#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.”

[shetiger]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Criminal Minds (US TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Derek Morgan Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan Additional Tags: First Time, Omegaverse, Episode related: In the Blood, secret gender identity, Past psychological abuse, Past Child Abuse, Non-heat first time sex, alpha/omega sex Summary:

Hotch is still wearing scent blockers, the same as he always does. But Derek can feel the difference. Hotch isn't on suppressors anymore. It shouldn't be enough to reveal him, but Derek knows down to his very bones that it's true:

Hotch is an omega.

[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.

[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

[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

[bucker3911]

the colorblind one 😈

[cuddleprofiler]

FAINTING & FEVER - When you confess your deep buried feelings to your boss in your fever.

Summary: Hiding a fever? Check. Passing out? Check. Confessing your feelings to your boss? Wait woah?

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader, BAU x platonic!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: fever, fainting, rest is good I guess.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This was supposed to be platonic but I didn't feel like it is romantic :) This is my first time writing any non-platonic work. All the pics I have inserted are more clear when clicked if you want to see (Tumblr did something). Positive Criticism is welcomed.

"So, what are you ladies up to tonight?" Morgan asked while driving, his focus on the road. You'd just finished a case, and as usual, Morgan was eager to make plans before another case thrust you back into the world's horrors.

"Well," JJ began with a sigh, eyebrows raised, "I'm going to spend the whole day resting with my boys." She finished with her radiant smile.

"What about you, Prentiss?" Morgan glanced at Emily in the passenger seat.

"No plans yet, but who knows? I might have something by the time we land."

"L/N?" Derek called out when he realized you hadn't answered, lost in your own world.

You sat beside Spencer, staring out the window, oblivious to your surroundings. The heat you felt was consuming every coherent thought.

"L/N?"

"Huh? What did you say?" you asked, turning your head so quickly that JJ and Spencer wondered how you didn't get whiplash. Your voice remained calm and soft.

"You okay?" Spencer asked, his hazel eyes filled with concern.

"Why wouldn't I be, Spencer?" you replied, mustering a small smile to maintain your façade.

"You just seem...down," he commented, studying you intently. You gave him another small smile, shook your head, and winced. Your head felt as if it had been struck by an invisible hammer. Spencer either didn't notice your wince or chose not to comment.

"You up for some fun tonight?" Morgan asked again, though you were barely aware.

"What fun?" you frowned. The way he said "fun" made you think it might not be the kind you'd enjoy.

"Seriously, sweet girl? You're spending way too much time with Reid. I'm talking about bars, drinks, and if you get lucky, then maybe—" Morgan started with a Cheshire grin, while your eyes widened.

"No," you said in a high-pitched tone, embarrassed at the thought of hooking up with a random guy when you already loved someone.

"What do you mean, 'no'? Come on. We don't get many days off, L/N. You should enjoy them when you can."

"Morgan, I can't," you said, shifting uncomfortably.

"And why is that, sweet girl?"

"Hey! Garcia will take offense if you call someone else 'sweet girl,'" you said with a smile, appreciating his use of a nickname for you.

"Nah. My baby girl will never be offended by this, and you're not just someone else," he replied confidently.

"But answer the question, sweet girl," he prompted, aware you were avoiding it. He assumed your hesitation was due to your reluctance to go out, knowing how you and Reid felt about drinking and socializing.

"I've got some work to do, Morgan. Also, I'm tired," you said, leaning your head back.

Morgan's expression changed instantly.

"Go straight home when we land, Y/N, not to Hotch's office. Whatever files you have to work on can wait. If I didn't know him better, I'd say he's making you do overtime."

"Exactly. Hotch will understand, and there's no need to tire yourself out," Spencer added softly.

Their concern warmed your heart. "Of course, gentlemen," you replied, amusing the others.

The conversation drifted back to their plans while you gazed out the window, watching amoeba-shaped clouds float slowly across the sky. The view was therapeutic, but you didn't tell them how awful you were feeling.

When you woke up that morning, it felt as if hell had descended upon Earth just for you. Your muscles ached, protesting and begging you to return to bed, but you couldn't. Lives were at stake, a case needed solving. Now, the muscle pain had given way to a headache and constant zoning out.

You longed to get home as soon as possible, yearning for your fluffy blankets to engulf you completely, save for your head. You hoped your phone might end up in a ditch for the day, allowing you to remain in your cozy cocoon until you felt well enough to face the world—and potential case calls—again.

Soon, you arrived at the airstrip, where Emily and JJ surrounded you.

"So, where's your mind wandering today?" Emily asked with a mischievous grin. Before you could answer, JJ chimed in.

"In dreams of Hotch, of course. Right, Y/N?" You quickly shushed her, glancing around to ensure no one had overheard.

"JJ, Emily, we're at the airstrip," you whispered urgently. "Someone might hear you. It's supposed to be a secret. Sometimes I think you and Garcia are determined to let Hotch find out." You began trudging toward the plane, feeling drained.

They both laughed and high-fived.

"We do want you two together," Emily said.

"You should tell him yourself," JJ added. "Besides, if he overhears by accident, it'll only speed up your love life."

"By the way, Y/N, will you only go out with us if Hotch is there too?" Emily teased.

"Guys!" you groaned as they laughed.

Your crush on Hotch had started early in your tenure, initially based on his looks. But it deepened into something more profound, to the point where his well-being affected you deeply. You felt terrified when he faced dangerous situations. That's when you knew you were in trouble.

There was no way he'd fall for someone who could barely speak to him. You had your reasons for avoiding him. The days leading up to this decision were hellish. Never had you stumbled over your words as much as you did then. And what did he do?

He always gave you a patient look and nodded softly, encouraging you to speak your mind. It was manageable until you started losing yourself in his eyes or staring at his face constantly. After that, you ensured you were never alone with him except when working on case files. You began doing this so he could go home early and rest, reasoning that a few extra files wouldn't impact your time.

You were startled from your reverie by the memory of Garcia suggesting that Hotch might like you too. You still don't believe her, but a girl could hope.

"If it gets too much, I want you to pull out."

"Sir?" you asked, confused, looking up from your gun at your boss, who was surveying the team preparing to ambush the unsub's house.

"Everyone has off cases, L/N, but with time, most of us have learned to deal with it. Still, we pull ourselves out when needed. You're still new. So, pull out if necessary. Do you understand me?" he said, now looking at you, his gaze sweeping over your shorter form. You looked up at him intently, lost in his eyes until he raised an eyebrow. You could have sworn you saw his eyes soften slightly.

"Yes, sir."

"Call me Hotch, Y/N." With that, he walked towards the rest of the team as you hurried to catch up.

Back at the FBI building, you dashed to Garcia's lair. She was your first friend, and you both had a tendency to ramble about various topics. Sometimes Reid joined in. As soon as you saw her, you hugged her. Hugging Garcia was like therapy—you could feel your worries, guilt, and other negative emotions leaving your body. You felt yourself relax, your body lighter. You called it "Garcia magic”! It was an added bonus that Garcia was fond of physical affection.

When you told her about Hotch's words and your feeling that he was worried and all other incidents where he acted the same—though you thought that was impossible—she flashed her beaming smile, all her white teeth showing. Her eyes, however, held the amusement of knowing something you didn't.

"I didn't know sweet cheeks, he cares for you this much." Garcia mused, clearly pleased by what you'd shared.

This much? And what do you mean?" you asked, your curiosity evident.

"Hmm hmm. He looks at you the same way Will looks at JJ. He's so soft with you and he isn't like this with anybody. Maybe except Jack of course."

“Garcia there’s no way in hell he likes me. Maybe he was trying to be sweet.” you asked her trying not to get your hopes up.

This is a paradox. You are sure. Damn sure! Garcia began laughing while you gave her an incredulous look. She didn’t stop until you threw a teddy at her. “My sweet sweet girl, Hotch is never sweet with anyone. Ask Emily about it if you are unsure but nope nada in my so many years of being at BAU, he’s never sweet with anyone.”

"Maybe you are overthinking this Garcia. Hotch and I don't even know each other.”, you mumbled looking at your hands in your lap.

“That is an argument I will have with you on another day but what I'm saying is that Hotch likes you.", she says with a small almost sad smile.

"If you want you can observe him. You're a profiler baby. Yow will know.", she added gleefully.

Henceforth, you observed Hotch as profiling team members was off-limit. He had a tendency to smile at you softly and he didn’t offer others the same amount of options that he did to you , but you attributed this to being new. You were certain he'd show his more authoritative side once you were no longer considered the newest member. Definitely!

Lost in these thoughts, you suddenly felt your vision blur and your surroundings distort.

"Whoa! You okay?" Emily asked as she grabbed your forearm, while JJ held the other. They exchanged concerned looks when you didn't answer immediately. You shook your head slightly and replied,

"Yeah, yeah. Just slipped."

They didn't seem convinced but didn't press further.

"Be careful," JJ said, patting your shoulder.

"Yeah, of course," you mumbled, trying to regain your composure.

Hotch and Rossi chatted as they walked, their conversation drifting from Jack's football to other topics. Before they knew it, they'd arrived at the airstrip. As Hotch boarded the plane, he froze in surprise. You were seated next to his usual spot—an unexpected sight, given your habit of avoiding him outside of group settings or work situations. Your presence there felt nothing short of miraculous.

Not wanting to give Rossi a chance to tease him, Hotch quickly sat beside you. He was certain you hadn't noticed his arrival, as you were deeply engrossed in the case report—something you rarely worked on during flights.

His attention shifted back to Rossi when the older agent began discussing plans for a pasta dinner. From the corner of his eye, Hotch caught you glancing up, offering both him and Rossi a small smile before burying yourself in the file again. It was odd, considering the report wasn't due for days.

He didn't want to finish it quickly, knowing an empty home awaited him. No one would be there to greet him—just silent walls. Jack was on vacation with Jessica's family for the next few days, leaving Hotch alone in the city. He stole another quick glance at you, resisting the urge to look more often.

Hotch was sure he would never fall in love again after Hayley. He loved her from such a young age and so much that loving someone else felt betraying the love he had bestowed upon Hayley all those years. Even after getting a divorce, he didn't stop loving her completely. Sometimes, he liked to believe they separated not because they fell out of love, but because their love was so intense that their arguments became too painful. However, he knew this wasn't the reality. He sighed and pulled out his file.

His thoughts soon drifted to you. Lately, contemplating love inevitably led him to think of you. Sometimes you don't know what hit you until it does. Falling in love with you was the same. He was falling in and never realised until the day he got a letter. From you.

Hotch had slowly fallen in love with you. That was the truth of his life, he stayed away from for a long time. How could he stay away when your every action seemed to win his heart anew? Each time he learned something new about you, he fell a little deeper.

You were a sweet addition to the team. It didn't mean you were all the time sunshine. Everyone learnt that the hard way. He mentally chuckled at the fight you and Morgan had over dark chocolate to the extent you were ready to beat him black and blue. However, your sweet gestures towards everyone on the team always warmed his heart.

He reminded himself to remain professional. After all, he was on a plane with a group of profilers who could decipher his feelings in minutes if given the chance.

"L/N, can you tell me about the—"

"L/N?" Hotch called out again, surprised you didn't hear him the first time. Still, you didn't reply. Rossi also looked up.

"Y/N? Y/N!" He said, touching your shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. What happened?" You looked like a deer caught in headlights, making both Hotch and Rossi confused.

"Nothing happened. I was just asking you about the case," he replied, looking at you. You were looking...different. It was as if every laugh and joy had been drained from your life.

"I'll be right back," you said, standing up and moving before Hotch had a chance to stop you.

The moment you stood up, you knew you shouldn't have done that. You were far better sitting down. Now the pounding in your head intensified, along with the feeling of being shaken up to the point where you could see everything oscillating. You tried to keep yourself still, hoping your surroundings would become normal.

The next thing you knew, everything went black.

Hotch saw you swaying and moved instinctively. He caught you, one hand on your waist, the other on your shoulder, trying to keep you up while you were dead weight. However, it wasn't as easy as it seemed in the movies.

"Y/N? Y/N. Hey, wake up!"

"Y/N!" He squeezed your body against him.

However, his yelling got him nowhere. You didn't respond, lying still in his arms as if you were taking a nap. Hotch would have believed it if he hadn't seen you go down in front of his eyes.

"Y/N," he called out again, softly this time, yet the response was the same. He swept your hair back from your face.

Unable to keep you up, he gently lowered both of you onto the aisle. He moved his hands to your shoulders, gently shaking you, but you showed no sign of waking up.

He didn't notice anyone else until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Rossi sitting beside him, looking alarmed by the happenings. Morgan was above your head. The rest of the team was also hovering.

"What happened, man?" Morgan asked while taking the sweater Reid offered and putting it under your head.

Hotch didn't answer. He himself didn't know what was wrong with you. One minute, you were standing and the next plummeting down like the apple which led to the discovery of gravity. His hand went to your cheeks, where he felt the heat radiating. His frown appeared and deepened as he touched your forehead.

"She's burning up!" Hotch said worriedly, still keeping his tone full of calmness while his heart was trying to beat out of his chest. Having a fever is one thing but passing out from it is entirely another. He couldn't help but feel the small burning sensation in his chest at the thought of being ill, even if it was a fever.

You could hear people talking, but why would there be people at your home? You scrunched your face and blinked your eyes multiple times before fully opening them. Everything was blurry at first, but soon it became clear, along with the horrible pounding in your head. You tried to sit up, but a firm pair of arms pushed you back.

"Hey Bella, don't try to get up. Stay still."

"Wha-what happened?"

"You fainted," Hotch said. The rest of them had dispersed, knowing Hotch would take great care of you and that a crowd wouldn't help much.

"I don't feel good," you groaned, your hand massaging your head.

"Yeah, I gathered that much. Tell me what's exactly wrong, L/N?" Hotch had your hand in his, rubbing it softly to ease the pain in any way he could.

"I don't feel good," you mumbled again with half-closed eyes. You were mostly disoriented from what Hotch could figure out.

"You have a fever."

"I do?"

It was taking you time to gather what was happening. He blamed the fainting and fever. It took you time, but you slowly opened your eyes fully when you noticed Hotch still sitting at the edge of the sofa. He still held your hand, and your legs were on his lap. Being in touch with him felt like second nature; you didn't even notice until you opened your eyes. You quickly tried to pull back your legs and hand, but Hotch stopped you with his hold.

"Don't move so much, Y/N. Relax," his voice soft and calming, as always.

You sat in silence for the rest of the journey, which wasn't very long. You were clutching onto his forearm as he helped you sit up to go home. When you came outside the plane,

"Hotch, I can go home by myself," you began, your voice small, hoping to regain some of the dignity you lost after fainting in front of your entire team.

"Y/N, you can't stand straight, and you want to drive home by yourself?" Hotch asked with a raised eyebrow.

"There are other ways to be suicidal than this, sweet girl," Morgan quipped, walking beside you, not that you noticed. You looked up at him and then at Hotch, concern shining in both of their eyes.

"I'm not joking," you huffed.

"Neither are we," Morgan said.

"Y/N, it's final. I'm taking you home," Hotch ordered. That's what it felt like to you.

Hotch had an arm around your waist, supporting you as your body threatened to collapse. He hurried towards your apartment, aware of your rising fever. He couldn't give you medicine without food, but he was grateful for your unfiltered speech—it revealed the extent of your discomfort.

"You know, Hotch?" you began as he fumbled with the door. You leaned against the wall for support.

"Dahlias are my favourite flowers. They symbolize change, dignity, and elegance."

"They're native to Mexico, right?" he replied as you entered the apartment.

"Yeah! You know about them?" you asked, turning your face abruptly.

"Easy, honey. No sudden moves," he cautioned. "And yes, I've picked up a few facts over the years."

"I've always loved them. So colourful, bright, and beautiful," you laughed softly.

Hotch had never heard you speak so freely. He found himself enchanted by your voice, certain you could rival Reid in flower trivia.

After settling you on the sofa, Hotch fetched water, fruit, and medicine. You tossed your shoes aside and reluctantly took the pills, groaning as you slumped back.

"You should change into something more comfortable," Hotch suggested, removing his own shoes.

You looked at him, startled. Realizing his phrasing, he quickly clarified, "I mean, you should put on some comfy clothes."

At his insistence, you changed. When you returned, Hotch had shed his coat and tie, his shirt partially unbuttoned.

"Aren't you going home?" you asked, confused.

"I'll stay tonight, in case you need anything."

"There's no need, Hotch. You must be exhausted from the case. Go home and rest. I'll be fine."

"Y/N, it's better if someone's with you tonight. You fainted on the plane. I wouldn't be able to relax not knowing how you're doing," he admitted, his voice soft.

You smiled at his thoughtfulness and curled up on the sofa with a blanket and pillow. You both decided to watch Star Wars.

Partway through the movie, you turned to Hotch, staring intently.

"You know, Hotch?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. Like, really, really love you," you said with a lopsided smile.

Hotch froze, completely still. He hadn't been this motionless since he first held Jack, afraid of hurting his newborn son. He never imagined you reciprocated his feelings, but he knew if he didn't get the conversation going right now, he not going to know about your feelings when you are not loopy due to medicine.

“Yea?”

"Mm-hmm. You're so wonderful and adorable and just... so cute. Yeah, you're intimidating at work, but the rest of the time? Totally cute."

"Oh, am I?"

Though your tongue was loosened by the medicine, you were more lucid than you let on. Having suppressed these feelings for so long, you couldn't stop now that you'd started. You wanted to tell him everything—him about all those feelings that you shouldn't have about him but you do, how couldn't help but fall for him slowly and every day seeing him made your day.

He was so handsome! His pretty dark brown chocolate-coloured eyes are swoon-worthy. Whenever you look into them, you feel hypnotized, unable to look away from them but not being present in the time; you often find yourself lost in them, forgetting his words as you gaze at him. Right now, he was looking directly at you, and you were drowning in his gaze.

How does he not realize the effect he has when he looks at someone like this?

Hotch's smile grew with each word you spoke.

"You're so handsome, ridiculously handsome. Have you seen yourself under that table lamp? You look like some movie hero poring over case files."

He blushed and glanced away at your flood of compliments. You cupped his face, turning it back to you, your eyes wide and intent. His smile made your frown melt into the biggest grin he'd ever seen on you. You looked beautiful.

"I just really like you, but I know you don't like me," you said, your voice small.

He frowned at your words.

"I love you too, honey, but I'll give you the full answer when you're well enough to remember it. Word for word," he replied softly.

You squealed with delight.

"You aren't just saying this to spare my feelings, right?" you mumbled a few moments later.

He cradled your face in his hands. "I would never say such a thing just to spare someone's feelings, Y/N. I love you. More than you can imagine."

Your questioning continued throughout the movie, but you refused to turn it off.

"You must have had many admirers in college. How many girlfriends did you have?" you asked, your head resting on his shoulder while his hand on your waist pulled you closer. Both of you kept your eyes on the TV.

"I only had one."

"No, you're lying. You're far too handsome to have had only one girlfriend your entire life."

'You can become the second.'

"What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything, sweetheart."

"Did you just call me sweetheart?"

"You're imagining things, L/N. It's a common symptom of high fever. Of course, I didn't call you sweetheart, honey."

"Oh, but I—you just called me—"

"What?"

"Never mind. I must be imagining it."

"Yes, you're definitely imagining things."

[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]

[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.

[ithebookhoarder]

(BAU Headcanons) If you fell asleep on them

A/N: So... guess who fell into another fandom? I blame everyone on here and their amazing fics for convincing me I need to give this show and wonderful cast a chance. I may have binged 13 seasons in like a month... oops? I'm also looking at my fav BAU bunch here but I'm open to writing for other characters from the show

Aaron Hotchner

Just like some of the other members of his team, Hotch has a hard exterior that very few people manage to crack through. 

If you and he are in a relationship then I can bet you’ve already had to chip away at it, so you’re already pretty intimate with one another. Falling asleep on him is nothing to bat an eyelid at. If anything, he would welcome the opportunity to relax and hold you close to him.  

It also gives him an excuse to steal a few moments of sleep himself, not daring to move and wake you from your rest. 

He loves holding you close, letting himself listen to the steady beating of you heart as it gently lulls him to become calm enough to shut his eyes. 

However, if you weren’t in a relationship or if it happened in front of the others at the BAU then you know he’d immediately react by saying something about ‘work place conduct’. 

However, he’s clearly saying it for the sake of it as he’d make no effort to wake you or remove you from him. 

In fact, he makes sure to stay still and let you rest peacefully, making sure your neck isn’t bent so you don’t wake up in pain. 

He’d also make sure to lay his jacket over the top of you, a clear sign that you are not to be disturbed - under pain of death. 

David Rossi 

Rossi would be the first to complain if you ever fell asleep on him but it’s all good natured. In fact, he only ever complains about it to you after you’ve woken up and only as a joke between the two of you.

“What am I? Just a pillow to you? Are you trying to say my cooking has made me plump?” 

It’s hard to resist his charming smile, especially when he actually is rather comfortable to lean on. His expensive shirts are always soft to the touch, and the cologne you’d brought him last Christmas lingers as you nestle in close. 

He always make you feel safe, and that is an honour greater than any he’d ever been awarded. 

If it happened in front of the others you know he’d roll his eyes and mutter about the cheek of it all. However, his smile would be enough to tell the others he didn’t mean it. 

“I started reading my manuscript and this is what happens… guess that’s one way to leave a review.” 

He’d be sure to shoot daggers with his eyes at anyone else nearby who looked like they would wake you up. 

He’d also shoot down any possible jokes being made at your expense, his parental nature coming out in full force. 

Derek Morgan

This boy would be so smug if you ever fell asleep on him. Like, if you imagine a Labrador’s tail wagging with one of those big dopey grins, then that’s what he is. 

He is keen to try and capture the moment with a picture, setting it as his phone background to prove to himself it really happened. 

If it happens in front of the rest of the team then you know he is going to keep reminding you and everyone else whenever he gets the chance. 

However, you know that for all the bragging and teasing Morgan is actually super touched by the fact you fell asleep on him and he is keen to offer you a place to lay your head whenever you look like you need to take a beat. 

He even has a blanket and pillow in his go-bag especially for you. 

“Only the best for you, hot stuff.” 

He will never complain about it and - considering how much torture and pain we know this man can endure - he is more than capable of handling any cramp or pins and needles he gets as a result of you lying against him. 

Eventually, he would take the opportunity to try and sleep as well. With his job and his manic lifestyle, if he gets the chance to close his eyes he knows better than to waste it. 

Emily Prentiss

She would be shocked at first, especially if it’s early-on in your relationship. She isn’t really used to public displays of affection and you sleeping with your head on her shoulder is pretty public. 

She would stay as still as possible, though, scared of disturbing you or ruining the moment. She’d also probably be panicking internally, unsure what she was supposed to do. 

However, she soon takes a breath and relaxes. After all, you look so cute when you’re asleep and she is honoured you feel comfortable enough to relax around her like this. 

She doesn’t often get the chance to just sit and be peaceful so she savours the moment you’ve given her. 

She’d end up watching you for a while before relaxing and trying to adjust you so that you’re both comfortable. 

She would also take the opportunity to be affectionate, loving that she can run her hands through your hair and kiss your head without any fear of being embarrassed or rejected. 

After all, we know Emily has a soft centre underneath her tough, bad-ass exterior. She just needs to know she is able to express it. 

JJ

JJ is such a mom to everyone including you, so is over the moon the first time you fall asleep on her. She welcomes it with open arms, happy to melt into the embrace. 

It doesn’t matter if you’ve been together long or not, or if you’re in public. Either way, it feels like a personal badge of honour to be trusted in such a way, whether or not you meant to do it. 

She has enough patience not to move a muscle in case she disturbs you and ruins the moment. She knows that if you fell asleep like this then you probably need the rest. 

JJ would totally form a blanket cocoon around you to keep you warm and toasty as you sleep, wrapping her arms around you and cradling you close.

She’d smile the whole time, pressing kisses to the crown of your head and gently murmuring in your ear whenever you seem to stir. 

“Ssssh, Sleepyhead. It’s ok. I got you. Go back to sleep, honey.”   

If it was just the two of you then she’d be sure to try and move you somewhere more comfortable after a while, like the sofa or your bed. 

However, if you were in public then she would turn into a full mama bear and threaten anyone who came close or tried to disturb you. She has that angry mom look down to a fine art and has made grown men wither with it.

Penelope Garcia 

This beautiful baby angel would be so delighted if you fell asleep against her that she’d probably wake you up by accident after squealing a little too loudly. 

“Oh, oh, sorry. Sorry! Go back to sleep. I’m staying as still as a statue, you precious angel, I promise. So you just close your eyes and let me hold you.”

She’d probably manage like five minutes before she moves again and wakes you up, but it was enough time for her to steal a few private photos to commemorate the moment. 

They will most definitely be the background on her computer the following morning, and possibly yours too.

She would also be sure to make sure she has a blanket and pillow stashed away for you if you ever felt like taking an impromptu nap again when you weren’t at home. 

If you worked at the BAU they’d be kept in her lair - or your private napping room, as she tells you. 

They’d also be brightly coloured and super soft, chosen specifically by Penelope to make you as comfortable and as happy as possible, even whilst at the government building. 

“Just so you know, I gave them a spritz with this gorgeous lavender mist spray to help you knock right out the moment your pretty head hits the pillow. So, sweet dreams honeybun.” 

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer is a precious boy and would be utterly baffled at first if he looked down and realised you had fallen asleep on him. 

He would be surprised he hadn’t noticed you drooping against him sooner, or that your breathing had slowed as you fell asleep. 

At first he thinks it must be a mistake, immediately trying to ease you off of him. After all, he wasn’t the most comfortable person to sleep on and people are far more likely to find his company irksome rather than soothing. 

However, after you start doing it more often he realises that isn’t the case. 

In fact, he feels rather proud that you’ve got the point in your relationship where you aren’t afraid to relax around him. 

He also learns how not to let it over-stimulate him. It takes some time to train his mind to not think about the possible pathogens that could be passing between you or the way your hair tickles his face. He’s also able to talk to you about positions to curl up in if you ever want to sleep against him again, that he feels more relaxed in. 

He’d also totally be happy to tell you all about whatever his latest hyper-fixation is, knowing the sound of his voice helps you settle better than any lullaby. 

Masterlist

[wardengrill]

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

[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.

[ketsueki-k]

Thomas Gibson aka Hotch's selfies were so random LMAO