#aaronhotchnerappweek

[ropoto]

AARON HOTCHNER APPRECIATION WEEK | DAY FOUR FAVOURITE LOOK - 7x06 “EPILOGUE"

@hotchappreciationweek

[hotch-girl]

Aaron Hotchner Appreciation Week

Thursday - Favorite Look: the beard in s07e01 “It Takes a Village.” 

@hotchappreciationweek

[fightingdragonswithwho]

Aaron Hotchner Appreciation Week: Day Three

↳ Favorite Quote: And what about my team? How many more times will they be able to look into the abyss, how many times before they won't ever recover the pieces of themselves that this job takes? Like I said, sometimes there are no words, no clever quotes to neatly sum up what's happened that day. Sometimes, the day just... ends.

@hotchappreciationweek

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Totally Screwed

summary: hotch is completely enamoured with one of his students. will he let himself be happy or will his professionalism get in the way?

pairing: fem!reader x professor!hotch

warnings: age gap (reader is 21 and hotch is like early 30s), pining, some angst, fluff, kissing

an: professor hotchner my beloved 🥰. here’s my submission for the au day of @hotchappreciationweek! hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

word count: 3.7k

masterlist | hotch appreciation week masterlist

Aaron Hotchner always takes pride in his discipline. He’s able to compartmentalize and thread structure through his life, and lives of others around him at all times. He’s professional, calm and collected, rarely let his emotions get the best of him when making decisions.

When he’s asked to teach a series of lectures of behavior analysis as an elective he’s reluctant to say yes. It would be nice to have a break; taking on the class would cause him to take a hiatus as long as the semester, but he knows he would miss work. He talks to Jessica about it a bit, and she encourages him to do it. He’s getting older, and so is Jack, and the hours would be more conducive to building a better relationship with him. He tells her that he’ll talk to the team about it, and he does the next day. His reluctance is met with nothing but support for the opportunity. They’re all for it, gas him up and tell him he’d be a great professor and that he can always consult on cases and do as much paperwork (which he rolls his eyes at) as he wants as long as he prioritizes spending time with Jack. The decision is made quickly and he emails back the university and tells them he’s available to teach the course. What’s one semester?

He finds that on his first day he’s nervous. He’s put in the effort and made sure that all of his powerpoints for the classes are thorough but not too wordy. He’s incorporated a couple videos into things, and a few movie days all together because he doesn’t want to bore the students by lecturing at them constantly. He plans to gauge their interest in discussion and maybe even a field trip to headquarters. He wants this to be a positive experience for them, one as positive as his first class on analysis. The best part about this? Any free time he had during office hours could be dedicated to consulting with the team and he’d be leaving in enough time to pick up Jack from soccer practice. It's like everything was aligning perfectly. And it was, until you tilted his world off his axis.

You hair is up, most of it pulled back by a clip with just a few pieces framing your face. There’s a pair of black reading glasses adorning your head. You’re dressed in a pair of light wash jeans that fit you perfectly and a pink top that makes your skin and eyes pop just right. In his opinion, you look absolutely heavenly, out of this world, like you were put here just to distract him. He watches as you take a seat that’s in what he would classify the perfect spot, row 5 which is not too far back but not too far up. You catch his eyes for just a moment, give him a friendly smile that he can’t help but return before he looks away since he got caught staring. He hopes that you just think he was scanning the crowd. He pretends to flip through the syllabus one last time as more students pile in but really he’s just stealing glances at you, watching as you acquaint yourself with the girl a couple seats down from you. You have a laptop, a notebook and a few pens ready, along with a cup of what he assumes is coffee. Once the clock hits 9:30 he introduces himself and proposes an ice breaker, making sure to answer himself so that the class will be more willing to.

“I’m Professor Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia. My favorite dessert is pumpkin pie though carrot cake is a close second. When I was younger I wanted to be an astronaut and I collected coins. My family consists of my younger brother, my sister, and my son. One day I hope to retire and get a house on the beach so I can hear the sounds of the ocean no matter the time of day.”

He eagerly awaits your turn, listening pretty well to the other students, but tuning in intently when its your turn.

“I’m Y/n/n Y/l/n. I’m a junior in Criminology and Psychology. My favorite dessert is apple pie which sucks because my mom only makes it during the holidays. When I was younger I wanted to be a pediatrician. I didn't collect anything but I did watch old cartoons obsessively. My family is just me, my younger brother, and my mom. One day I’ll retire abroad, somewhere where they revel in taking naps, and don’t look at you funny when you drink wine at 11 a.m.”

Your answers are thought out, funny, sweet, and he finds that he’s just become more curious about you which means he’s completely and totally screwed. Enamoured with his student on the first day. Its something Dave would say is fate so he’ll keep the information to himself, hoping that he’s just having an off day.

That resolve doesn’t keep him from wanting to talk to you. After class he hovers, waiting to see if anyone has any questions. If you have any questions. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this, you’re his student. But you look soft and smart and gorgeous, so open. You were completely focused as he went through the syllabus, he watched as you took out your planner and marked all the dates, noticed how you took thorough notes on the introductory video he played before dismissal. He can imagine just how much knowledge you hold in that brain of yours. That’s what he finds the most attractive about you, and he’s only heard you speak a handful of words. To his favor, you do have a question after class.

Your fingers are digging into the leather strap of your bag when you come up to him, but you hold eye contact with him as you speak. “Professor Hotchner, do you have any books you would recommend? Its just that I’ve already read the textbook, and it’ll be an easy second read for me because its quite well written.”

He nods, impressed but not surprised that you’ve already read it. “Why don’t you stop by my office hours and I can give you a few that I’ve put in my office?”

“That’d be great. Is 2:15 alright? I won’t take up too much of your time.”

“2:15 is just fine, I’ll see you then Y/n.”

“Sweet, have a good day sir.”

“Hotch is fine. Sir makes me feel...old.” It doesn’t, he just wants you one step closer to saying his name.

You smile easily, eyes alight with humor. “Hotch. I’ll see you later.”

You nonchalant demeanor makes this interaction feel familiar and for a moment he feels like knows you. He wants to know you but once he gives you these books, he knows he needs to take a step back. You’re first and foremost his student, and he’s your superior. You’re young, and have so much life ahead of you and there’s no way that you would want to spend it with a man like him.

He doesn’t know that you disagree. You find him handsome and charming. His voice is intoxicating, you hang onto every word that he says and know that even if you were a bad student, somehow you would pass this class because you’ll listen to every word that comes out of his mouth like it’s gospel. So when class ends you can’t help yourself. He hangs back for questions and though you’re practically set and have loved everything true crime since the age of 12, you ask him for some book recommendations. The last thing you expect is for him to invite you to his office, well office hours. Technically that’s what questions like this were for, and when you walk out of his class you feel nervous and giddy. You feel stupid even entertaining the idea of being interested in him, and even more stupid when you let yourself think about what it would be like if he wanted you back. Shaking your head you head to your next class, and push the thoughts of Professor Hotchner out of your mind.

-----

Hotch has organized and reorganized his office what must be a million times before 2:15. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous, he doesn’t even know you and you’re his student for god’s sake but once the clock hits 2:10 he finally makes himself sit down, keeping his hands in his lap as he fidgets endlessly.

You’re standing outside of his door, have been since about 2 o’clock trying to build up the courage to knock on the door. He sounds busy inside, you hear lots of rustling and low frustrated groans. You almost chicken out and email him that something’s come up but eventually the sounds inside his office cease and you assume that he’s figured whatever he was doing out. At 2:12 you knock on the door and he tells you to come in.

“Y/n, good to see you again.”

“You too Hotch, I’ll be quick, I don’t want to take up too much of your time, I’m sure you have plenty to do.”

“This is what this time is for. I’m your professor. I'm here to support you in any way that I can. I’m sure I’ll get something out of our conversations as well, I can tell that you’ve come prepared and educated.”

“The more knowledge the better as my mother says.”

“She’s not wrong. Now, I have a few books for you to choose from or you could take all three. Its up to you, depends on how quickly you think you’ll get through them.”

“How about I take one at a time, that gives me an excuse to come back and talk about them all separately.”

“Oh, uh, sure. That works just fine.” He gives you a smile, one you’d classify as bashful if you weren’t repeatedly telling yourself that he’s your professor and not just some man that you can flirt with.

“Great. Maybe I could bring a list of talking points once I finish.”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

“Alright, well I’ll get going, I have a class at 3 and I know you have things to do.”

“Thank you for stopping by. Would you like some coffee before you go?” He gestures to the Keurig behind him.

“Do you have decaf? I usually cut myself off around this time or I’ll have issues sleeping.”

“I do. And there’s creamers in that fridge it’s on top of.”

“Thank you, sir. Hotch.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

_____

It only takes you a week to finish the first book. You shoot him an email, asking him if he wants you to make a specific appointment or just come to office hours. You’ve made a list a million years long, not just because you want to spend more time with him but because you want to hear his opinion on everything, crime related or not.

He so desperately wants you to make an appointment so that he knows he’ll get to spend that block of time with you for sure but he resists. He beats himself up whenever he stares at you a moment too long, or smiles at you too wide. He reminds himself daily, if not multiple times a day: you are his student. It doesn’t matter how pure his intentions are, he must respect that boundary. He would never want to make you uncomfortable. In the end he tells you office hours are fine and that he’ll see you on Friday.

It’s during this first discussion with you one on one that he realizes just how deep he is. You’ve brought coffee and donuts, somehow you guessed his order, something about him seeming like a classic man. You set an apple fritter and black coffee with two sugars on his desk before pulling out an old fashioned donut of your own and flopping down on his couch.

The two of you are halfway through your discussion points when he notices some crumbs on the edge of your lip.

“Y/n, you’ve got,” He pauses, gestures to his face.

“Oh,” you feel your face warm in embarrassment before you wipe at a spot on your face. “Did I get it?”

“No, it’s just,” He points at his face again and wants to chuckle when you miss once more. “Here I’ll just,” he grabs a napkin and before he can think he stands and sits next to you on the couch, wiping the crumbs away in an overfamiliar gesture.

Your eyes catch his as he pulls the napkin away, your breath hitching as you peer into the brown orbs. “Thank you, Hotch.” You murmur softly.

He wants to kiss you. He wants to lean forward and wrap his arms around you while crushing his lips to yours. But instead he clears his throat, moves back to his seat at the desk with a “you’re welcome”.

He makes sure to keep his eyes trained on the list as much as possible after that, though his eyes do stray to your frame every once and a while. Once finished he stands, offers you a bottle of water before you leave.

“Thank you,” You say as you take the water bottle from him, being careful enough to avoid touching your fingers with his. Direct contact with him would be the death of you, you’re almost positive that you would pass out if his skin ever touched yours. “And thanks for this I…I had a really good time.”

“I did too.” He says it because it's true. It doesn’t matter to him that he shouldn’t have because the smile that spreads across your face beats out any consequences his words could have.

“Glad I could be good company for you. What’s the next book?” You lean over his desk slightly, placing your hands flat against it.

He turns, grabs a book off his shelf in such a smooth manner that your heart flutters. When he hands it to you his eyes don’t leave yours and you feel a heat spread through your entire body. “Take your time with this one, there’s a lot of information and I don’t want you to miss anything.”

“Okay, I’ll take my time. I’ll see you in class, Hotch.”

“See you in class. And next time I’ll get the donuts okay?” He doesn’t know at the moment that when he says this it's a lie.

“Okay.”

_____

He hates how he avoids you after this. A few weeks later he receives an email from you saying you finished the book and that you read it twice to make sure you didn’t miss anything. He hates the sad look on your face when you come into class the day after he tells you that he can’t meet. He’d been more than available but since your first encounter he’s started to dream about you. His dreams consist of holding your hand, pushing your hair out of your face, laying in bed with you, and lastly what he wants to do most: kissing you so deeply it makes his brain melt. He’s putting some distance between himself and you because he’s afraid he won’t be able to control himself. As weeks pass he keeps coming up with excuses, cancelling his office hours to consult with the team and requesting that all contact be through email. You don’t know what you did wrong but once you're halfway through the semester you’re fed up.

You show up to his office hours one day, and barge in without knocking. You catch him completely off guard, causing him to stand abruptly, his hand falling to his empty hip in a reflex.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It's alright. What are you doing here? I have my office hours closed right now, appointment only.”

You make a noise of frustration in the back of your throat. “Yeah, appointment only except you’ve ignored all my emails for one and refuse to acknowledge my existence.”

“Is there something urgent that you need?” He keeps his expression though on the inside he’s starting to get a little anxious, he knows where this is going.

“For you to tell me what I did for you to start acting like this.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I’m not stupid, we both know what’s going on here.” You take a step forward and he instinctively uses his chair to roll back an inch. He can’t be close to you, it’ll drive him wild.

“I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

“Aaron, don’t treat me like I’m just some student. We had a moment last time, I know you felt it.”

His eyes close, and he pinches the bridge of his nose trying to manage the emotions that arise when he hears his name on your lips. To you it looks like frustration, but it couldn’t be anything further. When he opens his eyes again they’re piercing.

“I think it best if you call me Professor Hotchner.”

You scoff at his words, crossing your arms against your chest. You can’t even start to describe how angry you are at him and how stupid you feel. All this time you thought that there was something between the two of you, even if it was just a tiny spark. Clearly you were wrong and now you’ve embarrassed yourself.

“Fine, Professor Hotchner. Here’s your stupid book,” You fish it out of your bag angrily, and throw the book onto his desk, effectively scattering some of the files he has on his desk. “Have a lovely day, sir.” Your voice is full of venom as you turn to leave.

His calls your name in a soft plea, and you turn to look at him. You can see the apology in his eyes but you know that he’ll keep denying the fact that he’s been ignoring you and the reason for it.

“If you won’t be honest with me there’s nothing you can say to me. Nothing.”

-----

You’ve turned the tables on him. For the rest of semester, you don’t so much as throw him a glance in class. He knows that you’re listening and paying attention by the way you take notes, and the fantastic grades or quizzes and papers. You keep your eyes trained on your notebook, laptop, or the screen. He sees you leaning over to tell the people around you to ask questions for you. If he didn’t know he was in the wrong he would call you out for it but he doesn’t want to make things worse. Day in and day out, you walk in and out of his classroom making him feel like a ghost.

The week before finals rolls around and you don’t even come to the review, something he expected to see you at. He’s grateful that the final is in person and that you have to bring your test packet up to him because it allows him to get one last good look at you.

“It was a pleasure to have you in class Y/n.”

For the first time in 2 months you look at him, squaring your shoulders as you make eye contact with him. “I have to disagree, Professor Hotchner.”

He doesn’t have time to answer because another student comes up behind you to turn in their test. You take the chance to leave, scurrying out of the classroom before he has a chance to call after you. The final wraps up pretty quickly, leaving Aaron with a hefty stack to grade.

He’s in his office trying to focus on grading when finds himself pulling up your email thread on his computer. He types out a quick email, asking you to come to his office hours tomorrow at 2:15, just like you did the first time. He turns notifications on for you, and turns his ringer all the way up. He finishes grading all the papers and technically has no reason to come back tomorrow. He could enter grades from home, and discuss any discrepancies in grades over email or phone call. He comes back the next day anyway, even after not hearing from you because he has to hold out hope.

He checks the time obsessively, watching the minutes creep by achingly slow. It's almost the end of his office hours, 4 p.m., with just half an hour left when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

You step into his office, closing the door behind you, heart beating out your chest. “You wanted to see me sir. I hope everything with my exam is okay, I worked really hard on it.”

His feet are moving because his mind can catch up with him. He’s in front of you, scooping you into his arms and pressing his lips to yours before either of you can truly process what’s happening. But, somehow your brain catches up, and your hands are threading through his hair in seconds as you push up on the tips of your toes to deepen the kiss. His mouth is warm and soft against yours, and as he kisses you he gets confirmation of what he always suspected. You’re perfect for him; the two of you go together like coffee and cream as your tongue swirls into his mouth.

He pulls away, completely out of breath but manages to say, “Call me Aaron. Please.”

“Okay, Aaron.” You breathe, nodding against him.

“I’m sorry I was a jerk, I was trying to do right by you.”

“I know, and its not okay but I forgive you. I can protect myself. I can handle myself.”

“I figured that out when you threw the book across my desk.” He chuckles, raising his eyebrows in amusement as he thinks of the memory.

You pout, rubbing your nose against his affectionately. “I’m sorry about that I was just hurt.”

“There’s no reason for you to apologize, I understand.” He runs his hand over your hair, pressing you closer by the nape of your neck.

“So we’re doing this now? Us?”

“I’m not your professor anymore so yes, I would really love to do this, us, and take you out on a date.” He tightens his hold on your waist.

“I would really love that too.” You murmur before pulling him in for one more kiss. Its slower, and wetter than the first.

“By the way,” He mumbles between placing sweet kisses on your lips and nose and cheeks, “making out with the professor will not boost your grade.”

“Oh shut up, as if my grade needs boosting.” You smile into the next kiss, knowing that whatever you were getting into with him was going to be one of the best things you’ve ever experienced, especially if he kept kissing you like this.

tagged: @ssahotchsbitch, @ssahotchie, @azenpal, @disgruntledchowchow, @chelseyjoyce, @hotchwhore15, @hotforhotchner11, @ssamorganhotchner, @choppa-style, @kuolonsyoja, @heliotropehotch, @averyhotchner, @zetasaturno99, @art-and-thoughts, @spngirl05, @g-l-pierce, @qtip-blog, @scuttling, @akira-155, @j-cat, @hotchner-bau, @laurensprentiss, @ssa-ki99, @ssa-montgomery, @thinking-bucky, @silvermercy, @lilacprentiss, @alexxblake, @fightingdragonswithreid, @vintagesubmariner, @ashhotchner, @moonshine-evelyn, @emlynblack, @ssahotchnerxx, @sunshinexweasley

[shmaptainwrites]

Crush [Aaron Hotchner]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Jack Hotchner

Summary: Hotch tries to work up the nerve to talk to his pretty next-door neighbour with a little help from his son

Warnings: none :)

A/N: Day 5 of Hotch app week!! time is flying by like crazy! I hope you guys enjoy this cute little fluffy piece that’ll definitely make up for Wednesday ;)

@hotchappreciationweek

Aaron never thought retirement was something that would suit him. But while being in WITSEC he realized how much he enjoyed spending time with Jack so after being away for over a year, it made sense for him to leave the FBI and take up a less busy job in prosecution, working part time and only taking smaller cases here and there.

They moved to a new neighbourhood, he bought a house, one with a nice balcony in the primary bedroom, something Haley always wanted. And Jack loved it because as a fourteen-year-old it was big enough to house all of his friends when they would decide to get off their video games and hang out (mainly to just play video games in person).

Aaron liked the neighbourhood for a different reason though. Right next door, 4873 Diver Lane is where you lived. The sweet woman who had first welcomed him and Jack to the neighbourhood. You brought over cookies and a big bunch of flowers from your garden that you tended and cared for almost every day.

It was obvious to Jack that his dad had formed quite the little crush on you, so he decided to ask him about it one night while they watched soccer together on the TV.

“Hey dad,”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think of Miss (L/N)? From next door?” he asked.

“She’s nice,” Aaron nodded, scribbling down some things in the margins of a report he was reading. “Why?”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious you have a crush on her,” he offered. “I mean I’m a teenager, I’m awkward and hormonal, what’s your excuse for having no game? Actually have you ever even had any?”

“Hey there,” Aaron chuckled. “Easy,”

“But?”

“It’s been a while Jack, I think the rules of the game have changed since I played,” he offered. “Why don’t you pay more attention to the TV, you just missed Lukaku do a bicycle kick,”

“What!?” Jack exclaimed and Aaron chuckled to himself knowing his son would catch his lie sooner or later.

“Dad that was mean,”

“No, mean is saying your dad doesn’t have any game,” he grabbed a pillow and tossed it at his son. “30 more minutes then go study a bit more for your test before bed, okay?”

“Fine,” Jack sighed and settled himself further into the couch.

Aaron noticed that after that interaction, Jack started to chat more with you on his way back home from school every day. He always watched him out of the window, trying to read his lips and make sure he wasn’t saying anything ridiculous, but that may have been asking a lot of him.

“I hope you didn’t say anything too out there,” Aaron said one day when Jack walked in.

“Only good things. If you aren’t going to talk to her then I might as well talk you up so she asks you out,” Jack shrugged.

“Good luck with that,” Aaron ruffled his hair.

“I don’t need luck, I’ve got more game than you,” Jack teased and Aaron rolled his eyes.

A few nights later, he could hear quiet talking coming from Jack’s room, well past the time she should have been awake, but when he came to the door, he could see a flickering light coming from underneath the door and he had a good feeling of what he was doing.

“Mom you gotta help me,” he could hear him whisper from past the door. “He freezes up every time we walk past her house and she waves at him. I seriously can’t believe he actually managed to join a play to try and ask you out,”

Aaron couldn’t help but let a small smile sneak past his lips as Jack continued.

“I love him, but he’s a little bit of a lost cause and could use a bit of a push, can you help me?” he asked. “He deserves to be happy again after everything, right?”

Aaron pressed his lips together and decided to leave then, letting the rest of the conversation his son was having with his mother be private.

That night as he laid down in bed, he wondered to himself what it would take for him to overcome his nerves, even just to talk to you, hell, to just walk by your house without becoming a bumbling mess.

Jack even decided that he needed to get his friends involved, each time they were over, Aaron would hear some iteration of,

“Mr. H the lady next door is really pretty! You should ask her out!”

And honestly, he was about to, just to get them off his back because, man could fourteen-year-olds be persistent.

But a more realistic first step came one autumn weekend when Jack slid down the railing, already wearing a sweater he had stolen from Aaron, his phone in one hand, quickly checking his messages.

“Where are you going?” Aaron asked.

“Little walk around the neighbourhood,” Jack said. “Needed a homework break,”

“If you give me two minutes I’ll come with you,” Aaron said and Jack nodded, putting his shoes on and waiting by the door while Aaron went to put on something a little warmer.

When he came back, Jack practically dragged him out of the door and they started in the direction opposite of your home but Aaron knew they would loop back around so it gave him time to prepare himself, even if it was just to say hi.

“So how’s that history paper going?” Aaron asked his son.

“It’s fine, Mrs. Jacobs really liked that piece you helped me write though,”

“Still got it,” Aaron chuckled with a grin and Jack elbowed his dad slightly in the gut to get him to be quiet.

The fall leaves had all changed colour by this point and were slowly but surely falling off the trees and all over the roads and lawns.

Their neighbourhood had their fair share of trees that offered a variety of colours around and Aaron had to agree with his son that it was a much needed break from work.

As they finished their loop around the street and came past your house, he noticed you were outside raking leaves that had fallen into your front yard, warm mittens covering your hands and a scarf wrapped around your neck.

“Hey Miss (L/N)!” Jack waved and Aaron’s eyes went wide, not expecting his son to be so loud in his call.

“Hi Jack!” you waved back and Jack ran over to your fence, Aaron following closely behind him. “I told you to call me (Y/N), remember, Miss (L/N) makes me sound old,” you laughed.

“Right, sorry,” he apologized. “This is my dad, I’m not sure if you’ve met him yet,”

“Maybe in passing,” you nodded and offered your hand for him to shake. “(Y/N),”

“Aaron, nice to meet you,”

“Nice to meet you too. Your son’s told me a lot about you,” you smiled.

“Except one thing,” Jack whispered under his breath and Aaron tried to put his hand over Jack’s mouth, but Jack continued to wrestle out of his grip until he knew he was absolutely free and said, “(Y/N) my dad has a crush on you but he has no game, ok bye!”

Jack bolted off back to the house leaving Aaron standing in front of the gate to your home while you laughed at the actions of the teenage boy, remembering how you had done something similar to one of your friends when you were that age.

“So, is it true?” you turned to Aaron and asked him.

“I-What would you say if it was?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Maybe I’d ask if you want to come over for dinner sometime,”

Aaron was stunned. He couldn’t believe Jack’s little plan had worked, all he had to do was say yes. And the push he needed was right there when he saw Jack back at the house, his face glued to the window waiting for his dad’s response.

“Then I guess it is true,” Aaron admitted.

“Then I guess I’d like to have you over,” you smiled. “Is tonight at seven a little too eager?”

“Not at all,” Aaron smiled, “I’ll see you then,”

When Aaron got back to the house Jack was waiting in the living room, slightly cowering under the blankets until Aaron came right up to him, moved the blankets away from his face and kissed his son on the cheek.

“Thank you,” he said. “But if you ever pull something like that again,” he warned.

“Grounded, yep, I understand,” Jack nodded, but he still had a faint smile on his lips knowing that he had done the right thing.

—

“Are you seriously gonna wear that?” Jack asked.

“What’s wrong with this?” Aaron wondered as he looked in the mirror, “I-It’s just a dress shirt and some slacks,”

“Okay, it’s your funeral,” the boy shrugged and Aaron rolled his eyes, something he found himself doing more and more the older his son got.

“Did you bike down to the florist and grab the flowers?” Aaron asked.

“Yep,” Jack nodded. “They’re on the table, wrapped and everything,”

“Perfect,” Aaron breathed. “Okay, wish me luck I guess,”

“Good luck,” Jack patted his dad’s back. “If you need me I will be in my room-,”

“Talking to your girlfriend?” Aaron raised a brow.

“N-No,” Jack shook his head, but it was evident that Aaron had caught him off guard.

“Tell her I say hi,” he chuckled and left his room, grabbing the flowers on the countertop and heading over to your house, knocking on the door.

When you opened the door you wore an apron over your clothes, a simple blouse and a nice pair of pants, a wide smile on your face.

“Hi Aaron, please come in,” you opened the door wider.

“These are for you, but I guess you probably figured that one out on your own,” he chuckled nervously.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “They’re gorgeous though, I’ll put them in a vase,”

You led Aaron further inside your home, inviting him to take a seat at the kitchen island while you finished up the last things for dinner.

“I can’t remember the last time I had actual good home cooked food and not something burnt or takeout,” Aaron told you. “So this will definitely be a treat,”

“Are you not quite the cook?” you asked.

“Well, I can be when I want to, but with my old job I never had time and now Jack’s old enough and he wants to learn to cook so he’s been taking a lot of the load and… well he’s not very good at it yet,” Aaron admitted and you laughed.

“What job did you have that was so busy you didn’t have time to cook?” she asked.

“I was a behavioural analyst and unit chief with the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the FBI,” he said. “So it took up most of my free time,”

“Wow, I’ve heard of the BAU,” you said. “I mean mostly in TV shows and a few times on the news, but it’s pretty prestigious right?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he nodded.

“What made you leave?” you asked, pulling out a pie from the oven.

Aaron tried to figure out the best way to word what he wanted to say and landed on,

“It just put my family in danger one too many times, so I thought it was best if Jack didn’t have to deal with any more trauma because of my work,”

“That’s very big of you. I can’t imagine, it must be hard leaving something you love,”

“It was, but Jack’s more important,”

“Of course,” you agreed. “And what do you do now?”

“I work at the Justice Department, as a prosecutor. I was a lawyer before the FBI, it just seemed to make sense to go back. What about you? What do you do?”

“I’m a writer, so mostly at home work,” you said.

“Would I have read any of your work?” Aaron asked.

“Possibly, but I write under a pen name so you probably wouldn’t have noticed it was me,” you chuckled. “I can pull out my series later if you want to have a look, but I think the food’s ready to eat,”

“I’d love to see it,” he nodded. “But I think you’re right, it can wait until after dinner,”

Conversation with you seemed to come so naturally for Aaron, you asked thought provoking questions and in return Aaron wanted to get to know all about you and your life.

“You know, I have to say, I’m actually really happy Jack said something,” you told him after you had eaten dinner and were now sitting on the couch, slowly munching away at a pumpkin pie you’d made. “Ever since you moved in I wanted to come up and talk to you, but I’m afraid my words come out a lot better on paper than out of my mouth,”

“Well, I was in the same boat,” he nodded. “I got pretty lucky with Jack’s mom and afterwards dating just wasn’t a priority so I must have forgotten how to do it,”

“I guess it makes for quite the story though,” you chuckled. “Set up by a fourteen-year-old,”

“Yeah, if any of my friends found out they would lose it,” Aaron chuckled into his glass before taking a sip of wine. “But on the other hand they’d probably slap me for not being able to get my head out of my ass and talk to a beautiful woman,”

“You flatter me,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm under the dim light illuminating the living room.

“Is it flattery if it’s the truth?” Aaron asked.

“And who says you don’t have any game,” you smiled, feeling yourself lean in a little further.

“Guess I still have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he whispered.

There was a small pause and a moment of silence before Aaron spoke up again.

“(Y/N), can I kiss you?”

“I think I’d like that,” you nodded and let your eyes flutter shut as you leaned in, letting his hand hold the back of your neck while he kissed you. His lips were soft but slightly chapped and you melted into his every touch, your breathing a little heavier once you pulled apart.

“Tell Jack I say thank you?” you asked with a small cheeky smile.

“I’ll tell him when he’s older, can’t let it get to his head,” he whispered with a slight scrunch of his nose. “But I think he already knows,”

You nodded your head and let yourself lean in once more, capturing his lips with yours. “Dinner at mine or yours next time?”

“Unless you want take out or a call to the fire department, maybe here,”

“I can deal with that,” you chuckled.

And if it meant you got the chance to date the man next door, really, you could deal with anything.

[pedrosversion]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML 

 post for day 2 of @hotchappreciationweek

[ssamorganhotchner]

Aaron Hotchner Appreciation Week

Thursday Day 4 - Favorite Look

because this is aaron hotchner we are talking about, I cannot pick just one look. I love everything he wears, but these are some of my all time favorites ❤️

but we all know FBI vest Hotch is superior 💁🏻‍♀️

-> @hotchappreciationweek

these are NOT my gifs- if you own them or know who owns them, please give them credit for me as I do not remember where I found them (:

❤️

[84hotpockets]

Aaron Hotchner Appreciation Week: Saturday - Favourite Arc

The Reaper arc is definitely one of my favourite storylines in Crimnal Minds, especially when it comes to Hotch.

@hotchappreciationweek

[lilacprentiss]

Promise me that you will tell him how we met, and how you used to make me laugh.

Haley...

He needs to know that you weren't always so serious, Aaron. I want him to believe in love, because it... it is the most important thing... but you need to show him. Promise me!

I promise.

@hotchappreciationweek

[hotchappreciationweek]

Aaron Hotchner Appreciation Week

Dates: Monday, November 1st - Sunday, November 7th

Who are we?: You guys are probably wondering who the hell we are but you've probably seen us around! I'm Mimi and my writing blog is @shmaptainhotchner and my lovely mutual Neveah ( @lilacprentiss ) has helped me put this together as well as make the awesome icon and header!

What is it?: This appreciation week will be a chance for creators to showcase their talents and their love for our BAU Unit Chief! Each day will have a prompt specific to either writers or GIF/Graphic makers to follow so we can see the diversity of things that come up from one idea

How does it work?: Pick a day or multiple days and create something based on the prompt for that day, then tag this account and use the hashtag aaronhotchnerappweek

What is this account for?: We'll be reblogging all the content you guys create through here so everyone has a chance to see all of your wonderful contributions

Rules: Only one! Please keep it SFW (we've got one minor on the blog) and it also makes it inclusive for everyone to enjoy what's being shared

Now let's get to the fun stuff!

Prompts:

For Writers *with links to day masterlist*:

Monday - Alternate Scene or Episode Ending

Tuesday - Birthday

Wednesday - Backstory

Thursday - Hotch & Jack [or a larger Hotchner family!]

Friday - Post-BAU [during or after witsec]

Saturday - AU

Sunday - "I don't deserve you,"

For GIF, Graphic, & Moodboard Makers:

Monday - Favourite Hotch-Centred Episode

Tuesday - Birthday

Wednesday - Favourite Quote

Thursday - Favourite Look

Friday - Favourite Iconic Moment

Saturday - Favourite Arc

Sunday - Holidays

If you have any questions send them to our ask box and we’ll be happy to clarify things for you!

Tagging some friends under the cut for a no pressure signal boost!!

@ssahotchie @arsonhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @hotchnerz @mrsh0tchner @heliotropehotch @doctorstethoscope @ssa-ki99

[jaspxr]

I teach crisis negotiation. I co-wrote the textbook, and in twelve years I've never talked anybody off a ledge so fast.

↬  @hotchappreciationweek : 1/2 Favourite (off-screen) look - Professor Hotchner

[ropoto]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AARON HOTCHNER!

AARON HOTCHNER APPRECIATION WEEK | DAY TWO BIRTHDAY - 2TH NOVEMBER

@hotchappreciationweek

[hotch-girl]

Aaron Hotchner Appreciation Week: Sunday - Holidays

🎄Hotch the snowman in s04e17🎄 

@hotchappreciationweek 

[glowingspence]

Tying memories

Summary: Hotch and Spencer are half-brothers. Hotch has a hard time with having Spencer on his team.

Prompt: AU

Warnings: Past Child Abuse

A/N: This was written for the Aaron Hotchner appreciation week. You can find other submissions under @hotchappreciationweek . Thank you for creating this, I love participating in this.

(Ao3 link will follow soon)

“Be careful!” Hotch exclaims when Derek knocks Spencer over while training with him.

“Hotch man, this ain’t gonna work. You have to leave.” Morgan points out and helps Spencer up from the floor, “I get you are his big brother but you asked me to train with him and I am not gonna hurt him but you have to trust me.”

“Is that okay?” He asks Spencer skeptical, “Is it okay if I go upstairs? Derek can call me any time.”

“Sure.” Spencer just shrugs.

“Okay” Nervously Hotch looks at Derek, he doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this at all. “Please be careful.”

“I will.”

“Tell him if he makes you uncomfortable.” Hotch looks at Spencer with a scolding expression who just nods while rocking back and forth on his feet, “I will be out of your hair then.”

When Gideon had started talking about the genius he met, the kid that would perfectly fit into their team, the man that caught him so off guard, he hadn’t expected to stand in front of his step brother a few months later for a job interview.

They grew up in the same house, at least for some years until his father had enough of Spencer and sent him to live with his sick mother shortly before Hotch moved to college.

He had seen the kid whenever he could but with Spencer moving from college to college and with Hotch being caught up in his job, he eventually maybe once a month picked up the phone to make sure he has everything he needs, sending him money when he has his first job as a lawyer.

So when Spencer stood in front of him, it had been a blessing and nightmare all in one that he seems to not be able to escape because while he loves having him around the house and in his team, whenever he sees him in the field, he feels like he is going to be sick.

He knows he isn’t the small boy anymore that he rocked to sleep or the kid he tried to feed when all he did was scream from the top of his lungs but with every gruesome picture he hands him, with every time they board the jet to fly to a city where a serial killer is on the loose, he feels like wrapping him in bubble wrap and shielding him from everything bad in the world, just like he did when his father was drunk and he hid him under his bed.

“How is the training going?” Gideon questions when he meets Hotch in the kitchen.

“I was kicked out. I couldn’t watch it.”

“Aaron-” He starts and places his mug down, “You gotta give him some space.”

“I am giving him plenty of space.”

“You have to trust him.”

“You dragged a nineteen year old to the FBI, only because he is older now doesn’t mean I will forget that.”

“It was his decision.”

“I don’t care.” In the beginning everyone thought this would end after a few weeks of Spencer being in the academy and for a while it actually got better but the moment Spencer joined the team, Hotch went back to the beginning, making Gideons life a living hell for planting the thought into Spencer’s head, that this is a good idea and by now even he thinks Hotch will maybe not come around.

“When will Spencer be home?” Haley asks while cooking dinner, “Should I cook his dinner already?”

“He is out with Morgan.” Hotch tells her.

“That’s a good thing isn’t it? You were so worried about him not getting along with the rest of the team.” Haley reminds him. “And Agent Morgan is a great guy, he will have an eye on him.”

“They are at a bar, Spencer hates bars.” Hotch points out and checks his phone again.

“He needs to learn to voice when he doesn’t want something on his own, I can’t imagine Derek forcing him to go there.”

“But Spencer doesn’t say anything, alright?” He snaps, “He is probably sitting there and feeling horrible, I will pick him up.”

“Don’t” Haley hurries after him, grabbing his arm, “Let him have some peace.”

“He can have peace in this house.”

“Aaron-” Haley tries again but Hotch rips his arm away, grabbing his jacket and aims for the door, “He is not a little boy anymore!” She yells, “Spencer has grown up, he is a man with his own life. I get that you are scared for him and I can’t even imagine what you two have been through but you need help, this is not okay.”

“You are right, you have no idea, so please, stay out of this.” Right when he grabs the doorknob Haley speaks up again.

“If you keep controlling him like this, he will leave. He loves you, he loves you so much but he got through life for many years without you and he will continue if he has to.” She starts, “He is comfortable here because it’s you and me and he obviously needs some help with things but he didn’t have that for most of his youth, so what makes you think, that when he even gets the slightest feeling, that you could turn into his father, that he won’t pack up his things and leave?”

“I am not my father.”

“Exactly, but you are, right now, controlling every aspect of his life, you work with him, you live with him and now that he wants to do something on his own, you try to be there too.” She tells him, “I know you don’t do this to hurt him, but you have to give him some space or your intentions won’t matter.”

“I just want to protect him.” He whispers, a tear running down his face as he grips the jacket in his hands with strength.

“Oh honey, I know.” She walks over to him and pulls him into a hug, “You two are not in any danger anymore.”

Spencer comes home in the late evening, more than slightly drunk stumbling through the door to see Hotch standing there with crossed arms, looking at him with an amused expression while Spencer tries getting out of his shoes until he pleadingly looks up to his older brother, “Sit down.” With a chuckle Hotch crouches down in front of him and starts loosening the shoelaces on his converse, “How much did you have?”

“A few cocktails and there was a group of girls giving out shoots to us.”

“What are a few exactly?”

“Four cocktails and five shoots.”

“Kid-” Hotch wants to lecture him, that he can not drink that much if he never drank before but bites his tongue, “Did you have fun?”

“A lot. Derek and I talked a lot.”

“You like him?” Hotch questions.

“A lot.” Hesitant Spencer moves his finger over the fabric of Hotch’s sweater, “Maybe a lot to much?”

“You mean romantically?” 

“Don’t be mad!” Spencer immediately yells and pulls his hand back, rocking back and forth on the floor, “I am sorry, I am sorry.”

As he starts sobbing, Hotch closes him into his arms, muffling the noise when the younger man presses his face against him, “I am not mad, I would never be mad at you for something like this.”

“I am sorry I am into guys. I know you don't like that I spend so much time alone with Derek.” He brings out and Hotch hugs him even tighter, “Please don’t hate me.”

“You can love whoever you want, I don’t care.” Hotch stammers out, “You will always be my little brother okay? I could never hate you. I love you so so much.”

“I am sorry, I am sorry.” Spencer keeps bringing out between sobs while Hotch holds him, rocking them back and forth while the words from Haley really sink in, because while Hotch maybe can protect him from anything else, he can’t from the memories they already have and maybe it’s time to at least in some moments, let Spencer go again because in the end, he will always be the person he will come back to, as long as he doesn’t messes this up. Again. 

[shmaptainwrites]

The Big 5-Oh [Aaron Hotchner]

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Penelope Garcia, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid

Summary: You throw Hotch a surprise party for his 50th birthday

Warnings: a little angst :(

A/N: Happy day 2 of Aaron Hotchner Appreciation week! Today's prompt was birthday and I can't wait to see what others have planned!

@hotchappreciationweek

GIF by @dudeitiskarev photos from Pinterest, header created by me

"You guys, it's his fiftieth birthday we have to do something," you pressed to the team while you all sat around in your cubicles.

Hotch's birthday was coming up and you knew he wasn't the biggest fan of celebrating it, but fifty was a milestone year and you figured a nice get-together couldn't hurt.

"He hates his birthday though," Derek chimed in. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know, it doesn't have to be big, just something to show him we care," you said simply.

"Well you know I love planning parties so I'm in," Penelope grinned. "We should probably talk to Jessica, she might be able to get him somewhere if we wanted it to be a surprise,"

"I think that's the only way he'll come," JJ added. "But I'm in too, just let me know whatever you need,"

Derek eventually gave in and once you told Rossi. Spencer, and Emily, agreed to help you as well, everything was set now you just needed some sort of plan.

Multiple nights spent at Penelope's condo were used to brainstorm ideas and then throw them out the window because

No Penelope, we cannot get Hotch a stripper. It's his birthday, not a bachelor party.

"Wait, I think I've got it!" you exclaimed, sitting upright and almost spilling your wine. "We order food from his favourite restaurant, set up a nice little table in Rossi's backyard, dinner, drinks, dancing," you listed.

"Triple D! That's a classic, why didn't we think of that sooner?" Penelope asked.

"Probably because we drank like a bottle of wine before each of our last brainstorming sessions," you noted and she seemed to nod in agreement.

Everyone was informed of the plan and had their own assignment. Penelope was on decorations, JJ would get the cake, Rossi would order the food, Derek would prepare the music, Emily was on drinks, Spencer would make sure everything stayed under budget, and you managed everyone and made sure they were all doing their jobs.

Now all you had to do was pray a case didn't come on November second. Plus, you figured he would never see it coming because he assumed none of you knew when his birthday was, sure he liked to keep it on the down-low, but you did a little snooping, as in ask Penelope and she couldn't keep a secret from you.

The night of the party you came to Rossi's house early to set up, only a few additional people had been invited, one being Jess and one or two friends Hotch had from his prosecuting days, but otherwise, it was just the core team.

"Okay, I'm gonna throw my bag in one of your billion spare rooms and just get ready later," you said.

"Sure do whatever you want, you're the one who's dying tonight,"

"What do you mean dying tonight?" you scoffed as you pulled out your phone to text Emily and see how things were going with her and JJ.

"When Aaron gets upset because we threw him a party you're the one getting thrown under the bus," he shrugged.

"He's not gonna get mad," you rolled your eyes. "Come on I threw out Penelope's stripper idea we dodged a real bullet, trust me,"

"I'm just saying. Aaron's never liked his birthday," Rossi said and you took it with a grain of salt and moved on.

You and Penelope set up the decorations in the back patio together, large twinkling lights and black and white balloons and a banner she had custom made that read:

Happy Birthday, Hotch!

In big bubbly letters.

Each part of the party had a touch of the person who had taken on the responsibility, you could hear Derek's favourites mixed into the music, see Emily buy an extra bottle of her favourite drink, even JJ got the cake from her favourite bakery. You each put a small piece of yourself into the party for your boss and friend. It was the least he deserved.

"Alright, you guys can handle yourselves, I'm gonna go get changed," you pointed to everyone already waiting outside.

They all nodded their heads and you ran to the guest room where you dug out the dress you had packed along with the matching set of jewelry the team had gotten you as your own birthday present last year.

You took a few moments in front of the mirror to put a few light touches of makeup on before taking a deep breath, your hair was more or less the same form when you had done it earlier, but it wasn't too big of a deal. Well, maybe you cared a little hoping that Hotch might notice, on top of the nice intimate party you organized that you dressed up a little.

A part of you wished you weren't throwing the party partially because you had a small crush on your boss, but you couldn't help yourself. He was just sweet and caring and sometimes no one seemed to notice.

When you stepped back outside you saw everyone gathered around Hotch who seemed to have just arrived with Jessica and Jack.

"Awe, I missed the surprise! You guys should have called me down," you pouted and the group laughed. Everyone except Hotch.

"(Y/N), do you mind if I talk to you for a second?" he asked, walking towards you and grabbing your arm before leading you inside to the living room where it was a bit more private.

"Woah, Hotch what's the matter?" you asked as soon as he let go of you and took a deep breath.

"You didn't need to do this," he said seriously.

"But I wanted to," you said simply.

"But I didn't want you to," he emphasized and you frowned.

"Hotch it's just a birthday party, relax," you shrugged. "I tried to keep it low-key cause I knew you wouldn't want to make a big deal of it, but you're turning fifty and that is a big deal! It's okay to celebrate with your friends and family every once in a while,"

He pressed his lips together and took in a sharp inhale.

"(Y/N), I didn't want to and don't ever want to celebrate my birthday, alright,"

"Hotch it's a milestone, come on cut me some slack,"

"Stop saying that,"

"Stop saying what? That we want to celebrate you because we love you? Well, grow up Hotch, people do care about you, okay? You're going to have to let them eventually, God," you sighed and rolled your eyes, walking away from him and the conversation.

Looked like Rossi was right after all.

You took a moment to yourself in the kitchen before going back outside with a smile on your face, everything was fine, you didn't need to cause a panic.

"So?" Penelope asked when you came back outside.

"It's fine," you waved your hand. "Wanna go grab a drink?"

"Drink? Did someone say drink?" Emily asked and you chuckled.

"Come on Prentiss, make me an old-fashioned," you teased and the three of you walked over to the little bar you had set up.

Hotch came back out a little bit later and went around to say thank you to everyone for coming and helping set up. It seemed he had a similar plan to you, just play it off like nothing ever happened. Plus, he was too polite to say something in front of everyone.

The two of you avoided each other for most of the night and it felt more like a crappy birthday for you than a happy one, but you still put on a brave face and socialized, while secretly you couldn't wait to get home.

"Mama, you gotta come dance with us for a bit," Derek poked your arm and offered you his hand.

"Der-Bear, I'm not in the mood," you sighed and he pouted.

"What do you mean not in the mood, you threw an awesome birthday party, girl you gotta celebrate, not mope around,"

You took a deep breath and finally put your hand in Derek's letting him help you stand up so you could go off to the little dance floor set up.

A slower song was playing so he swung you around and helped put a small smile on your face while he showed you his stupidest moves.

Derek soon after felt a small tap on his shoulder causing him to look back and he noticed Hotch standing there.

"Can I steal her?" he asked and Derek looked over at you.

"Well look at that, the birthday boy wants to dance with you. By all means, Hotch, have at it," he passed you off to him and you felt his hand snake around your waist until it was on the small of your back and your faces were merely inches apart.

He moved his mouth closer to your ear so he could talk quietly to you as you moved to the music.

"I'm sorry if I upset you," he said softly. "Truthfully, this is all very sweet of you,"

"I know, that's why I did it," you said as a matter of fact.

He chuckled a little and sighed.

"It's just, this year I think I wasn't feeling myself,"

"What do you mean?" you asked with a frown.

"(Y/N), I'm fifty years old which means I'm officially old, not just to Jack but to everyone,"

"You're not old," you said softly. "Plus, what's the problem with being fifty?"

"It's that I'm not...I'm not 15 years younger," he muttered.

"15 years, you'd be my age," you noted. "Hotch?"

You looked up at him and he pressed his lips together and looked down at your feet.

"I just...I think it made me realize I'll never really have a chance with you," he mumbled.

"Aaron," your voice was disbelieving. "You should have just asked me. I threw this party to impress you," you couldn't help but laugh.

"No way," he shook his head.

"Yes way," you slapped his chest lightly. "Look, you're not old to me, your age doesn't matter at all. I just want you,"

"Is that my birthday present?" he asked.

"It can be," you nodded. "Or it could be this,"

You paused and got up on your toes before pressing the softest kiss to his lips, ignoring the exclamations of surprise coming from around you.

"Happy birthday Aaron," you murmured.

"Yes," he chuckled. "Very happy birthday,"

[masterwords]

His Sentimental Sway

Summary: As Hotch goes through the motions leading up to Haley's funeral, he's looking for something - a connection, a friend, a hug. He finds it in an unlikely place while he stands alone at the funeral. (Filling in some gaps in the timeline of 05x10 - Slave of Duty)

Warnings: canon-character death/funeral (Haley), concussion, injuries, depression, grief/mourning, alcohol

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 3.9k

Notes: This is for Hotch Appreciation Week Day 3 - Backstory & Comfortember 2021 Day 3 - Hugs. Thank you @hotchappreciationweek for a really fun list of prompts to celebrate this week with! This one got a little dark, and instead of limiting myself to one backstory, here we have a whole bunch of mini bits peppered in. I pulled out all the stops - scary mom, Sean, Derek, Jack, Jessica, Will....

Find the rest here: Hotch Appreciation Week, Comfortember 2021

**

It was cold in the hall, the high ceilings and open floor plan made it nearly impossible to keep well insulated. He'd always hated when his mother threw parties here. In summer it was sweltering, they could scarcely keep the bugs out but the windows had to remain open, the air conditioning wasn't powerful enough to keep large parties comfortable. In autumn, they froze. For such a majestic old building, it certainly had its faults, but it was where he and Haley had their wedding reception and her parents insisted it be where she take her final bow. Exit stage left. Aaron argued that he'd rather find another venue, somewhere without memories of a white dress and broken promises, somewhere he couldn't feel his mother's disapproving glare even when she wasn't there. Her photo hung on a wall of trustees, a placard in front of a small but well-groomed grove of cherry blossoms lining a small path that lead to a lower level and a parking lot bore her name, she was everywhere and nowhere.

“She was your ex-wife, Aaron,” she'd contested as he spoke through clenched teeth, jaw tight. Anger beneath the sadness, anger for her. She knew what he looked like, she didn't have to see him to know his features would be pinched, stone cold, so like her own. He didn't look a thing like his father, round faced and wide eyed, Sean got all of that. He had the sharp angles, the harshness of his geometry on display as he lost weight, lost hope. Didn't have to see it to know, he was so like her. She could hear the carefully placed emotion in his voice, sad but nowhere near tears, just frigid. Fruit of her loin. He'd learned long ago that tears did nothing but distance him from her further. “It's improper. I won't do it, I won't have all of those people looking at me...not after what happened to her, poor girl. Give me the Brooks' address, I'll send a card and some flowers.” Not after what happened to her, he thought bitterly. That was certainly one way of putting words to what everyone was thinking. Not after what you did to her was what she meant, he heard it plain as day. It didn't sting as much as it should have.

“She was...” he began, ready to let his mother hear something, anything that might melt her icy heart, make her stand beside him so he would, just this once, not be left alone...but he stopped short. It didn't matter whether she was there or not, he would still be alone. She couldn't truly be anywhere with him, she could hardly stand to look at him. So like her, in every way - from their brooding dark features to the carefully hidden bruises, bound together. The worst part of it was that he didn't even blame her, he didn't want to go either, to stand and be crushed under the weight of the accusing stares. Not after what happened to her.

“I'm sorry, Aaron,” Sean said later that evening, he at least sounded genuine. And busy, he was out of breath and Aaron could hear the clatter of dishes and voices in the background, he'd taken the call at work. It had to count for something. “I really can't afford the trip down.”

“I'll pay for your plane ticket, pick you up, whatever you need...please Sean...” Don't make me beg, you sonofabitch. So desperate just not to be alone. He would give anything to see Sean, to have his brother there. And for what, really? Sean was nothing but a myth, more the idea of a brother than anything real. He let his guard down, let his voice shake with emotion, he could hear Sean's struggle on the other end. There was silence on the line for a moment, and when he spoke next the kitchen noises were gone, he'd gone somewhere private.

“I'm working two jobs and tons of overtime right now just to pay my rent, not sure how I'll cover utilities and food...I can't miss the shifts or I'll get fired, man...I'm really sorry about Haley, I just can't...not right now. Maybe in a few weeks..." He always had a list a mile long of can'ts that meant it wasn't his fault, he wanted to, truly. And the worst part was that Aaron believed him, he knew Sean struggled perpetually - it was where he was comfortable. When things were too good he got itchy, he would do stupid things to sabotage his good fortune. The Hotchner Curse, they liked to call it once enough beers had numbed them, opened up their smiles. Sean used it everywhere he could, Aaron seemed only to pull it out in his personal life, when it really mattered. Derek had been the first person immune to the curse, the first person to see through it and put him in his place.

“I understand.” Sean wasn't good at being there, he wouldn't have known how but Aaron always thought maybe this...this big thing would be the thing that changed it. His wedding, the birth of his son, divorce, being stabbed nearly to death...nothing was big enough to drag Sean away from whatever seemed to be plaguing him. He would call, send all of the important cards, maybe fire off a text or two. A congratulations card came after Jack was born, sympathy after his divorce, it seemed to be the only trait their mother had managed to instill in both of them - some old fashioned sense of etiquette that allowed you to pass on real human connection so long as you had a pen and paper and a few well-thought out catchphrases. After Foyet nearly killed him, he'd invited Aaron up to New York, it was the most substantial offer he'd ever received but traveling wasn't on his agenda, Sean didn't seem to comprehend the magnitude of his injuries or maybe it was his safety net - he could offer more, knowing Aaron wouldn't come. Maybe it was better that way, maybe it would have been disastrous if Sean ever did come and make an effort to be part of his life – most days he was alright with it, today he'd probably sell his soul just for the opportunity. A fight with Sean, in person, would be better than whatever this was.

Jessica helped him into his suit, the strain in his shoulders almost enough to make him give up and cry every time he moved. He could have done it, she insisted. Gave her something to do with her hands anyway and it spared him the tears. They burned his eyes every moment he was awake but wouldn't fall, just constant pressure in his sinuses, built up in the dark purple crescents beneath his eyes. It was bad enough that Jessica had commented. “Your bags are packed, Aaron,” she mumbled, smoothing her thumbs over his cheekbones. “You've got to cry sometime.”

He hadn't cried since holding Haley's body and there was nothing Jessica or Jack or Derek could do about it. The tears just stayed put, ready at a moment's notice but no one had given the signal. She slid one arm in and then the other, calling him useless, poking at him, trying to get something out of him. A smile, a frown, a fuck off.

“You're worse than Jack,” she chided, pushing him down to the bed so she could help with his tie, he was too tall. “Come on, Aaron,” and he was so angry at himself for even needing her help as if she hadn't just lost her sister. Here she was being strong for both of them, all of them, an entire family hung their pain around her neck. He pushed her hands away, tried to work his fingers into the material, to make a nice knot, and she rolled her eyes and took it over quickly - sure, maybe he could do it but she wanted to, and she couldn't take the pain on his face while he worked. She hated seeing him in pain. “We're in this together. You and me, kid.” She hadn't called him kid since high school, since she was mocking him for his grades being worse than hers in the creative writing class they'd both begrudgingly ended up in when everything else was full. Neither of them excelled at the topic, neither of them was terribly creative but somehow she pulled it off. She beat him only slightly. Better luck next time, kid, she'd said and he'd fumed. Only 6 months apart but a full grade, and when you're a teenager, that one grade might as well be a lifetime where maturity was concerned. Best of friends, worst of enemies. Haley couldn't stand when they got going, at least Jack provided some distraction for her when they went at it. They'd both, lovingly, accused her of wanting a baby just so she wasn't outnumbered anymore.

“I miss mommy,” Jack whined from the doorway, all dressed up and ready to go except the milk spilled down the front of his shirt. Jessica had already changed his shirt twice, it was only milk, it would dry and be fine. “Mommy has da good cereal wif da mashmellows.”

“Daddy's cereal is just fine,” Jess snapped, knowing this was the worst possible time for Jack to start in on this...again. It would be the third time that morning and who could blame him, really? He didn't know any better, the energy in the house was weird and his dad...well, his dad wasn't behaving like his dad. Gentle one minute, angry the next, despondent when all else failed. What was he supposed to do? Still, each outburst just set her back that much farther with Aaron. “We'll go buy you what you like tomorrow, all of your favorite foods so the cupboards are stocked baby. If you're hungry now, you'll eat what daddy has.”

“Not hungry...” Jack muttered, pouting. She sighed.

“Jack, honey, please...” She didn't even know what she meant to say. Not today? Not now? Awful. How could she? “Come here,” she said, and she pulled him in to a hug, stayed right beside Aaron hoping he'd join in but he was somewhere else entirely. Checked out, she could see it in his eyes. Part of it was the concussion, she understood that – the constant headache and the nausea, the way that he wanted to sleep all the time, but it was just a river flowing into the ocean of his grief. She couldn't tell the difference in the brackish water. Did he need another Tylenol or did he need to cry? Derek seemed to be able to tell the difference, he had some ingrained sense of Aaron that made her fumble and wonder if she knew him at all - no one had ever done that before, not even Haley. She understood him because they were so alike, but Derek wasn't a thing like either of them and he just...knew. To her, it simply looked like he was dying, barely beyond her grasp. He was suffering in ways she couldn't understand, he'd seen and done things to protect the rest of them that would weigh on him for the rest of time. Maybe, she thought, Haley was the lucky one - she went so quickly, Aaron's death would be a slow fading out of existence if he continued on this path. She would lose her sister and her brother in one fell swoop.

Dave picked them up. Not Dave, exactly, but Dave in a rented car because he insisted that none of them should drive. Under normal circumstances Aaron would have thrown a fit, but he put up only the weakest protest. Didn't have it in him to fight much of anything.

“You're in no condition to drive,” Dave assured him and he patted him on the shoulder. A poorly concealed wince told him all he needed to know about how Aaron was healing after the fight with Foyet, about what he looked like beneath that suit and tie. Derek was keeping his mouth shut, keeping the team focused on work and not Aaron, but they all had their ideas and the exhaustion in Derek's features each morning told them plenty. He worked himself to the bone keeping the BAU afloat and went home to his grief stricken family, tried to hold them together through the darkest hours of the night. Back and forth, between Aaron who couldn't sleep and Jack who couldn't stay asleep, even Jessica who cleaned out the fridge with a toothbrush at 3am, he was the in the trenches with each of them. Aaron, in spite of the pain it caused, turned in to the touch, half expecting and maybe hoping for a hug but Dave turned away from him and lifted Jack into his arms instead. “Shall we?”

A blinding sea of emerald, clods of dirt and roses. His day was marked only by mementos, snapshots out of order, the rest disconnected fog. His vision blurred and his face flushed, felt too hot and he wavered only briefly as he gave his eulogy that he would have no memory of later. Jessica would tell him it was beautiful, perfect, Haley would have loved it. He would be honest with her, tell her that he didn't remember what he said, he'd blacked out but somehow remained upright. All eyes on him, blaming him, her casket his failure, his betrayal. Til death do us part, she'd broken that promise but he took it too literally. His scars felt like fire, he forced himself not to look down for fear they'd opened up, were pouring his life out all over the hallowed ground. He moved away from any attempt at touch. People wanted to pat him, to shake his hand, offer empty condolences.

But the building, the cold building with its great open balcony overlooking his mother's coveted cherry blossoms and the twinkling lights of the city beyond soothed the burn. He felt cold here, and cold was better, cold kept him even. So like his mother. The headache held steady behind his brows, a constant rhythm of pain for days now like he might never be rid of it, the pressure forcing his eyes into narrow slits. Still there were no tears, only the choking sound in his voice gave away any emotion at all. Jessica stood close to him, they received guests and their condolences with solemn features and quiet voices when it was their turn, when her parents needed a break. Like a competition, who could be more composed. Haley would have rolled her eyes and called them both imbeciles, begged them to put on a show for her. I'll only die once, you know, I deserve the waterworks, a theater kid to the end.

“Nice party,” Roy grunted from behind him and he turned, nodded. Roy had that glint in his eye that told him to hold his tongue, he may have stopped talking but he'd really only just begun. “How much do I owe you?” With his checkbook clutched in his hand, he waited.

“It's taken care of,” Aaron whispered, lips hardly moving. In a very childish way, he hoped Roy would put away the checkbook and open his arms, pull him in the same way he'd done when he was a boy. Seventeen and so thin, deep bruises and swallowed tears and there would be those arms, that bear hug that crushed him, compressed aching ribs and held him together when his world was flying apart at the seams.

Too tight, too long, too much at first.

He fled from the sudden outpouring of paternal love. In his limited experience, that love meant pain and he could barely survive the first thrown at him, he would never withstand a second.

“Like hell it is. She is...was...my daughter, she wasn't your wife anymore...you've done more than enough.” To anyone casually listening it might have sounded gracious but Aaron knew better, he understood Roy plainly. This second paternal love reduced to ashes, pain in its wake, just took longer to get here. This part he understood.

“It was paid for by the Bureau,” Aaron replied, eyes downcast. Jessica watched the way shift in his demeanor, from strength to humiliation, just like when he was seventeen and couldn't look Roy in the eye. He couldn't admit he'd done something wrong, made a mistake for fear of disappointing the only man who had bothered to treat him like a son. A man who never had to, a man who made the choice and look at all it had gotten him. “It's taken care of.” He repeated it, and Roy grunted, scrunched up his nose and shook his head.

“We don't want your damn blood money,"

"Roy," his wife began and he rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Give me a name.” Sighing, Aaron thumbed through his wallet and located Chief Strauss' card, told Roy to call her and discuss it. He was holding back, Aaron could see that there was so much he wanted to say, so much his whole family wanted to say. He didn't need to hear the words to know them, to feel them himself. To agree. They were all much too raw to talk. His head swam and he excused himself, stepped aside to gather his bearings.

"You should sit down," Jessica said, following him. "You can go home with Derek, I'll bring Jack back with me later." She tried to fawn over him, tried to take care of him right there in front of her family's watchful eyes. He shook his head, waved her off.

"I'm fine, I just need a moment." Couldn't allow it.

The team were there, each of them solemn and silent, keeping their distance from the rest of the guests. None of them really spoke to him, just watched him warily until Dave chanced it, took the first opportunity to pull him away from his host duties. Jess looked almost relieved at the glass of scotch passed from one hand to another and she shot Derek a nod of approval – sending Dave in as a buffer was always a smart move. They spoke in hushed whispers, broken only by Derek with bad news.

"We have a case," he said softly, and Dave nodded. None of them were surprised.

“We've gotta go, ” Derek whispered, standing with him just out of sight of the guests. Close, very very close, foreheads and noses touching, pressed against one another. Derek didn't care much for personal space, not when it came to this. Aaron sucked in a deep breath, nodded – of course he understood, of course it made sense to him. “Everything's gonna be okay. I'll call you when we land.”

“You don't have to...” He hated that Derek worried, but he knew it wasn't without reason. "I'll be okay. Jess won't let me out of her sight." The last part was meant as sarcasm, but it was also true and they both knew it. Derek simply shook his head.

“I said I'll call you when we land,” and the I love you was whispered as a soft kiss pressed against his cold lips, one hand cupping his jaw, sowing warmth where it lay. Derek tasted like wine, deep and red and velvet. A nod and a smile and that was it. He was alone in a sea of wolves out for blood. Somewhere he thought he could hear Haley's honey gold laughter, now you know what it feels like Aaron.

“Hotch?” A slow drawl from behind startled him as he stared at the trees, leaned just a little too far over the ledge. “I hope you don't mind me stayin'...” It was Will, Aaron thought he'd gone when JJ did but here he was. “I noticed that not a lot of people 'round here seem to be sayin' very nice things 'bout you and the team...”

“Can you blame them?” he asked, more than a little sour and instantly sorry for it.

“'Spose not,” Will shrugged, unbothered by Aaron's tone. Truly, he seemed unbothered by everything, always so calm and collected, Aaron was more than a little envious of Will's demeanor. “Still. Thought you could use one person in your corner...”

“You really don't have to stay.”

“I know. So, I uh...I talked to Haley's sister and she said you had your weddin' reception here. Little morbid, don'tcha think?”

He couldn't help it, Aaron laughed. A real laugh that started way down in his diaphragm, rumbled up through bruised ribs. There was life in his bones yet. “Haley's mother insisted.”

“Well. Can't stop the mamas, huh?”

“I suppose not, no.”

“You look like you could use a drink...”

Beside his hand sat the scotch from Dave, still untouched. The smell made his head pound, eyes water. It wasn't going to help, though the burn might make him finally cry but for all the wrong reasons. He felt sick just thinking about it. He'd intended only to say no thank you, that was all that went through his mind but what came out was very different, bypassed all of his filters. His operating system had gone rogue.

“I don't know what I need.”

Will couldn't hold back, there was some sense of urgency tangled in the desperation of Aaron's tone that told him now, do it now. Aaron set the glass back down and began worrying his fingers back and forth over one another, a little tick JJ had mentioned once, something he did when he was anxious. Maybe it was fatherhood that made him do it, see a need.

He reached out and he pulled Aaron in for a hug.

He knew the man was hurt and he paid it no mind, didn't coddle him, was not gentle. Aaron, uncharacteristically, didn't pull away, he let it happen. He fell into the embrace, the familiarity of it. Will smelled like cedarwood and baby powder with a hint of lavender, he smelled like a father who carried his family with him everywhere he went. Suddenly he was seventeen again, not for the first time that day and probably not the last. He was in Roy's arms, admitting his failure, his mistake – maybe a bad grade, a fight in the school yard, wrecked his bike. Before he knew what he was doing, before he could stop himself, he felt a sob shudder through him. The force of it was so violent he couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried, if he'd seen it coming. Will patted him fiercely on the back, hands splayed over tender shoulder blades, his pats rough and reassuring. It hurt, and the pain made him feel alive, connected to someone. It was the kind of hug a father gives their child as they say they forgive them, I know you made a mistake but I'm just glad you're okay. The kind that says this hurts me more than it hurts you, the kind that says you're loved and someone always has your back. There would be time for shame later, there always was – for now, he cried. He drenched Will's shoulder in his tears, and Will never tried to push him away, never told him he'd had enough.

He just held steady, he wouldn't budge.

Too tight, too long, but not too much.