This is my first original story in over four months. Sorry for the lack of posting, but there are a lot of things going on in my life right now. Friendships have been lost, long hours have been worked, I'm still mourning the loss of my dad, and I still have no idea where July went. I know that people are scratching their head at my schizoid actions as of late, and I have to admit that depression is a bitch. But so is paying for a sin that isn't yours. Subtle swipes have been taken at me, but that's okay. Had these people been my real friends, they would have stood behind me instead of kicking me when I was down.

Since I no longer watch the show, this idea is totally mine. I have no idea what's been happening at the BAU since the second to last ep of season 7. And no, I didn't watch the season finale. Never will.

Song prompt: "You Get It Up" by Chicago (found on Chicago X-and yes, it's just as racy as it sounds! Guess that's what happens when you are isolated at 8,000 feet on a recording ranch in Colorado!)

I own nothing but the idea…oh, and my own real life Dave and Em!

You Get It Up

Dave Rossi brushed his hand across his weary forehead and sighed heavily. The only thing worse than trying to catch up on paperwork over the weekend was an unexpected heat wave. And both were happening.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Dave leaned over and tilted the small desk fan so that it blew directly on him. What happened to the cool, below normal temperature the weatherman predicted? It felt more like July than October. And some idiot had turned off the air conditioner. It was going to be a long day.

He glanced at the stack of folders on the desk and sighed again. Okay, it was going to be a longer day. Maybe he could get thru half of the stack and save the rest for later. Right now he needed a scotch on the rocks and a dip in the pool. Anything to break the heat.

Dave stood up, stretched and walked over to the window to look out into the bullpen. A slight smile tugged at his mouth. So, Emily Prentiss was in today, too. He could only wonder what had brought his co-worker in on such a day. For a long minute, he watched as she flipped thru folders and signed her name.

"Well, well, well," he muttered, "Emily isn't as efficient as I assumed her to be." As he continued watching, his thoughts wandered down a forbidden path. Why exactly was she doing at the BAU on a hot Saturday? Shouldn't she be at the beach with her friends?

The image of Emily Prentiss in a two piece bikini, frolicking in the ocean was more than enough to cause his jeans to grow two sizes too small. Hot, wet, sun-kissed skin…

"Stop it, Dave!" he ordered himself. So much for hoping that standing up would help with the heat in the room. If anything, it went up ten degrees!

Closing the blinds, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. What the hell was he thinking?! "Okay, Dave, get it together and go finish your work," he ordered. "Then you can go home and take care of business."

A few deep breaths later, he felt it was safe to relax. He glanced at his watch. Maybe he could get something cold to drink from the vending machine. It couldn't hurt.

Stepping out of the office, the temperature was slightly cooler, but still just as oppressive as what was in the office. He was going to talk to the head of maintenance on Monday. This was ridiculous. At least he could get the air to move by walking briskly. And each step down to the bullpen helped decrease the temperature by just a bit.

His eyes scanned the room and quickly settled on Emily. "Working overtime?" he cleared his throat and sat down on the corner of the desk.

"Yeah." Em looked up from the manila folder. "What are you doing here?"

"End of the month reports." Consciously, he took in her tight red blouse tucked into tailored made khaki slacks. His eyes scanned down to her feet encased in low heeled sandals. Her nails were painted cherry red. Back up to her face, he noticed her black hair was pulled back in a loose bun.

"But it's the middle of the month," she pointed out matter of factly. "You still have two weeks."

Dave nodded. "I thought I'd get a jump on it before the shit hits the fan. No doubt that Strauss will try to find something wrong and hand them back." He looked at the papers in her hand. "Is that the Reynolds case?"

"Yeah. Just reviewing before I turn it in."

Awkward silence fell between them.

"I'm going to get a Coke. Get you anything?" Dave offered.

Em considered for a moment. "I'm good."

"This heat is a killer."

"Might take more than a Coke to cool things off," she said with a smile.

"I'll catch you on the way back."

"Sure." She went back to the report.

Dave followed the path between desks to the double doors, down the hall to the break room. The lights were out, and that provided some relief. But that didn't help now that Emily's perfume was following him. It weaved around him and played with his senses. Was it possible that it was whispering his name?

"Damnit!" he cursed while pulling out his wallet to fish for a dollar. There was no denying that he was hot and horny, and no soda was going to cure what was ailing him. Pushing the button, he waited for the can to drop. The aluminum made a dull thud as it hit the barrier.

Pulling out another dollar, he inserted it. He figured one to drink and use the other to lay on his crotch. That should be enough to get him thru the rest of the files so he could go home. Grabbing the cans, he hurried back to the office.

Pushing the double doors his eyes fell on the desk when Emily had been sitting. Now it was empty. He shrugged indifferently. Maybe she had come to her senses and gone home. His paced slowed. Well, at least his jeans fit again.

Dave stepped up to the second floor landing. Now to finish the folders and call it a day.

Rounding the corner of his office door, Dave stepped into the dark room. Automatically, his senses went on high alert. He was not alone…someone was at his desk.

"I see you brought me a soda," Em said from Dave's chair behind the huge oak desk.

"Well…not really. I was going to use – uh, drink this one, too." What could he tell her? That he was going to use it to freeze the massive erection his brain had caused from the image of her in a bikini?

Em nodded thoughtfully. "Oh. I thought it was for me."

"You said you didn't want one," he pointed out.

Em stood up and walked over to he stood. "I changed my mind." She took the can and rubbed it against her neck. "Mmmm," she moaned. "That's nice. Mind if I keep it?"

"Be my guest." What was he going to say, no?

"Ah." She moved the can down to the opening of her blouse. "So good."

Bemused, Dave walked to the desk and sat down in the chair. Emily was cooling her skin down with a cold can of soda. This could be interesting, he told himself.

"I feel better," she commented. "Thanks." She turned toward the door to leave. Dave felt a bit of disappointment. Well, it had been fun while it lasted. He set the can down, picked up the pen, and opened a folder.

A soft click caught his ear. Startled, he looked up to see Em close the door and lock it.

"What…? What are you doing?" he asked surprised by her actions.

Em sauntered over to stand in front of him. "I'm not finished cooling down." Keeping a grip on the can, she loosened two of the buttons on her blouse with her free hand. Then she slipped the cold can between her breasts, all the while watching Dave's reaction.

"Oooo. It's like a cold, wet tongue running across my skin," she purred. "Maybe even better…" Her eyes closed in ecstasy as the can rolled up and down over her hot skin.

Dave felt his mouth go dry. Oh dear God in heaven! This wasn't happening! He shook his head. Another button was loosened, and the can dipped further. Now she was running it over her breast. He tried not to stare, but the hardened nipple was like a beacon in the dark just pulling him in.

"Em…"

"Come on, Dave," her velvet voice teased, "I'm hot, you're hot…and we both need to cool down." Another button and now the alabaster skin of her taut tummy flashed to taunt him.

"You bought two cans of Coke; what were you going to do with them?" she wondered. Her fingers worked the button of her slacks.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he countered. He tried to tear his eyes away but couldn't.

"I would." The button was freed, the zipper pulled down. The material slid from her slim hips to pool at her feet. "But I would rather you show me."