#Hotch/Morgan

[masterwords]

talk of the town

Summary: Hotch has an invite to a Christmas party at the White House and he's asking Derek to be his plus one. That's kind of a big deal and Derek might be having some second thoughts.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 8.7k

Warnings: insecurity, internalized homophobia-ish vibes, alcohol

Read below the cut or on AO3!

Notes: My 2nd entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Office Party challenge! Here I was thinking I wouldn't manage any and I wrote two. This one is pure cheesy rom-com stuff, nothing more. It's way too long and very sappy. It's the time of year when I over-indulge and that extends to my writing for sure! (I didn't exactly use a prompt so much as found inspiration in the theme of the challenge and a few of the ideas sort of mushed together in my head.)

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“What is this?”

At the sound of Derek's voice, Hotch glanced up from his desk, up from the pile of papers that were barely holding his attention and blurring before his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and felt the first tendrils of a headache beginning to unfurl. Not entirely a surprise, he’d been sitting at his desk for hours now preparing a stack of requisitions for the department that he’d have to endure a long, disappointing meeting in order to finish. At said meeting, he would present at least twenty requests (all vital to the function of the department) and be given the green light on roughly two of them. If he was lucky. At that point, he would have to figure out how to tell everyone who was turned down that they could submit their requests again in a few months and to please not lose hope. (He already had.)

It was tedious and it gave him a headache, plain and simple. He was certain that even if he wasn't prone to headaches this would be enough to do it.

“Excuse me?” Hotch asked, squinting to focus on the man in front of him. Not for the first time that night, he wished he’d remembered to grab his glasses from the console in his car. His contacts were giving him hell. Derek noted the squint and moved a little closer, still maintaining some cautious distance and an air of...irritation? Maybe. Hotch couldn't read him.

“This invitation.” Derek was standing with a small stub of paper in his hand, a gold lined envelope hanging open. The paper was thick, embossed, official White House stationary. He held it like it was fragile, like it was a bomb.

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, oh that. What's the deal huh?”

Hotch indicated for Derek to close his door and have a seat with one wave of his hand. This wasn't exactly a secret but he didn't want the whole BAU to hear their conversation. Some things, like this new relationship, were sacred to him. The BAU had a way of hurting more than helping in most aspects of his life and he was trying so hard to maintain distance here. To that end, he had hoped this conversation would wait until after hours, but then this was technically after hours for most people. Just not them.

“Each year, the White House hosts a Christmas party, I’m sure you’re aware. I somehow manage to make it onto the guest list, much to my chagrin. Normally I decline, but the BAU has had a difficult year and I thought it couldn’t hurt to do a little damage control among the people who hold the power when they have drinks in their hands. The BAU has benefited from my sacrifice on this front on more than one occasion in the past.”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll say. Mister oh let me just pick up my phone and call in a favor from someone so high up the food chain no one could even imagine talking to them…yeah, I'm on a first name basis with the Pope and the Queen of England it's cool...just tell 'em it's Hotch...”

Derek's impression of Hotch was abysmal and a little insulting but he couldn't help finding it amusing. He smiled and shook his head, knocked off his game for a moment, trying to regain some composure.

"I don't sound like that," he managed to say before letting out a small chuckle that had been bubbling in his chest. "In any case, my mother attends every year, a fact that I try not to put too much stock in, but she was insistent that I attend this year. After everything that happened with Emily and the Senate Hearing Committee, I do agree with her.”

“Okay, sure. Yeah. She’s probably right, you guys are better at the politics and playing nice than most of us...but what’s that got to do with me?” He knew where it was headed, of course, but he was going to make Hotch say it.

Hotch simply sighed and leaned back in his chair, the weight of his head on his neck becoming unbearable. The paperwork was going to have to wait, he was going to need to go home after this conversation. “I was hoping that you might come with me. As my date. If you’re free that night, of course.”

“I uh...” Derek started, temporarily speechless. Imagining Hotch’s mother and a room full of politicians and the fucking President and who knows who else...it was a little daunting. A lot of money and not a whole lot of color, that’s what he saw. And worse, was Hotch really proposing that they walk into the White House holding hands? “Look, no offense to your mom and all those people but I'm not looking to be fired yet and I’m definitely not in the mood to be the victim of a hate crime or the poster child for how tolerant and progressive the White House is.”

Hotch smiled a little sheepishly and inclined his head to the side. His contact shifted when he blinked. He blinked again, trying to move it back into place and Derek watched with an amused smile as he did so. Hotch began speaking while he worked on the damn renegade contact. “I understand your concerns, and I do share them but it isn't like that, I promise. It will primarily be a bunch of very drunk rich people rubbing elbows, trying to collect favors and stories. Your name has been on the lips of plenty of people since the bomb in New York, and when you turned down that job to stay with the BAU...let’s just say there are a lot of people who would like to meet you. But mostly I’d just like you there with me.”

“So I’m gonna be your arm candy?”

“Yes. In a sense.” Hotch smiled at the way he said that, at the implication. He couldn’t help it.

“Are you asking me out on a real official date then?”

“I suppose I am.”

“And this date...which would be our third real date ever, hook-ups notwithstanding...will involve meeting your family.” And the President. And probably all sorts of politicians he had no interest in shaking hands with. And maybe dignitaries from around the world and probably celebrities and Derek...thought he might be sick for a second. For the first time since he and Hotch had decided to really try seeing one another instead of just hooking up when the weight of the world got to be too much, he was a little scared of what that really meant. Of the ways his life would have to change to accommodate someone like Hotch who was larger than life in many ways.

“You'll meet my mother, at least,” Hotch said quietly. “You do already know my brother.” Hotch smiled uneasily at first, but a little of his easy, sleepy confidence slipped out. He didn’t pursue relationships with people he hadn’t vetted, hadn’t given a lot of thought to. Especially here and now, with Derek and so much on the line in regards to work. And Jack. The highest stakes. No, it may have only been a third real date but Hotch was already pretty damn settled. It never really occurred to him that Derek might not be on the same page. “I understand if you don’t want to go.”

Derek tried to appear nonchalant, uninterested, but he failed miserably. The offer, while scary on many levels, was enticing...and he knew his mother would probably have his head if he refused a party at Barack Obama's house. “Guess I should make sure I got a suit that still fits me huh?”

“Actually,” Hotch said, his contact finally sliding back into position. The relief was instant. It was short lived though, his head hurt pretty damn badly and without the distraction the contact provided it was nearly all he could think about. “I thought we could go shopping together. My mother will comment on what I’m wearing if she detects even a hint of…”

Derek cleared his throat. “You may be amazing at a lot of things, but you’re not a great salesman, Hotch. Just tell me you wanna take me to lunch and shopping like I’m Julia Roberts and I’m all in. I’ll be your Pretty Woman. Tell me your mom is gonna inspect every thread of your suit and I might just come down with a sudden need to wash my hair…”

Hotch, primed to comment on Derek’s lack of hair, only nodded in agreement. He understood. “I’m not good at this.”

“No you’re not. But it’s okay, because I am. Pick me up at 11:30 tomorrow, we’ll go have lunch at one of those bougie hotels downtown and get some fresh kicks for a party full of stiffs.”

“Oh, they’re not stiffs. Not when you factor in an open bar and live music.”

“See now, you coulda led with that! Alright, so now we’re drinkin’ with the stiffs...I like the sound of this.”

(x)

Hotch slept in on Saturday morning, right through his alarm thanks to the sleeping pill he’d taken much too late for such a thing. He didn’t want the day to be ruined by his insomnia and by 10pm he knew it was headed right for disaster. He knew better than to take those damn pills after 8pm, too. He woke to the sound of Jack banging around in the kitchen, trying to find himself a bowl for his cereal in the dishwasher by the sounds of it. He was groggy and his head still hurt the same as it had the night before. He wouldn’t have much time to get himself ready to go, just a quick shower to wash away the exhaustion and a piece of toast to help when he took some Tylenol for his head. (As if that was going to touch it.)

“You’re going to hang out with Spencer today,” Hotch announced as he threw his mug of cold coffee in the microwave. He didn’t have time for a full pot but he still had his cup from the day before. Ten years ago he would have been appalled by this behavior, now it just made sense. “He’s going to take you to a movie. I put twenty dollars in your wallet, do not ask him for anything. Are we clear?”

“Yes, dad,” Jack replied begrudgingly.

“I mean it. You can buy your own popcorn and soda. I’ll pick you up from his house after lunch.”

“What about candy?”

“You can do what you want with your money, Jack. If I find out you asked for more we’re going to have a problem on our hands.”

“Yes, dad.”

The hotel Hotch was meeting Derek at for lunch was only a block from the movie theater, conveniently planned so Hotch could be nearby if Spencer ran into any problems. Taking a kid to a Christmas classic double feature with Home Alone and Elf seemed like a safe bet, easy for Spencer to manage. A slam dunk, really. And Hotch could have a mostly carefree date with Derek, which would then make the party at the White House their fourth official date and that seemed much more palatable for such a giant step.

The restaurant Hotch chose was one of the nicest Derek had ever been in, and he was no stranger to eating out. The menu was full of dishes he’d never had before, including one that came with three meats he’d never had occasion to try. Rabbit, goat and duck. He lobbied back and forth on it for longer than usual, glancing first at the outrageous price tag and then the descriptions and back before deciding on the lamb risotto. Couldn’t go wrong with risotto, it was a classic and he knew he could get his money’s worth. The problem with growing up poor was that you never stopped thinking about cost and value, even when your wallet didn’t dictate being that kind of frugal anymore. Hotch ordered himself a plate of roasted beets with pecans and feta cheese, and casually pointed to the meat trio before the waiter returned to the kitchen to put in the order.

“You really are treating me like your Pretty Woman,” Derek mused with a soft smile. "Play your cards right and I'll do that thing you like later." He said that last bit with a wink, almost too quite for Hotch to actually hear but it was loud and clear. Hotch felt the flush rising in his neck. "You didn't have to order that dish though."

“You told me the last time we went out that you wanted to try duck. I gave you the opportunity by bringing you here…”

Derek feigned shock, his eyes wide, his mouth open. “You calling me a chicken, Hotchner?”

“No,” Hotch chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, maybe. A little. I think you’re afraid to bet on liking it, and then you’ll be stuck hungry because your meal isn’t good.”

“Okay. That’s fair.”

“We can share it,” Hotch offered, sipping his water, peering at Derek over the rim with a sparkle in his eye. He was already more than prepared to say he loved Derek, hell he’d probably be willing to ask his hand in marriage. Going slow had always been hard for him.

“What if it’s so good I don’t wanna share?”

“Then don’t.”

“Damn, you don’t have to be so easy. Put up some fight.”

“I’m more interested in the rabbit. My mother makes rabbit stew, I haven’t had it since I moved out.”

Derek scrunched up his nose, picturing a little fluffy bunny rabbit. He didn't think he could put that in his mouth. “It’s all yours.”

(x)

Derek had never been properly fitted by a tailor before. He’d owned plenty of suits, but he always bought off the rack and if he needed one taken in or let out, he had a neighbor lady with arthritis in her fingers who offered to do it in exchange for him performing an odd job or two around her house. Fix a plumbing issue, put in a new outlet, clean her gutters. She called him her barter buddy, and sometimes her barter boyfriend. Her husband didn’t much care for that but he benefited from the work just the same.

Standing with a tailor’s hand pressing up into his junk was uncomfortable, and Hotch hadn’t properly prepared him for that. But Hotch assured him that when the tux was finished and on his body, he’d say it was worth the momentary discomfort. Derek had his doubts, but he wasn’t about to say so. Hotch had been right about the duck (and the damn rabbit, which he did in fact try and like), so he wasn’t keen on disagreeing with him again.

By the time Hotch dropped him off at his house, full and content, Derek didn’t quite want the day to end. He was having too good a time and it wasn’t often they had a whole day to themselves. “Hey, I gotta go take Clooney for a walk...you wanna come with me? Blow off some of those calories and then maybe...have some dessert?”

Hotch looked at his watch and thought about Spencer watching Jack. Their movies were just about over and he didn't think he should put the man out any further on a rare weekend day. Jessica would be home by now though, maybe he could sweet talk her into picking Jack up and spending an hour or so with him. Derek's life was beautifully uncomplicated and Hotch's was challenge after challenge, and while Derek watched him contemplate whether he could manage some time to just go walk a dog on the tail end of a really nice date he wondered whether he was in over his head. This was a commitment unlike anything he'd ever contemplated before.

“Let me call Reid...and Jess,” Hotch said, his voice laced with guilt. Derek thought about saying it was cool, they could just go to his place, but some part of him wanted to see whether Hotch had this in him. His marriage had ended because of his inability to make time...could he do it now? Was he even able to now?

“Cool. I’m gonna go grab the dog, I’ll be back in five.”

(x)

Derek stood in front of his mirror wearing his tux, white with black pipe lining and could scarcely believe his eyes. It fit every part of him in a way that clothing never had before. He didn’t see himself stepping out on his barter girlfriend any time soon, but he had to admit that Hotch was very, very right.

He was scared, though. Staring at himself in the mirror, adding up how much money and effort and time Hotch was putting into this party, this relationship. Was he in over his head? Was he going to break Hotch’s heart? The man was made to be married, and Derek hadn’t had a relationship go beyond three dates in years. More than a decade at least. And there had never been kids involved, not once. He turned to the side and examined his profile, sighing.

“I look damn good,” he muttered sadly. He wasn’t sure what to do. He liked Hotch. Really, really liked him. But was he leading him on? He didn’t think so, but then again, was he ready to be a father? Ready to live with someone? He had some thinking to do.

Strauss’ number popping up on his phone stopped that line of thought dead in its tracks. She was assigning him to a week at the Academy working with SWAT trainees on their firearms. That was usually something she asked of Hotch and he almost said as much but he didn’t want to rock the boat, so he just agreed. It was going to be a long week. He looked at himself in the mirror one more time and then began getting the tux back into its bag.

(x)

Jessica’s face when she answered the door was about what he expected and the exact reason he’d been hoping she wouldn’t be there yet. There was anger and surprise, and something that looked vaguely protective. He grew up with a big sister, he recognized the look. That “I can pick on my baby brother but if you hurt him I’ll kill you” look.

“You’re not dressed,” she accused, opening the door. He opened his mouth to answer but stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of Hotch coming down the hallway in his tux and bare feet, working diligently at his cuff links. They were giving him grief and when he stopped, Derek reached out and hooked them for him. It was such a simple act of nurturing, he didn't even think twice about it.

“You look like James Bond,” Derek said with a half smile dancing on his lips. Hotch nodded.

“And you’re not coming…” Hotch replied quietly, a little shaken but trying to hide it. Derek offered him a tired, apologetic smile.

“Today was just...it was a lot man. This crew they’re working is rough, bunch of undisciplined assholes who can’t shoot their way out of a paper bag and one of 'em said something that made me really uncomfortable. I’m sorry. You don’t need me there ruining your good time.”

Hotch had a lot he’d like to say. That he’d been looking forward to this, and maybe he’d played down its importance to the point that perhaps Derek didn’t think he was really wanted. Or maybe Derek was scared. He couldn’t read anything on his features. He was too emotionally involved and he was starting to have doubts about Derek.

Maybe he was pushing too hard.

“I understand,” he said finally, patting his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. His head hurt, he’d had a headache all week and he could feel his pulse in the hinge of his jaw. “Are you still planning on staying the night?”

“I’m gonna head home, actually. I don’t wanna be a downer, man. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

Hotch nodded and said that was fine, it was about all he could do. He wasn’t going to start an argument before a party, and he certainly wasn’t going to do it in front of Jessica or with Jack right down the hall. Derek was acutely aware of the heat in Jessica’s glare but he avoided it long enough to make his departure.

“Derek,” Hotch asked, leaning out into the hallway. “If you had no intention of going, why did you stop by? You could have called.”

Derek smiled like the answer was obvious. “I wanted to see you in your tux.”

When Hotch came back in and shut the door, he stood there a moment collecting himself. Barefoot, in a tux he never wanted to wear going to a party he didn’t want to attend in the first place, it was a little too much. He needed a second to find his composure. Jessica stood in the kitchen and watched her friend’s heart break in real time.

“Let me go home and get a dress,” she said, already grabbing her purse. “I’m sure I have something in my closet that’ll work. Lord knows you’ve put me through enough of your mom’s parties over the years.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I know. But you can’t go alone and I'm a damn good date. Best back-up option on the market.”

“Thanks Jess,” he said quietly, wondering if it was too late to back out. He looked down at his bare feet, wiggling his toes in the carpet, and sighed miserably. He was going to need a lot of Tylenol to get through this night. "You've never been just a back-up, though."

"I know, but thank you for saying so."

(x)

“I’m sorry, I thought you were smart,” Penelope said loudly, announcing her presence as she walked right into Derek’s house without knocking. She had a key, after all. She was in charge of walking and feeding Clooney when the team were out of town, and if this wasn’t a perfectly good reason to use her damn key privileges then she didn’t know what the point even was in having them. “What are you thinking?”

“What?” he asked, clearly exhausted. He didn’t even sit up, just stayed laid out like a starfish on the couch, one leg thrown up over the back with an ice pack on his sore knee while the other was tucked beneath a rumpled blanket. He’d been half watching television and half zoning out. He looked broken, and under normal circumstances she wouldn’t even press. She would ask him if he needed anything and take care of him, but she couldn’t do that. Not right now. Not while he was sabotaging something pure and good and beautiful because he was scared of taking a leap.

“You just let him go to that party all by himself?”

“I wouldn’t be any fun tonight. My knee hurts, my head hurts, I’m in a shitty mood...he’ll have a better time without me.”

“No he won’t. He doesn’t go to those things. You know how many of those invitations he gets and he asks me to reply with some bullshit where he sends his regrets about being flattered by the invitation but not being able to make it? Constantly. Like, almost every day someone wants him to come somewhere. Brush elbows with someone. Sometimes the names make me want to puke. But he was going because he asked you to come with him, you idiot.”

“Mama...please…how’d you know anyway?”

“Because, you idiot, Jessica is going to go as his date now and he needed someone to stay home with Jack so she called me. Don’t you dare mama please me, Derek Morgan. Don’t you dare. I have thirty minutes to convince you that you’ve made a big mistake before I have to go hang out with a second grader all night.” She was already rifling through his kitchen, trying to find something to make him for dinner. Something that would perk him up. There was still hope. Poke some Tylenol down his throat (she knew Hotch practically ran on the stuff, he’d probably eaten a hand full for dinner that night too) and then push him out the door, that was the plan. She wasn’t in the mood to lose this fight.

“What do you want me to do? I’m exhausted. I’m not in the partying mood.”

“Did you ever consider why he wanted to take you? That his mom is going to be there? That he’s proud of you? I don’t think he’s exactly out to any of these people...and he wanted you on his arm…”

“I’m not exactly out either,” he reminded her. Not at work, anyway. Not that it was a big concern or something he was hiding, he just didn’t like to mix business with pleasure. Which was where a lot of this sudden crushing anxiety was coming from. He’d done so well never dating anyone he worked with, never even looking twice at anyone who stepped foot in Quantico. He’d been so damn disciplined...and then Hotch looked at him one day and he couldn’t help himself. He’d invited him out for a singles night Valentine’s Day dinner and realized he’d fallen right into feelings he had no intention of having.

“Is that what you’re afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“You coulda fooled me,” she said, sticking her hands in his face and presenting him with pills and water. “Here.”

“You don’t think I already took any?”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Cut from the same stubborn cloth, both of you.”

Derek swallowed the pills and downed the whole water before talking, buying himself some time. Sure, his knee was sore but it was always kind of sore. That was just what happened when you blew it out so young – it didn’t usually slow him down. It wasn’t that, it was just a convenient excuse. “I think he’s making a mistake,” Derek said finally, reaching out to turn the television off. “Taking me to this party, putting us out there...it’s gonna trash his career. And his mom is what, some rich white old lady from the South. Old money, which probably means..." He didn't want to say that out loud, that was too harsh. He didn't know a damn thing about Hotch's family's money and possibly he was being presumptuous and cruel, but he would have to ask at some point if he was going to live with himself. That was so far from the point right now, though. "You think she wants a gay son dating a black man from the mean streets of Chicago?”

“Oh, baby…” she said, crouching beside him and hugging his head. Kissing him over and over, leaving little lipstick marks all over. “Sweet, sweet stupid man. You are silly. He’s not worried. You know he’s already thought through every angle of this scenario and he wants to do it. Are you worried about your career?”

“I don’t give a shit about my career. I’ve got plenty of other options, I’m not gonna put my career over a good thing.”

“Okay, then it’s rally cap time. Because if you don’t go to this party, you might not get another opportunity. You might burn this good thing to the ground. You feel me sugar?”

“I do,” he replied, defeated. Was that what he was doing? Burning it to the ground? Trying to force Hotch to end it so he didn’t have to? Cutting the cord before they got in too deep? He’d always been that way, it was his signature. He’d rather be dumped than do the dumping, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d pulled every one of the strings along the way. Was he pulling the strings now? When he didn’t really want it to end? When he was really just scared that Hotch hadn’t fully thought out what he was getting into? What kind of damaged goods he was taking on? “What if I show up and he’s changed his mind? Come to his senses?”

“That man has never lost his senses. It isn’t in his nature. Now get up and put on that tux, I need to see you in it before you go meet your future husband at the White House.”

(x)

Jessica made good on her offer and found a dress that was still in its bag in the back of her closet. It was a size smaller than she would have liked, fit her less like a glove and more like sausage casing. She felt like a pot of mashed potatoes stuffed into a surgical glove, soft and poochy in places that she never had been before. Getting older, succumbing to gravity. "I need to start going to the gym," she muttered, pushing her hair up on top of her head in some sort of haphazard updo that she'd learned once and utilized her entire life. Effortless glamor, that's what her mom called it. She did another turn in front of the mirror and smiled - the sausage casing didn't look half bad, really. It was sparkly and slinky and black, a little too long but nothing a pair of heels wouldn't fix right up. All in all she was going to consider it a success considering that she hadn't been in anything but pajamas or work clothes in months.

Upon her return, the first thing out of Hotch's mouth was that she looked beautiful. The worst part was, she knew he meant it sincerely which made her feel awful about how she'd been thinking about herself since squeezing into the dress. “You’re dating a man, what do you know?” was her snippy response as she shifted painfully in her heels. The heels he told her weren’t necessary, that she could wear flats and still look gorgeous. He just smiled and nodded, accepting her dig.

“True,” he replied, “but my point is still valid.” He kept her on his arm, kept her close to him. She was a shield for him as much as he was for her. He was good at these parties and settled right in to the role he was expected to play, but he still hated them. Small talk had never come naturally to him, it was a challenge and he learned it reluctantly but managed to become an expert in the art after a while.

“I thought you were divorced,” a man said, approaching them with a small plate of food, a salmon crostini in his mouth. Jessica did her best not to pull a face but she was always shocked at how these people behaved. You would think they’d have a little more class, not speak with their mouths full, but it simply wasn’t the case. Not even at the White House. Hotch raised his chin a little and Jessica squeezed his arm reassuringly. She knew the drill. This was the easy part, the smiling and playing along like she wanted to be here. She would have made a hell of a wife for any of the politicians if she had ever wanted to settle down. But she didn’t. Not even a little bit. The little family she’d made for herself was plenty.

“This is my ex-wife’s sister,” Hotch replied confidently. They’ve done this before. “She’s a good sport.”

“Has to be, coming to one of these parties. Especially with you.”

Jessica’s eyebrow shot up and Hotch let out a soft chuckle. The man didn’t miss her hesitation.

“No offense to Hotchner,” he said, backtracking a little. “You’re just in the spotlight when you’re around this guy. He’s no wallflower. Everyone here wants a shot at his attention. You came with the Prom King.”

“Ah, I see,” she said, as if that made it clear. She had noticed, she’d always known. He may not ever seek the spotlight but it always finds him anyway, and his particular brand of power was enchanting to everyone. She just felt bad for him, though, because he wanted to share the spotlight with Derek tonight. He’d had big plans for how the night would look and now he was stuck with her, playing their silly little teenage games, joking under their breath about the ridiculous things they saw.

“Champagne?” a waitress asked and Hotch looked at Jess and nodded his head. He wasn’t drinking, not with the headache he’s been battling all week, she she grabbed a flute happily. The waitress offered it to him again and he politely declined.

“It’s not business hours Hotchner, lighten up,” Axelrod said, taking a flute and offering it to him like he couldn’t resist it now. Hotch smiled and handed the flute to Jessica who took it gladly. She needed all of the alcohol she could get at this point.

“I’m driving,” was his reply, because it was easier than admitting that he’d been plagued with chronic migraines since an explosion years ago, and that the medication he had to take since Foyet’s attack didn’t exactly play nice with alcohol either. He’d had a beer with Derek and Penelope two nights ago and fought vertigo that made him sick to his stomach for hours after. It wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend his time at this party.

“Straight as an arrow,” Axelrod huffed. Jess smirked. Straight as an arrow, gay as fuck. That was what she wanted to say, but she just offered him her flute as a cheers and sipped, the bubbles going up her nose instantly. She hated champagne.

“Let’s dance,” she said, turning to Hotch suddenly bored of Axelrod’s conversation. She couldn’t tell if he was flirting with her or with Hotch, maybe both. Hotch nodded and Axelrod reacheed out to take Jessica’s empty flutes from her. Definitely flirting, she thought to herself, and she would probably not say no if he asked her to dance, but she was going to have some fun. Slowly she walked away, slinking beside Hotch to the dance floor to join the other very drunk politicians and spouses as they danced badly to live Christmas music. They fit together effortlessly, it wasn’t hard to see why they worked. He leads, she follows, they smile and make sarcastic little quips about the song or the party. They communicated easily without words, and to anyone looking they probably looked like they’d been married for a century.

“Axelrod...he’s the NSA guy, right?”

“Right,” Hotch replied, sliding them easily through the foxy like it was second nature. Step, step, sway. Step, step turn, dip. Jessica always loved being dipped, the way gravity left her and she was held by nothing more than Hotch’s hand at the small of her back. She tilted her head back and smiled at Axelrod as he watched them with a little jealousy in his eyes. Step, step, sway. Step, step, twirl. She felt like a princess, his arm high above her, her hair flying around her face in loosely pinned curls. He’d taken years of ballroom dancing classes with Haley. He sort of liked the fact that no one would ever expect it, that people probably assumed he had no rhythm. Surprising people was fun and Jessica...well just loved to dance. All kinds of dance. She didn’t like to be still, her body needed constant motion.

As the song slowly drifted from one into another, something Christmas music did effortlessly, Hotch felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Jessica’s eyes lit up, she didn’t even try to mask the surprise on her face that melted into a huge smile.

“May I cut in?” Derek asked, and Hotch felt his stomach drop. The breath hitched in his chest and he felt suddenly lightheaded. She searched his features for his reply before he turned and she released her grip on his waist. Penelope had told her she was going to try, but Jessica wasn’t holding her breath. Derek was stubborn, and he really did look bad. She didn’t hold it against him, not really. But he looked better, and god that tux...she wanted to dance close to him first. She controlled herself, though. This time.

“It’s about time you showed up,” she said casually, like they’d planned it. Like he hadn’t broken Hotch’s heart and walked out the door. Derek nodded and smiled.

“Sorry. Sometimes it takes me a while.”

“Well, you’re here now. That’s what’s important. I’m going to go get another drink and see if Mr. Axelrod wants to take me on a trip around the floor…” she said confidently. Hotch smiled at her, wondering how he got so lucky. What he ever did to have her in his life.

“I expect you’ll find him waiting for you near the chocolate fountain,” he replied coolly.

She nodded, her blonde curls falling around her face. “Perfect. Decimating that fountain was on my list for the night anyway.”

Hotch turned to Derek and smirked. “She’s never been able to resist chocolate. I knew I would eventually lose her to the fountain.”

Derek wanted to reply with something witty but he was so overcome with how handsome Hotch looked and how stupid he was to decide staying home was on the table that he couldn’t seem to form the right words. He felt so stupid, so so stupid. He was in love and being scared was not a good reason to do what he did.

“You look amazing,” he said, his voice rich and sonorous as he took Hotch by the hand. “I’m sorry I’m an idiot. Can you forgive me?”

“No, it’s alright. It was unfair of me to put you on the spot like this tonight. I’m not upset and you don’t need to apologize.”

“I wanted this too, Aaron. I wanted it so bad, and when I finally got it...I got scared that I’d lose it. Sometimes it’s easier to cut and run before getting in too deep than it is to lose something so...good.”

Hotch slid effortlessly into the role of lead on the floor, Derek following his every move. He could feel people’s eyes on them while they stepped and swayed just as easily as Hotch had with Jessica. Hotch was showing off a little and Derek was no slouch, he managed to follow with minimal effort. Being so close to Hotch was all it took to be comfortable. He rested his cheek against Hotch’s, relished the warmth and the scrape of his evening stubble. “You better want more than a couple dates with me, Aaron, because I’m in too deep now.”

“I do,” Hotch whispered, breathing in the scent of Derek.

“Who’s going to say something first?” Derek was still worried. Not about Hotch, but about everyone else. He could feel eyes on them. No one stopped dancing, no one said a word, but he could feel it anyway. Stolen glances, little knowing smiles.

“Most likely Axelrod,” Hotch replied. “And then my mother.”

“Where is she anyway?”

“Dancing with Senator Kramer near the Christmas tree,” he said without looking. He could feel her wherever she was. Derek glanced and smiled at her, a move that she took as an invitation. As if Grace Hotchner needed an invitation.

“She’s watching,” he said and Hotch nodded.

“I know.”

“Does she know about us?”

“She does. It was my mother that insisted I bring you tonight. I told her it would be cruel of me to invite you to a party this boring and she said the only way to make these parties less boring is to bring fun people.”

“She said that?”

“She did. She’s not actually the cold fish I make her out to be, we just have a complicated relationship.”

As the song came to an end, Hotch took Derek by the arm and led him to where his mother and Senator Kramer were dancing. Axelrod would talk to them, Hotch knew it, but he was otherwise occupied by Jessica and he was going to take the initiative and give the first dibs to his mother. She deserved it. She stopped in her tracks when she saw her son coming near and quietly left the Senator in her wake, approaching them with a smile.

“I thought perhaps I scared you off,” she said, eyeing Derek warmly. Hotch was the spitting image of her. Taller, by just a hair, but thin and pointy and a little scary. “I can only imagine the stories he tells people. And when I saw him walk in with Jessica Brooks, well...a mind does wander.”

“It took me a little too long to come to my senses. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hotchner,” Derek said, taking her hand and kissing it gently. He wasn’t going to offer any excuses. Hotch smiled, a flush rising in his cheeks.

“And you, Agent Morgan.” She waited on her son to interject, but Derek took the lead. He was starting to warm up, become comfortable, find his confidence.

“Please call me Derek,” he offered and she nodded, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin.

“And you may call me Grace.”

Hotch and Senator Kramer made eye contact briefly, amused at having been forgotten. Hotch was fine with it, fine with his mother and Derek making each other’s acquaintance, but the Senator seemed a little put out. He stepped in, leaned around Hotch and grabbed Grace’s eye contact for just a moment. Long enough to ask if she would like another drink anyway. “I’d kill for a strong manhattan,” she moaned, practically wilting at the thought.

“Hey, that’s my drink,” Derek replied casually, switching quickly into flirt mode. “Aaron prefers an old fashioned.”

“Aaron and his bourbon. Some things never change. The stories I could tell you…” her voice drifted off and she looked at her son pointedly, a little smirk dancing on her bright red lips. Derek couldn’t get over how alike they looked with their hawk eyes and aquiline noses, the smirk that made them look a little scary. It was the same, and he wondered if Sean looked like their father. That wasn’t a question he was too keen on asking. “Don’t let this prim and proper facade fool you. He’s a rebel under all of that expensive silk.”

“Senator, I’ll join you at the bar,” Hotch muttered, leaving his mother and Derek to visit and dance. She was going to tell Derek stories that he would rather not stand around and listen to, stories he’d rather not hear at all. He’d already lived them once and that was plenty. There were countless mistakes he’d made growing up and his mother had cataloged them all with precision. She never had much occasion to share them with Haley, she’d been there for many of them in person, but with Derek...well, the possibilities for his humiliation and shame were endless.

Derek held her gently and they swayed beside the Christmas tree with its glittering lights and great red and green and gold decorations. Velvet ribbons tied into perfect bows, shiny balls you could see a thousand reflections in, rocking horses and angels and elves gilded and nestled into the needles of the tree. It was unbearably tall, brightly lit and covered in such ornate decadence that it hurt to look at it too long. Hotch turned back to watch while waiting at the bar. Derek was smiling, laughing easily while his mother spoke, her pristine brow knit in concentration as she recalled story after story.

“How long have you and Agent Morgan been seeing one another right under all of our noses?” Senator Kramer asked, his hands in his pockets. He, too, was watching them dance but with his interest in a different place altogether.

“Long enough,” Hotch replied with a smirk. The Senator nodded and ordered the four of them drinks before Hotch could get a word in. He had no plan to let anyone in on the secrets of their relationship. Being visible was one thing, but he was still intent on maintaining privacy.

“Kudos to you. I’ve always been of the mind that things get too messy when you involve yourself with co-workers, but then you don’t strike me as a messy kind of guy. In spite of our recent struggles with your department, you seem to run a pretty tight ship. Your crew is a little wild and you manage it better than most.”

“My house is in order,” Hotch replied coolly ,”and my crew are among the best in their field. It isn’t hard.” The Senator nodded in agreement. Despite the hearing regarding Ian Doyle, he’d had no reason to concern himself with the BAU prior to the investigation into their conduct. Now of course, he had to keep a close watch on them, but with Hotch back on US soil and Doyle six feet under...things were quiet. He wasn’t really sure what Strauss was always barking about – they may do things a little unorthodox, but then wasn’t that why they were put together in the first place? Still, he was fascinated by them in some way. Didn’t mind being tasked with keeping an eye on them.

“I believe you. So, how many people here knew prior to tonight?”

Hotch glanced around and scanned the crowd, made a show of checking out everyone. “Two,” he said confidently. The Senator laughed heartily, lifting his drink to his lips.

“Your mother and the woman you brought as your date and then ditched when Agent Morgan showed up?”

Hotch nodded, smiling. He was holding a drink for himself and one for Derek, but he had no intention of consuming it. He would have to find Jessica and see if she wanted to take it off of his hands. The problem would be finding her, she could get herself into all sorts of situations quickly. Trouble found her and she’d never been one to turn away from it. For all he knew she was smoking a joint in the women’s bathroom or climbing the limbs of the Christmas tree. She was a wild card.

“Your mother is a hell of a woman.” the Senator said, picking Grace’s drink up too. He wasn’t quite finished with her yet.

“Be careful Senator,” Hotch warned. “Many people here might say I’m scary, and I’m sure you can imagine she played a rather large role in that.”

“Apple didn’t fall far from the tree?”

“Not far, no.”

The Senator smiled. “I do enjoy a challenge. Merry Christmas Hotch.”

“Merry Christmas Senator.”

(x)

Hotch had been at the party hours now, which was longer than he’d ever bothered in the past. His normal routine involved showing up fashionably late, making the rounds, collecting a few favors (while offering none if he could help it) and bowing out before anyone got too drunk. There was a line he never liked to cross, sides of people he preferred not to see. It kept him sane at work, he allowed him to keep trusting these people. Himself, he would carry around the same drink all night so no one would try to get him liquored up, he would smile and play nice and then disappear. The key to a successful party, he knew, was not to overstay your welcome or usefulness. You never wanted to be the one people talked about the next day.

But he knew, as he danced with Derek, that he would be the one people talked about the next day this time. He knew it and he stayed anyway, because Derek came and he wasn’t about to waste that.

“What happened to your knee?” Hotch asked, noting the gentle limp every few steps. Mostly when they stepped to the left and turned. He stifled a yawn, exhausted. His head hurt. But chest to chest, cheek to cheek, none of it really made him want to go anywhere.

“I ran the master gunner course three times today,” was Derek’s groaning reply. “Any of these guys get picked for SWAT, my faith in the system is gone.”

“What was your time?”

“Fourty-eight fourty. Why?”

Hotch smiled and Derek didn’t like that look one bit. In fact, he hated it.

“What? Why?” he asked again.

“Nothing. Just that I ran it two weeks ago at fourty-eight thirty-seven.”

Derek groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Man. I just said my knee was all jacked up…”

“Before you started? Or after doing it three times in a row? Sounds like an excuse to me.”

“I’ve never made an excuse in my life. You wanna try me? Give me a week. My knee stops hurting, we get JJ to proctor the course for us...I’ll kick your ass.”

“Are you asking me out on another date?”

“Guess I am.”

(x)

Lying in bed at Hotch’s apartment, Derek a little drunk and Hotch so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open, they both played the night over and over in their minds. Derek decided he would stay the night after all, he couldn’t just cut and run after the party, he felt too good, too high on adrenaline. Penelope had taken Jack over to his house so they could be with Clooney and the two of them could have the rest of the night to themselves. The pounding in Hotch’s head had quieted considerably and he found himself nearly asleep while Derek was buzzing, wide awake, his thoughts rushing a mile a minute. They were out now. Together and out, not just at the FBI but at the damn White House. Their pictures would be everywhere by morning. He could hardly wrap his mind around the magnitude of the night.

“You really did that…” he mused, staring up at the ceiling and Hotch hummed from somewhere beneath the blankets.

“What?”

“Took me to the damn White House Christmas Party and danced with me…right in front of everyone...”

“And kissed you,” Hotch reminded him, yawning and curling around Derek. “Don’t forget that part.”

“How could I?”

“What made you change your mind about coming?”

Derek let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. “Penelope talked some sense into me.”

“Smart woman.”

“Yeah, she is...I’m sorry I almost screwed it all up. I was really nervous about tonight and it made my bad day at work seem so much worse than it was. If she hadn’t come over and yelled at me I woulda really messed up everything.”

Hotch smiled sweetly and kissed Derek’s warm skin, the soft space between ribs, the mound of his shoulder, anywhere he could reach with minimal effort. “It’s okay. You came."

“What do you think tomorrow’s gonna be like? Word spreads fast.”

Hotch hummed low and sweet, smiling and dusting lazy kisses over Derek’s chest. He couldn’t stop himself now. He was tired, delirious, and in this state he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. This was still all so new, them sleeping in the same bed, them kissing for any reason and no reason. It was all new and yet it felt comfortable and worn. “Intense.”

“Yeah. Probably right. Maybe we’ll get a case…” Taking Hotch’s lead, he began slowly dragging his fingers up the ridges of Hotch’s spine, trailing down then up again, flooding his skin with goosebumps. “I’m not tired…”

“You’re not?”

“Not even a little…” He was fishing, and Hotch...well he was damn tired, but he could hardly say no, not now. Slowly, he reached up and touched Derek’s chin, tilting it toward him and kissing him on the lips. Derek could feel his smile there and couldn’t help the way his whole body shifted into position expectantly, wanting, almost desperate.

“Mmm...wanna fool around a little?” Hotch asked, rocking his hips against Derek’s, letting one hand slide down his spine until it rested against the curve of his tailbone.

“Thought you'd never ask.”

[wardengrill]

hotch only knew 5 minutes of peace in his entire life and it was when morgan and reid were stuck in that elevator (x)

[thegirlinmaroonsweater]

Do y'all remember that one episode when Elle got arrested in Jamaica and Hotch have to fly there to take her in bail.

The moment he walked into that room he took in Elle's outlook (because she was arrested in her night dress) without missing a beat he removed his jacket and offered it to her.

That's it, that's the bar. That's what I look for in men.

I look for Aaron hotchener in men.

[starchaser45]

Emily only allowing herself to cry when she's in Spencer's arms cause she's sure he's safe is my Roman Empire

[patrickispinky]

Derek: are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Emily: i'm the knife

Jj: *from across the room* she's the little spoon

[chithereader]

jealousy, jealousy / aaron hotchner

here’s my masterlist! pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader / shy!reader word count: 2.4k genre & cw: fluff, a little jealousy and pining angst if u squint, mentions of made-up case, different use of cm character a/n: thank u so much for all the support i've been getting on my fics!! hope you love this one as much as i do, i really enjoyed writing this one the most!

Today was a bad day. That much was clear. From the moment you woke up to the minute you arrived at the BAU– you’re convinced that the universe has simply gone the extra mile to make your life a little harder. 

You slept through your alarm and a few phone calls from Garcia, making your morning stressful and complete chaos. You didn’t have time to grab a cup of coffee or a snack, and apparently you also didn’t have time to remove the colorful pimple patches that adorned your face. 

Your blouse is buttoned asymmetrically, your hair resembling a bird's nest, and you left your ID at home, making your arrival more delayed as you had to employ Garcia’s help in presenting a copy of your ID to let you through. 

That too was not without stress given that your phone was on the verge of dying as you were in the call, but thankfully you could finally breathe in the elevator. Or so you thought. 

There were two things that immediately caught you off guard as you walked into the bullpen: one, almost all the desks were deserted and two, Reid and Morgan were watching you- as if waiting for your reaction, which led you to look around in anticipation. Is there a surprise? A prank? Did I miss a patch? I’m…wearing pants, right? 

Not wanting to prolong your search, you look at the two for any indication or clue. Tilting your head to the side as if to ask what? But to your surprise, they both nod their heads in one direction. Oh.

Strauss was in Hotch’s office, along with Rossi and a woman you don’t recognize. Hotch looked a bit tense, Strauss firm, Rossi is as relaxed as ever, and the woman… is looking directly at Hotch. Just Hotch. Huh. 

You were stood just shy of your desk when you shook thoughts out of your head, slowly approaching your desk to settle your things. Dozens of scenarios were running through your head, trying to make sense of new additions to an otherwise normal day. 

But the way she was studying him made your chest tight like someone was stepping on it.. and you couldn’t figure out why. 

You approach the two rascals only to lean on Derek’s desk as you whisper under your breath, “What’s happening there?” 

Morgan shrugs but his focused face remains, “I don’t know, kid. I tried Garcia but she doesn’t have a clue either.” Eyes studying the people in the room, noting anything that could tell them something. 

Mulling over more possibilities, you hum in response. Turning to Reid, you ask him- hoping that his eidetic memory can tell you anything about the woman even if they’d only met in passing. 

“Do you know anything, Spence?” But Reid only pouts at you, a sign that he’s thought about it hard but is coming up empty. 

Shaking his head, he soberly replies, “No..I don’t think so. I– I’ve never seen her before. Sorry.” 

Before any more thoughts could be voiced between the three of you, the door to Hotch’s office opens and all four of them file out- the woman walking a little too close to Hotch. 

-

You’re approaching your usual seat on the jet beside Morgan and across from Hotch when suddenly Agent Seaver overtakes you and sits on your seat. Caught by surprise, your eyes instinctively go to Hotch who’s already looking at you. 

He nods to himself, moving from the aisle seat to the one by the window. But it appears Agent Seaver misunderstood his gesture and moved beside him, “Oh! Thank you, sir.” Even going as far as touching his arm and leaning closely. 

Now, you’ve never been a violent person. Rage has just never overcome your senses like that but today.. of all days– you couldn’t help the image of spilling your hot chocolate all over her cream blouse. 

You don’t even notice that you’re frowning as you sit beside Morgan, somehow still unaware of how much their closeness really upsets you. You honestly thought you’ve maintained an expressionless face until Morgan looks up from his file and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You’ll need claws not paws, baby girl.” Winking at you as you separate. 

You steal a glance at Hotch only to see him watching you and Morgan with furrowed brows. He almost looks normal if it weren’t for the clenching of his jaw that’s his tell of irritation. Moving your gaze to Seaver, in case you missed something that’s causing his new mood, you find her reading the case file. 

As you return your gaze on Hotch, you watch as Seaver touches his arm again and engages him in conversation about the case. It’s through the whole jet ride that you had to stomach the constant Agent Hotchner, Agent Hotchner! paired with a giggle or a slight touch. UGH!

If it weren’t for Strauss personally recommending Agent Seaver as a consultant for this case, you would have done– …still absolutely nothing. You had no claim whatsoever over Hotch. Morgan and Rossi may tease the two of you occasionally, forcing that he treats you specially or whatever but his behavior could simply be chalked off as him being a good and attentive boss. 

And yes, okay fine. You may have some moments here and there… but! they could honestly just be built up in your head because of the feelings you have for him. Like when he said he likes it when you stare? Come on, being stared at can be flattering and that’s just a universal truth. 

- 

After a whole day of coming up with theories, visiting crime scenes and M.E.’s, you’re all completely spent. Lounging in the makeshift discussion room, all of you are still working tirelessly on the case given that the unsub’s on a spree and his timeline is alarmingly short. 

Reid’s been silently staring at the board for 20 minutes while Morgan’s pretending to read files of potential suspects with his legs stretched out and feet on the table, “This is impossible. We just don’t have enough.” He exclaims as he tosses the file on the table with a thud. 

To the left of Morgan, you’re also silently mulling over files of potential suspects. Not wanting to admit that he’s right, you guys don’t have enough…bodies. You barely have anything on the guy, barely any clues- for a working profile. 

You sigh heavily, peeling your eyes off the paper and looking at the board. “Reid?” The boy genius shakes his head softly, confirming that the known dump sites don’t say much about the unsub’s comfort zones or hunting ground. 

You suddenly wonder where Seaver, Hotch and Rossi are. You and Morgan got back to the precinct at around 11PM, and you realize you haven’t seen any of them, “Where are the others?” 

Morgan, in an effort to lighten the mood, jumps at the chance to tease you, “Hmm. I think what you’re really asking is: Where’s Hotch and is he with Seaver?” He punches your arm lightly, making it obvious he’s only teasing. 

The smug, playful smile on his face makes you fight one of your own, desperately trying to not give yourself away, “Shut up,” hitting him in the head softly with the file in your hand. 

While you two were exchanging playful glares, Reid interjects, “Seaver wanted to turn in early since she’s also the one meeting with the families tomorrow so Hotch brought her to the hotel.” 

You instantly lift your gaze to him and watch as he removes the marker’s cap and scribbles rapidly on the board, quickly adding “And I’m pretty sure Rossi’s getting us coffee from the diner around the block.” 

You want to blame it on your exhaustion– your inability and ineffectiveness at hiding how you truly feel about what Reid just revealed to you, groaning loudly in pain and frustration. You put your head in your hands, muffling the sounds you’re making that are somehow a combination of a laugh and a sob. 

Morgan understands your reaction immediately and laughs out loud. 

“It’s not funny!” There was honestly no point in hiding it. As much as Morgan teased you, you knew he wouldn’t tell anyway, and Reid.. well, he was honestly an even better keeper of secrets than Morgan, Rossi and Garcia. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, “Baby girl, worry not. You know you hold a special place in boss man’s heart.” Then gripping both your wrists to pry your hands off your face. 

Pressing your face even further into your hands, you let out a muffled version of “That’s not true!” that came out more as “Daffs noft thwu!” 

When Morgan successfully pries your hands off your face, you’re surprised to see Reid’s moved from the board to behind Morgan, half leaning half sitting on the table, curiously watching you. 

Morgan turns around to look at the door behind you, making sure the coast is clear before he says, “Kid. Be real with me for a sec… are you blind?” That was not the question you were expecting. 

You must have looked so lost because he continues, “Hotch cares for you. Deeply. And not in the same way he does for us. You’ve gotta have felt that, kid.” Funny, you are starting to feel like a kid– the only thing missing are his hands on your shoulders to complete that huddle pep talk experience. 

“That’s just not–” you try to start. But Reid swiftly raises his hand, signing you to stop–

“Did you know that every morning Hotch makes sure all the pens and mug handles on your desk are pointing to the right– the way you need it to be– in case the night janitors move any out of place?”

“Or that he never really ate lunch in the office before but started bringing sandwiches and other food he could microwave, while timing his lunches with yours presumably so he could strike up a conversation with you during break?” 

“Or do you remember that one time the AC in the bullpen broke and we were all sweating badly, and I said the heat was making me too thirsty then he disappeared into his office and came back with a bottle of water and an orange juice box only to give it to you?” 

Morgan lets out a loud laugh at that one while Reid pouts playfully, “I mean I was genuinely dying then.” 

Not without his own input, Morgan smiles softly at you with a raised brow “Did you know he personally restocks your favorite hot chocolate in the pantry and on the jet? Including the marshmallows.” 

You breathe in deeply, the revelations sounding too good to be true but winding nonetheless. You crack a small joke, trying to play it off “And I thought the bureau was just feeling really generous.” 

The two, who have grown to be such brothers, give you the exact same look of Really? 

As Reid rounds the table to go back and stand by the board, Morgan catches your attention and holds your eye, “Look, there’s so much more, kid. But they all point to the same thing.” He says this as softly as possible, as if to not scare you away. 

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. Shaking your head, “That just can’t be true.” 

With all three of your backs to the door, you don’t notice Rossi nearing. You just suddenly hear his voice from behind, rounding the table and settling the coffee cups in front of all of you, “Coffee, anyone?” 

As if trapped in the null of the previous conversation, you’re still looking at Morgan as you lean back in your chair, slumping further to seek non-existent cover. Reid, who is now back in his own world with the board, is handed a cup by Rossi, who didn’t even turn to look- only stretching out an arm to receive it and mumbling a distracted “Thanks.”  

Rossi, who is simply too smart for his own good, impressively senses something hanging in the air, nonchalantly asking about the tailend of a conversation he was not supposed to hear, “So… what can’t be true?” 

Back to lounging excessively on a chair that is a tad too tiny for him, with legs outstretched and feet on the corner on the table– Morgan spouts, “That she’s Hotch’s girl, and has no reason to be jealous of Seaver– who by the way needs the HR orientation more than Penelope and I.” 

-

Now– all of your backs are to the door except Rossi’s. Not one of you tried to move due to fatigue, let alone look.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan, and Reid, on the way back to the precinct from the hotel, Hotch had the genius thought of picking up Rossi so the latter wouldn’t have to walk a block with trays of coffee on hand.

Hotch and Rossi arrived together. And as Rossi went around the table to give you your cups of coffee, Hotch stayed behind– leaning on the doorframe with arms crossed, watching you and the team.

Imagine his surprise, hearing what Morgan just said. His heart skipped a beat, his stomach dropped. His entire being froze entirely.. What? Jealous? 

In his mind, he had two choices: Act like he didn’t hear it and save you from embarrassment or use it to his advantage and make his intentions clear..ish. 

-

You gasp loudly at his bluntness– and in front of Rossi! Straightening in your chair and pointing an accusatory finger at Morgan, “You little– I am NOT jealous! and I am NOT Hotch’s–” 

Cut off by someone loudly clearing their throat from behind all of you, you all freeze, including Reid who hasn’t been actively paying attention until now. 

The hair on your neck stands up as you hear the nearing footsteps, already envisioning digging your own grave in your head when finally, Hotch is standing right beside you. 

You’re all still pretty frozen, save from the slow movement which is your eyes slowly lifting its gaze to the man in question until they meet his hazel orbs. He holds your stare as he leans on the desk, arms straining in his shirt– 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Rossi fighting a smile, and just as you’re about to mentally curse him in your head, you’re broken out of your thoughts by a deep voice, 

“You don’t think you’re my girl?” 

[bucker3911]

the colorblind one 😈

[m1lfsh4ke]

Emily Prentiss P Links - 18+

Part two

! - explicit nudity + visual porn + talks of cheating

MDNI. Disclaimer, I am NOT responsible for your media consumption and will not take accountability from any issues it may have caused once you’ve clicked on the links below.

୨ৎ - Emily fingering you + having your hands tied behind your back

୨ৎ - She bottoms out after having a rough day at work :(

୨ৎ - Jj comes to visit Emily while her husband is out

୨ৎ - Riding her fingers

୨ৎ - "I know you can fit more inside that pretty pussy, sweetheart"

୨ৎ - Letting you record to see how good she fingers you

୨ৎ - Emily riding you

୨ৎ - Wearing a skirt so she can have easy access

୨ৎ - Eating you out from behind

୨ৎ - Taking her anger out on you

୨ৎ - Videos you send her with the toys she bought you while shes out at work

୨ৎ - Securing her thighs with a vibrator cause she can't seem to behave

୨ৎ - Emily coming on your skirt

୨ৎ - Prentiss has a 3some with Hotch and Derek

୨ৎ - Riding a dildo in front of the windows so she can show others how well you take it >-<

[sarcasm-and-stiles]

[ithebookhoarder]

Hello hi ! 🤗

Can you do a "bau reacts" when they are undercover in public and about to be found out so the reader just starts making out with them to pretend they are just a couple?

(BAU Headcanons) Making out Undercover

A/N: Mwahaha. Oh, this is a good prompt. Thanks for making me daydream all afternoon. Enjoy my lovelies 😉 Also, as a note, I'm writing the main BAU where I'm at watching it (season 13) plus Luke as he was requested previously 💕

Warnings: Mentions of threat, mentions of weapons, alcohol references, sexual references, implied cases / unsubs. (Let me know if I missed any)

Aaron Hotchner

We know Aaron doesn’t go undercover for most cases, so this would have to be a big case to get him into the field. 

This man would be in shock. Let’s be real. He would freeze in place and try to argue for a split second until he realises what you’re trying to do and why - even if you were already together. 

As soon as they’re gone though, you’d glance up and see his usual steely glare that tells you you’re in for a scolding once this is over. 

However, you’d have to be blind to miss the way he lingers for a moment, holding you close for half a second longer than necessary. 

“I feel I should remind you that we are in the field, and whilst it may have worked, I can’t endorse it as a tactic in future. Understood?” 

“So I’m hearing that we’re leaving this off of our case report then?” 

“Agreed. I don’t need to give Strauss anything else to use to go after us and the team.”

He would roll his eyes and take off after the Unsub, but you’d have to be blind to miss the way he smirks as he goes. 

David Rossi 

He’d be a little embarrassed but mostly quite smug about the whole thing, even if you were supposed to be undercover. 

“Well, I can safely say in all my years in this field I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before.” 

He’d also refuse to let you apologise for your actions afterwards either. 

One, because he’s kind of flattered. 

Two, because he’s been around the block a few times and knows that sometimes you have to do what it takes to solve a case or protect yourselves. 

Three, you were supposed to be a couple and kissing is what couples do. He’s only sour because if anything he would have liked to be the one who kissed you. 

“Relax about it, would you? I won’t tell you some of the things Gideon and I had to do back in the old days. That was before all this new paperwork and guidelines, so that’s all I’ll say on the matter.” 

You make a point of remembering to ask him about that at your next night off over drinks. 

Derek Morgan

Derek is always up for anything so I feel like he’d be pretty relaxed about being undercover with you, even if you weren't together romantically. He has no issue playing your pretend boyfriend for one night, and is quick to wrap his arm around you. 

Which is why it would be such a surprise to him when it’s you who initiated the kiss. 

Derek would freeze for like a second, but only out of shock. However, you know he wouldn’t fight you on it. 

The second his brain catches up to his body he would be kissing you back, doing everything in his power to match your energy and sell this kiss. 

If anything, you’re going to have to be the one to break away once the coast is clear and remind him you’re still technically in the field and that your team is probably wondering where the hell you are right now - and why you stopped responding to your comms. 

“I’m just saying, if we get to do that then we need to be partnered up more often.” 

“Yeah yeah, Morgan. Let’s just hope Penelope didn’t see that else we’ll never be hearing the end of it.” 

Emily Prentiss

She’s been undercover plenty of times in her life and spent a whole chunk of time actually fake-married to Doyle for an op, so she’d be the most comfortable and understanding if you grabbed her for a kiss - especially if you were meant to be a fake couple. 

She’d work it out pretty quickly and would respond in kind, pressing herself against you and running her hands all over you. 

“Quick thinking with the kiss,” she’d whisper as she brushed a kiss against your neck. 

She’d also know exactly where the Unsub is afterwards too, having kept watch in her peripheral vision. 

She wouldn’t even have to break eye contact with you before she informed you, “3 o’clock. He just left out the fire exit.” 

With that, she’d be off. 

She also probably wouldn’t even bring it up again until you’re both back on the jet. Then she’d be smirking at you across the top of her drink and chuckling to herself. 

“Normally I’d insist dinner first but given that we caught that bastard I think we’re even.” 

JJ

JJ knows about going undercover and it takes a lot to rattle her. She would probably go along with the action, even if she’d stay kind of stiff for a good minute or so. 

However, she’s a good agent and knows about maintaining a cover so quickly catches on when you pull her in. 

She’d return the kiss, shooting glances out the corner of her eye when she thinks it might be safe to check on their target. If it doesn’t look like they’re buying it, she’ll turn things up a notch and spin you around so that she could take control. 

“My gun is under my jacket. Reach for it slowly if he comes any closer,” she’d warn, but thankfully you don’t need it. Eventually they leave, distracted by something else, leaving you and JJ to recover.

After catching your breath, you both take off in the direction your target just left in. You can tell JJ is trying not to laugh about what just happened, choosing to make it funny rather than uncomfortable if you weren't together romantically.  

Which means you know she’d enjoy teasing you about it in front of the others, making your cheeks burn as she announces on the jet: “For the record, even though it was a ‘cover kiss’ it was pretty good. Just saying. Maybe you should give Morgan some tips. That way he might get a girl to call him back after a first date.” 

Luke Alvez

It doesn’t matter if he’s ex-army or whatever. Undercover is not really Luke’s thing and even then, he is more used to infiltrating gangs than playing house. 

Basically, he would be surprised by your actions, despite being undercover together. Like, I can see his eyebrows hitting his hairline so fast, bless him. He’d look like a deer in headlights. 

“Woah, sweetheart, slow your roll-“ 

“- Luke. Shut up and kiss me. Now.” 

“I - ok.” 

Just like that, he’d take control, turning and pressing you against the nearest wall in an attempt to shield you from whoever was watching. He’d also be such a gentleman about it if you weren't already together romantically, keeping his hands on your waist and pulling away the minute he’s sure the danger has passed. 

Even then, he’d wait a minute before letting the two of you move from your position, just in case they come back. He’s your partner and he’s returning the favour for you keeping him safe, even if in an unsuspected manner.

“You good?”

“Luke. Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I was the one who planted myself on you.” 

“Potato, po-tah-to. Are they still over there?”

“No. They just left out the back.”

“Then let’s go, partner. Let’s catch this freak.” 

Penelope Garcia 

If Penelope is in the field then you know she is already hella nervous and out of her element. It doesn’t matter if there was a reason she was needed for this particular assignment, she would just take that as added pressure not to let everyone down.

Which is why I’m sure you’d feel worse about planting one on her - even if it does also help distract her from worrying for a minute.  

All I can imagine is her giving her trademark squeal of confusion and surprise, even if you gave her a hasty warning - and apology - about what you were going to do.

She’d be stunned at what was happening and probably takes a minute to realise she should probably try and kiss you back, or at least look less visibly startled about it. 

“I feel I should point out how unfair it is that this is permitted as ‘suitable workplace behaviour’ as we’re undercover, yet my flirtatious texts with Agent Morgan are not? I will be writing a strongly worded email when we get back, telling HR they can go shove their-”

“Pen? Hey, focus here. Unsub still watching us.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry! Ahem… as you were?”  

Also, you know that like a day or so later, once it’s all over, she sends you an email informing you that your new username on the BAU system is now ‘smoochykins’ and she will not change it until it becomes not-funny for her… which will probably be never. After all, Morgan has been ‘Chocolate Thunder’ for the last two years and is still going strong.  

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer has been undercover before and is usually quite calm about it, even if it is faking a date or maintaining a story. Still, despite having to do your jobs, you’d hate to make him uncomfortable, knowing how he feels about any kind of physical contact - especially if you're not together. 

As he says, with the amount of bacteria shared by shaking hands you’d be safer kissing … guess it was time to take it literally. 

He’d be blushing like a tomato as you grab his jacket lapels and pull him close. And honestly? it’s kind of adorable. As is the way he tries to kiss you back, even if he still takes a minute to remember how to even move his body. 

I’m just picturing the Lila kiss in season one and how he eased into that and how stunned / embarrassed he seemed afterwards. He would pretty much be like that, but with a fake smile on his face as he rambled in your ear. 

“What was that?”

“I was covering our asses. We’re undercover, remember? We’re supposed to be a couple and couples kiss. Also, I’d thought you know, genius, that kissing and displays of public affection make people extremely uncomfortable.”

“No kidding… Morgan can never find out about this.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. You got a deal, pretty boy. This is between us.” 

Masterlist

[masterwords]

peas and love

Here we are, folks! My entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Feb/March Challenge: Damsel/Dude in Distress. I used the prompt "Character A teaches self-defense. B plays the victim" and let it get completely out of control!

peas and love (4839 words) by masterwords Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Derek Morgan Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan (Criminal Minds), Hank Morgan, Savannah Hayes Additional Tags: Back Pain, Damsels in Distress, Self-Defense Class gone wrong, Domestic Fluff, Toddlers, A little angst, Past Child Abuse, Mention of Carl Buford - Freeform, Crying over Disney Movies, Frozen Peas and Heating Pads, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Soft Derek Morgan (Criminal Minds) Series: Part 5 of The Chicago Times Summary: Hotch hurts his back and Hank takes very good care of him.

This work belongs to The Chicago Times. A couple of soft soft semi-retired old men raising their family.

[wardengrill]

I've come to realize I'm more married to this team than I ever was to three ex-wives

[multifandom-exe]

Oblivious - A. Hotchner x Reader

Request: Hotch x bau reader where hotch has feelings but reader is completely oblivious? 

Word count: 2k 

A/N: this is a rewrite of a fic from like 5 years ago, if you want to check out the original here to see how much has changed. Feel free to leave requests! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK IN COMMENTS OR ASKS PLS i need to know if I'm still writing like I'm 14 😭.

The line. There was always a line. A line between good and evil. A line between love and hate. A line between professional and personal. That was a line you loved to flirt with, to teeter on, to play with like it was your favorite toy. Of course, you shouldn't be flirting with your boss, but when he was stood there, in that suit that highlights his shoulders and his wrists and his thighs and oh god... 

“(Y/N)?” And the way your name came from his lips was like heaven on earth right there. “(Y/N)?” What? A hand lightly brushed against your shoulder as he moved his head to be in eyeline with you. Slight concern in them as he gave you a small smile, sending electric through your body and thoroughly grounding you to earth. 

“Yes, I'm sorry, I'm just... tired.” You tried to look anywhere but his eyes as you so desperately tried to cover the train of thought that had your skin buzzing and your heart racing. You glanced at his hand on your shoulder as he took it away, wanting to whine at the loss of contact.  

Flirting with your boss was your own self sabotage. But you relished it every time. Every touch he missed. Every glance he didn't see. Every time your heart rate sped up as you saw him leave his office. He didn't notice any of it. And it made you want him all that much more. You should've been glad. Ecstatic even. Because once he realized you liked him, in a way he didn't like you, in a way no subordinate should ever like their boss. That line would be crossed. And no amount of ‘I'm sorry’ or ‘let's forget about it’ could undo it. 

Morgan and JJ stood a length away, taking in the scene in front of them. You, absentmindedly playing with your hair, a sign of flirting. And him, fiddling with his hands as he looked into your eyes whilst you spoke. 

- 

“Do you think they’ll ever notice the other is so head over heels for them?” JJ stated, watching you two with a look that's usually only reserved for Henry when he doesn't understand what he did wrong, or when Emily is openly talking about someone right behind her. A grimace more like. 

“Nope.” He started, popping the ‘p’. “They've been doing this dance for too long; I'm starting to think it's never gonna happen.” He tutted and tried to take his eyes off... whatever was happening over there. 

- 

“You look nice today, by the way. You do every day, but you know.” His attempt at flattery didn't go amiss as you smiled bashfully. 

“Thank you, so do you. I enjoy this side of you much more, the happier side. Is this some new technique to raise team morale?” You quirked an eyebrow as you smiled at him, desperately trying to quell the faint blush on your cheeks. 

His smile faltered slightly. Right. The team. It's been years since he flirted with anyone and clearly, he must be doing something wrong if you're thinking of him and the team. Every day he saw you. And every day he just wanted to throw caution to the wind and hold your hand, touch your face, stroke your hair. Feel you. Gently. Fully. Months. Months of slight flirts and fleeting touches and he feels no closer to being with you now than when you first joined the team. How one of his best profilers could miss something that was right there, he would never know. He was sure he was getting to the point where he looked pathetic. Rossi had even mentioned it to him, a late night in his office over a bottle of scotch. ‘I'm starting to question your profiling skills Aaron, if you two could see what everyone else sees, you'd know there's no question about what happens next with you two’. But here he was, trying his best to put his heart on his sleeve, and even that wasn't working. Or maybe it was, and you knew, and you were simply saving him the embarrassment of rejection. 

A cough broke him away from his thoughts. He looked at you as you nodded your head towards your nosy team members, who stood absentmindedly watching the two of you. He copied your cough and looked pointedly at his team. 

“Back to work.” He said firmly, turning to touch your arm and give you a small smile before returning to his office. Your cheeks heated as you stared at the spot on your arm, slowly walking back to your desk. You sat in your chair, thoughts going a mile a minute and you sighed, pulling your files closer. 

“Oh, Hotch your just so dreamy!” Morgan lays his hand dramatically on his forehead, attempting to mock you. 

“Oh (Y/N), you look absolutely ravishing today.” Emily came over to join in the teasing, doing her best Hotch impression. 

“What are you two idiots yapping about?” You looked up at the scene, laughing inwardly at their antics. 

“Cmon, Hotch is so into you!” Came from JJ as she giggled softly. “And I'm willing to bet the feeling is reciprocated.” She tugged at your cheek, pointing out the obvious blush dusting them. 

“Okay, we’re all bullying me, stay mad.” You tried to joke but they all gave you pointed glares like you were the stupidest person in the world. “He is not into me! He just wants someone in this office to actually do their work.” You giggled before pulling all your files together. You pushed your chair back and stood up to deliver your files for the day. 

“Keep telling yourself that, Sugar!” Derek shouted as you walked away, receiving an unceremonious middle finger in response. 

You jogged up the stairs to Hotch's office, raising your hand to knock on the door, finding it already open. Your heart hummed against your chest at the thought of him hearing the ‘workplace gossip’. Well, can it really be gossip if it's true? 

“I have the files you wanted.” You held them close to your chest as you absentmindedly played with the small pieces of paper sticking out. The tension in the office was palpable. The same tension that hung over you when you looked a little too long, or smiled a little too brightly.  

His head snapped up at your voice and he broke out into one of those very rare Aaron Hotchner smiles TM. “You can just put them there.” He pointed to his desk, trying to shield his face that sported the same bright pink as you. As you approached, he begged to every god on earth you couldn't hear his heartbeat threatening to break out of his ribs. There was a beat of silence as you put the files down. You knew you shouldn't linger, but you couldn't help it. Youd do everything in your power to look at him a second longer each time he leaves. He looks up at you. He really looks at you. Eyes so bright whilst still working a job like this. Plump lips being gently bitten between your teeth. That conversation, outside. A conversation he never should've heard. This was his in. 

“They are right you know.” Your head lifted gently, taking you away from whatever thoughts lingered. Your eyebrows knitted together as a nervous smile and quizzical look painted your face. He stood and moved around his desk toward you. “i am ‘so into you’.” He tried his best to keep his earth shattering confession as light hearted as he could, rolling his eyes a little at the end of his sentence. He sucked in a breath as your face didnt move an inch from the shocked look plastered on it. God. This was the worst idea ever. He could already feel the anxiety and the nervousness and the everything, trying to claw its way out of his throat. His usual stoic look must have faltered, as he felt you lay your hand on his arm, breaking through his layer of despair. 

“Hotch.” Your eyes softened as you looked at him, and your eyes closed lightly, a blush spreading on your cheeks. It felt like this wave of emotion had hit you and you just wanted to cry. The line. It had been crossed, and it was so utterly terrifying, and felt so fucking amazing. 

He had obviously mistaken your soft tone as one of pity, of rejection. He stuttered slightly and turned his back to you, flushing deeply. He babbled, about how ‘sorry’ he was, and how we should ‘just forget he said anything’. God, he had taken risks in his life, but this was possibly the most, stupid, miscalculated, inconcieve- 

“Hotch!” Your raised voice broke him out of his spiral as he turned to face you once more. You moved toward him and lightly pushed a stray hair from his forehead. He so desperately wanted to lean into your touch. “Whatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours, at least let me finish what i was saying.” He shook his head lightly, like he was trying to shake his thoughts away, as he gazed into your eyes for the first time since his confession. “I'm totally into you too.” You mirrored his earlier words with a slight giggle. And just like that, a wave of emotion erupted in him. He breathed deeply, not realizing he was depriving himself of air waiting for your answer.  

He moved to softly run his thumb over your cheek as he gazed at you lovingly. “I've been wanting to tell you for so long. I tried flirting but I figured I just wasn't very good because you hadn't realized.” 

“Stop. I've been doing the same thing!” You gently dropped your head to his chest, laughing incredulously at the stupidity, that two very intelligent profilers had missed all of this. So oblivious. Both wrapped in their own little world of desperate pining.  

“How about i take you on a date? I could definitely use some time away from this office.” He lifted your chin gently, so you were looking into his eyes. 

“I couldnt think of anything better” You gazed at him, happiness threatening to burst your heart into two. 

Bonus 

Through the large office window, the 5 profilers stood, huddled around your desk, staring intently, like it was the finale of their favorite rom-com. They all sighed a huge breath as they saw you lay your head on Aaron's chest, all turning to eachother with the most shit-eating-grins. 

“I think, Reid and Morgan owe me 20 bucks.” Rossi smirked as JJ and Emily burst into laughter. Morgan hit himself on the cheek playfully with a little ‘ouch’ before rooting through his pocket for a 20. Reid had tried to argue ‘as Hotch's best friend, of course you'd understand him the best’ But it was to no avail, as Rossi just stuck his hand out and gave him an unconvinced look. He sighed and rooted through his pockets.  

After much laughter and gossip, they all turned back to see you placing a chaste kiss on his cheek and hurrying out of his office. They caught him lifting a hand to where you had kissed. Upon realizing his blinds were open, he promptly shut them, trying his best to plaster his intimidating look back on his face. You stopped at the top of the stairs as you realized all eyes were on you. You coughed and tried to indignantly hide the blush that coated your cheeks.  

“Back to work.” 

-

let me know what you think! and pls request this was so cute.

Taglist

@back-totheoldhouse

[rainydayathogwarts]

The team discovers you're dating - Aaron Hotchner

d/n: daughter's name.. Summary: The team discovers you're dating because of Jack's freudian slip. (singlemom!bau!reader) 0.7k wc

Small trudging footsteps paired with loud squeals caught the attention of the agents in the bullpen, an apologetic SSA following after his son. Derek and Penelope raced to the young boy, Derek scooping him up the second he was close enough, beating his work wife by seconds. "I'm sorry guys, national holiday and our sitter cancelled." The team dismissed him, understanding of his protectiveness over his son. After seeing so many cases, there was no way he'd let a random person look after his son. "I'll take him down to the daycare in a second, but Jack here just wanted to say hello to someone first."

Derek exaggeratedly frowned, looking down at the blonde boy "Is uncle Derek not the person you were looking for Jacky boy?" Jack shook his head, loud giggles filling the bullpen, just as the glass door opened one more. "Sorry guys," You started, trying to flip strands of hair out of your face while balancing your coffee and keeping your bag on your shoulder. "I had to drop d/n at daycare, sitter cancelled." You gasped loudly when you spotted the small figure in Derek's arms, placing all your things on the closest desk as you opened your arms wide. Jack wiggled his legs in Derek's arms so he could be put down on the floor, a wide smile gracing his features. You crouched down on the floor, grinning at the boy, who yelled loudly "Mommy!" as he ran into your arms.

An eerie silence filled the bullpen as all conversation died down. You wrapped your arms around the boy, his words sinking into your teammates' heads. You lifted Jack up into the air with a clueless smile, standing tall enough so you could see all of your coworkers' facial expressions, when it hit you. Your eyes widened and you froze, past the point of collecting yourself or trying to brush off what Jack said as an accident.

"What did he just say?" You hear Penelope interrogate, looking back and forth between the profilers in the room, hoping to get an answer. As though sensing the change in atmosphere in the room, Jack lifted his head from the crook of your neck, looking up at your face. You moved your stance to balance him on your hip, using the other hand to pick up your to-go cup and take a long sip of your coffee. "You wanna try my coffee Jack?" You teased, breaking the silence between you and him, laughing as the boy pulled a face of disgust, remembering the time he smelt his dad's black coffee one morning when you were over with d/n.

"Yuck! ... Mommy, am I gonna see d/n?" He asks, swinging his legs happily. You're painfully aware of the eyes stuck on you and the boy, glancing up to look at Aaron, observing his reaction. He's smiling softly at you and his son, back turned to the other agents in the bullpen. He walks over to you just as you reply to Jack "She's in daycare right now! Do you want to go join her?" Jack nods excitedly, arms lifting up when his dad walks over, allowing him to take him from you. "Well since the cat's out of the bag." Aaron shrugs, leaning down to press a kiss on your lips, walking out with Jack in his arms who giggles loudly "What cat daddy?"

With Jack finally facing away from you, you let all your emotions show up on your face: shock, confusion, and most importantly embarrassment to being exposed to your relentless team of close friends who will never stop the questions:

'How long?' 'Jack calls you mommy?' 'Don't you owe me money Morgan?'

You laugh at Spencer's comment, watching as Derek fishes his wallet out of his pocket, holding up a 20 dollar bill for Spencer to take. Rossi pushes himself off the desk behind him, where he faces Emily and the rest of the team. He sighs, shaking his head "For the record, I knew his whole time. And at least now you don't have to hide your ring, y/n." He states as he walks away. "You're married!?" Emily and JJ yell at the same time as Penny squeals loudly, running to hug you tightly. "Engaged!" You try saying over the noise. "Engaged not married!"

[marvelwitchergilmore]

First Kick

Summary: Aaron Hotchner x Fe!Reader -> Both you and Aaron have been in a secret relationship for three years, except when you go into labour, the rest of the team can't help but speculate.

Disclaimer: Just pure fluff. Small descriptions of labour. BAU being a family. Jack and Haley don't exist in this fic. Not Proof Read.

You would have thought working with a bunch of FBI profilers, they would have figured out the truth by now. 

But they hadn’t. 

Instead, both yourself and Aaron had lived in wedded bliss for the last three years and were now expecting your first child. 

Of course, that couldn’t be hidden from the team. The constant morning sickness. The aversions to certain smells. The swollen ankles, the overwhelming emotions and the growing belly. 

Which, as you were sitting at the dim light of your desk filling in the last of the paperwork for your latest case, began to move. 

The others had stepped out for a while, grabbing some food. They had invited you except the thought of walking a block and a half already made you want to fall asleep. So, kissing the top of your head, Morgan took your order and promised to bring you back extra guac. 

The hum from the headphones you placed around your belly filled the small silence, a tune of Motzart rather than a constant drum of a nearby printer. 

However, from under the headphones, you felt a movement. 

It wasn’t big. Barely noticeable. But it was there. 

Or was it? 

Maybe it was nothing. 

Except, twenty seconds later, you knew for certain. 

Pulling the headphones from you, you stood up immediately and rushed towards Hotch’s office. 

And you continued with your normal routine. Knocking on his door, calling his name and stepping inside. 

“Is everything okay?”

Trying not to raise any alarm, you closed his office door behind you before shutting the blinds. 

“Is everything okay?”

Aaron scanned your face. “Honey?”

Within seconds he was by your side. “What is it?”

But then you smiled. And he became confused. 

“What-”

“Feel.”

Taking his hand, you guided it to cover part of your growing belly. “What am I-”

Kick.

You watched every emotion possible pass over Aaron’s face as he took in the feeling of your child kicking his palm. 

“Is that-”

Kick.

Then he laughed. 

Aaron Hotchner laughed. 

It wasn’t often that you got to see this side of your husband when at work. So it was a nice surprise when you did. 

Within seconds, he had stepped a little closer and had carefully removed his hand from the top of your stomach and slipped it under the hem of your shirt, allowing his warm palm to rest against your skin. 

Then your baby kicked harder. 

You both laughed that time. 

“Hey, ow.” You said, looking at your stomach. 

Aaron chuckled lightly before resting his forehead against yours as his other hand rested against your face, brushing the fallen hair from your face and cupping your cheek. 

“She’s moving.” 

You smiled. “You’re still convinced it’s a girl?”

“Of course I am. I’m a profiler. I should know.” 

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head. “I’m a profiler, too, you know.”

“I know.”

“And it’s mother.”

“And you disagree?” He asked, still with a light smile gracing his lips. 

You hummed. “I’m uncertain.”

“Well, how about I give you my profile and see how you feel?”

You laughed. “It really is second nature to you.”

Aaron hummed before moving his hand, still under your shirt, to the top of your belly. 

“You’re carrying high, for one.” His thumb traced back and forth on your stomach. “You’ve suffered with morning sickness before twelve weeks, your main craving so far has been fruit. You sleep on your right side.”

“I always sleep on my right side.”

Aaron smiled. “And your skin,” He stroked his thumb against your cheekbone. “It’s soft.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Except, they are just old wives tales.”

“I’d like to think there is still some justice in them. Are you sure you want to wait until they’re born?”

“Yes.”

“And you couldn’t be persuaded?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?” Aaron smirked a little before leaning in and kissing you. 

Pulling his hand from your stomach, he brought it up to the other side of your face and it wasn’t long before he felt your body melt into his. 

“The others are going to be back soon.”

Aaron groaned a little but not before kissing you a last few times before pulling away. 

“You’d think they would have figured it out by now.” 

You nodded. “But it is kinda fun. And I can’t wait until they see our baby. I have a feeling they’ll look like you.”

“I should hope so.”

You laughed. “You know what I mean. And, if it is a girl, don’t they usually look like they’re dad?”

“Are you saying you agree with my profile?”

You hummed. “Maybe. Just a little. You are the Unit Chief of the BAU, so I suppose you have some credibility.”

“Even if they’re just old wives tales?” He asked, raising his eyebrow a little. 

You nodded, with a slight smile. “Even if they’re just old wives tales.”

You finally left his office just before the team got back, but not before stealing a few more kisses. 

Over the following months, the team grew more protective of you. With your pregnancy coming to an end, and still not knowing who the father was, they began to step up. 

It was sweet to watch. 

Penelope had planned your baby shower with JJ’s help. Reid had read up on everything a doctor and midwife knew about giving birth, just in case you went into early labour. Emily had helped you pack your spare hospital bag for the office in case you were rushed into labour whilst at the office or away on a case, being too far from home to drive to get your hospital bag. 

And when Hotch couldn’t be by your side, he made sure either Rossi and Morgan were there to help you. 

“You okay there, Momma?”

You looked to Morgan who had appeared from around the corner. You were leaning against the counter, your hand holding onto the bottom of your belly. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” You breathed out. “Just a little- ow. Okay. Hey-”

“Whoa, hey, okay, take it easy.”

Morgan placed his coffee mug down, coming right back to your side and holding your hand. “What do you need?”

Your grip tightened around his hand. “Ow. Hospital.”

“Okay, okay. Where’s your hospital bag?”

“By my desk. Emily-” You grunted in pain. “Emily knows.”

“Okay, okay. It’s okay. Emily!”

Turning around, it took Emily less than ten seconds to realise what was going on. 

“Okay, Garcia. Hey! Penelope, call Hotch. Let him know what’s going on.”

“Why, what’s-O…oh my god. Okay, Okay. Calling him now.”

By the time Morgan got you to the parking lot, Hotch was pulling in. 

“Get in, I can drive her straight there.”

“Have you got everything you need?”

You nodded. 

“Call us if you need anything?” Emily asked, shutting your door. 

You could only hum, holding onto Emily’s hand. 

She leaned in for a moment, kissing your cheek. 

“See you when you get back, Momma.”

Hotch pulled away a few moments later, rushing you directly to the hospital. 

And for the next twenty hours, Hotch stayed by your side. And the rest of the team started to think. 

“I mean, think about it. When she got braxton hicks. Who was the first one at her side?”

“Hotch.” Penelope answered. 

“Yeah, and the way he looked. I don’t know about you but I have never seen Hotch that nervous.”

“That is true.” Rossi agreed. 

“But they can’t be…together, can they?” JJ asked. “You all had it sussed about me and Will. They couldn’t go this long and not have us at least find out.”

“Maybe they didn’t want us to.”

“Or maybe they’re not together at all.”

“When have you ever known either of them to be that close with each other as they are with us? Rossi, have you ever seen the inside of Hotch’s house?”

“Not for a while, no. Why, have you ever seen hers?”

Emily shook her head. 

“Penelope, can you find out anything?” Morgan asked, turning to his best girl. 

“I can but it would completely wreck my moral standing.”

“You’ve never run a background check on us?” JJ asked. 

“No! That would be an invasion of your privacy. And theirs! If they are a..them, I suppose. Or maybe not. Maybe she is just a single mother and Hotch has decided to help her. He was the first to find out.”

“See, another thing!” Emily pointed out. 

“But Hotch is the first to know everything about us. He’s the main person we have to tell when it comes to personal things that could affect our work.” Morgan explained. 

“But why not come to one of us?” Rossi asked. “JJ, what do you think? Out of us, who would you have come to?”

JJ thought for a moment. “Out of you boys? Probably…Hotch.”

“Really?” Rossi asked. 

“Why not me?” Morgan asked. 

“Or me?” Reid finished. 

JJ smiled. “You know I love you all equally, but out of Three Divorces, Pretty Boy and Chocolate Thunder, I’d want to tell someone I know to be calm. That could remain level headed.”

“And we’re not level headed?” Morgan asked, causing JJ to look up above her shoulder. 

“What did you do when I told you I was pregnant?”

Morgan paused for a second. “You may have a point.”

“Either way, we can’t know for certain that they’re having a baby together.” Reid pointed out. 

“Well, she’s married. Or engaged, at least.”

They all turned to Emily. 

“How do you know that?”

“Her wedding finger. Last time she came back from AL she had a tan line. It was faint, but it was there.”

“Maybe he ran off? They got pregnant but he didn’t want to be in the picture?”

Penelope scoffed. “What a jerk.”

“I don’t think they’d appreciate us speculating like this.”

“JJ’s right. Maybe they’re just friends and Hotch is helping her out. Garcia, have you heard from them yet?”

“Not yet, Sir.”

Meanwhile, at the hospital, the midwife was instructing Aaron to get behind you, holding you up and holding your hands and you continued to push. 

“I don’t think I can do it.”

“Yes, you can. Yes, you can. Come on, honey. I know you can.”

“Can’t you do it for me?”

Aaron chuckled. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Just a couple more pushes, Mrs Hotchner.”

Another wave of contractions hit and you continued to push for another fifteen minutes before finally everyone in the room heard the cries of your baby. 

“You did it, honey. I’m so proud of you. You did it.”

“Is she okay? What-Where is she?”

Aaron smiled, tears in his eyes, pushing the hair out of your own. “She’s-She’s okay. Look, the midwife is just wrapping them up.”

A few moments later, the midwife handed you your baby. 

Two days later they discharged you from the hospital and the first stop made was at the office considering the last of your things had been left there when you went into labour. 

And it also meant the team could finally greet your baby. 

“Ooh, ooh, they’re here. They’re here.”

Penelope was the first to spot you and Hotch standing in his office and it wasn’t long before they were all standing outside. 

However, as the congratulations and praise was made, Penelope’s voice dropped an octave after she got a clear look of the baby. 

“Oh my god.”

“What is it, Garcia?”

“Ohh, ohh, ohh my goodness.”

But you could only smile. 

“You!” Penelope pointed before turning to look at Hotch. “And you! Oh my god! You are!”

You looked behind you, finding your husband standing closer to you than when the team had first walked inside. 

“Are what? Baby girl, what’s-”

And then it clicked. 

With all of them. 

And for a moment they were all stunned into complete silence. 

“Aaron…why didn’t you…”

“Tell you?” Hotch asked, finishing Rossi’s question.

“Truthfully, we kinda maybe wanted to see how long it would take you all to figure out.” You explained. 

“But…how?!” JJ asked. 

You just shrugged. 

“Hints were there if you looked for them.” Aaron said. 

“Hints were- Oh, so, now he tells us. How long?”

“Four years.” You both answered. 

“Four years?!” They all half shouted, quickly remembering there was an infant present. 

“Wait.” Penelope said, holding up her hands. “Oh my god, it’s all coming together. This must be how Sherlock Holmes feels when he cracks a case.”

Both yourself and Aaron smiled before looking down at the sleeping baby in your arms. 

“The weekends away, the lunch orders, the arrive at work together. Oh my god! The touching.” Penelope hit Emily and Derek’s arm. 

“Ow!” They both called. 

“How could you two not have noticed this?!”

“You didn’t notice either!” Emily replied, rubbing her arm. 

“Baby girl, they kept this from us for four years. Why aren’t you hitting them?”

“Because,” Penelope explained. “She had just had a beautiful baby girl. And Hotch is my boss.”

“Can you ever find a way to forgive us?”

They all looked at each other before seemingly coming to the same conclusion. “Fine. But, only if you tell us how it happened and when. And, if you have a wedding re-do so that we all get to attend.”

Both you and Aaron looked at each other. 

“That could work.”

“Great! Now, let me see this beautiful baby girl.” Penelope said, her voice once again chipper, as she came to your side. 

“My goodness, she’s beautiful. Hotch, she looks just like you.”

Aaron smiled at the compliment, but shook his head. “No, that’s all her mom.”

“Oh-ho,” Rossi laughed a little. “She is going to be running rings around us all soon enough.”

Four weeks later, each member of the team turned up together on different days, listening to the story of your relationship. First were the girls and Reid before JJ showed up with Morgan and Rossi. JJ was there to drop some items off that both yourself and Hotch would find useful with the nursery but she didn’t mind hearing the story a second time. 

Eight weeks after you had given birth, your doorbell rang and just as Aaron opened up the front door, Penelope and Rossi walked inside carrying boxes of items before directing the rest of the team through your home into the garden. 

“Dave, what’s going on?”

“You, my dear friend, are getting married.”

“We’re already married.” You said with a small laugh, walking to stand beside your husband. 

Dave nodded. “That you are, but today, you are both getting remarried. You did promise us.”

“We did promise them.” Aaron said, turning to look at you. 

“We did, didn’t we?”

Dave smiled. “So, Uncle Reid is going to be looking after this little one.”

You carefully handed your baby girl to Spencer as Dave continued to explain. 

“Whilst the girls help you get ready and I enlist your help,” Rossi turned to look at Hotch. “To help finish the set up.”

Penelope appeared from down the hallway. “Come on, Emily is finishing setting everything up.”

“I guess I’ll see you at the wedding?”

“I’ll be the one in white.”

Aaron smiled before kissing you quickly as barely a second later Penelope was dragging you upstairs. 

That night was filled with joy, laughter and happiness. Yourself and Aaron shared another set of marriage vows in front of the team. You shared a second first dance, a second first kiss and a first family dance. 

It was a quiet moment on the corner of the dance floor. You were swaying with your baby, softly, in your arms when you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind and a familiar pair of lips kiss your shoulder. 

Turning around you, Aaron held both of you close. Your forehead against his and your eyes closed, his fingers traced patterns against your arms back and forth before down your side and to your hips where he pulled you in a little closer. 

Neither of you knew it until a week later, but Morgan had, with Emily’s help, caught everything on camera. And with help from Penelope, a second wedding video had been made. 

Capturing the full length of your first family dance together.

[chithereader]

first impressions / aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader

word count: 2.6k

genre: fluff

cw: shy!reader / naive!reader, hotch has a crush!! a bit of mutual pining

a/n: i feel like this is a little all over the place but i love a pining hotch too much so i just had to post it!!!

Anderson has been doing his case reports in the pantry for the past four hours. Perhaps it does have its perks– one, he’s closer to the coffee machine and two, he’s farther away from all the chatter that is coming from the place he should actually be working in– at his desk. 

That’s because for the past four hours, the whole BAU team or what’s left of it– being Derek, Rossi, Garcia, and Reid– have been crowding the rows of desks directly across Hotch’s office. Occupying desks and chairs that are definitely not theirs. 

The rowdy bunch has been debating, gossiping, and most importantly, profiling their unit chief for the past four hours. Figuring out which applicants impress him, disappoint him, or straight-up irritate him– all through his office window. 

They’ve seen a total of seven applicants walk out of his office without a handshake, which is Hotch’s tell on whether he would consider that candidate or not. Out of those seven, two were way prettier than they were smart, three way too confident than they were competent, and two solely able to step foot in Quantico because of their last names. 

As for those that did walk out with a handshake were… well.. non-existent. If anyone were to ask someone from the team, they’d insist that they don’t need a new member. They don’t need anyone new to replace the beloved ones that have left. 

However, remembering the previous cases from the past two weeks– the truth is, they all felt a little like they were drowning. It felt like the more days that went by, the more cases there were to filter, solve, and close. The more killers there were to profile, hunt, and stop. The more reports there were to fill out, file, and submit; 

Each member of the team was doing double the workload of what they usually handle which had started to take its toll on their health, both physical and mental. And Hotch being the responsible leader that he is, recognized what had to be done. Especially after Reid fainted while running and Morgan’s strength notably faltering while in a tussle with an unsub. 

Now, the team didn’t know if it was perhaps because Hotch was measuring all these potential agents against Emily and JJ but none of them appeared up to his standard. Although accepting applications was his idea, judging by the way his brows had furrowed permanently they could tell Hotch was starting to regret it. Rossi, who knows Hotch a little better than everyone, could tell that he was about to give up. 

He could tell by the way he had his lips pressed in a thin line for the past forty minutes unwaveringly. 

He could tell by the way his shoulders were more obviously rising and falling, his breaths deeper- like he was calming himself. 

He could tell by the way Hotch would stand with clenched fists, unclenching them slowly on his sides. 

He could tell by the way Hotch was staring at the files, not reading. 

But just as Rossi was about to go up to Hotch’s office so they could all call it a night. To give his friend a pep talk about being there for each other and how tomorrow’s another day. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone entering the BAU walking briskly. 

The profiler in him skims over the figure quickly: 5 foot 3. Tiny. Mid-20s to early 30s. Young. Cardigan, jeans, sneakers, and a messenger bag. Is this kid Reid’s twin or what. Soulful round eyes, cute nose, pink lips. Pretty. 

“Uhm, hi.. I’m here for an interview? with uhm.. Mr– Agent Hotchner, sorry. Could someone point me to his office? Please?” Interesting. 

For some reason, none of the members of the team spoke, mainly surprised by the sudden addition of this stranger’s presence. One by one, like falling dominos, they slowly pointed to Hotch’s door. Simultaneously taking their precious time assessing whatever they can from what they’re seeing. 

Their observations didn’t stray far from what Rossi had seen. You’re pretty. That’s the first thing one can deduce. The incredibly-adorable kind of pretty, Garcia thinks. You seem smart, the same way anyone knows boy genius is smart– darting eyes like you’re thinking at a thousand miles per minute. Like you’re studying your surroundings, assessing threats, friendlies, and potential threats. 

You’re shy. You speak softly as if scared to intrude. Your movements are precise as if scared to impose. You stand still as if scared to take up more space than necessary. But your posture says otherwise. You may be introverted but your intelligence reeks in your diction and the way your head is held high, a part of you you’re sure of. Literally a lot like Reid, it’s creepy. 

You’re young. Young enough to steal pretty boy’s title as the baby of the team if you were to be accepted. To be honest, you look like a college student. Like a straight A, extra credit, shy and quiet type of student– and they weren’t wrong. 

You didn’t find anything weird about their behavior, the silence with which they responded to you. Probably because you were too nervous about your interview. Everyone knows the BAU is the team that’s the most difficult to get into, and that their unit chief’s the most intimidating man in the FBI that the Director himself avoids running into him altogether. 

So it was definitely a surprise when you were called in by Erin Strauss. A fresh graduate from the academy, you had no field experience at all. You’d only been working as a forensic scientist for the Organized Crime Division for a little less than a year, and more often than not you were in laboratories and morgues. Mainly there as a junior consultant than anything, having the more seasoned agents out in the field, on active crime scenes. 

Your gaze followed where they were pointing to, nerves permeating through your body. As you make your way up the stairs to get to his door, you’re trying to even your breathing- desperately. You don’t want to seem incompetent and inexperienced, pathetic even. 

Raising your hand to knock, you take in one last deep breath. Suddenly aware of all the people watching you from behind, possibly profiling you– you knock. Loudly. Like you were trying to prove something, show false strength and confidence. 

Maybe a little too loud, you realized. Shit. 

You’re in your own head when the door whips open and you see him. You knew he was good looking. You’ve seen him on TV and in pictures but god they did not do him justice. Just as you were processing how good-looking he was and how it would be a crime to embarrass yourself in front of him, your body decides it’s time to let out that big breath you inhaled before knocking. 

Now it appears you’re just blowing cool air into his chest, frozen while he stands there towering over you, most likely curious about why you knocked on his door so hard, why you are blowing cool air into his chest and more importantly, who the heck were you? 

“Hi, I’m, uh, here for the interview. For, uhm, the vacant position at the BAU team, Sir– Agent!” clearing your throat you scramble to make a good impression, or at least salvage what’s been established. 

Swallowing your pride, you bow your head in embarrassment, softening your voice as you say “Sorry, Agent Hotchner. What I meant to say is that I’m applying to be on your team. I’m here for the interview.” Looking up at him eye-to-eye, to hopefully convey your sincerity, you held his stare and his breathing stuttered. 

Let’s be honest. Hotch just went through four hours of his personal hell, getting to know people he doesn’t want to get to know. Asking questions, engaging in small talk, studying mannerisms and language– all to assess whether that person could be the much needed addition to his team. And the last thing he wants right now, as it nears the end of the work day, is another applicant to entertain. 

So Hotch, along with the rest of the team, becomes quite surprised when he moves his body out of the way to let you in his office when seconds ago he looked like he was about to give a very tempered advice at whoever just banged on his door. 

While he gestures for you to sit walking around his desk to sit on his own chair, he convinces himself that it’s because he is a good person and because he would do anything to help his team even if it meant enduring another painful interview. 

Definitely not because of your eyes. Or pouting lips. Or the adorable way blood rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment. Or your soft, soft voice that said his name in such a way that he’s dying to hear it again. 

Nope. It is simply his duty to lead and care for his team, and that means interviewing you. Somehow. 

-

It was quiet. You were nervous. It was obvious. He was waiting for you to talk but you’ve been staring at his tie instead of his face. You’re fiddling with your rings, wiping your palms on your jeans. And you were still very obviously trying to even your breaths. 

Observing these were enough to make him soften his voice slightly as he spoke, “Could you tell me about yourself?” He said slowly and softly– soft enough that if the air conditioning was a little louder you probably wouldn’t have heard him at all. 

Hotch became extremely conscious about coming across as demanding. He simply didn’t want to intimidate you further. He knew that if he wanted you to talk, open up, and present yourself justifiably, he would have to tread lightly. 

Now, he didn’t know when exactly he had started to care about whether he came off as intimidating or not, nor does he know why he’s the one adjusting for someone applying to be on his team– but apparently the times have changed. 

He’s brought out of his thoughts by your faint reply, “Well I, uh, have a bachelor in Psychology and in World Literature. Uhm, and.. I also have a Masters in Criminal Psychology but pursued Forensic Psychology for my doctorate.” You sounded almost hesitant to list all your achievements, which made him think you’ve probably been told once or twice that it is impolite to talk about such achievements to one’s face. 

The thought of someone invalidating your achievements, your brilliance infuriates him. You’ve achieved so much so early in your life, you deserve to be celebrated. There’s a subdued smile on his face, hopefully one you interpret as encouragement to continue. 

With a small smile gracing your face at his kind reaction, you added, “I only recently finished actually– I did it simultaneously with the academy’s progr–”

He cut you off, “Congratulations– sorry.” Too eager. Since when am I the one doing the impressing? “You like studying,” he observed. The smile on your face, although small, seemed genuine. Your face and your posture increasingly relaxed the more you talked.

You breathe out a laugh, “A little.. A little too much maybe.” Looking at your hands, rearranging the rings that adorn your nimble fingers. 

Hotch’s face has softened. He didn’t notice by how much, but it has relaxed a lot more the longer he observes you, everything about you. He commits your every movement to his memory, every mannerism, chalking it up to some part of his assessment. Words that describe you flashing in his head: introverted, intelligent, beautiful, accomplished– He hasn’t read your file. He gave up on reading files three candidates ago and has been relying on his profiling skills to get him through. 

But there’s something about you. Something that he can’t figure out, can’t name or explain. He felt it the very first time your eyes met, which isn’t even an hour ago but feels damn near to ages ago. He’s feeling it deep in his bones– a tingling feeling, an electric current, a rush of excitement. His heart has been beating slower yet louder. He feels it strongly in his chest. 

It had made him silent for a minute, so you look up from your hands subtly to check if he’s alright. For a second you were worried that he had said something that you just didn’t pick up on, and he’s been waiting for you to respond. 

But as your eyes meet again, he feels he’s suddenly in unfamiliar territory, treading powerful waters, and he can do nothing but go along with it. 

You’re surprised by the look in his eyes, but the sudden silence is at the forefront of your mind and you try to diffuse it, “Uhm–”

He cuts you off again, “Tell me something about yourself that I won’t read on your file.” He had the same idea- to talk. But for you, it was to diffuse the silence you thought was a dead giveaway of how disastrous your interview’s turning out to be. To him, it was to get somewhere, anywhere.

He’s got this weird feeling– a desire to get you talking more, even though soon enough there will be an awakened part of him that is certain there will be more talking in store for you two in the future. 

“What?” You don’t know why you said that. You understood what he said. Now you probably helped him affirm in his head that you’re ditzy and possibly the least reliable candidate to make agent. 

But..you just caught him looking at you like he was in love with you. Now you’re officially crazy. Dark, compelling eyes calling to you– it threw you off. It wasn’t even the usual sickening look of love, it was more of this serious, earnest yearning- almost pained.

- 

Now while the two of you were battling awkwardness and inexplicable feelings, the team was watching the whole thing unfold through his office window like a silent film. In fact, Garcia and Derek were already sharing a bowl of popcorn he ran to microwave the second they all saw Hotch’s entire existence falter at your presence. 

“What– what is happening? They’re barely talking!” Garcia worries. You’re tiny and adorable, and you look so kind and so incredibly soft and fragile. She just wants to protect you regardless of having met you less than briefly, minutes ago. 

“Baby girl, look closely. Both are just nervous, blushing idiots. They’ve just gotta push through this. Aren’t I right?” Derek’s smart mouth smugly adds. Looking to Rossi for any confirmation that he had guessed right: Hotch has a crush. 

Ever the skilled lip-reader, Reid comments “It’s been six whole minutes and Hotch has only asked her to tell him about herself.” He ponders for a moment, tilting his head “And judging by his relaxed jaw movements, gestures, and the decreased amount of strain his neck shows, I’d say he’s speaking softer than his usual volume.” 

Essentially Hotch’s best friend, every member looks to Rossi for his reaction. If they need any sort of confirmation that they’re reading their boss man right, they only ever have to read his right hand man Rossi who wears how he feels and what he thinks like Garcia wears her individuality. 

But Rossi’s only looking back at Reid with twinkling eyes and a smug smile growing bigger by the second. He lets out a quiet laugh, turning back to see Hotch smiling at the girl who is unaware of the fool grinning at her, “Addition to the team my ass– he'll be adding her to his life."