#hotchappreciationweek

[nathanbatemanfucker]

So Choose

summary: while in witsec hotch and jack move into a house next door to a co-housing group of adults from various backgrounds. he may find love there…if he opens his heart and listens to his first love.

warnings: a few suggestive comments, little angst, lots of fluffy cuteness

pairing: fem!co-housing!reader x aaron hotchner

an: this is my submission for the post-bau/witsec day of @hotchappreciationweek. jack is 7 or 8 in this, the scratch timeline is moved up a bit. thank you @ssahotchie & @laurensprentiss for supporting me while writing this. the idea for this fic was spawn from this post by @daily-cm.

word count: 5k

masterlist | hotch appreciation week masterlist

He does a double take when he sees you for the first time. He’s standing at the sink doing dishes when you walk out the garden that he’s noticed in your backyard. Initially he’d been downright annoyed to move into the house next door to yours. A group home of folks in various stages of their lives was something he wanted nothing to do with. He had been sure to avoid eye contact and conversation with anyone he’d seen come out of the house. But now, he’s seeing you and shamefully, he likes what he sees. You’re in a pair of overalls that’s over a green shirt, and have on a bandana matching the shirt. He doesn’t watch you work in the garden for long, first and foremost because he doesn’t want to be a creep but also because he finishes the dishes after a few minutes. He thinks about how the green complimented your skin later in bed that night.

The second time he sees you he and Jack are outside together, He’s sitting on the swing next to Jack with a book while Jack swings. When the door shuts behind you on your way up he glances up at you. Similar to the first time he saw you, he does a double take, this time because of the shirt you have on. Your shirt reads ‘I love dilfs’ in big red letters and he has to mask his laugh with a cough. You catch his eye, realize he’s laughing at your choice of attire and give him a smirk.

“Hi.” You call, continuing to walk towards the garden.

“Hi!” Jack yells back, jumping off the swing and running up to the fence.

“What’s your name?” You present your hand to him. He looks at it suspiciously, looking back at his dad for reassurance. Aaron nods, an encouraging smile on his face.

“Jack!” He yells as he takes it, shaking your arm so hard it might fall off.

“Jack. Like Jack the great. Very good choice. My name’s Y/n.”

“Y/n.” He says it slowly, like he’s testing it out. “That’s my dad.” He points back at Aaron.

“Does dad have a name?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Aaron.”

“Nice to meet you Jack and Aaron. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

“You too!” Jack takes off, running around the backyard like a dog with zoomies as Aaron makes his way closer to the fence.

“Thanks. It’s nice to meet you Y/n. I think I’ve seen you in your garden a few times while I do the dishes.”

“I think I’ve seen you do the dishes a few times when I’m in the garden.”

“Do you manage it all by yourself?”

“Yeah, it’s my contribution to the home. That and cooking.”

“You prefer it that way.” It’s less of a question, more of a statement. An observation.

“I love every single one of them but it’s the only time I really get to myself. I have my own room but we’re all really close knit so the door’s rarely closed. Here, in the garden, it’s my peace. My happiness.” He nods, finding your words endearing. “What about you, what’s your peace and happiness?”

“Jack’s all I got left of that now.”

“He looks like it.” You look over his shoulder at the boy who’s now singing and swinging on the play set. Aaron turns to look along with you, smiling fondly at Jack.

In that moment you take the opportunity to look at him, eyes tracing over his silhouette. You noticed how attractive he is the day he moved in but this was your first good look at him. His hair is fluffy, and shiny, his chin dusted with salt and pepper stubble. His eyes are brown yet vibrant, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as if thoughtfulness is his resting place. You don’t get to assess much more because he’s turning back towards you.

“Well, we’ll leave you alone and let you work. It was great to meet you, I’m sure we’ll run into each other a lot out here.”

You hold your hand out and he takes it. “I sure hope so.”

All he can manage is a shy smile and a tight nod as he drops your hand and heads to join Jack on the swings. To his dismay, he sure hopes so too.

______

You’re grabbing the mail with one of your co-housing members, Leo, when Aaron comes out his front door, walking to his mailbox as well. You light up immediately, and excuse yourself from Leo to say hi to him.

Aaron tries to act nonchalant as you walk over to him, closing the mailbox and gazing at the mail with feigned concern. But all he’s thinking about is how one of the straps of your overalls is undone, barring most of your shoulder because all you have on underneath is a spaghetti strap tank top. Your skin looks smooth and supple, and when you speak to him it pulls him out of whatever trance he’s fallen into.

“Well, hey there, neighbor. Interesting mail?” You lean up against his mailbox with a warm smile on your face.

It’s easy to smile back at you, your presence alone lifts his mood. “Good morning, Y/n. Just bills, you know.”

You nod your head, holding up your own stack of mail. “Having a good day so far?”

“Yeah, its been a slow Saturday morning which is nice. Jack’s at a sleepover so it was just me. You’ve got company though, yeah?” He glances behind you at Leo who’s walking back towards the house.

“Of course he is, sweet boy. And no, not really. Leo lives in the house just like me. We’re bathroom buddies.” You turn around to grin at Leo. Leo gives you a wink which causes you to giggle as you turn around to face Aaron again. He can’t deny the jealousy coursing through him, though he knows its unfair. You’re allowed to date whoever you want, he has no claim over you. As much as he wanted you to be his, even this early on, he knows that it’ll never happen for so many reasons.

“How many of you live there?”

“15 of us. Mostly women. The house, your house and a few others on the block used to be frat houses until they built them better housing.”

“I’m shuddering at the possible things that happened in my house now.”

“Don’t peel back the carpet with a black light.”

“Y/n come on, our turn to make brunch!” Leo sticks his head out of the front door.

“I’ll be right there,” You turn to shout back before looking at Aaron one more time. Your voice is softer for him, “I’ll be working in the garden around 2. If Jack’s isn’t back and you want some company, even if in silence, feel free to sit in your backyard. I’ll even play music.”

“Really? Thank you. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you then. If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all so I’ll see you then Aaron.”

A few minutes before 2 you step out into the backyard with sheers, a bucket, and gloves. There’s a towel thrown over your shoulder and as always, a bandana keeping your hair out of your face. He glances out the window at around 2:05, and doesn't want to seem too eager. You’ve situated yourself in the middle of the vegetable garden and he can just barely hear the music playing.

When he comes out, you glance up at him. The smile that spreads across your face hits him in the chest, stirring something deep in his soul. He hasn’t felt something like that in a long time and he almost has the heart to turn around and avoid you. But you’re breathtaking, and he knows that for some reason he doesn’t quite understand that you want him there. Your wants and needs, the ones that he knows of, already matter so much to him. So he ignores the feeling that tells him to scream and run away from you, raising his hand in a wave as he sits down in a chair with a book.

The two of you go about your respective tasks in silence that’s filled only by the eclectic playlist you have going. You can’t help but steal glances at him, which causes you to get only half the section you want done by the time one of your housemates calls you inside. Aaron’s only read half a chapter in the couple hours, not only because he was stealing glances too but because you have his imagination working in ways it hasn’t since high school.

_____

Its been a few weeks, and Aaron comes out into the backyard with the intention of hosing off the swingset. You’re laying on the awning outside of your window, half soaking up the sun, half napping. You prop yourself up on your elbow and slide your sunglasses up, drinking in the sight of him. You give yourself just a couple minutes to watch him, examining how touchable his hair looks and how wide his shoulders look through the red t-shirt he has on. He reaches for the hem of his shirt, about to take it off and you feel wrong for peeping so you make your presence known before he can do it.

“Hey, Aaron!” You call out, sitting all the way up and dangling your legs over the side of the awning.

He whirls around, looks on the ground for you first before looking up and over at you, quite literally, hanging out of your window. He takes you in, in a soft yellow blouse and loose jeans, your hair pushed back by your sunglasses. He wants to scold you for being so careless. There’s no railing that would keep you from falling off, but he can’t say that he’s surprised that you would do something like this. For a moment he thinks about how long it would take for him to run and jump over the fence if you happened to fall. How he would be there to catch you even if it was the last thing he would ever do. He realizes that he’s just been standing here, staring at you and clears his throat in embarrassment.

“Y/n, hi.”

“How’s it hanging?” You say with a satisfied grin on your face, legs swing back and forth.

“Its...hanging.” His smile matches yours before he raises an eyebrow. “You sit there with nothing to catch you often?”

You feign offense, placing your hand delicately over your chest. “Am I being scolded?”

“I don’t know, do you need scolding?”

“Always.”

He ducks his head and runs a hand over the back of his neck, feeling the blush that warms his cheeks. “Well, it makes me nervous to see you up there. You could fall.”

“But you’d catch me, right?” Your voice is low and serious, all playfulness gone as the two of you hold eye contact. He opens his mouth to answer when Jack bursts on the back doors, running to stand next to him.

“Dad! Can we run in the sprinkles?” He’s practically bouncing off the walls and Aaron pats his hair, trying to soothe him a little.

“Sprinklers, buddy.”

“Jack the great! What’s up?” You wave at him, catching his attention.

“Y/n! Do you wanna run in the sprinklers?”

You can’t help but laugh at the fact that he’s inviting you though Aaron hasn’t even said yes. “I can’t today my friend, but I promise I will one day. You can come over and get me, I’ll bring snacks.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. I should head inside but it was good to talk to you Jack. And you too Aaron.” You start to slowly and carefully maneuver your way towards your window.

“Of course. Have a good rest of your day. And Y/n?”

“Hmm?” You turn back to look at him, one foot in your room, one foot still on the awning.

“The answer to your question is yes. I would catch you.”

-----

You come out of the house dressed like you almost always are, in a set of overalls, a sports bra, and a bandana on your head. Today it's yellow, matches the bra you have on, and your eyes instantly meet his. You say hi to Jack first like you always do, and he runs over to the fence, chatting you up about how his teacher has his class taking care of a plant. You give him some simple tips, telling him that he’ll have the greenest thumb of all his classmates and he laughs, says his thumb can’t be green.

“Jack, let Y/n get started on her project.”

“See ya later.” Jack’s words almost slur together as he runs back to the swing set, and starts to climb up the rock climbing wall to get to the slide.

“You know I don’t mind talking to him, he’s great.”

“I know but you look like you’ve got quite the project.” He nods back to your deck which has at least 6 more paint cans on it. You glance back at the deck with him, nod in agreement before holding up the two cans of paint in your hands.

“That I do. Bringing out my inner artist this fine afternoon. You gonna watch me?” You keep your face innocent, but your voice is a little suggestive.

“I, uh, sure, I-I’ll watch. You want me to?”

“Yeah, you can critique my work, tell me if I should go to art school or something.”

He gives a laugh, one you can tell that’s reserved but you take it as a win because its longer and louder than the small chuckles that he usually gives you. You turn away to collect the paint, and he follows suit, grabbing a chair from his deck so he can sit at the fence and watch you work.

One word he would use to describe you? Graceful. From the way you stand to examine the canvas before starting anything, to the way you pour the paint into the containers. Your movements are smooth once you finally start to paint, and all he can tell is that its colorful and bright, which is fitting because its how he sees you.

Every once and while you turn to make sure he stills there and he gives you an encouraging smile each time, effectively warming your cheeks. You’re a total sucker for him, and you simultaneously hope he can and can’t tell. You know that he likes your company but aren’t sure if he likes your company. What happens next crushes your hope that he’ll reciprocate your feelings all together.

You finish, bending over to set down the paint brush and make a small game plan for cleaning up. Its then that the sign you’ve painted is completely visible to him for the first time. When he sees the words in their entirety his blood runs cold. He reads them over and over, trying to make sure that he isn’t going crazy. He reads them over twenty times and blinks his eyes rapidly in some last ditch attempt to somehow change the words; he has to go.

“Jack, lets go inside.” He tries to keep his voice level and not let his emotion show but even in his ears he can hear that it's sharper and more frantic than usual. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t afford to get emotional in front of you.

At his words you turn around, a frown spreading across your face when you see the look on his face. He looks as if he’s seen a ghost, and his eyes are cloudy. You and Jack speak at the same time.

“Aaron-”

“But dad-”

“In the house. Now.” It comes at harsher than he’s ever spoken to Jack and he instantly regrets it. “I’m sorry buddy, I shouldn’t snap, but I need you to come inside with me now.” Aaron abandons the chair at the fence, leaving it there as he starts to walk towards Jack.

“Okay. Bye Y/n!” Jack turns to wave at you, and you plaster a fake smile on your face, waving back.

You say slowly, confused by Aaron’s behavior. “Bye Jack. Aaron.”

Aaron doesn’t respond, just gives the words you’ve painted one last look before he scoops Jack up into his arms and practically runs into the house.

What had upset him so much?

You look at the words yourself, reading them over and over, unsure of how they could’ve offended him in anyway:

Happiness is a choice. So choose.

That night Aaron tosses and turns until he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, padding down to Jack’s room to make sure he’s okay before pulling on a hoodie and stepping into the cool, spring air. He glances at your house first and sees that some of the lights are on, though the room that he knows to be your bedroom is dark. He takes that as an indicator that you’re sleeping, or maybe out with someone which makes him irrationally angry. He knows he has no right to be jealous and that he doesn’t even know for sure that you’re out with someone. Regardless of his feelings for you there were so many reasons that the two of you wouldn’t work. He couldn’t even tell you the truth about his life. How could he expect you to be open and honest with him if he couldn’t be that with you? An owl howls, pulling him out of the vicious cycle of thoughts that he’s grown used to.

The moon is full, illuminating the sign you’ve painted as if it's the star of the show. He can see it clearly even from the deck but he decides to walk towards it and leans on the fence once he makes his way to it. Now that he’s let himself look at more than the words he realizes how beautiful it is and just how talented you are. In your conversations in passing you had never mentioned being into art or being an artist.

He stands there in the dark, just staring out into the night. He wonders to himself how you knew the words. He’d never told anyone about his dream of Haley, he himself felt insane after it and could only imagine how someone else would react to it. Maybe you’d had a similar experience with a loved one that had passed. Maybe Haley’s words weren’t one in a million, maybe they’d been said to many people like him in many dreams. Or maybe it was coincidence all together and he was blowing everything out of proportion. The latter of those maybes feels the most untrue to him. Nothing related to Haley was a coincidence, she was and always will be one of the most real things he’s experienced.

“Aaron?” Your voice comes from across the backyard and he turns to look at you. You’re standing at the top of the stairs of the deck, squinting at him in confusion.

“I didn’t realize you were awake, your window-” he begins, but you cut him off, quickly closing the space between the two of you so that you’re standing right in front of him on the other side of the fence.

“We were all hanging out together downstairs. What are you doing out here?”

“Uh, nothing. I should get back to bed, its late.” He turns to leave but you reach for him, gently placing your hand on top of his.

“Wait, is there something I did wrong?”

His eyebrows knit together, not only in confusion, but to hide how much he loves the feeling of your warm skin against his. “What? Of course not.”

“Well you stormed away earlier today after reading my sign and so I just thought-”

“Everything’s fine. Goodnight.” He says in a hard voice before pulling his hand away and heading back inside.

You watch him take the 20 strides or so into the house, wondering what could’ve possibly caused him to act this way. It is until he’s inside and out of view that you whisper, “Night.”

-----

It’s been two weeks since Aaron stormed away from you in the middle of the night when you find yourself ringing his doorbell, completely fed up. You hadn’t seen him since then. He’s been avoiding you and you can’t explain why that bothers you so much. Well, that’s a lie. You’re painfully aware of why it bothers you but you feel like an idiot for letting your feelings for him develop this deeply.

His eyes practically pop out of his head when he sees you through the peephole. He can’t ignore you though, not anymore. “Y/n, what are you doing here?”

You take a step toward him, taking one of his hands into yours. “I need you to talk to me.”

“We talk all the time.”

“Not anymore we don’t. And even if we did it wouldn’t be about whatever that sign has triggered in you. It's been days since I’ve seen you. You let Jack play by himself and watch him from the window. You get your mail at a different time. You even change what time you run so our paths won’t cross. So what happened?”

“You noticed all of that?”

“Yeah I did, because I care about you, Aaron. I care about you a lot.”

He glances behind him, and pulls his hand out of yours as he steps outside and closes the door. “Well you shouldn’t.”

“Its kinda too late for that, don't you think?”

“You don’t understand, my life is a lot more complicated than I let on, and it just doesn’t make sense for us to go any further.”

“I’m not afraid of complicated.”

“There’s nothing I can bring to the table that would make your life better. I would just darken it.”

“Why are you trying to scare me away?”

“Because you deserve much more than what I can offer.”

You throw your hands up in frustration. “Shouldn’t I be the one to decide that?”

“In a perfect world, of course, but in this one, in mine, we don’t get the luxuries of choosing what we want.” He takes a seat on the front steps, letting out a huffing breath.

“Could I just have 10 minutes to show you that you don’t have to worry about me and that I can handle whatever you think I can’t?” You take a seat next to him.

“Alright, 10 minutes.” He agrees reluctantly.

“Tell me about her. What was her name?”

“Haley.”

“What happened?”

“This is where it gets tricky. I can’t be completely honest for reasons that I can’t share.”

“Then be half honest. Whatever you can give, I’ll take.”

“She was taken away from me, and it was my fault.”

“It isn’t your fault, its the fault of whoever took her. I’m sorry that she’s gone. The sign reminded you of her?”

“I was in the hospital, recovering from something. And I had the strangest dream,” He pauses for a moment, wets his lips as his eyes shift around slowly.

“Half the truth, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere, no matter what.” You rest your hand on his thigh face up, offering him comfort. He looks down at it for a moment, before lacing his fingers through yours.

“I’m finding that I want to tell you everything.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” He says it like its obvious and it makes you feel so close to him. You can tell by how reserved he is that trust doesn’t come easily, it’s a privilege for him to extend it to you.

You reach your hand out and grasp his firmly, glancing down at the sight of your hand in his before you look at him again. “Then tell me the whole truth, I can handle it. It’ll stay between us.”

He takes a deep breath, almost to prepare himself, and then he does. He tells you about a serial killer called the Reaper. He tells you how for years he continued to work on the case even when it had gone dormant. How he found out that the lead on the case made a deal with the Reaper and how the Reaper offered him the same deal once the lead passed away from cancer. Tears fall out of his eyes as he tells you how the Reaper promised him that he’d hurt the people he loved if he didn’t stop looking but, how he felt he could catch him before that happened.

His breath grows shallow and he stares at the ground intensely when he talks about the Reaper assaulting him in his own apartment and how that solidified the decision to keep looking for him. His anger at himself shines through when he tells you how the Reaper kidnapped his ex-wife, Haley and their son Jack, taunting him over the phone. The lowness in his voice sends a chill up your spine as he talks about the way he killed the Reaper, how he didn’t stop beating him until his coworker pulled him off the body. And when he’s done he lets out a shaky breath that causes you to wrap your arms around him.

“There’s more.” He whispers in a cautious voice.

“I’ll always listen. Do you want me to let you go?”

“No, no I don’t.”

“Okay, let’s change positions. Lay your head in my lap.”

He does as you say, laying so that he’s looking right up at you. You smile down at him, carding your hand through his hair, and he looks at you with a sense of wonder in his eyes. How could you be so ready for him while being carefree and pure?

“A couple years after the assault, I was in the hospital because of some internal bleeding, which is what I was mentioning early,” He looks away for a moment, but you give out a small hum, push his face towards so he has to look at you. “I was out for a while and I had this dream about Haley. She was in it, and so was the Reaper. And I told her how much I missed her and how incompetent I felt as a husband to her and a father to Jack. We talked for a bit, but there’s one thing that she said to me that I remember so clearly.”

“Happiness is a choice. So choose.” You understand now, nodding slowly.

“Since we’ve moved here I’ve been wrestling with my feelings for you. There were a lot of reasons that we wouldn’t work and so I was telling myself that I had to move on.”

“Were?”

“Yes, were. I took the sign as a sign. I’ve never heard anyone say that phrase except for Haley in my dream. Maybe I sound crazy but it just seemed like her way of telling me that its alright for me to want to be with you.”

“Its not crazy at all. I want to be with you too. I know it’ll be tricky and maybe short term depending on what you future has in store, but I’d be happy to spend any time I can with you and Jack if you let me.”

“I would really like that.”

You tilt your head as you look down at him, smoothing a hand over his cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

The blush that stains his cheeks is charming, and gives you a shy nod as his eyes flick down to your lips. You lean over him, your hair free of bandana for once falls over the both of you in a curtain. When your lips meet his it’s like a gentle spark, the first light of a cozy warm fire. You’re delicate with him, running your hand up and down his chest in a soothing manner as you coax his mouth open.

“Gross, you guys are kissing.” Jack’s voice comes from behind you, causing you both to straighten up immediately.

“And what about it mister nosy pants?” You glare at him playfully.

“Does this mean you get to spend the night now? We can make a fort.” His question surprises you and you glance over at Aaron who has the most mellow, dazed look on his face. He thinks he might be in heaven.

“I think that’s a question for your dad. But sleepover or not, we’ll definitely build one.”

“Y/n! Dinner!” One of your housemates, Trina yells from the porch. You raise your hand, thumbs up to let her know that she’s heard.

“I should go, I need to grab some vegetables out of the garden to prep for dinner.”

“You’ll come back won’t you?” Jack asks softly, eyes hopeful.

“If that’s alright with your dad, I’d love to come back. I can bring dessert.” You offer.

“I’d love that. 7:30?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Jack, head inside for me, I’m gonna walk Y/n over to her house.”

“So you can kiss her.” Jack sings, swaying his hips slightly.

“Jack.” Aaron scolds, but you can’t help but laugh at his antics.

“Ok, ok! Bye Y/n.” He turns to go back in the house.

“Bye Jackers, see you later.”

Aaron loops a hand around your waist, pulling your close as the two of you stroll back over to your house. You lift your head from where you’ve rested it on his shoulder, turning to look at him before you step inside.

“Thank you for being open with me, I'm really happy that we get to try whatever this will be.” You run a hand through his hair, a touch he leans into.

“I’m really happy too, happiest I’ve been in a very long time.”

He leans in slowly, keeping his eyes trained on yours, and you nod your head, leaning in the rest of the way to press your lips to his. This kiss is a little more desperate than the last, hungrier, and you knot your hands in his hair as you lean back against the side of the house. He hums in surprise at your brazenness but follows suit, his body a hot line of heat as he rests against you.

“I think you made the right choice then.” You pant into his mouth once the kiss breaks.

“I know I did.”

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

[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 (:

❤️

[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

[masterwords]

To Hell With the Salt

Summary: After a long, hard day, Penelope invites Hotch to stay for veggie omelets and surprises him with tequila (and maybe a hangover the following morning). Keeping secrets is a lot harder when tequila is involved. (Coda to 11x09 - Internal Affairs)

Warnings: alcohol (lots of it) & food, mention of blood/death (canon - based on episode) and Mayhem explosion/PTSD

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 3.5k

Read On AO3: To Hell With the Salt

Notes: This is for Hotch Appreciation Week Day 1 - Alternate Scene or Episode Ending, also coinciding with Comfortember Day 1 - Discovery. Inspired by an idea loaned to me by @kirstenseas AGES ago and I've finally managed to produce something viable with it.

Find the rest here: Hotch Appreciation Week, Comfortember 2021

Tag List: @84hotpockets, @crimefiqhters, @bau-gremlin, @genevievedarcygranger, @mayasreadingnook, @arsonhotchner, @scuttling, @hotchappreciationweek

**

Jalapeños.

Nothing wild, nothing out there. Just a simple offer of omelets with jalapeño in the middle of the night. She looked so hopeful, his weary heart couldn't turn her down. The day had been so long and so exhausting, maybe they both needed a win.

Tequila was where it went off the rails.

"Derek has a bottle hidden in his office somewhere..."

"You really shouldn't tell me things like that," he scolded, but it was gentle and laced with a smile, the kind that said he was being serious but he wasn't upset - they really needed to share less with him when it came to breaking rules, and maybe that was his fault, blurring those lines in more ways than most of them knew. Tonight wasn't going to help if tequila was involved. She just nodded her understanding and he still accepted her offer of a night cap. Already one glass of scotch in after his day spent rubbing elbows with people he'd rather not associate with regularly, at least not outside of professional settings, so really why not continue? At least he liked Penelope, it was already a drastic improvement.

Before he could change his mind (and she could see it in his eyes, he was already getting there the more he sobered up from his previous endeavor) Penelope scampered down the hall to Derek's office, hardly having waited for the entire answer to leave his lips. Once he began, once she knew where his answer was going, she was gone.

No time to lose. She kicked off her heels halfway there so she could go faster and in comfort, shuffling barefoot down the hallway like a child. She returned promptly, heels back on, with a full bottle of tequila sloshing around in her arms and a triumphant grin on her face, a welcome sight after the tears that still glistened on her cheeks. He glanced at his watch, eyeing the time and fired off a reluctant text to Jessica - he was going to commit, no backing out now. She was far too gracious, quickly telling him to stay out as late as he wanted and that she wouldn't wait up. She almost seemed eager as she followed it up with something sweet before he could type out a response. You deserve to have fun, Aaron, like she knew he was already second guessing his decision and trying to find an excuse to head home. She wasn't far off.

"The team are on their way," she hummed as she busied herself with the foil on the unopened bottle. "They should be back in a couple of hours." A pang of guilt settled in his belly when he realized what that meant - mountains of paperwork and days of explanations to everyone who had questions, the take down had been messy and Agents were in danger. He would have a lot of talking to do. That was the job, and it was only the start. Worse than any of that, he had to worry over whether Derek was hurt, what he'd seen, what new nightmares might keep them up at night. Endless concerns, and then there would be the questions from Derek about his day, many he wouldn't be able to answer. Arguments and hurt feelings.

Not tonight.

Penelope hummed as she cooked, using the jalapeño he'd chopped with care, sure not to let a single mince go to waste. Spice hung in the air, ravaged his sinuses and he rubbed his tired eyes.

“Here you go, sir,” she said, surprising him as he worried over the conversation he was going to need to have, the ramifications of this day, each time he sorted and filed one piece another took its place. A coffee mug appeared before him, hand outstretched and he accepted it with a soft thanks. “It's not exactly a margarita, but it's all I have. Sprite with a splash of lime juice and tequila...I don't think it'll age well, we should probably drink them fast. Are you okay, sir?” Staring into the mug, he was more than a little uneasy and trying to figure out when he'd last had tequila. There was a brief flash, sand and waves crashing warm against his ankles, a stack of shot glasses and a gallon of Cuervo on a breakfast bar beside lime wedges and hot sauces...a sunburn and Derek. Mexico, that was the last time he'd had tequila. He lifted his mug and nodded, ignoring her question unintentionally and offering her a cheers in its place.

“To friendship,” he whispered, eyes twinkling in the low light, the bright tears catching the lamp's glow. His suit felt a little tight already, too warm, and there was a heavy feeling in his chest. The tears, he could feel the way they burned and he forced himself not to blink, not to let them fall. The chirp of his car lock had shuddered through him in a way it hadn't in years, the memories clear as day while he stood back and considered not getting into the vehicle at all. He could have just walked, called a cab, not touched the handle. Paralyzed by long buried fear. The scotch, begrudgingly accepted more out of a sense of obligation than anything else, had smoothed frayed nerves, helped him forget the sound of the explosion, the lick of the flames but they were there now in the caustic smell of the tequila and the burn of the peppers wafting through the air. He couldn't escape it. At best he hoped to quiet the anxious feeling, stop his fingers worrying against one another. The tequila, he hoped, might make it go dormant again, help him at least forget the way his heart jumped into his throat as flesh touched metal.

“And hope,” he added with a final nod. “We'll get you out of here soon.”

“Hear, hear!” she squeaked through tears, more tears. He hadn't intended to make her cry again, yet there they were holding mugs of effervescent future misery side by side, both brimming with tears. She cried over him calling her a friend, as silly as it was, but him...why was he crying?

"Sir?" She eyed him suspiciously. "You never look particularly cheerful but you look...are you alright?"

He took a gulp and winced at the burn, the way the bubbles burst up into his nose and cleared his throat. "Hard day."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly," he replied softly and she nodded. "Thank you though."

"Of course, Aaron...anytime."

He was drunk fast, too fast, too easy. The world was softer, slower by the time he tried to focus enough to manage the fine motor skills of using a fork, pulling it to his mouth. She was right on his heels. The omelets provided a nice landing place for the tequila they were going through a little too quickly, and as a buffer she pulled out some tortilla chips and salsa. They laughed loud, probably too loud but who was there to complain?

"Wanna play a game?" she asked, watching the way his face seemed to fall after a few moments of silence. She couldn't allow it, and if he couldn't tell her what was wrong, she'd do her best to help him avoid it. He nodded and grinned, sloshing the liquid that was now more tequila than Sprite around in his mug - her pours had gotten considerably heavier as the night wore on. The curse of tequila. She dug an old Scrabble game out of a dusty drawer and by the time the team showed up, the board was a mess. Some real high score words, some terribly close but not quite, some just random letters thrown down because they looked funny side by side. They'd long since given up on playing the game by any real rules, now they were just making them up on a whim. She talked, he listened, they played. During one game, if you could pronounce the sounds of the letters and make the other person laugh hard enough, you could have the points. She was certain she had that one in the bag, but her skills were no match for his.

"Lawyer," he offered with a shrug as he peered at his tiles, tried to clear the double vision and pick some winners. She nodded, as if she followed his winding train of thought. It was a lie, she couldn't figure it out, so she offered an alternative that made sense to her.

"Dad," she said and he nodded, smiling.

"Yes. That, too."

In another version, he'd attempted to convince her of at least three words that Shakespeare had invented that you'd never find in a dictionary, proclaiming uselessly that they had definitions and rattling them off. There was no convincing her to budge on this one, she'd lost too many games to him already...even if he could produce the name of the play, the act and the line from which the word was pulled - she just laughed in his face and pushed the tiles back into his lap.

"I don't care where infamonize is in Love's Labor's Lost, it isn't in my dictionary so it isn't a word. You can't sway me with your pretty monologues, sir."

"Hey! Blondie!"

They both heard the shout from down the hall and froze. He was already curled up on the couch, his tired eyes having finally given up the ghost. The tiles had blurred into one wooden mess before him and there was not a thing he could do to change it - he'd tried, dumping his contacts and pulling out his glasses as a last resort. Not really sleeping, just laying curled up in a blanket with his glasses low on his nose listening to the sounds of David Bowie warbling ohhhh you pretty things...while Penelope told him a story, her words flying far too fast for him to keep up. He flinched at the sound of Derek's bellow, realized he was going to be in deep trouble, but it wasn't enough to make him sit upright or even open his eyes.

Derek would either find him, or leave him be to slowly die of dehydration. There was a bottle of water somewhere in his lap, fallen beneath the blankets but he couldn't muster the energy to search it out. The room spun in circles around him, slow and methodical rocking like he was adrift at sea. It didn't exactly make him dizzy but forced him to slow down, close his eyes, relax into it. Outside he heard the chirp of car locks, one two three and he hugged the pillow tighter to the ache in his chest, wondered how much tequila it would actually take to forget the way he'd felt just a few hours before, the way he hadn't felt in years and now it was fresh, like it never went away. Blood and shattered glass all he could see.

“Next time you're gonna steal my booze,” Derek continued, breezing into the room without stopping to consider what he would be interrupting. His go bag still hung over his shoulder, eyes narrowed to slits in the dark, he didn't see Aaron at first. He'd done a fine job of blending in, curling himself up tight beneath the blankets, Penelope's blankets. "Could you not destroy my office in the process?”

“You're back!” she stumbled out of her chair and flung her arms around his neck, pushing up onto the tips of her toes. She'd given up on the formality of her heels when Aaron slid out of his jacket, it seemed a fair trade. "My love, my light, I'm so glad you're all back safe and sound and OHHHH...you're in trouble you know that? Biiiiiiiig trouble. You and Dr. Lewis didn't take back-up...bad bad..."

"Woah," he said, scrunching up his nose at the smell of the booze on her breath. "Slow your roll. We didn't know that guy was the unsub, you know that, I was talking to you...wait, what's going on here?"

"Well," she started, still hanging around his neck. "Okay. I don't know, really, it's a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle bit fuzzy. See, it started with omelets. Or, back up...I was hungry, it was late but I didn't get a chance to have dinner and then Hotch came to talk to me and I was, I just...didn't want to be alone, and he had such a hard day here on his own and I thought...maybe he'd want to eat with me? So I asked him to eat with me and he said Jack was already in bed so why not and then I remembered the tequila in your office..." She was rambling, he was trying to keep up but his exhaustion was catching up to him faster than she could talk, a rough combination. "Now we're listening to David Bowie and talking...well I'm talking, he might be sleeping I don't know but did you know he's really really smart? He cheats at Scrabble though, I'm pretty sure..."

“Hotch...” Derek groaned and peeked around the fluff of her hair, shifted her to the side to get a better look at the man half alive on the couch. His lip twitched, a tiny smirk appearing right at the corner, just enough to be noticeable. Awake, but just barely. “You good?”

“Never better,” he lied as the smile spread to his entire face. His eyes remained closed, but he looked to be in very good spirits. “Sprite and tequila...not as bad as you would think...”

“Yeah. Right. Mama,” Derek warned, still holding her shoulders while he glared at her. She swayed like a leaf on a gentle breeze in his grasp, not enough to worry him but he struggled to keep her focus. He couldn't take another long story. Every few moments she opened her mouth like she wanted to say something and he furrowed his brow, quieting her instantly. “Here's what's happening. I'm gonna drive this man home and then I'm coming back...we need to have a talk.” Without giving her the chance for rebuttal, he helped the nearly sleeping man to his feet, steadied him there for a moment while Aaron forced his eyes open and tried to get his bearings. The floor rolled beneath him, he felt it up into his knees and he leaned hard against Derek, throwing one arm around his waist like it belonged there, quickly followed by the other. He held on like a baby koala, pressed his cheek against Derek's shoulder and finally he realized that this was how he forgot that awful feeling, the fear. This was his answer. Not scotch or tequila, he knew better, those only made things worse in the end. It had been Derek there before, with him in the street and at the hospital and driving him home, and it was Derek there now. It didn't fix the problem, but it did remind him that he was okay.

She had questions. Derek shushed her each time she opened her mouth to ask.

“My stomach is upset...” Aaron whispered, lost in his drunk fog that tasted an awful lot like regret but hoping Penelope wouldn't hear and feel guilty. Derek just nodded, he knew, and kissed him on the temple, walked him out the door without another word. He didn't fuss or argue, was pliant in Derek's arms.

Home was simple, Aaron slept the entire way, not a word shared between them. A pitcher of water and a glass, a bottle of ibuprofen, a handful of extra strength Tums and a trash can tucked right up beside the bed. Just in case. Jessica got a good laugh out of it when Derek told her, because even if she'd said she wouldn't wait up she always did, it was a force of habit far too old to break. She promised she'd listen for trouble while Derek was out, said it was her fault, she'd told him to have a good time.

"Never again," Derek said with a wink. "Not with that woman. Penelope can't be trusted."

It didn't take long for him to get back, the roads were empty enough that he could go a little too fast. It had just been enough time that she could clean up the mess, chug about a gallon of water and prepare her bed that now smelled just like whatever product Aaron used in his hair.

“I don't know what you were thinkin...” he announced, leaning in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. It was a little accusatory but mostly good-natured.

“I just...we just...”

“Oh, you just you just...” he was mocking her now, shaking his head. She didn't mind it, at least it told her he wasn't really mad. She hadn't done any real damage. The entire time they'd been gone she was worried she'd done something horribly wrong, maybe Aaron wasn't supposed to drink, maybe that tequila was special, a lot of maybes flew through her head as she forced herself to sober up and apologize.

“Is he okay?"

"He's sleepin' it off. Jessica's staying the night, he'll be okay. Might wanna take it easy around here tomorrow, huh? Seriously, Penelope, what were you thinking? He doesn't drink like that..."

"Hey. Okay, I made a mistake, it was a really hard day and I just thought...he looked like he needed...hey. Wait. Yeah I messed up but...but...you. You. YOU. What was...THAT?” And then there was this, it rose in her belly, beat at her chest, the indignity of feeling betrayed, lied to. Yeah, maybe she didn't need to get her boss drunk, that was stupid, and it would probably have consequences felt for days. She had a bed to crash on mere feet away but she hadn't considered where he'd be sleeping, how he would be getting home. Would he have been sleeping at his desk? And Derek was right, he didn't drink like that, he was doing it for her, to make her feel better and she felt awful, but then there was the arm and the kiss and she had QUESTIONS.

“No idea what you're talkin' about...” he feigned innocence, loved watching the way it got her all riled up. She was vibrating with anticipation and he ate it up. Pointedly, she played with the tea bag in her mug and stared at him, waiting for him to open up. A silent challenge. When it was clear to her that he had no intention of doing so, she set the mug down on the table and smacked him on the arm. “Keep your hands off of me, crazy lady.”

She eyed him warily while he gathered the dishes to wash, the last of the remnants from their wild two person party. “How long have you been lying to me?”

“Hey now,” he said softly, more than a little offended. He may not have told her everything, but he hadn't ever lied. "I don't like your tone."

“Don't you even, Derek Morgan...all those stories of girls you've been seeing...the...the...the roses and the weekend trip in New York and the...omigod...” Clarity was setting in but her mouth couldn't seem to keep up with the realizations.

“Okay wait a minute, I never said girls, first of all, you just assumed I meant girls...”

“So those were all...about...” Her breath hitched in her throat, she let out a soft little cough.

He grinned, waited for her to run through all of the stories she could remember, stories shared over late night glasses of wine ending in near misses, slips, an endless parade of nameless faceless girls replaced with her scowling but very handsome, well tailored boss. Moments he'd almost said too much, barely caught himself before saying a name, mentioning Jack but managed to keep it under wraps. She blushed, fell into the chair beside her with a dramatic thud.

“You are a monster. You...you two...for...how long?”

“Nevermind that, you little busybody. Now that you know what you know, your big, sexy mouth has to stay shut you understand me?”

She smirked and he shook his head, this was going to prove to be a challenge. Penelope, henceforth, was going to be insufferable. He wasn't looking forward to letting Aaron know that they'd been discovered, let the cat out of the bag with their affectionate shenanigans - Aaron had no idea what he'd done and Derek simply couldn't help it, it was already hard enough to keep his hands to himself on a normal day, this was too much. No more tequila for him.

“Go home, Derek Morgan. I want to go to bed and he needs you more than I do. See you...both...in the morning.”

[satchels-and-socks]

The First date

Pairing: Hotchgan

Warnings: cuteness overload, a little self doubt, and really cute Jack maybe a smidge of language.

Summary: Aaron and Derek go on their first official date and they decide to take Jack along

Aaron Hotchner Appreciation Week day four: family

Word count: 721 words

@hotchappreciationweek

"Jack, are you about ready?" Aaron called out from the living room back to Jack's bedroom.

The seven year old was currently pulling his dinosaur t-shirt over his head.

"I'm almost ready daddy, I'm just getting dressed. Do you think your new girlfriend will like me?" Jack asked quietly as he came out of his room he had on a T-Rex t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and mismatched socks, one pink sock and one black sock.

"Well Jack, my date tonight isn't exactly a girl. But, I already know this person really likes you and you've met them before. We're going out to have pizza and then we're going to a movie. Does that sound good to you?" Aaron asked with a big smile on his face.

The young kid nodded his head enthusiastically ask Jack started to put his shoes on, tying them slowly but with great precision.

"Yeah that sounds amazing. I can't wait to go I'm extra hungry too. So Daddy you're going out with a guy? That's actually really cool."Jack had the biggest grin on his face.

"So you're okay with me dating another guy? You don't think it's weird at all?" Aaron asked softly with a gentle smile on his face.

"Nope! Not weird at all daddy, that's actually really cool. I mean if you really like this guy and you to get married I could have two daddies."Jack smiled brightly.

"I mean he already thinks of you as his own. I think you're going to have a really good time tonight."Aaron smiled as he checked Jack's shoes making sure they were tied tightly and helped him with his coat.

Aaron was extremely happy as he got into the core after making sure Jack was buckled up in the backseat. He drove to the local Pizza Hut just across town and he smiled, noticing Derek's vehicle.

Derek looked up at the door smiling when he seen Aaron and waved awkwardly at Aaron and Jack.

"Oh my goodness you do love Uncle Derek!"Jack squeaked as both Derek and Aaron look at him tilting their heads.

"See Uncle Spencer told me you two loved each other. He saw all of the signs and I saw them too about damn time you two got together." Jack smiled brightly as he sat down at the table beside Derek.

Aaron and Derek couldn't help but chuckle looking at Jack smiling brightly.

The three of them enjoyed a great evening together having a nice dinner at Pizza Hut and enjoying a movie together. Before going their separate ways Jack looked up at both of them smiling.

"Derek I'm so happy you're with my daddy."Jack whispered softly as Derek picked up Jack giving him a little kiss on the news.

"I'm glad I'm with your daddy too even though he can be stubborn at times."Derek smiled softly putting Jack back down on the ground.

"I mean you're pretty stubborn yourself."Aaron chuckled as he started to get Jack ready to go that was their first of many dates involving Jack.

That night was the start of a beautiful relationship between Derek, Aaron, and Jack.

Then one day about three weeks after their first date one of many dates that followed Jack was hanging out with Penelope in her bat cave.

"Penelope! I got a secret! I got a secret!"Jack shouted, clapping his hands.

"What's the secret little man?" Penelope smiled widely, hanging on every word Jack was saying.

"Daddy and uncle Derek are dating!" Jack looked up at Penelope with his eyes filled with love and joy.

"Oh baby boy, I'm glad they finally went out on our first official date. But, that's no secret that they looked at each other."Penelope snorted.

"So you guys knew they love each other but kept quiet because daddy wasn't ready to let it be known?"Jack asked with a big smile on his face.

"Of course little one and we're so happy that your daddy found somebody that he can be really happy with. You must be really happy that you have two daddies." Penelope smiled, giving Jack a little kiss on the forehead.

"Yes I'm very happy.''Jack smiled, clapping his hands he was truly happy and he was really happy that his daddy was happy.

The end...

[nathanbatemanfucker]

let’s goooooooooo

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 bog 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:

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

[ropoto]

AARON HOTCHNER APPRECIATION WEEK | DAY 6 FAVOURITE ARC - ROMANCE WITH BETH CLEMMONS

@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

[ssamorganhotchner]

Aaron Hotchner Appreciation Week

Saturday, Day 6 - Favorite Arc

the most heartbreaking & my absolute favorite, George Foyet. Omnivore is my all time favorite cm episode ever. Absolutely spectacular. And then when I watched 100, it made me cry more than any movie/TV episode ever had before and I was in emotional pain for about 45min afterwards. Wonderful episode, phenomenal acting, but tore my heart into SHREDS.

ANYWAYS. Haley Hotchner did not deserve that.

-> @hotchappreciationweek

❤️

[jaspxr]

I catch killers, I save lives, I am a hero until my key hits my front door and then I am just the father and the husband who is never there. Here's the thing: when I am home, I am in this silent panic because I know that I have to be as good as I can, as fast as I can, because any minute the phone is gonna ring and my time is up.                  

          ↬ Aaron Hotchner ‘Ashes and Dust’ 2x19

@hotchappreciationweek  ↬ Favourite (heart breaking) quote

[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

[masterwords]

Made to be Broken

Summary: Hotch lied to everyone about Emily's death and has to face them upon her return. (Coda to 07x01 - It Takes A Village)

Warnings: grief, food, weight loss, stomach pain, depression, anxiety, a little frisky business but it's VERY brief, swearing

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 3.4k

Notes: This is for Hotch Appreciation Week Day 7 - "I Don't Deserve You", also coinciding with Comfortember Day 7 - Insecurity. @hotchappreciationweek. I promise, we will have a happy ending.

Find the rest here: Hotch Appreciation Week, Comfortember 2021

**

You're damn right I'm angry. It's never been hard to fall into Hotch and Morgan, to talk like colleagues who trust and respect but barely like each other during work hours. It's always been easy to let it go, speak like lovers who can't keep their hands off of each other after hours. Until now. Until Aaron has to ask Derek how he's coping with the loss of Emily, until he has to talk to him about the five stages of grief and hear how angry he is all while knowing...he feels a stabbing pain in his side and he tries not to flinch while Derek talks about killing the sonofabitch who killed her. It takes his breath away but he uses it, nods and agrees...he's angry too. Until he has to go home and hold Derek as he cries because he couldn't save her, and he can't seem to remember if he's Hotch keeping a secret or if he's Aaron comforting his partner? The lines are blurring.

Penelope cries and tells him she wants to remember Emily's life and all the ways she made her smile rather than talk about her death, Spencer's a wreck, Dave is concerned about him of course. Deflecting in the same way he does; for all the ways they're different they can be so alike sometimes. I know you grieve privately, he says and Aaron has to stop himself saying a word, just chews the inside of his lip and nods, feels his stomach twist itself in knots. It's been a hard year. He tries to keep a straight face as he agrees, yes it has.

He's in bed, it's late and Derek's hands are all over him and his back is arching and there is sweat but he's not really there, he's somewhere else. He shouldn't have to pretend, not with Derek, not like this. Trust, he tells himself as he collapses exhausted in a heap against Derek's chest and closes his eyes to ward off the sting of tears. They cry all the time now, one after another, for Emily and for Haley and for the life they could have if not for the evil of men. Derek thinks they cry because they miss her, because she's gone, because he couldn't save her. He wonders how many of them blame him for not saving her, Aaron knows they'll hate him when they find out he did.

They're in this together.

He's stretched out across Derek's lap, lounging comfortably while they watch a movie with Jack and it's all he can do to accept the touch, to return it without feeling guilty. He's a liar. He watches Derek fall apart and he doesn't say a word. He should, he should spill it all but he keeps quiet - how could he share with Derek and not all of them? And yet...how can he sit here and not say anything?

He doesn't argue when they want to send him on temporary assignment overseas. It's better for everyone that way, even the Director and Strauss know that, it's why they do it. His vault is tight but he's only human and there is too much riding on his ability to keep a secret. While it's fresh, while the wounds are still raw, it's best if they remove him. He doesn't argue. They don't need a leader who lies to their faces, who walks past Emily's photo every morning knowing she's out there, who sees them staring at her smile with tears in their eyes. He would have done the same if it were any of them, lay down his life and his honor for them but when he looks in the mirror he sees a monster and they deserve better.

Derek doesn't need to wake up every morning to a man who is lying to him.

How long might it go on? Years? A lifetime? Doyle's in no hurry, like Foyet he can wait patiently on vengeance. And Aaron, like Shaugnessy before him, finally understands The Deal, he's crafted one of his own. The cost is peace.

I did it to save lives, he said.

It wasn't your call to make.

I know, and you'll have to answer for my sins. Who will take his confession when it's time?

Derek's arms wrap around his waist and he buries his face in Aaron's neck, asks him once more if he really has to go. He knows it's useless to argue, knows it's only temporary but it's dangerous and it's so far away. Suddenly being thrust into fatherhood, he'll have Jessica but it's still going to be him and Jack.

“You'll hardly know I'm gone,” Aaron whispers, leaning in to the embrace a little too hard. He knows it's a lie, or at least he hopes it is. He wants to be missed.

Pakistan is hot, he says and he smiles into the camera, tired eyes focused hard on the three faces smashed together, each vying for his attention. He lets a beard grow because he thinks it fills in the hollows of his cheeks, covers the sharp angle of his chin. It won't scare Jack to see him looking the way he does but he doesn't like it. “It looks itchy,” Jack whines and Aaron agrees, it is, especially when it's hot and he gets sweaty but he doesn't get a chance to shave as often as he'd like. A harmless lie, he hopes. Jess and Derek go on and on about how he looks too thin when Jack is out of earshot. “Are you eating?” she'll say, and she glances at Derek knowingly, but of course Aaron just says yes. Camera angles, he says, and they take him at his word even if neither believes it.

“You've lost fifteen pounds since being here,” the doctor says as a gust of hot wind blows through the medical tent. Aaron's hands are folded in his lap and he nods, he knows, he remembers cutting a new hole in his belt to keep his pants up and he's acutely aware that the one shirt of Derek's he brought to sleep in hangs off of him like he's a store mannequin. “Five more pounds and we have to send you home, I'm under strict orders to watch things like this. It happens often and there can be serious repercussions, Agent Hotchner. You need to eat.”

“I am,” he defends, exasperated by the same conversation over and over. “But it hurts.” They've been bringing his weight loss up for weeks now and in a very uncharacteristic move, he hasn't been lying to the doctors. Not about that, he has no reason to. Eating makes his stomach hurt and they say its the stress, the travel, the unfamiliar foods. Give it time they say, but sometimes it burns or it comes with stabbing pains and he throws it back up night after night. I give up, he says. Please help me. They run blood tests for everything they can think of but he's clean as a whistle, in tip top shape. The equipment they have is rudimentary, and the doctor, with his limited knowledge of Aaron's medical history, thinks it's likely he has an ulcer, tells him there isn't much they can do for him where they are and gives him a special diet to follow to try and reduce the pain. Ulcers don't always present this way, but given your history...he doesn't buy it, there has to be something more, but he's willing to try anything at this point. His options in the mess tent are extremely limited and the diet really doesn't help but it doesn't make it worse and somehow he manages not to lose more weight, at least not fast enough to worry anyone. That last 5lbs holds on.

He manages to stay until his team needs him, until Derek calls him about Doyle.

“It's worse in person,” Derek says as Aaron steps off the plane. He's solemn, his head hurts and he's exhausted but he falls into Derek's arms and even if he knows the entire world is about to come crashing in on him, he lets himself have this one moment. This one good thing. The flight was long and try as he might to sleep, he couldn't – everything he'd left behind was rushing toward him at full speed. His lies are a powder keg and he knows that the spark is on its way. “My mom would have a fit if she saw you.”

“The beard isn't that bad,” he counters and Derek grabs his hand, forces him to stop just before they reach the SUV. Aaron won't meet his eyes, he's out of practice, the lies won't hold anymore and Derek's hand comes to rest on his stomach, where once there was a soft round curve is now concave. There is nothing left of the man who left seven months ago.

“I'm not talkin' about the beard...” The rest goes unsaid as his hand strokes the sharp angles of Aaron's jaw. He nods, he knows, somehow he'd just hoped not to have this conversation. Not now, maybe not ever.

“I've been to the doctor,” he offers, because suddenly the lies just have to stop. He's in too deep. "There's nothing wrong." It has to be enough for now, they have places to be, he has trust to shatter.

Months ago he was sure that watching Emily die was the hard part.

And then he thought hiding her from the team, and ultimately himself, was the hard part. It couldn't get worse than that, knowing she was alive and that he couldn't have access to her, that he couldn't tell anyone else. He had to let Derek believe he hadn't done enough, hadn't gotten there in time. She wasn't dead, but she may as well have been.

“I should have let you go when you wanted,” he whispered over her as he tried to say goodbye. He didn't cry, not then, but every day after.

Now, as he stands facing them with the truth, waiting for her to show up...well he never considered this part, but this...this was the hard part.

The air is sucked from the room Emily walks in, exactly as he expected. His breath hitches in his throat, he'd known she was alive but it startles him anyway, seeing her there in front of him. He looks at Spencer first, he already knows how he's going to take it and that there will be a lot of damage control ahead, they may not come out of this okay. Glancing at Penelope he only sees tears, he's not surprised. Dave looks elated, not necessarily shocked either...that one he's going to have to ask Dave about, if there was a leak or if he just trusted Aaron so little already that anything he said was deemed a lie the moment it crossed his lips.

And then Derek. He looks at her for a moment and Aaron can feel it in his gut, the stabbing pain, his “ulcer” that he's sure is just trapped lies and guilt...he can feel it and he presses his fingers into his side, digs right into the source of the pain. It's the worst that it has ever been, throbbing beneath his fingertips and he thinks he might be sick. There is hurt, and desperation that flashes across Derek's features, the way his face falls into inexplicable sadness...that's aimed at Aaron. He's not mad, he doesn't see anger, it's something worse. Aaron might be a liar but he's not a coward, he doesn't look away. In his eyes Derek can see it all. I'm sorry I wanted to tell you please forgive me it's actually killing me, can you see it? Derek takes in the sunken cheeks beneath the shadow of his beard, the jutting collar bones that show through his soft cotton shirt, the shadows of ribs he longed to run his fingers along and he understands now. He can see the way Aaron holds a phantom pain in his side, like he's keeping himself from falling apart and he can't find it in himself to be truly angry...there isn't a word for what he feels and that's frustrating.

“I'm not mad,” he says, cornering Aaron later. “I'm not. She's alive...how can I be mad about that? But I think I need some time...to myself...”

“Derek...” Aaron pleads, ready to offer any and all explanation, ready to admit to every fork-tongued lie and Derek shakes his head solemnly.

“Please...don't say anything, not now. I'll see you later, okay?”

In the shower, his first stateside, Aaron cries. Jack is in bed, already fast asleep. Derek had come by to make dinner because that was what he did and they weren't ready to shift Jack's routines, not yet. This is his routine, Derek comes home from work and he and Jess cook and clean and visit, like a family. Aaron has been away half a year and it feels like a lifetime for a child. Derek was the father that Aaron was not and they would pull him back in slowly, ease themselves back into being a family if they could. With the weight of the pending Senate Committee on his shoulders, the suspension for the entire team as a result of his orders and his actions, he stands there beneath the water and lets his tears be washed away by the hot water.

“I'm comin' in,” Derek announces, more a warning than a request. He'd just finished cleaning up from dinner, picking up the last of the day's mess and said goodnight to Jess. She didn't even have to come over, they hadn't worked that day, she just wanted to be there. In his hand he holds a tin of shaving cream and a razor. “Before I can move on...figure out how to deal with this...I need to see you.” Aaron frowns, drags his hands down his cheeks, digs fingertips into the beard even he isn't convinced belongs there.

“Is it really that bad?”

“No,” Derek offers with a small smile and a shrug. “Honestly, it's not a bad look...but it isn't you. If you want to grow a beard, you do it in front of me so I can watch, so I can love every hair as it grows, get to know every patch that comes in gray or doesn't come in at all...this is just another layer for you to hide beneath. It's a constant reminder of lies. I'm gonna give us both a clean slate.”

Aaron smiles through his tears. He raises his chin, lets Derek shave him. It's gentle and swift, not the first time and, he hopes, not the last time. It's one of Derek's favorite things to do, claims he just does a better job, he doesn't miss spots. He started doing it after Foyet, when Aaron simply couldn't do it and now it's just better this way.

Aaron can't argue, sometimes his hands shake, he misses patches near his adam's apple, up on his cheek bones, Derek gets them all. If Aaron offers to return the favor, Derek shakes his head and refuses.

“There you are,” he whispers, dropping the shaving supplies to the rug outside of the tub. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Derek doesn't stay, he says he's not ready yet. Aaron had been hopeful that the shower had been a sign of forgiveness, but Derek wasn't there yet. “I do forgive you,” he says on his way out the door. “I just...need some time before I can trust you. It's a lot to take in.”

“All the time in the world,” Aaron admits softly, because there's nothing else he can say. He's not going anywhere, not again. “I'll wait.”

An entire case goes by without Derek staying over, but on the job he's the same Derek as ever. He speaks freely with Aaron like nothing happened, he doesn't seem bitter. He smiles, he's kind, but he's not coming over anymore. Aaron's on his own for dinner and bed time, muddling his way through remembering how to be a father after so long on his own.

“Where's Derek?” Jack asks as he brushes his teeth, and Aaron sighs.

“Daddy made a mess,” he replies, as honestly as he can. “I did something that I thought was the right thing, but I had to lie about it and it hurt a lot of people...”

“Emily?” Jack asks, because he listens when they don't think he does. He hears everything, and she was his loss too.

“Yeah, buddy. Are you mad at me too? It's okay if you are...”

“A little...” A crushing blow, but he's glad Jack is willing to be honest with him. It's more than he dared hope for.

“I understand, and I'm sorry. What I did...the lies I told. They protected Emily. I don't regret them, because she's alive and she's back with us, but they hurt a lot of people I love and I know that takes time to heal. Can you forgive me?”

“Can I call Derek to say goodnight?” Jack will forgive him, he knows it, but he can have this time just like everyone else. He's floating around them all, waiting for them to accept him back one by one. Dave never faltered, told Aaron right away he already had a feeling there was more to it than what was being said. He's got JJ and Dave in his corner, the rest are going to take longer...even Jack. He's not sure if Jack is upset about him lying about Emily, or if he's simply upset that it's disrupted his life and he misses Derek.

“Of course,” he replies, and he offers his phone, lets Jack take it in his room for some privacy. By the time he pokes his head inside, Jack is asleep with the phone on his nightstand. He'd like to call Derek too, but he won't, not tonight.

Time.

He puts on one of Derek's shirts and it hangs too lose around his thin frame, he's hungry but eating isn't any better now than it was in Pakistan. Dinner had been bland, fit right into the doctor's prescribed diet and still hurt. Not the food, he knows. That last 5lbs is gone but no one is watching so close now that he's stateside again. It's tied to something outside of his control and he's just got to live with the choices he's made.

Dave's house is a refuge from the storm. The team are smiling, even Spencer, and he smiles too. Dave is spouting off nonsense that makes them all laugh, he's forcing them to hold their wine glasses and not drink any, he's making jokes at their expense and they eat it up. There is an ease in the room that none of them have felt in so long. They're whole again with Emily and JJ there, with him there.

Whole, a feeling none of them have had in too long.

“You guys got room for me tonight?” Derek asks as Aaron slips into his jacket, ready to go home. He stops short, looks at the driveway and notes that Derek's car isn't there. “I got a ride from Penelope...” he adds, knowing where Aaron's mind has gone. “Was kinda hoping I might not be going home tonight.”

“Jack misses you...” Aaron whispers, and Derek's hands are already finding their favorite resting place on his hips, right in front of everyone. It had been so long since he'd felt that rush. Derek's thumbs press against his hip bones, their jagged edges above the waist of his jeans and he can't mask the concern on his face.

“I'm eating,” he says before Derek has a chance to mention it. He's not even sure it helps, knowing how he looks and that he is eating.

“Really.” It's complicated. Derek can almost circle Aaron's narrow waist with his hands. An eyebrow shoots up and Aaron sighs. “I'm fine.”

“And you?” Derek asks, ignoring Aaron's desperate pleas for him not to be worried. They'll discuss this part later. Always later. “Do you miss me too?”

“Of course I do. Derek...I don't deserve you...” he says, and Derek grins.

“You're such a sap.”

Aaron nods, and there are tears in his eyes. After everything they'd gone through, he isn't afraid to show it. For once.

“So, whaddya say? Got room for me tonight?” Derek asks and Aaron nods.

“Always.”

[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.

[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