There was a bit of an age gap between you and your boyfriend, Aaron Hotchner. It was about an eight years' difference, which wasn't crazy. It just meant that you were more prone to getting hit on my younger guys who didn't realize Hotch was your boyfriend.

This happened more often than you'd like to admit. Usually it was when the team went to a bar and, while Hotch was at the table, you would go to get a drink. Young men would slide up next to you, using cheap lines or offering to buy you a round. You were a kind natured person, sometimes too nice for your own good, but usually a "sorry, I have a boyfriend" with a smile did the trick.

Tonight was different. The team was out for drinks after a rough case, and Hotch decided to accompany you to the bar. You were chatting while the bartender fixed your drinks, when a young man, probably fresh out of college, tapped on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, I just have to say that dress is really stunning," he complemented.

He was a nice looking guy, sandy blond hair and dark blue eyes, in a dress shirt and dress pants with leather shoes. One look at him, and you'd deduced he was a law major.

You blushed, as a complement was much less expected than a pick up line, "Thank you."

You returned your attention to Hotch, who was making small talk to the bartender about the football game on the screen above him.

"It's a great color on you," the guy continued, "Is it Calvin Klein?"

You turned back to him, "Yes, it is actually. I take it you have an eye for fashion."

"It's a hobby," the man shrugged, "My boyfriend and I are a bit obsessed with America's Next Top Model."

Boyfriend. How refreshing it was to talk to a man at a bar who wasn't trying to get up your dress. You smiled, a lot more relaxed.

"I don't blame you, Tyra Banks is an icon," you smiled.

"She is! This last season wasn't my favorite, though," he sighed, "She didn't really push anyone out of their comfort zone."

"Yes!" You agreed eagerly, "I always love the more dramatic makeovers. So what do you do when you're not watching fashion tv?"

"Well, my dad said it was either law or medicine for me, so I chose law," he shrugged, "I've always been interested in the justice system though, so it worked out."

You nodded, "Well, I think I can relate to that."

You pulled your credentials sneakily out of your purse and flashed them at him discreetly.

He grinned, "No way! Are you in office or in the field?"

"The field," you said, "We study human-"

Your train of thought was interrupted by a firm hand wrapping around your waist, gripping your hip. Hotch next to you, his drink in his unoccupied hand. He was eyeing the guy in front of you like a hawk.

"Oh, hey, this is...oh my word, I didn't even get your name," you giggled, attempting an introduction.

The blond chuckled, "Bailey Parker."

"Well, Bailey, my name is Y/N, and this is SSA Aaron Hotchner," you said, completely forgetting to introduce Hotch as your boyfriend.

He noticed, but wasn't going to correct you just yet. He wanted to see if you would do it yourself.

"Bailey's a lawyer. Are you with a firm yet?" You continued on, friendly as ever.

"Parker and Main. It's my dad's firm in D.C.," Bailey explained.

Hotch couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy, "I was a lawyer too before I transferred to the Bureau. You'll get burnt out pretty quick."

You gave him a nudge in the ribs with your elbow and a what was that for? look.

"Don't listen to him," you giggled, "He's just tired. We've had a long week at work."

Bailey nodded, raising his glass, "Tell me about it."

You noticed the sparkling silver watch on his wrist and you perked up, "Oh my word, I love your watch!"

He smiled knowingly, "Name the brand?"

"It has to be Cartier," you gushed, reaching out and grabbing his hand so you could examine it closer.

You didn't think much of it. Bailey was nice and you felt like he was an old friend. The added bonus was that he was definitely not trying to make a move on you. You just failed to remember that Hotch didn't know that.

His grip on your hip doubles in tightness, but you didn't really notice at first.

"It's gorgeous," you marveled, before releasing his hand, "Must've cost an arm and a leg."

Bailey sighed, "I hate to sound like that guy, but it was a birthday gift from my parents. They have more than a few arms and legs to spare."

That spurred the change in behavior from the man behind you. He set his drink back on the bar and, with his hand still on your waist, moved your hair of your shoulder, you didn't think much of it, continuing to converse politely with Bailey.

Until you felt a pair of familiar lips the the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

You stifled a gasp with a thankfully well turned laugh at something the lawyer in front of you said. There was no way Hotch was actually going to...

Oh, but he was. His lips climbed the side of your neck in a way he only did in private, suckling lightly and grazing the skin with his teeth every so often. Bailey hadn't noticed at first, until he saw your head instinctively tilt to grant the older agent more access.

You flushed pink as a smirk grew across the younger man's face.

"Well, my friends are probably waiting for me," he winked at you, "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

You gave him an embarrassed smile, squeaking out a "You too!" as he walked away. As soon as he was gone, you spun around to face your boyfriend. He leaned back slightly as you moved before burying his face back in your neck.

"What has gotten into you?" You asked incredulously, gripping his shirt.

He growled lightly against your skin, "He was flirting with you. And you didn't seem to have any problem flirting back."

You stifled a groan at the vibration of his words against your neck, "We weren't flirting, Aar."

"He's a lawyer," Hotch mimicked you, "Your watch is gorgeous."

You swatted his chest, "It wasn't like that."

He moved away from your neck, his forehead coming to rest against yours. You could feel his breath on your lips, and you shivered.

"What was it like then, hm?"

"Oh my word," you couldn't help but laugh at his jealousy, "He was gay, you idiot."

"How are you so sure?" He asked, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion.

"While you were busy talking to your bff behind the counter about football, Bailey was telling me about his boyfriend," you explained.

Hotch's intense, sensual jealousy melted as an embarrassed smile stretched across his lips. His eyes screwed shut, "Really?"

"Yes," you giggled, ruffling his hair, "That's why he told me to guess the brand of his watch. We were talking about fashion earlier and how he and his boyfriend watch America's Next Top Model. Sounds a lot like me and my boyfriend."

"I only watch it with you," he pouted, "I don't enjoy it."

"Of course," you faked an understanding expression as you nodded, "You totally don't enjoy talking to the screen, telling Tyra what she should and shouldn't do for makeovers."

You smirked triumphantly as his pout deepened.

"It was one time!" He defended.

"Just keep telling yourself that," you rolled your eyes and grabbed your drink, "Now c'mon, jealous boy."