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Pairing: aaron hotchner x (angel)reader Warnings: pretty fluffy, aaron is down bad, jealous hotch, (mutual) pining, no use of Y/N or gendered pronouns

main masterlist // angel masterlist

summary: based on this request by @actualdeemon ; or the three times everyone needed you, the two times you needed him, and the one time he did it right

2000 - FBI Academy, Quantico, VA

Monday

That work week started like any other. At least, Aaron expected it to be, with only one major difference, and that was the fact that he just moved into his own office. He had, after all, closed a case with the Interpol and FBI task force on terrorism. Gideon and Strauss rewarded him handsomely. For him, this was another stepping stone to get in a leadership position.

What he hadn’t counted on was you, his Angel.

After spending a year and a half as his shadow, you felt like your academic part of your life was calling you home. You returned to your position as a consultant for the BAU, resulting in a drastic change of your frequency at the Academy. You took a semester to focus on your teachings and research, but it was summer now.

It was summer.

Aaron shouldn't feel so—uncomfortable. He decided that was the correct adjective to describe the churn of his stomach and the annoyance in his chest.

He shouldn't feel like he wanted to rip Morgan's hands off of you. The guy did nothing wrong, just laughed at what you said then gave you a hug. Just a friendly interaction between co-workers.

He didn't realize that by accepting Gideon's offer for a personal office, he'd be so far away from you.

You and Morgan moved from the pantry to the long table not far away from your desks, and he decided to join you, descending from his office.

“Hiya, Hotch!” You greeted as he took the seat next to you in the bullpen, Morgan across from you. “How’s your weekend?”

He didn't miss the questioning look Morgan sent his way.

Aaron raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t seen you in any capacity for a little more than two weeks (because of his case), and the first thing you said to him was how’s your weekend?

“Fine,” he answered with a small quirk of his lips. “What are you two working on?”

“Just a consult for Baltimore PD,” Morgan answered quickly.

“If it's such a tough case maybe I should take a look,” he offered, but quickly realized how condescending that sounded. “–or Gideon, a fresh set of eyes might be helpful.”

Though, instead of looking offended, Morgan gave him a sly smile.

“Dude,” It was you who protested. “No faith in me whatsoever!”

Morgan leaned back on his chair. “Yeah, Hotch, no faith in Angel whatsoever.”

Okay, so maybe he didn't like the way Morgan called you by his nickname for you. It was his fault that (or really, Gideon's) that nickname for you caught on. He tried, really, to call you by your title and last name, hell, even your first name, but he always slipped up.

Then, Gideon started calling you that. To mock Aaron, at first, but soon enough because it just suited you. Like Aaron did back then.

You weren't the time bomb like in high school anymore. You didn't fight him every chance you got or flicked him in the forehead anymore. Instead, you took the time to listen and you replied in such a way that everyone couldn't help but agree and became enamored. An angel, really.

Morgan, on the other hand, came to the BAU as a profiler two months ago, closed off and cocky. That earlier hug was actually the first time Aaron ever saw him interact with a woman with no innuendos or double entendre at all.

That sounded really bad, actually, but Morgan was flirtatious by nature. Unlike Aaron, which was why he got jealous.

Jealous? No–no way. Uncomfortable.

“Morgan,” Gideon called. “My office.”

Morgan huffed, and you gave him a sympathetic pat on his shoulder.

When he was gone, you turned back to Aaron.

“Morgan, my office,” you said in a low voice. “Angel, my office, now.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smile on his lips. “Is that supposed to be an impression of me?”

“I think I did a pretty good job, actually.”

Aaron shook his head. “Definitely not.”

“Totally! Look,” you tilted your head down, straightened your spine, and narrowed your eyes. “We're looking for a white male in his mid thirties to early forties who works in the area.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed. Then he tilted his head. “So, what are you doing here?”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “Hotch, do you not want me here?”

“No, I do. I miss having you around,” Aaron confessed, not missing your flustered glance away from his face. “So, does this mean you are back?”

“As your sidekick? Possibly,” you grinned. “But I also have other things to do other than follow you around, you know.”

Aaron laughed. “Nothing more important, I’m sure.”

You clicked your tongue. “Strauss would disagree.”

His hand rested in the middle of the table, waiting for yours. “Not today, right? I have a case in Boston and I’ll show you my swanky new office.”

You took his hand, resting yours on his open palm. He held around your fingers. It was relief and comfort and nerves at the same time, and Aaron didn’t want to let go. He missed you so much. “As tempting as that sounds, I’m Derek’s for today.”

“Wait, what?”

Then, as if on cue, Morgan descended down the stairs. “All clear. Let’s do this, mama!”

“Speaking of,” you grinned, standing up. Your hand slipped away from his, and his flingers clenched around nothing. ��I’ll see you around, Hotchner!”

Aaron watched as you ran following Derek, who opened the bullpen door for you, defeated.

Fuck.

Tuesday

ANGEL

I'll be in Boston today.

Aaron almost jumped out of his bed at the hotel because of the sound of his phone chiming with a text.

He typed a reply.

AARON H.

Really?

ANGEL

Yeah. Talk at Boston U.

Damn. He tried not to be disappointed, really, but the case was long and tiring that he could use a fresh pair of eyes.

A part of him wanted to drop by Boston University just to see you give your talk. It wasn't often that Aaron got to gawk at you as you spew knowledge on things you were passionate about. But it was summer, so your audience was more likely to be fellow professors and experts instead of students, and he'd stick out like a sore thumb.

And also, the Brass were watching him like a hawk on this case to assess his worthiness as an SSA. He could already feel his skin crawling.

It wasn't until a little after lunch time, when he came back to the station after another meeting with the medical examiner that he spotted you.

You, who was talking to an officer in the break room, two pink boxes of donuts in your hands.

Aaron wasn't proud of the stone in his chest, wasn't proud of his shadow that looked increasingly green. You got donuts for the local officers? He also wanted to receive something so thoughtful from you.

Oh, he was acting like a child.

When you spotted him as he went for coffee, you waved, and the green shadow shrunk.

“Hey,” he greeted you.

“Sorry, it took me awhile,” you told Aaron.

He tried not to show his confusion. You never promised to meet him while you were in Boston, so why were you apologizing?

“Agent Hotchner,” the officer said. “I didn't know your consultant was coming.”

Though confused, he would never leave you hanging. “It was just approved by the higher-ups, you understand.”

The officer chuckled. “That, I understand. Glad you're here to help.”

The officer left you and Aaron in the pantry, but just as he opened his mouth to talk, you raised your palm, stopping him in his tracks.

“What are you—”

“Ssh,” you whispered. Then, the fingers on your palm started counting down. 5, 4, 3, 2—

On cue, a different officer poked his head into the pantry.

“Hi, uh, Doctor, there's someone outside saying she's your student?”

You tilted your head at the officer. “Oh, I wonder?”

The new office opened the door wider, allowing you to walk through. Aaron followed like a puppy, intrigued.

You spotted a twenty-something-year-old girl sitting on a chair against one of the officer's desks. You called out her name as Aaron watched on.

“Darla! Hi,” you greeted. “What are you doing here, are you okay?”

The girl, Darla, looked nerve-wrecked. “Hi–hi, professor. I was just, making a report, about—um, that.”

“Oh, honey, you really shouldn't do that alone. I can sit with you if you'd like?”

The officer coughed. “I don't—I don't think that'd be necessary.”

You turned to Aaron, eyes blinking at him. “You don't mind, do you, Agent Hotchner? I know the FBI takes cases of sexual assault and victim's wellbeing very seriously.”

Aaron tried to hide his amused grin. “Of course, Doctor, take all the time you need.”

You were scheming, that much Aaron could tell, but he'd wait until you tell him what was going on. He left your scheme to go back to the conference room, where his real, actual case was.

He ignored the pit on his chest, again, as failed yet again to secure time with you. It was irrational–so much so that he had to wash his face in the bathroom as an attempt to shake the feeling.

Aaron didn't own you, and you certainly didn't owe him anything, but he wished he could spend all of his waking moments with you.

No. No, this was completely professional. He wanted you back as his partner.

When he got back to the conference room, three boxes of take out waited for him on the desk, along with a foam cup full of, what he assumed, was Diet Coke.

Miss me?

The note read, and yeah, he felt giddy. What about it?

It wasn't until Aaron was halfway through a working profile and canvass reports from uniforms that you walked in and plopped down the seat next to him, sighing in relief.

Aaron slid some of the leftover breaded fried bean snaps and a fresh pair of chopsticks.

“What was that about?” He asked, looking at you.

“The girl—Darla—was, uh, assaulted at a party. The bastard recorded it and shared it to their Facebook groups,” you explained in between bites. “The university isn't doing much about it. I did some buttering up and established my credibility so officers would take her seriously.”

“That is the least evil scheme anyone could come up with,” Aaron remarked. “Why didn't you just come to me?”

“It's important for her to know that she's in charge,” you said. “It's her choice, ultimately, to report it to the police. I can't do things behind her back about it.”

Aaron never thought of it like that. A lot of the time, he'd have to use the BAU’s enhanced psychological interrogation and questioning techniques to get what he needs. A lot of the times, they were statements from victims and witnesses.

Not when you were around, though. Never when you were around.

“So everything's sorted, then?” He asked.

“Yeah, they have a warrant for his arrest now.”

Aaron whistled. “Remind me to never cross you.”

You nudged his elbow. “Don't worry, it's hardwired into your brain.”

Wednesday

He wasn't brooding, he was stewing. There is a difference.

No, he wasn't watching you from the windows of his new office, brooding.

Not brooding. Stewing.

He thought Anderson shouldn't be sitting so close to you anyway, nor should that red head lab tech girl. He watched as the lab tech girl put a Tupperware full of homemade chocolate chip cookies in the middle of the long table, with you eagerly reaching for them.

You didn't invite him to this little lunch party and Aaron didn't know if he should be offended at that.

The office walls that at first served as a solace from the rowdiness of the bullpen, now became more of a barrier from you.

His ringing phone pulled him out of his brooding stewing.

“Hotchner.”

“I need you in my office, now,” Strauss's voice commanded, hanging up immediately.

Aaron sighed. The Section Chief could not possibly have picked a worse time.

He tried to ignore the echoes of your laughter as he walked through the hallways, but he was so in head that he failed to see another person walking from the opposite direction.

“I'm so sorry, Agent Hotchner, sir,” the woman apologized profusely. He recognized her as another one of the tech analysts.

“It's okay, West,” he reassured. “It was my fault. What's the rush?”

Diane West brightened up immediately, standing on her tiptoes in excitement. She said your name specifically and he perked up. “—promised to talk about my new proposal for a seminar on identifying violence online over lunch.”

Aaron's eyebrows furrowed. “Over lunch?”

“Yes, it's the only time I can free up out of today,” she sighed. “Which reminds me, I only have half an hour left. See you, Agent Hotchner, sorry, again!”

Something settled in his chest, then, something that screamed that you really shouldn't be taking meetings during lunch hour. Then again, he was doing the same thing.

Aaron couldn't help but wished he was with you instead.

Thursday

Aaron wondered if it was too late to give back his office as he saw you walking out of the bathroom with a different shirt on.

The shirt didn't fit right, more formal than you would have liked. In your hand was your own shirt and he watched as you quickly wrapped it in a plastic bag.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't his best idea to go to the pantry under the guise of needing more coffee when truly, he just wanted a reason to spend time with you.

“I think I'd have to report you to IA for that,” he said when he saw you throwing out the pot of coffee.

You grinned at him, before taking out a cardboard jar labeled ‘Baking Soda’. When you opened it, though, a strong smell of earthy coffee powder filled the room.

“Again, no faith in me whatsoever, Hotchner,” you said, taking out two mugs from the overhead cupboard.

Aaron matched your grin. “See, this is why I need you here.”

“I don't know, you survived an academic semester worth of battery acid coffee.”

He groaned. “Please, do not make me go through that again.”

Don't make me go through the days without you here again.

“Don't worry, I'm haunting this building until the semester starts.”

The coffee machine clicked, in unison with his head. “So, you'll be here all summer?”

“If you don't drive me insane,” you nodded, pouring out the liquid gold into both mugs. Aaron reached for the non-dairy creamer in the fridge, then the agave, for you.

“I would never!” He promised. You gave him an unimpressed look, passing his coffee to him. Aaron took a sip, eyes finally landing on your shirt again. “Is that a new shirt?”

You choked on your own coffee. “Hotch, since when do you care about my wardrobe?”

Since always and that shirt totally wasn't your size.

Aaron could feel his cheek flush. “My job description is to observe people.”

“And you just happen to notice a different shirt on me?”

He couldn't look you in the eyes. “Yes.”

“Right,” you raised an eyebrow. “I mean, this is a different shirt but it's not mine. A faucet bursted in the bathroom earlier and Casey from ViCAP lent me theirs.”

Casey. From ViCAP.

He didn't know who Casey was, never heard of the name. Then again, you had spent more time working on research with ViCAP than you had the BAU.

Didn't mean he should like it.

“Why didn't you ask me?” Aaron asked because he couldn't help himself.

You turned to him fully, then at his words, eyes narrowed. A small smirk painted on your lips, head tilting like he was an artwork you couldn't figure out.

“Well, I couldn't see you in the bullpen and your office blinds were drawn, so,” you drawled.

Aaron shifted, hands now crossed across his chest like they could protect him from your studying gaze.

It wasn't about possession, or ownership. It wasn't about the fact that Aaron Hotchner might as well just be in love with you. He didn't keep it a secret, didn't shy away from the fact that he wanted to date you but it was you who kept turning him down.

So, it wasn't that.

It was about how he wanted to be the one to help you, be the one you turned to whenever there was a tiny inconvenience. He wanted to be the one in the forefront of your mind because you knew you could rely on him.

He needed to be needed by you, and it was driving him insane.

“Right,” he cleared his throat. “Well, I was in my office.”

You nodded, then picked up your mug again, taking a slow sip while still looking at him.

“Don't worry, Aaron,” you said, and his breath stopped. “Next time I need emergency clothing, I'll make sure to raid your go-bag.”

Aaron could've kept his mouth shut really, but he didn't want to. Instead, he leaned closer to you and said, “Please do, Angel.”

When he heard your breath hitch, he counted it as a victory.

Friday

Maybe at first, it was about spending time with you.

When you got to the FBI after years of doing adjacent research, you were ultimately his partner. You'd spend nights brainstorming a case and woke up with your head on his chest because you both fell asleep. You'd fight over who got to drive and who got to choose the radio station.

You'd give him the good coffee and he'd make sure every one of your file copies were warm, fresh out of the copier.

But he was an SSA, now, with his own office and you were still in the bullpen. Not to mention the talks of the BAU forming teams rather than just partners would change the dynamic even more.

In short, you had backed off from special agent duties and returned to your academic and therapy practices.

Soon enough, you might not need him anymore. Soon enough, you'd pull back and ask other people for help or he'd only see you during weekly meetings.

God, what a nightmare.

Though, as Aaron entered his office that afternoon, you were there; sleeping, stretched out on his gray sofa.

Moments like these often knocked him off his feet. When you looked so peaceful and soft, and so beautiful. Aaron Hotchner was not a religious man anymore, but he couldn't help but think that you were an actual angel sent just to fuck with his head.

He made a mental note to get cushions and a throw blanket for next week. For now, he took off his suit jacket and folded it up as best as he could to serve as your pillow.

Carefully, Aaron tried to lift your head from your folded arms, hoping not to wake you.

You stirred anyway.

“Oh no,” you groaned.

Aaron smiled, amused, now sitting on the floor in front of your chest. “No?”

“No,” you repeated. “I’m trying to hide.”

“From me?”

“Nope,” then, on cue, a knock sounded at the door. “From that.”

Aaron stood up and opened the door just wide enough for him to poke his head out. Sure enough, Diane West the tech analyst was waiting there.

“Ms. West,” Aaron greeted. “What can I do for you?”

“Sorry, Agent Hotchner,” the girl chirped. “But have you seen doc—i mean, Angel? I've been looking everywhere and your blinds were closed but I saw you come in here so—”

“She's away,” Aaron answered quickly. “Not here.”

Diane West frowned. “Do you know when she'll be back?”

“No, sorry,” he sighed. “But Unit Chief Gideon has reassigned Angel as my consultant, so I would appreciate it that moving forward I should be cc’d on all email correspondence whenever Angel's expertise is needed.”

He didn't mean to sound harsh, or like he was berating her, but he did what needed to be done to give you some breathing room.

Diane West was flustered anyway. “Right, of course, sir. Totally. I respect that. Thank you for your time.”

“And please let anyone outside of ViCAP and the BAU know of this,” he added.

“Right away, sir!”

Aaron didn't wait for her to leave to close the door to his office, immediately assuming his position before. You were smiling at him, amused and teasing.

“I didn't get that memo from Gideon,” you said.

He turned his head towards you. “So you don't want me to reply ‘fuck off’ to stupid requests from everyone for every goddamn Bureau department?”

“I mean, not exactly ‘fuck off’,” you giggled. “Maybe something with a little more finesse?”

“Finesse?” He snorted. “I have finesse!”

“Sure, Hotch.”

He laid his head back, against your stomach, feeling it move as you breathed. Your hand went to his hair, and he swore there was no better feeling.

He might not be your boyfriend, might not get to kiss you or take you home with him to worship you, but he'd take this. He'd take the casual intimacy and the love he knew you had for him spilling out in drips like this

“Why were you hiding?” He asked softly.

You took a deep breath, hand pausing just for a fraction of a second.

“I don't want to let them down,” you admitted. “It took me a lot to ask for help, so I don't want to let people down when they do. But sometimes—”

“Sometimes you get overwhelmed,” Aaron finished. You pressed your lips together and nodded.

It was a little funny, Aaron thought, how he would do anything for you to come to him whenever you needed something, and yet you were the one people came to whenever they needed anything.

But Aaron would happily be your sanctuary.

“Well, since this is my office,” he started. “You can hide here whenever you want.”

“Really?” You asked, he nodded. “I really don't want to bother—”

“You can never bother me, angel,” he said. “Besides, if you're back as my partner, it's the least I can do.”

“I never said anything about being your partner again!”

“Well, then I might have to revoke your office privileges.”

“That's mean.”

Aaron straightened up, then rose up to his feet. He reached down to take your hands and pulled you up with him. “Come on, partner, we have cases and consultation requests to sort through.”

“No,” you groaned, dragging the word out. “I want to nap some more!”

“Come on, sweet Angel!”

You finally stood up, letting him move your body so you'd sit on one side of his desk. He sat on his chair, taking a pile of manila folders and moved them in front of you.

As he picked the first one on top of the pile, you placed your fingers on his wrist gently.

“Thanks, Hotchner,” you said with a small smile.

Aaron squeezed your hand with his other one, “Anytime, Angel.”

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