green sweater underneath, jeans and sneakers. His usually gelled hair fell forward slightly, giving him a ruffled, hurried appearance.

"Prentiss!" he greeted her.

"Hotch!" She almost dropped the jar, startled. She shouldn't have been so nervy about bumping into him; she was bound to meet someone she knew, small world that it was. A few weeks ago it wouldn't have bothered her one bit. Since the Christmas party, though, she had been trying to avoid him as much as possible, unable to silence the persistent thoughts of him. Not Hotch the SSA, Hotch the boss "“ these roles, yes, but with an added dimension that was far from professional or innocent.


"elf-pity shopping?" he asked wryly, trying to start up a conversation.

"Necessity shopping, actually."

He arched an eyebrow, glancing at her basket that by now only contained a bottle of wine and a tub of ice cream.

She ignored his doubtful look. "o, you too "“ getting the basics?" She eyed his equally sparse collection of shopping items. Not exactly microwave meals for one, but paltry all the same. A six pack of beer, some fruit, cereal, milk, orange juice, razor blades. The basics.

He sighed and nodded, a little embarrassed. It was Christmas Eve, and he was lounging about with nothing to do. Haley was at her sister's with Jack. Hotch would see his son on Christmas afternoon, having left some gifts over that morning after spending a few hours in the office finishing a batch of paperwork. He had nothing left to do but wait, and his apartment felt like it was closing in on him. Haley had invited him to come over for breakfast before he brought Jack out for the afternoon, but he chose to avoid her family gathering and politely declined. He couldn't face her parents, or her, for that matter. It was the first Christmas since the divorce had come through, and that fact alone stung. He knew that twinge would fade with time, like everything did, eventually.

Emily began to walk slowly, and he strolled alongside her. He could have wished her a happy Christmas and gone on his way, but something compelled him to linger awhile. She didn't seem to mind.

"Last year I managed to spend the day alone, just me, a nice roaring fire, chocolates, and a bottle of wine. I don't think I could spend another Christmas with my parents; it's depressing, much as I love them. It's about time I had my own Christmas...again. Sounds pathetic, doesn't it?" she half laughed "

Both knew the other was alone for the holidays this year. No point in glossing over the fact.

"Not in the least. Add some roast turkey and a pile of sausage stuffing to that scene and I'd be in heaven."

"o, Prentiss, what do you want for Christmas?"

She hesitated. "This is going to sound corny"

"Go on," he probed.

"Well, for starters, I want someone who will stroll through the park with me in the twilight, holding my hand. I haven't had my hand held for, well, I can't actually remember! I want look out at the Potomac as the snow falls and share that beautiful sight with someone other than myself for a change. I told you it was corny."

"I never had you down as an old romantic Prentiss."

She looked to glare at him, but saw a twinkle in his eye.

"That sounds enchanting," he said seriously.

"Enchanting? Are we in a Jane Austen novel?" She hadn't stopped smiling since they'd bumped into one another, something he'd noticed, but she was completely unaware of.

"You tell me," he played along, giving her an uncustomary wink.

Playful Hotch was unexpected, but she liked him very much. He was relaxed, just a normal, decent guy.

He reached a hand over, brushing her fingers, and then entwined them in his.

She looked over at him and laughed again, this time, nervously.

"Hotch, you don't have to, just to make me feel better!"

"I want to"

His grasp was just the right side of firm without being crushing. Her little hand was engulfed by his. The sensation was pleasing. Downright nice in fact. She swung their joined hands slightly, like a giddy schoolgirl, causing him to smile. Then those rarely seen dimples appeared.

She knew he meant nothing by it, but a slight panic set in.

"Hotch, we're in a public place!"

"That's the only thing that's bothering you? I honestly didn't think you cared so much about what other people think."

"What if someone sees this?"

"People are seeing this "“ look, they're all around us!" he chuckled softly.

She relaxed only slightly, as he brought her on a stroll down the cosmetics aisle.

"This is nice, actually," he commented.

"This is very, very strange Hotch. Nice, but strange,"

"Nice is all that matters."

He squinted in the direction of the fruit and vegetable aisle to their left and pointed suddenly.

"Look, your mother!"

Emily let go of his hand and spun around.

"Where??"

"Gotcha!" he chuckled, taking her hand again.

"Very funny."


"What else do you want for Christmas? Hypothetically, if you could have anything?" he asked, resuming the line of questioning that seemed to be having positive results so far.

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because you might decide to humor me like you just did."

"I'm in a giving mood. I've never found it so easy to please someone at Christmas; I never seem to find the right gifts."

"I'm a girl of simple tastes," she said plainly. "And I'm also a believer in the old adage that the best things in life aren't stocked in any old department store: they're free."

He nodded, not completely sure what she meant, but hoping that perhaps he wasn't reading too much into it. Emily Prentiss was a plain speaker. She said what she meant; she was forthright. Maybe not as bluntly as he could be sometimes, and he admired that quality.

She tried to change the subject. "I think the Christmas songs are going around the loop from the start. I really pity people who work here and have to listen to that every day."

"You think we should pipe festive music into the bullpen to boost morale?"

He laughed, eyes twinkling.

"A guaranteed way to make people bay for your blood after a few hours!"

"o what are you doing for Christmas, or is it impolite of me to ask?" he ventured.

Hotch was a private man, and he respected the privacy of his Agents. He never pried for information on their personal lives, unless it was easily proffered.

Somehow, holding his hand made it easy to talk to him.

He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, a sensation that made her stomach flip.

It was as if they were seeing each other for the first time: still themselves, but new somehow. She half expected him to wrangle his easy hold on her hand into a firm handshake.

Hello, I'm Aaron Hotchner, I don't think we've met before. You've possibly met my Bureau brother " I'm his off-duty other half.

"Nothing much. Derek was right "“ the hot tub beckons. A nice bottle of wine. I'm that predictable."

Then she found herself saying something without even intending to.

"Hotch, would you like to join me for some dinner at my apartment?"

He hesitated and she was embarrassed by her own haste, and even more so by the fact that he was still holding her hand.

"I know you probably have other plans, and it won't be anything special, just a few things from the deli here..."

"I'd love to." He squeezed her hand in affirmation.

I really like you. You have to know that by now.

"Great! That's great!" she beamed.

"Look, let's pool our resources," he suggested, tipping the contents of her basket into his and grabbing some last minute items from the shelves.

"Always so efficient" she observed.

"Does that annoy you?"

"No, no I like it. Very much."

Just like everything about you.


*****************

They drove separately to her apartment, Hotch taking the heavy bags of groceries with him. She arrived before he did, and he made it to her door with little trouble, having been to her place before, albeit in less pleasant circumstances. She ushered him inside and told him to make himself at home.

He left the groceries on the kitchen counter and Emily flicked the stereo on for some background music. As the smoky sound of lazy jazz trumpets and a sighing saxophone floated from the speakers, it was pure déjà vu.

Hotch smiled broadly.

"What is it?" she asked. "You know this?"

"Yes, I do. This was playing the first time I came to your apartment. When I harassed you to come to Milwaukee with me, remember?"

"I remember. Not the most pleasant interaction we've ever had Hotch"
"trauss...,"

"Water under the bridge. Far under the bridge, so let's forget about it."

"You're right," he sighed, moving to help her unpack the groceries and find plates and wine glasses.

"You know I bought some of her albums after I heard you play her," he said, wondering what her reaction would be.

"No kidding?" The thought touched her. She couldn't imagine Hotch settling down of an evening to listen to the quirky Cat Power.

"ure. I really like her covers album. What's that old Phil Phillips tune?" He snapped his fingers trying to recall. "ea of love? I remember my parents playing that song all the time when I was very young. Crackly old vinyl."

Emily watched him carefully as he busied himself with uncorking the wine. Hotch's father had passed away when Hotch was only a boy. Any memories he had " the good ones "“ were always bittersweet. He had never mentioned him to her before, but she knew bits and pieces about his life from listening to Dave, who knew Hotch best.

"Good times," Hotch smiled at her, making her breathe a sigh of relief.

"Well, here's to an unconventional Christmas!" he announced when the cork popped out.

"Hey, what's conventional these days?" Emily shrugged.

"True enough Prentiss."

The last minute purchases Hotch had made promised to turn the evening into a mini feast: Lobster bisque, warm turkey salad, ciabatta bread, mixed vegetables, a huge cheese platter, pecan pie, cherry pie, and a nice bottle of merlot to cap it all.

They brought the food into the living room and sat on the sofa, eating and sipping wine, talking about everything and nothing. There were no more than a couple of mildly uncomfortable silences, but these were soon forgotten when the conversation reached full flow. Emily had never seen Hotch more relaxed, sitting across from her in his casual clothes, arm stretched across the back of the sofa. She made him forget the woes of the world as he lost himself in her laugh.

When it became clear that Hotch had settled in for the evening, she switched on the TV to surf for some good Christmas fare, and sure enough, they found more than enough classics to choose from. Soon they were lost in Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly's rekindled romance, as the duo sang of true love to each other, far out on an idyllic blue ocean. If only reality could be so simple. Maybe love was that simple.

For you and I have a guardian angel on high, with nothing to do...

"To the hostess," Hotch finally declared before draining the last drop of wine in his glass.

She bowed mock-formally, making him grin. "I have another bottle in the wine rack," she offered, about to stand up and head for the kitchen.

He reached across to stop her, placing a hand gently on her knee.

"Wait."

"Everything okay?" she swallowed, trying to draw attention away from his gesture.


"Everything's great, yes," he smiled. "I just...I don't want to lose my senses to alcohol before I kiss you again. I don't want it to go by in a haze."

He said it so matter-of-factly that she wondered if he was joking. The incredulous, confused expression on her face made him ache somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach.

"What I'm saying " very badly " is, that I want to kiss you, and I don't want it to be drunken. I've been thinking about kissing you again since the Christmas party..."

"Me too," she admitted, searching his face for a hint of expression that might betray his true motives. All she could see was longing. And sadness. Even though he smiled more lately, that sorrow hung around him still.

He moved over to sit beside her, and looked for some sign that she felt the same way. Her not jumping out of his path was a good start.

Their faces were inches away, and they looked into each other's eyes for a moment. She laughed, a little nervously again, he thought, and looked down, before looking back up to meet his determined gaze. He began rubbing her back lightly, moving his fingers in small, comforting circles so that she relaxed and her shoulders lost their rigidity. She leaned in towards him and he titled her chin so that her lips were right under his, brushing them softly with his breath, until their mouths made contact. They enjoyed the first sensations, letting go now, with nobody watching to make them hesitate or move apart. The kiss intensified when he teased her lips apart with a light probing of his tongue, and she obliged easily, finally tasting him fully. They didn't even realize that they were falling deep into the piles of cushions, bathed in the glow of the candlelight that Emily loved to have surrounding her, in her one place of escape from the gruelling demands of her job. The entire apartment was littered with candles, and she lit most of them every evening she was home.

Once they had settled into a comfort zone, they made out slowly for a while; not like two teenagers caught up in the passions of a new romance, but like a couple who had been together for some time. Completely at ease with one another. She finally pushed Hotch away to catch her breath and her swollen lips throbbed pleasantly from the pressure of his. Smiling, chest heaving a little, she straddled him and his hands caressed, then clasped her hips, pulling her into him. She bent to kiss him again, taking control. She traced teasing, light kisses across the side of his jaw, down his neck as far as she could. She wanted that cardigan off him, and tugged at the zip, pushing it off his shoulders. Damn layers. She didn't fully know why she decided to take control; a part of her felt that he was so vulnerable he could almost break in two. She wanted to ease his pain, make him feel alive again. More than anything, she wanted him with an intensity she hadn't known she could feel. There was no going back.

Sensible Emily worried. This is your boss. While all of this is wonderful now, there are consequences. A minute of bliss may equal a year of hell at work...

Passionate, spontaneous Emily didn't give a damn. It wasn't often that she had a sudden tumult of strange feelings arise from out of the blue like this. She had possibly the best guy in all of DC reclining with her on her sofa on Christmas night, and she hadn't felt so happy for a long time. For a brief while he wasn't just SSA Hotchner. He was not uni-dimensional; he had all kinds of new aspects that were only being revealed to her now. A chance meeting while grocery shopping. The glory of snatched serendipity. It happened all the time, you just had to see it and grab with both hands to reap the benefits.

"Hotch, I don't want this to happen because we're both lonely or trying to forget that it's Christmas. I know it's a little late saying that now."

She bit her lip.

"Trying to forget?" he spoke sincerely. "This is one of the nicest Christmases I've had...I'm having" He meant it.

To hell with the rules. She didn't want him to say another word. He didn't have to.

"Prentiss!" he groaned between kisses, signalling an urge that she could clearly feel, hard and straining, against her thigh.

"Upstairs Hotch," she whispered against his ear, as he gently teased her lobe with his mouth, and she could barely restrain herself from asking him to take her right there on the sofa. "Protection," she explained. No point in her running upstairs and coming back down again. She didn't want to ruin the tempo of the fire that was building. She climbed off him and taking his hand in hers, tugged at it, signalling for him to follow.

He cleared his throat and she swore he was blushing some, though it could have been a flush from the sudden flurry of action.

"I'll follow you up in a minute," he nodded, pulling a cushion across his lap.

She bit her lip trying not to laugh again, and headed for the stairs, looking back down when she was halfway up.

Please follow. Please don't change you mind; this is not a mistake.
She took her time walking to the bedroom, and soon enough, heard his steady footfalls behind her.

He slipped his arms around her and she turned to face him, shivering happily in his embrace once again.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured huskily. "Likewise," she threw back, slipping her arms around his neck.

When he lifted her up, she wrapped her legs around him, and he silently prayed that he wouldn't buckle just yet. He carried her to her bedroom and they landed on the bed, tangled in a frenzy of tasting each other and pulling at each other's clothes as if they were shackles to be freed from, just as he thought his legs were about to give way. She wriggled from under him to reach out and switch on the bedside lamp.

"There, I can see you again, and, um, this..."

He loosened his hold on her as she fumbled in a drawer with one hand and after a few seconds, triumphantly produced the all-important small foil packet, leaving it on the edge of the table where they could reach it.

"o Will LaMontagne isn't the last viable sperm donor then," he joked, the sides of his eyes creasing with mirth.

"hut up and kiss me," she commanded, pulling him down on top of her again.

He made quick work of unbuttoning her blouse and pushing it aside, and she wriggled out of her pants, kicking them off while she pulled off his sweater and unfastened his jeans. He sat up to discard everything hurriedly, including socks and a wristwatch that would have scraped her skin. Besides, he didn't want a single unnecessary thing between his bare skin and hers.

He let his hands travel across her breasts, still bound by a black bra of the dependable support variety; sleek and classic, but no frills. Definitely Prentiss. He reached behind her back to undo the clasp and slid the straps off her shoulders, kissing the softest of soft skin there, as he did so. She trembled in anticipation of his mouth reaching her breasts, and when it finally closed around one of her erect nipples, her back arched in response and her hands ran through his hair distractedly. His long, lingering kisses trailed down her stomach, her bellybutton, and beyond, as he pulled off her panties, allowing him full access to the hot, wet core between her legs. She spread her thighs apart for him, and he couldn't believe how aroused she'd become so quickly; though much of the activity downstairs on the sofa was definitely foreplay. He began to suck and lick her engorged clit, she came quickly, shuddering, just as he slid two fingers inside her. "Oh please, yes, Hotch!" she called out, her head falling back, eyes tightly shut. He moved his fingers in and out in a steady rhythm to increase the sensations she was already overwhelmed by, and caught her when the intensity was subsiding and her body relaxed some.

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him gratefully. "I want you now," she breathed, reaching down to slide his boxers over his ass, her hand travelling around to his front to stroke his shaft and give his balls a gentle squeeze. He didn't know how he managed to stay even somewhat focused, but he found the wherewithal to grab the condom she had left on the nightstand, release it from its foil covering, and shakily slide it onto his achingly erect cock. Her lips curled into a smile of sheer contentment as he inched inside her. Each movement threatened to push her over the edge again, and she bucked her hips upwards until he filled her completely. He began to thrust, unable to hold back much longer, and she moved with him, falling quickly again with the friction. The tightness of her muscles drawing in made him come powerfully after a few more thrusts. She wished she could capture the look of agonized pleasure on his face at that moment. "Ahh, Prentiss!" he groaned, and in the middle of it all she suddenly realised that although he never called her Emily, she was Prentiss to him as he was Hotch to her; it wasn't meant to be cold and formal, it was as he had always known her.

He collapsed all of his weight onto his forearms, exhausted by a combination of dinner, wine, and hurried lovemaking, in quick succession.

"I'm sorry," he told her as she captured his mouth with hers once again, "it's been a while..."

"hhh, that was wonderful," she soothed, quietening him with a finger to his lips. He took it in his mouth and she squealed.

"Next time, we'll do a seven hour marathon."

"I'll hold you to that!"

He moved off her but stayed close, opening his arms for her to settle into. He wasn't sure if she was the cuddling type, but he took a chance. She was certainly tactile and brought that often-hidden quality out in him too.

"I never asked you what you wanted for Christmas," she sighed, curling into him.

He pulled her close and held on tight.

Hotch remained quiet for a while.

"I may be living in a fantasy world Prentiss, but what I've wanted for some time now, is you."

Her lips smiled against his chest.

"Not just for Christmas then?"

"Not just for Christmas."

"Or Hanukkah?"

"Or Hanukkah either. In fact, let's just say 'insert festive event here'."

"Deal. So, how long have I been on your list?"

"Longer than I care to admit readily."

He absently stroked a few strands of her hair and looked at her resting form, so close to him, they could almost share a heartbeat. He admired the glow he had given her, the flush that had spread across her skin.

They lay still for a while, not speaking, just thinking.

They watched the lamplight reflected in the glass of the sliding doors that led from the bedroom to a balcony. In the distance the great domed Capitol Hill building glowed like a white beacon in the night. It was almost midnight.

"Will you stay for breakfast?" she ventured.

"I'm not going anywhere, unless you want me to"

"No, stay. I'd like you to."

"ounds good. Then maybe we can start from the top again, take things slow this time..."


*****************


Emily awoke early the following morning to an unusually bright glare glinting through the window. She remembered that she hadn't closed the curtains the night before. Now she could see the rooftops of DC draped in a blanket of powdered virgin snow. Untouched. That was not all she remembered.

Hotch, naked, warm and peaceful in the bed beside her, stirred, and even in her tired state, she recalled everything vividly. She could have sworn there was a smile on his face as he turned over and settled back into sleep. She picked his watch up from the nightstand; a quick glance told her that it was barely 5 a.m. "“ much as she wanted to talk to him, he needed some rest. She would leave him be for another few hours. There was no hurry, no urgency anymore. She would take the time to contemplate what it all meant, she thought to herself as she quietly kissed the unruly thatch of hair that always stuck up at the back of his head, and settled under the covers once again.

It was the first time in months that Hotch had a deep, peaceful sleep, free from nightmares; as he slept, he dreamed in Technicolor and where he once ran away from something dark and foreboding in a recurring hell, there was now lightness like a crushing weight lifted.

***