G-Man and Danger

They sat for a while in a silence that was bordering on uncomfortable. Crystal came by to deliver another drink to Hotch and that seemed to dispel some of the tension.

He held up his drink, "Can I get you anything?" he asked.

Jazzy swirled the ice in her water glass, "No. I'm good. So what do you do when you're not being a G-man?" her blue eyes stared at him intently.

Hotch started to answer, then paused. He smiled at her, revealing a dimple, but again the smile didn't touch his eyes. "Nothing." he said quietly. "I work for the FBI and I take care of my son and other then that I don't do anything." He shook his head ruefully and took a big swallow of his drink. "What about you? Besides playing the bass, what do you do?"

Jazzy rubbed her hands on the top of her thighs and thought, "Well," she started off slowly, "I manage the band, design the website, book the gigs, but other then that…nothing." She stared Hotch in the eyes, "Wow. We're pathetic."

He laughed heartily and it was a wonderful sound. "Yeah. I think we are." He raised his glass to her in toast and she clinked her water glass against it.

Hotch noticed that the drummer and the keyboard player where settling behind their instruments on the stage. "Don't you have to go up there too?"

"Nope." she shook her head. "It's one of the perks of being in charge. Every now and again I chose some songs for them to shine on, that way I can just sit and listen.

Hotch smiled as he heard the beginning strains of "Blackbird" by The Beatles. He turned to look at Jazzy. "Thank you." he mouthed.

She shrugged her shoulders in a "it's nothing" gestures.

Hotch knew he was really feeling the effects of the alcohol when he heard himself ask her if she would like to dance. He stood up and held out his hand to her.

Jazzy stared down at herself, shaking her head. "You don't want to dance with me," she protested, "I'm all sweaty and gross."

"I don't care." He said.

"But your beautiful suit, I'll get it all wet and sweaty."

"I can get it cleaned." he said simply. Again the dimple appeared as he smiled.

Reluctantly she placed her hand in his and stood up. He was amazed at how small and strong it felt. Her finger tips were callused from years of playing the bass. She stepped close to him, her head barely reached the middle of his chest. "Dang, you're tall." she whispered. He smoothed down his tie in a nervous gesture, then turned and led her by the hand to the dance floor. When they reached the dance floor, he turned to face her. She reached up slowly and placed her hands tenderly around his neck, her fingers brushing just below the hair line. He bent over and placed his hands around her waist. She resisted when he tried to pull her closer.

"Your suit." she protested.

"Jazzy," he said patiently, "I wear this suit to bloody crime scenes. A little sweat is not a big deal."

She sighed and allowed him to pull her closer to him, feeling his hard body against her.

Hotch breathed in the smell of her, it was clean, fresh, musky and all female. She was softer and curvier then Haley had been, he ran his hand along her side and rested it on her hip. His head was fuzzy from the alcohol and the feel of someone in his arms.

"Oh sure Jazzy!" he heard a male's voice call. He opened his eyes to a laughing man on the dance floor, "I ask you to dance a hundred times and you always tell me "No". Just let a guy in a suit show up and you're right in his arms." he teased.

"What can I say, Kevin?" Jazzy laughed. "He smells way better then you." And he did she thought. He smelled amazing. Woodsy and manly. She felt his large hand stroke her back and she was embarrassed, she knew how sweaty her back was, she hoped she wasn't totally grossing him out.

Almost as if he had read her mind, he whispered in her ear, "I don't care that you're sweaty. It doesn't matter." They held each other as the "Blackbird" faded into "Let it Be."

Halfway through the song, Jazzy squeezed him tight, "I need to start heading to the stage." she whispered.

He nodded and started to walk with her back to the table. He stumbled a little and she reached out, grabbing his arm. "You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah." he said shyly, "just a little drunk." She helped him into his seat and turned to go. He reached out and touched her arm. "Hey Danger?" she turned to look at him. "Your parents sure knew what they were doing when they gave you that name."

Jazzy blushed deeply and headed back to the stage.

The rest of the evening was lost to Hotch in a drunken haze. He vaguely remembered a voice asking about his keys and strong hands settling him into the seat of a car….after that everything went dark.