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ssa-dado · 2 days ago

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Three Stages of Truth - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff and a lot of fun bits Summary: After years of adhering to the FBI's "no dating coworkers" policy, you and Aaron finally crossed the line, keeping your relationship hidden behind a professional facade. The team, amused by your strict boundaries, continuously poked fun at your stoic, near-platonic interactions. Despite this, once you were home, everything changed. Three fun scenarios lead to one undeniable truth. Warnings: probably there's a short NSFW bit, nothing scandalous, minors can probably still interact (?) idk sue me Word Count: 10.4k Dado's Corner: The first two parts are heavily inspired by the delightfully unhinged brainrots exchanged with @c-losur3 (bless your criminally brilliant lawyer mind, this is all pure comedy). Finally expanded into something more fun… or at least, I hope so! Hopefully I met your expectations with your request, took some creative liberties just to keep you on your toes :)

masterlist

Arthur Schopenhauer, German philosopher, once said: “All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.”

---

Stage one: “First, it is ridiculed.”

If there was one defining characteristic that bound you and Aaron together more than any other, it was your deeply ingrained sense of duty.

Duty to the job, to the rules, to the team.

This profound sense of responsibility was what held you apart for so long, faithfully upholding the FBI's strict "no dating coworkers" policy, a rule neither of you dared to transgress.

It was that deep sense of responsibility that kept you and Aaron apart for so long, both of you strictly adhering to the FBI’s “no dating coworkers” rule. It was a line neither of you dared to cross… until, one day, you did.

When you finally took that step, it wasn’t as if everything suddenly became easier. If anything, your dedication to your roles only deepened. Years of hiding your true feelings had trained you well, knowing how to navigate each other’s professional boundaries came almost naturally.

And it wasn’t just about personal pride or discipline - it was about a shared commitment to keeping the team dynamic intact and not letting personal matters disrupt the work you were all so devoted to.

Worried that your relationship might disrupt that delicate balance, you both chose to keep it private for as long as possible. Every interaction at the office was carefully managed, every glance controlled. Even in moments when you wanted to let your guard down, you reminded yourselves what was at stake.

And when you finally told the team, it wasn’t accompanied by a sigh of relief or a relaxing of your professional façade, instead, you doubled down.

Pure stoicism.

No touching.

No lingering eye contact.

What the team found undeniably funny - and maybe enjoyed a little too much - was that back when you and Hotch were just “partners”, you were actually more relaxed around each other: a comforting hand on the shoulder every once in a while, sitting close together on the jet, chatting easily about anything and everything.

Now, you barely allowed yourselves even a fleeting glance. You maintained such deliberate distance that every rare look felt like you were cautiously measuring out tiny doses of affection from a secret reserve.

"Why don’t you two just kiss in front of us once, so we can actually remember you’re a couple?" they would jest during briefings, fully aware that the likelihood of such a display was on par with the office coffee machine working on a Monday morning.

However, this only seemed to encourage them to find even more creative ways to poke fun at you. During tactical briefs, a simple "Pass the stapler, please," from you to him could warrant theatrical gasps and someone fanning themselves as if witnessing an affair.

Or watching you navigate the halls with military precision, they’d nudge each other, whispering dramatically, "Alert, potential accidental eye contact in three, two, one... Oh, never mind, false alarm!"

In reality, the one thing that could actually make you falter was when the case wrapped up and all the tension, the sleepless nights, everything came down to a single moment.

All you both wanted was to collapse into each other’s arms, but instead, the only physical contact you allowed yourselves was a strangely formal handshake - stiff and awkward, yet somehow managed to carry the weight of all the unspoken longing between you, a small tradition of yours.

"Good job catching the unsub," you’d say, your voice steady, though your eyes shimmered with a warmth reserved just for him.

"Good job deciphering the pattern," Aaron would reply. His tone was calm, but his eyes lingered on yours a moment too long, betraying his deeper emotions.

In a daring whisper, you might lean in closer and murmur, "You looked insanely hot in that vest. I’m dying to jump your bones right now."

"I know, darling, but we can't," Aaron would reply, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "And by the way, if you could stop tying your hair up when I’m around, it would make things a lot easier."

You and Aaron had mastered the art of subtle flirtation, weaving little moments of connection into the everyday rhythm of work. Casual comments, quiet glances, nothing obvious, just enough to remind each other of what was waiting for you both at the end of the day.

If someone happened to get too close, you could easily switch back into "professional mode," talking about the case with ease, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

But once you were home, everything changed.

The moment the door closed behind you, it was like a switch flipped. Suddenly, you were no longer bound by the rules of the office. In your shared space, the weight of professional conduct melted away. You could finally let go - drop your bags, let the tension fade - and just reach for him. Your arms would find their way around his neck, as if you'd been waiting for this all day.

“Long day?” he’d ask, voice softened in a way that no one else ever heard.

“Long,” you’d murmur back, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you even realized you’d missed him. “But I think I can be persuaded to relax,” you’d add, letting a sly smile tug at your lips.

He’d shake his head, but his hands would find your waist, pulling you close. “I’m sure you’re very persuadable,” he’d reply, and the warmth in his voice would melt away whatever stress lingered from the day.

There was no one to see you both now, no one to maintain appearances for, and the freedom was almost intoxicating.

You’d end up on the couch, half-curled into his side, legs intertwined, as you both debriefed each other not just on the day’s work but on everything that made you who you were, stealing kisses every few minutes just because you could.

When paperwork demanded attention, it quickly transformed into another reason to stay close. You’d find yourself on Aaron’s lap, either at the dining table or settled into the couch, one arm draped around his neck as you both tried - mostly in vain - to concentrate on the documents in front of you.

More often than not, the papers would end up slightly crumpled, bearing witness to the playful struggles and distractions that ensued whenever one of you became too immersed in the task - or, more accurately, when the task became anything but the focus.

With a subtle wiggle, ostensibly just an innocent adjustment, you grinned up at him. “This is just more comfortable,” you declared, your tone overly serious as if you hadn’t used that same excuse every time you sat on his lap.

His eyes narrowed, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Comfortable for you, maybe,” he murmured, his hands settling on your waist, fingers drawing slow, deliberate circles on your skin that sent your heart racing.

You stretched, arching slightly, your lips brushing the spot behind his ear that you knew he loved. "Are you saying you’re uncomfortable, Agent Hotchner?" you teased, your lips still grazing his skin, before pulling back to face him as though nothing had happened. "Because we can always switch back to a more professional arrangement."

He chuckled, a rich, low sound that reverberated against your ear. "It’s only unprofessional if we’re caught," he replied, as your hand began to roam up and down the middle of his chest, your movements slowed by the bumps of his shirt buttons.

You feigned shock, your hand pausing in its path up his chest. "SSA Hotchner, suggesting we shirk our duties? I'm scandalized." Your tone was light, teasing, your fingers now slipping beneath his shirt to trace the warm skin of his torso. His slight gasp was your reward, and you pressed your advantage, your touch bold and exploring.

"And yet, you're not too scandalized to stop what you're doing, are you?" he observed, his gaze lowering to the chaos of papers that had begun to scatter across the table as you moved to straddle him, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his hips. He immediately moved his hands to rest on your waist.

"Shock makes us irrational," you quipped, biting your lower lip. Your left hand rested at the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair to draw him closer, while your right hand played provocatively with the belt loop of his trousers.

His eyebrow arched, a sculpted line of mock sternness that didn't quite mask the flicker of desire in his eyes. As your fingers playfully tugged at his belt, a barely audible hitch caught in his throat. “Oh, I think the real shock came last week,” he murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing tease, “when you chose to critique my punctuation on that witness statement - while we were busy on the coffee table. And, of course, it wasn’t even an error.”

You paused, holding his gaze with a look of feigned innocence, your hands slid slowly over his shoulders, fingers tracing the hard lines of his upper back as you leaned in closer. "I never said it was an error. I just suggested that a semicolon would’ve made that paragraph flow better." Your fingers danced closer to the waistband of his trousers, hinting at further provocations yet to come.

"And you expected a revision on the spot?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his voice a blend of amusement and disbelief. "You’re lucky that I was too distracted by other things." He adjusted your positioning slightly, sliding your hands from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him so that the closeness allowed you to feel the firm pressure of his arousal.

“Lucky?! Look, it’s not my fault that, in that position, all I could see were your terrible stylistic choices,” you breathed out, your voice a sultry whisper as you began to kiss along the side of his face, tracing a path from his forehead down to his ear. “They were staring me in the face, begging to be corrected.”

His response was a teasing smile, his eyes alight with mirth as he leaned in, his lips barely brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “You could’ve told me, and we could’ve tried something else.”

“Oh, no chance,” you retorted boldly, your smile laden with mischief. “From now on, it’s sex on the coffee table or nothing .”

He smirked, starting to place wet kisses on your neck, letting sounds escape from you. "Alright, but don't start complaining about ink smudges on your blouse this time."

"There won’t be any smudges if you just took it off. There’s a reason undressing is the first rule in the manual, you know?" you raised an eyebrow as you guided his hand from your waist up to your breasts, earning an amused look from him as he began unbuttoning your blouse.

And, inevitably, the papers would crinkle beneath you both, completely forgotten, scattering in a mess neither of you cared about. The only certainty was that later you would need to reprint half of those, but that's exactly why you had invested in a printer for your home office in the first place.

And, inevitably, the papers would crinkle beneath you both, forgotten, replaced by the quiet, magnetic pull that seemed to dissolve every responsibility the moment you were alone together.

Then, there were the slower nights, the ones where words weren’t necessary. You’d find yourselves wrapped up in a blanket, his arm around you, your head resting on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat, each beat sounding more like home.

He loved to stroke your hair, twisting the strands between his fingers. He would trace the curve of your shoulder, his touch a promise that echoed in the walls of your empty house, all without needing to say a thing.

Until he would.

"I love you," he'd say, quiet but direct, because he knew how much words meant to you and always would. It didn’t matter if it was the twentieth time he said it that day, he would keep saying it, never once straying from his purpose.

"I love you too, Aaron," you'd reply smiling, looking up at him, watching the way his eyes softened. His hand would brush yours, fingers intertwining in that familiar dance that he always led to his mouth, kissing your hand while still intertwined with his.

When he caught you blushing, though, that’s when the real teasing would start. “Are you blushing?” he’d ask, eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned in closer, his grin widening as he watched the flush spread down your neck.

“Maybe,” you’d huff, trying to look away, though he wouldn’t let you, his fingers lifting your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed, you know that?” he’d murmur, his voice a low rumble, making it impossible to resist smiling.

“Pretty sure you’re blushing too, Hotchner,” you’d shoot back, arching an eyebrow. And sure enough, a faint hint of pink would dust his cheeks, and he’d laugh, pulling you into another kiss.

“Guess we’re both fools, then,” he’d say, his voice softer, that rare smile reserved just for you.

You’d settle in for the night, curled up on the couch, your legs tangled together, his arms around you, holding you close. Sometimes you’d talk for hours, sharing stories, inside jokes that made no sense to anyone else but always made him laugh, that deep, genuine laugh that seemed to shake away every shadow he’d carried with him.

In the kitchen, he’d steal kisses over the stove as you cooked together, hands brushing as you reached for spices, your bodies leaning into each other in that rhythm you’d both grown to know so well. You’d nudge him with your hip as he tried to take over, insisting he was better at chopping vegetables.

“Let me handle this,” you’d say, swatting his hand away, only for him to pull you into a kiss, completely derailing your focus.

“Or maybe,” he’d murmur against your lips, “we could just order takeout and go back to the couch.”

“Terrible influence,” you’d reply, but you’d never actually order takeout; you enjoyed doing tasks together way too much, even if it meant sometimes letting him cut the vegetables, letting him win - after all, it was in his nature.

Lawyers always do everything to win, skillfully bending the law to meet their needs - and Aaron, he'd willingly bend you over the counter. You weren't quite sure whether to be flattered by that, considering it meant you were his personal law.

Hours passed like that in a blur, lost in each other’s presence, the outside world never seemed to matter, it was just the two of you, existing in your own little bubble.

But that wasn’t something you allowed the team to see. It was an unspoken rule between you and Aaron - quiet and composed in public, free and true to yourselves in private.

And it had worked.

Or at least, you thought it had, until one day, the team decided they’d had enough - if you two weren’t going to let them see the real deal, they’d just have to… intervene.

It started innocently enough, with Garcia orchestrating what she dubbed a "team-building" exercise focused on open communication. The twinkle in her eye was your first hint that mischief was afoot.

Morgan delivered the coup de grâce with a wide, victorious grin, making a seemingly casual announcement that sent ripples of mischief across the cabin. "Oh no, looks like the lovebirds have to sit next to each other for the entire trip! Sorry, guys. Plane’s tight this time.”

Hotch, clearly not about to let the team’s evil plan play out in full while you all had to start briefing about the latest case, immediately shut down the smiles with a sharp, stern remark. “What, you think we’re going to cuddle on the way to a triple homicide?”

Honestly, every time he could command an entire room with that dry humor of his, you wanted to jump his bones.

You couldn’t help it, it got you every time. Your man was pure authority wrapped in a smart suit and perfectly timed jokes.

Despite what everyone might assume, Aaron was actually the kinder one in the relationship. While he had the sharp, lawyerly precision to cut things off before they became problems, always quick to resolve matters - you, on the other hand, were far worse.

You didn’t rush to fix things or settle for easy solutions.

No, your method was more intricate, more drawn out sometimes it required humiliation before you got to the point. You were a master of patience, allowing people to dig themselves into a hole first, letting them build their own assumptions, and only then would you pounce, proving them wrong in the most delightful way possible.

Being a philosopher at heart, you liked to draw things out, just to let people stew a little bit in their own misguided assumptions.

In these instances, your strategy was pure, calculated evil - a slow burn of sweet, sweet revenge that only you could orchestrate.

Morgan's comment, far from a mere joke, sparked something much more dangerous within you - the thrilling anticipation of proving to them that they really didn't want to know what you and Aaron were truly like behind your professional facades.

“If we're traveling real tight this time, I guess I’ll just have to sit on your lap, Aaron,” you quipped, batting your eyes innocently at him.

Hotch blinked, his usual composed demeanor faltering for a split second, clearly caught off guard by your bold move. You could already see the faintest flush creeping across his cheeks, a rare crack in his otherwise impenetrable exterior.

But then, a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the realization dawning on him that this was just the beginning of one of your devious plans.

He was, after all, your favorite partner in mischief. With a teasing glint in his eye, he patted his lap, a mock invitation and you wasted no time, making yourself comfortable on top of him.

The game was on.

“So,” you began, snuggling into him with exaggerated sweetness, “Hotch, you ever think about triple homicides?”

If you ever called him that in private, he’d probably have walked out on the spot, but here, in the middle of the case, using his work name felt like the only boundary left between you and the truth. It was the one little shield that kept the line between professionalism and the chaos of your relationship.

“All the time, Teach” Hotch murmured back, his voice low and humorously serious while his hand carelessly rested on your thigh, in its natural position.

Garcia, who ‘coincidentally’ happened to be traveling with you that day, shifted excitedly in her seat, mouthing "OTP" as she gave you both an enthusiastic thumbs-up, her delight in your theatrics clear as day.

Meanwhile, Reid looked on with wide eyes, his academic mind probably filing this under 'unexpected field observations’. "I... I think I should call my mom more often," he muttered, seemingly to himself but loud enough for others to hear. "I don’t think I show enough... affection."

Hotch’s fingers inched higher up your inner thigh at the mention of ‘affection,’ tracing patterns that almost made you question whether or not to intertwine your fingers with his to make him stop. You leaned in to whisper something cheeky into his ear, only for him to capture your lips with a swift kiss.

Now this, was unexpected.

His bold move even caught Rossi’s attention, who had been trying - and failing - to bury himself in paperwork, clearly uninterested in the team's antics. But Rossi had endured the deliciously excruciating tension between you and Hotch for far longer than anyone else. After all, there was a reason he still had that picture of you at his book release party in '99 hanging on his office wall - right in plain sight, as if to remind everyone who had been in on this secret for years, even before you two.

So you played it up even more, leaning in with a dramatic flair. "I love you," you declared, your voice slow and deliberate, gazing deeply into Hotch’s eyes. Every syllable was crisp and clear, you could practically hear the gears grinding in the team’s heads as they went into full overdrive, still scrambling to process what was happening.

"I love you more," Hotch replied, the soft chuckle accompanying his words causing a collective groan from around the cabin - yes, you two were cheesy, you and Hotch were far from the type to indulge in the most clichéd of romantic exchanges… probably because he already knew if you two ever started it, considering your competitiveness, it would have probably escalated into something so ungodly he didn’t even want to know.

"No, I love you more," you shot back, the stakes of your playful banter rising – you almost wanted to puke.

"Impossible," Hotch retorted, his lips curling slightly in that way that made your heart skip a beat. "Because I loved you first." you blinked in surprise, eyes widening just a little.

Now, that was new information.

But before you could fire back with another over-the-top retort, something in his gaze shifted, and in an instant, you found yourself pulled into a kiss, this one deeper, more intense, and completely unexpected.

The kiss was slow at first, drawing out the moment as his lips moved against yours with a deliberate slowness that made your pulse quicken, no room left for hesitation.

His hand slid to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, his grip tightened just enough to hold you in place, but it was gentle, as if savoring every second. His other hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, until you could feel both of your shirts crumpling against each other.

The kiss deepened, his tongue slipping into your mouth with urgent intensity, exploring and tasting, oblivious to the hum of the jet engine masking the sounds of your teammates' shocked reactions… and the click of Garcia’s phone camera.

His movements were fluid and confident, each touch perfectly synchronized with the growing heat between you. You met him with equal fervor, your lips and hands moving in sync, the kiss becoming more insistent, more desperate – it was this raw, unreserved passion that finally pushed Rossi to his breaking point.

“Alright we got it! You were right! Stop it, stop whatever this is. We won’t tease you about the PDA anymore, I swear," Rossi exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in dramatic surrender.

Thank you.

You and Hotch broke apart, the kiss lingering in the air as you wiped a smear of lipstick from his lips with a quick swipe of your thumb. Without missing a beat, you slid back into the seat next to him, immediately adopting your professional mask.

The sweet talk, the casual touches - all of it disappeared, as it should, leaving behind only the steely, composed agents the team was more accustomed to.

“Good,” you said coolly, taking the pen from your jacket pocket and clicking it with an exaggerated focus as you pretended to examine the case files.

It was as if the entire heated exchange had never occurred. Your calm demeanor was flawless, but inside, you couldn’t suppress the gleam of triumph in your eyes.

Oh, how you loved being right…

…Rossi, on the other hand, was still recovering from the emotional whiplash.

He shook his head with a rueful smile, a flicker of regret in his eyes. “If I ever see you two so much as glance at each other that way again, I’m quitting, for real” he muttered, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

Garcia, however, shot up in her seat, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “No, no! Ignore him! You guys, please, be as mushy as you want. It’s a safe space here! I want this. We all want this,” she insisted, her eyes wide with fervor as she shot Rossi a defiant look. “Come on, meet me in the middle, Dave! I’ll buy you bleach! A privacy curtain! I’ll even throw in a soundproof booth! Just let them be adorable in peace!”

Rossi, who had clearly reached his limit, held up a hand, shaking his head in resignation. “I’d rather have earplugs and a set of blinders.” His voice was full of mock defeat, though it was clear he couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Really, Dave? Blinders?" Morgan chuckled from the back, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “You’re not going to let them have a little fun? Come on, man. This is way better than watching you flirt with the coffee machine in the break room.”

At that, you and Hotch immediately turned your heads toward each other, exchanging a look that only the two of you could understand.

Oh, if only they knew the real story. If only they knew how much Rossi had a thing for that coffee machine...

… especially the one in the Section Chief’s office.

You and Hotch had both noticed it long ago.

It was impossible to miss, really.

Rossi’s eyes would soften whenever he found himself near that ‘coffee machine’, as if it held some magnetic pull. Or the way he would suddenly volunteer to deliver reports to the coffee machine’s office, even when it was Hotch’s responsibility.

It was so painfully obvious to you two - Rossi was absolutely smitten with that ‘coffee machine’.

But, of course, you weren’t going to spill that little nugget of gossip just yet. Not today, anyway.

Although Hotch’s dry humor kicked in, and he glanced over at Rossi. “It’s all in the Italian blend,” he said flatly, his voice as deadpan as ever. You squeezed Hotch’s hand tightly to suppress the burst of laughter that threatened to slip out – damn, how you hated how much he managed to let you crumble like that all the time.

Oh, how much you loved him.

Thankfully Reid came in to save the day “I’ll buy the earplugs, Dave,” he said in all seriousness, looking at Rossi like he was ready to place an order for industrial-sized ear protection. “And maybe a seat in the very back of the plane. For everyone's sanity.”

“Thanks, kid,” Rossi muttered with a sigh. “This is the last time I’m taking a flight with you two lovebirds.”

You exchanged a playful glance with Hotch, both of you struggling to keep straight faces. The rest of the team seemed caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement, clearly trying to hold it together, but clearly failing.

"You know, we really should've started this sooner," you mused aloud, crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat. "It’s such a great way to keep everyone in line."

Hotch's lips curled into a slight smirk, though his eyes stayed locked on the case files in front of him. "Next time, I'll save the theatrics for after the case. If we make it that far."

“Good call, as always, Unit Chief,” you replied, your voice playful, but just serious enough to leave them wondering if you were still messing with them or if something had changed.

And that’s when it happened - the first domino fell.

Hotch’s hand, now shifted from the table to rest on your knee.

The weight of his touch was different this time - it wasn’t calculated, nor was it part of the show you’d put on to mess with everyone - it was simply him, expressing something real.

For a moment, you froze, the air around you feeling suddenly charged with something more intimate than you’d allowed to settle between you at work. But as you looked at him, you saw that he wasn’t expecting you to respond theatrically, either.

His gaze was steady, his hand resting casually, without any of the usual distance he’d maintained before.

The shift was subtle, but it was there.

You let out a soft breath, your muscles relaxing for the first time all day as you allowed yourself to lean slightly into the touch. “Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but Hotch caught the meaning behind it. He squeezed your knee just slightly, a wordless acknowledgment that you were both on the same page.

Maybe it was time to stop being so stiff…

---

Stage two: Second, it is violently opposed.

…and so you did.

Over time, you allowed yourselves some liberties here and there — small gestures, quiet moments shared in the midst of the chaos of the job - only when no one was watching, of course.

You still made sure that the workplace environment remained as professional as possible, the last thing you wanted was for anyone to feel uncomfortable or for your relationship to ever be questioned.

But if there was one thing Aaron was particularly good at, it was finding loopholes.

He would argue, “It’s not a breach of the rule if the statement isn’t clear on that at all." And when the rules weren’t clear, he was quick to take advantage of it, slipping into those grey areas that never seemed to get any real clarification.

Lawyers.

The rule had applied to the workplace, yes, but it never specifically mentioned physical spaces - like the FBI parking lot, or the elevator. So more often than not, you and Aaron found yourselves “stretching” the limits there, enjoying those quiet moments away from the eyes of the team.

The elevator rides were your favorite…

There, it was just you two, no cameras, no one listening, and nothing to hold you back. Sometimes it was just a kiss, other times... well, you both liked to test just how far you could go before someone walked in.

But, as always, timing had a funny way of messing everything up. It seemed like every time you’d start kissing or your hands would wander just a little too much, someone would always show up.

And somehow, it was always Rossi.

No one else.

Just him.

It never failed.

He’d clear his throat loudly, or tease you both with that exasperated tone of his, as if he was constantly trying to escape what he couldn’t avoid. It was like he had some sort of sixth sense for catching you two in those exact moments, and no one else seemed to be quite as lucky - or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it.

At this point, Rossi had had enough of the cosmic joke that always seemed to land him in the middle of your most inconvenient, and often highly personal, moments.

His will was already written, and it came with a very clear clause: Only one of them is allowed at his funeral or grave at a time. Lovebirds policy only. He had his reasons, of course, he didn’t need to explain why he didn’t want to see that particular dynamic at his final resting place.

So, in his infinite wisdom - and desperation - Rossi scheduled a mandatory HR seminar.

“Dave, I don’t have to attend the seminar, I’m Unit Chief” Hotch told him one afternoon, looking as though he might be able to talk his way out of it.

“Oh no, you do,” Rossi shot back, practically pointing at Hotch like he was an unruly student. “You’re the very reason I called them in. You and your... antics.” He threw his hands up dramatically. "This has to stop."

You exchanged a look with Hotch, trying not to laugh at how utterly serious Rossi was about this whole thing. But as usual, Hotch wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. “We’re managing it well, Dave. We never cross professional boundaries when you’re around.”

Not exactly, it should have been ‘we never cross professional boundaries when we know you’re around’.

But he continued talking anyways, intense and relentless as usual “In fact, we don’t even sit next to each other on the jet anymore, especially after hearing someone mention how she falls asleep on my shoulder after cases and thought it was 'cute,' apparently,” he said, glancing at you with a playful look.

Rossi’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, don’t start with that," he grumbled. "I know you two are playing some kind of game with me. And don’t act like you’re the picture of professionalism, Aaron, just because you sit on opposite ends of the jet."

Hotch then took a deep breath, rolling into lawyer mode. His voice dropped lower, each word becoming more deliberate – it was time to pull out the big lexicon. “Furthermore, Dave, I find it rather hypocritical for you to bring up a matter like this, considering you’re the very reason these fraternization rules were implemented in the first place. For the record, we’ve been transparent. Strauss was informed as soon as we started dating. There’s no issue here.”

Rossi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Hotch’s tone. He frowned, a bit of surprise flashing across his face. “Did she teach you the word ‘hypocritical’?” he quipped, looking at Hotch with a knowing smirk.

Hotch, taken slightly off guard by Rossi’s jab, blushed a little - his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. He wasn’t usually one for showing any signs of fluster, especially in front of his team.

The HR seminar had barely begun, but you were already feeling your patience thin.

Everyone had been summoned to the bullpen, begrudgingly forced to sit through a mandatory lecture on fraternization and professional conduct.

Rossi, in all his glory, had managed to schedule the whole thing thinking that a lecture about fraternization and workplace boundaries would somehow curb the “antics” he thought were getting out of hand.

But what he definitely didn’t anticipate was the sheer chaos that would follow.

The HR representative - Carmen, an overly cheerful woman in her late forties with a name tag that read "Carmen" - stood at the front, facing the group with a bright, forced smile that didn’t quite match the tension hanging in the room. She seemed oblivious to the undercurrent of discomfort flowing through the team.

“Today, we’re going to talk about how to maintain professionalism in the workplace,” she began, clicking through slides on the projector. “Specifically, we’ll be discussing fraternization, boundaries, and how to handle uncomfortable situations when they arise.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hotch.

This was going to be painful.

Carmen continued, oblivious to the growing tension, moving to the next slide. “So, let’s start with a simple question. What should you do if you ever feel harassed or like professional boundaries are being crossed?”

“Do you ever feel like there’s a couple who barely show any emotion beyond stoicism but make it a point to talk about…”

You blinked.

Stoicism?

Did she even understand what that word meant? It wasn’t just about hiding emotions or being composed. It was a whole philosophy, a way of understanding life and how to deal with adversity. And yet here she was, using it as some sort of generic descriptor for a couple that was, apparently, too controlled, while also being embarrassingly not controlled enough in their personal moments.

You could almost hear her thoughts: “Stoicism” sounds intellectual, let’s use that to make things sound deep and professional. But she was so off the mark, you almost couldn’t bear it.

Carmen paused, her finger hovering over the remote.

She clicked the button again with the kind of confidence that suggested she had absolutely no idea what the word stoicism even meant. In fact, as you sat there, trying to distract yourself from the growing tension in the room, you found yourself profiling Carmen.

You were pretty sure she had just Googled the term moments before this presentation, probably during the coffee break, her face lighting up when she stumbled across something that sounded smart enough to say in front of the group.

The way she adjusted her glasses after every click, the small, almost nervous laugh she gave when she spoke a little too loudly, and how she constantly tugged at her sleeves like she was just a little too eager to prove she was in charge - she was someone who tried hard to project authority but clearly lacked a deeper understanding of the material she was presenting.

Her behavior hinted at a kind of surface-level preparedness, just enough to get through the presentation without anyone questioning her qualifications. She was the kind of person who relied on buzzwords to sound impressive…

The entire room went dead silent, but Carmen, continued without skipping a beat. "Next, we’ll look at how professional boundaries really can be blurred in the workplace..."

“Stop shaving, your beard makes me want to schedule sick leave for the both of us.”

That hit you quite hard. Damn… you still remembered how you didn’t let Aaron get out of the bed for two whole days when he grew one of those himself.

Your weakness... how the way it highlighted the lineaments of his face, casting shadows like something painted by Caravaggio himself, was irresistible.

Not to mention the heavenly way it felt against your skin… oh you were so feral… you had never had so much sex in your life like you did in those two days…

Your mind wandered back to those moments, the soft temptation to bribe him into growing it back.

“Your lectures make me want to…”

Lectures? Very oddly specific.

“My son wants a sibling.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around it, but then the realization hit you. Fun, the agents in that room who had a child could be counted on your fingers, so the words felt oddly out of place. But still, you couldn’t quite grasp why they felt so familiar.

And just like that, it hit you - 32 languages, three PhDs, and years of teaching... all now reduced to the deductive powers of a ladybug.

You hadn’t realized it until now - probably because you were still thirsting over the memories of your hot man with his hot beard - but those weren’t just any words.

Those were your words.

Your conversations.

The moments you and Hotch thought were just whispered between the two of you, moments you thought no one heard. And there they were, broadcast on the screen for the entire team to see.

A chill ran down your spine as the final line appeared.

“Stop quoting Hagel or we might have to leave to take something we left back in...”

The moment those words appeared on the screen, you felt something snap inside you. The misspelling of Hegel - with an A instead of an E - was a personal betrayal.

Your mind immediately spiraled, fixating on the glaring error. How could they get something so fundamental so wrong?

To have something so simple and fundamental, so easily identifiable, mangled like this felt like an insult. Your whole body stiffened in protest, and your jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

You could feel the weight of your teammates’ stares burning into you, but it barely registered.

It wasn’t much their reaction to the personal details of your relationship with Hotch that had you worked up - it was the glaring inaccuracy before you.

The universe had somehow decided that this moment wasn’t going to be about the privacy that had been stripped away from you, but about this mistake - a simple, careless error that was now at the center of your fury.

You couldn’t think about how embarrassing it was to be outed like this. Your brain couldn’t process any of it, it shielded itself consuming by the fact that someone had managed to butcher the name of one of the greatest philosophers of all time.

Prentiss leaned forward slightly, her brows raised in surprise, but her reaction was drowned out by your growing irritation. JJ, trying to keep it together, looked over with wide eyes, an unmistakable flicker of realization dawning on her face. Reid’s expression was a mixture of curiosity and confusion, as if he were trying to piece the scene together in his usual analytical way.

Then there was Morgan, letting out a low whistle, clearly amused by the sudden turn of events. But it was Garcia, sweet, innocent Garcia, who was practically glowing with excitement, a huge grin spreading across her face as though she had just won some grand prize. Her eyes sparkled with giddiness, clearly delighted by the personal details she’d just uncovered.

The entire team had turned toward you now, their attention fully on you and Hotch, clearly not expecting the turn of events.

And it was embarrassing.

But still, despite everything - the exposure, the teasing, the whispers of your relationship that had never meant to be public - it was the misspelling of Hegel that was making your blood boil.

Every fiber of your being screamed to correct it, to stand up and storm to the front and take the projector down, fix it, fix everything.

But before you could even move, Hotch must have felt the shift in your energy. His hand, almost instinctively, moved to rest on your knee. His thumb rubbed gently in small circles, a calming touch, grounding you.

“Y/N, stop,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent, sending a shiver down your spine.

You could feel his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, the subtle press of his body against yours grounding you, even if everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control. “Stop before you point out they misspelled Hegel and make a lecture out of it, or we might have to leave to take something we left back in the car.”

It was a mix of teasing and flirtation, the very phrase the HR rep had just banned from its existence. And damn it, it was working. The fire in his eyes pulled you in so completely, you almost forgot where you were, who was watching, or why you were so angry in the first place.

You wanted to stay mad, to stand up and correct the error, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to hold onto anything except the electricity that was building between you. The rest of the world faded into the background.

But of course, Rossi - ever the opportunist - had been listening intently. He leaned in, catching your words before they even left your mouth. “She just finished saying that,” he muttered, a smug look crossing his face as he caught your eye.

You shot him a glare that could have frozen him in his tracks, but it only seemed to fuel his teasing. “Please, Rossi," you said through gritted teeth, your voice low and dangerous. "Next time, forget to plug in your hearing device so you can stop listening to things you don’t want to hear. Or, better yet, don’t make me tell you the very reason you’re hypocritical in the first place."

Rossi’s smile widened, obviously enjoying your frustration. "Hypocritical?" he repeated, his tone dripping with mock curiosity. “Maybe you should teach me more of those big words.” He was goading you, trying to get under your skin.

Hotch, sensing the escalation, placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice smooth and controlled as he stepped in to defuse the situation. "You're welcome to take your concerns about our so-called 'unprofessional conduct' crossing boundaries directly to the Section Chief, Dave," he said, his gaze never leaving the screen as he remained calm. "But mind you, you have no proof."

Still, you couldn’t help it.

The frustration and tension of the whole situation - everything that had been building up - finally boiled over, and you couldn't hold it in anymore. "And on that subject, Rossi," you began, your voice firm, steady, and dripping with challenge, "don’t you regularly cross those unprofessional boundaries yourself?"

The room went dead silent.

You could feel Hotch’s eyes on you, and when you glanced at him, you saw the exact same understanding in his gaze. You both knew exactly what was about to happen. The words had already left your lips, and now Rossi was about to learn just how much the two of you had been paying attention to his “subtle” behavior.

Hotch, the perfect picture of calm, added with the slightest tilt of his head and a mischievous glint in his eye, “We noticed that you and…”

Rossi, visibly caught off guard, stumbled over his words, “Why did I even open my mouth? I knew this was gonna make everything worse… porca puttana,” he grumbled, rubbing his face in frustration.

Carmen, completely oblivious to the escalating tension, continued with the presentation as if nothing was happening.

But you weren’t going to let it go that easily.

You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Rossi with a smug grin playing at the corners of your lips. “You know, Dave,” you said, your voice light but dripping with satisfaction, “this lecture has been very informative. But maybe next time, you should make sure to include a few slides on how to keep your own relationships under wraps. Might help you avoid the hypocrisy.”

Rossi’s face flushed as he shot you a glare, but you could tell that, for once, he was caught completely off guard. “Oh yeah? Well, why don’t you join me and Erin for dinner tonight then? It’d be fun, wouldn’t it?” He threw back, but you could hear the hesitation in his voice as he scrambled to regain control of the situation.

You leaned over to Hotch, lowering your voice just enough so only he could hear. “Aaron, I swear if I see them even touching hands, I’m going to puke.”

Hotch gave you a deadpan look, trying to suppress a grin. “I feel you, but…” His tone dropped into a mock-dramatic whisper. “What if we crank up the unprofessional behavior right in front of them? Scare them off a little?”

You raised an eyebrow. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Hotch looked like he was seriously considering it. “That could either work like a charm, or - let’s be honest - knowing Rossi, they’ll just double down and serve us a taste of our own medicine. And sure, we love a good challenge, but…” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering even more. “Do we really want to go there?”

You smiled to yourself, already picturing it in your mind. “Oh no, I can already picture it.”

Hotch sighed dramatically, as if considering his options. “We could leave earlier with the excuse we need to work on paperwork...” he trailed off, giving you a look.

You smirked. “‘Paperwork,’” you said, making air quotes with your fingers, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. “Our paperwork?!”

Hotch and you both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Hotch’s smirk turned a little more serious, and he leaned in slightly. “You know, we could always go all out. Maybe I could place my hand on your shoulder every now and then. Keep them guessing.”

You gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, I love you, but I fear that would be too scandalous.”

Hotch’s smirk widened as he leaned back a little, but the glint in his eyes didn’t fade. “Well, then I’ll settle for resting my hand on your knee. Once. For three and a half seconds.”

Your eyes flickered with amusement, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Wow, last time you only allowed yourself three,” you teased, knowing he had a habit of pushing boundaries, but always so carefully… you were an old Victorian couple with people you knew from the job afterall.

“I know, I’m practicing more self-control,” he said, voice thick with sarcasm but still looking at you in a way that made you forget you were attending a seminar about this specific behaviour.

You leaned a little closer, watching him intently, enjoying the banter more than you cared to admit. “You’re so hot when you’re so unprofessional," you whispered, the words dripping with playful intent. "Almost makes me want to kiss you on the cheek.”

Hotch’s expression never wavered, but the amusement in his eyes was undeniable. "So unprofessional..." he murmured under his breath, his voice tinged with humor but also something deeper, something more familiar with the man you knew in the safe walls of your house.

You didn’t need to be obvious to make things very clear. It was all in the subtlety, the small gestures, the private moments that only you and Hotch understood.

And as you both settled back into your seats, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. It was going to be a long seminar, but at least it was going to be entertaining.

---

Stage three: Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.

After an evening of forced pleasantries with Rossi and Strauss, the two of you were finally free.

Walking into Aaron’s apartment, you let out a long sigh of relief, kicking off your shoes and feeling the weight of the night slip off your shoulders. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Aaron turned to you with that familiar smirk - the one you’d missed to helplessly melt into all day long.

As if there had been no build-up, no tension at all, you found yourself pressed up against the door, his lips crashing against yours the second you crossed the threshold. The kiss was hungry, urgent, like both of you had been holding your breath all evening and could finally release it now that you were alone.

His hands moved instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer as your bodies melted into each other, until there was no room left between you two.

When you pulled away, breathless but grinning, you teased, “You know, after all that drama with Rossi and Strauss, I’m exhausted. Think I could spend the night here?”

“Well, I do have a guest room…” Aaron raised an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air, as if he was seriously considering it.

You narrowed your eyes, taking a small step back but keeping the playful smirk on your face. “Guest room? That’s so nice of you, love” you said, folding your arms. “But I was thinking maybe I could sleep in your bed you know, just for the night. It’s so cold here. I mean, really cold. We wouldn’t want me freezing to death, would we?”

Aaron's lips curled into a mischievous grin as he stepped closer, his gaze playful. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he said casually, his voice smooth. “It was all part of my plan,” he added with a glint in his eye. “That’s why I’ve kept all the windows open.”

He paused dramatically, his hands slipping around yourhips, pulling you closer. “Wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable, would I? Now, you’re basically obliged for cuddles.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at him, already feeling the heat between you two. “Oh, you’re so devious,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, with just enough space between your lips to let his tongue slide in.

“You know you don’t have to plan so much for us to sleep together. I thought that was a given by now, cuddles included... maybe even something more. Who knows?” You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the playful challenge lingering in the air.

Aaron chuckled against your lips, deepening the kiss with just as much passion, his hands sliding up to your shoulders, gently but firmly pushing you back against the wall.

For a moment, you both paused, breathless, eyes locked in shared understanding before you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “So, how exactly do you manage to get to the office first every morning?” you asked, your smirk widening as the question hung in the air, taunting him.

Aaron’s smile deepened, a mixture of wry humor and something much more tempting in his gaze. He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and playful. “I love you,” he said softly, almost tenderly, before pulling back to meet your eyes. “But not a chance.”

You gasped in mock outrage, your hands finding his chest as you pushed yourself off the wall, trying to distance yourself a little. “Come on, no fair. You’ve been so open tonight with all your little secrets,” you teased, making air quotes. “Now you won’t share this one?”

Before you could move away, Aaron caught you effortlessly, pulling you back into his embrace. His strong arms wrapped around you, sending your heart racing. His lips grazed your ear again, his voice hushed and playful as he whispered, “I’ll tell you in 83 days,” his tone dripping with mock seriousness.

You froze, eyes widening in surprise.

The playful smile slipped from your face, and the warmth from his embrace spread through you, despite the coldness of the apartment.

You blinked, the realization hitting you all at once.

The bet you two had made years ago - the one where if he beat you to the office for 1,000 days, he’d have to propose - flashed through your mind. And now, he was casually dropping 83 days like it was just another countdown.

“Come on, don’t pretend you’re shocked,” Aaron said, his voice softening with affection. He leaned in closer, brushing his lips lightly against yours. “You knew this was coming, if you keep failing… this is your last chance to beat me.”

His lips captured yours in another soft kiss, and you could feel the unspoken weight behind his words. “Unless you really want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

Your breath caught, and the sudden heat flooded your cheeks, turning them a deep shade of red. You couldn’t help but melt into him, the gravity of his words settling in, even as you clung to the teasing spark that still flickered between you.

“You still have to find out my answer,” you teased, raising an eyebrow, your voice light but full of challenge. “You know, just to keep you on your toes. It’s not all settled yet… and who knows, maybe you won’t even ever know it. I’ve still got 83 days to beat you.”

Aaron shot you a pointed look, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. “I wouldn’t be so confident, considering your terrible track record,” he said, his voice rich with teasing. Without giving you a chance to respond, he kissed you again - harder this time - his lips claiming yours with a passionate force that spoke of promises yet to be fulfilled.

You melted into the kiss, every nerve in your body aware of just how close you were, how real everything felt. When the kiss finally broke, your hand remained lightly against his chest, still feeling the thrum of his heartbeat. “Haven’t you learned yet that you should never underestimate me, Hotchner?”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your ears as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “This is the only thing I allow myself to underestimate you on,” he teased, pulling back with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’re terrible at it. Even worse than your shooting skills.”

You raised an eyebrow, still smirking, a playful spark lighting up your eyes. “Oh, now you’re exaggerating,” you said, poking his chest lightly with your finger.

“It’s not like if I can’t beat you at something, I’m mathematically bad at it. And also, really? You expect me to outdo a sniper?” You tilted your head, teasing him about his former SWAT team background.

“Absolutely,” Aaron replied, his grin widening. “You still have to keep up with me on long-distance shots, and don’t even think about blaming it on your blurry vision.”

He gave you a pointed look, then leaned in slightly, his voice low and playful. “I still love you, of course, even if you might need a little more training from the ‘sniper’.” He winked at you, that familiar, mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

You laughed softly, shaking your head, but the idea seemed to settle in your mind. “You know,” you said casually, leaning against the counter with a thoughtful look on your face, “I just realized something. If I married you, we’d have two Agent Hotchners on the team.”

Aaron’s eyes twinkled with amusement, but there was a hint of something deeper in his gaze. He leaned down slightly, getting closer as if he were about to tell you a secret. “Oh, so you’re considering it?” he teased, the playful tone only slightly covering the vulnerability that was starting to show through.

You leaned in a little closer, your voice soft and teasing as you whispered, “Well, we’ve still got 83 days to figure it out, don’t we?” You let the words hang in the air for a moment before adding, with a sly grin, “Unless, of course, you want to start planning now.”

Aaron’s smirk softened, a chuckle escaping him as his arms tightened around you just a little more, pulling you in closer. “Oh no,” he said, his voice low, full of mischief. “I still need to do everything in my power to make sure you’re the one to lose the most important bet of your life.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your gaze. “Getting a little cocky, aren’t we?” you teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Just because you think you’ve got me cornered in this bet doesn’t mean you’ve won yet.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering as he leaned in a little closer. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure I’m doing things right,” he said, voice low and teasing. “For example… I wanted to check if sapphire was still your favorite stone,” he added, his grin widening. “You know, just in case I need to upgrade the plan.”

The question caught you off guard. You blinked at him, your heart skipping a beat as the realization hit you. “What?” you stammered, feeling a blush creep up your neck. “Shut up, Aaron,” you said, your voice a little shaky as you tried to recover from the surprise. “You’re ridiculous.” You tried to pull away, but his arms were still around you, pulling you closer, his grin widening at your reaction.

Aaron laughed softly, his thumb brushing your cheek, the teasing light in his eyes evident. “I swear, you’re so easy to fluster,” he teased, his voice low but affectionate. “You’re blushing, and I haven’t even asked you yet.”

You couldn’t stop the blush from deepening, your face now a full shade of red. You crossed your arms over your chest, looking away in embarrassment, but it was too late, he’d already noticed. “You’re going to be the death of me,” you muttered, feeling the heat in your cheeks spread.

Aaron reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze. His voice dropped to a quiet, serious tone, though the warmth still lingered. “Til death do us part, right?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Don’t make me cry,” you whispered, the teasing edge to your voice slipping away. The laughter, the playful teasing, they all seemed distant now.

Aaron’s gaze softened, his thumb gently caressing your jawline as he studied you, he didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch between you. His hand lingered on your chin for a moment longer before he slowly, carefully, let it fall to your waist, his touch grounding you.

His voice, when he spoke, was quieter, more intimate. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said softly. “But if I do, I hope it’s because I’ve made you happy, not because I’ve made you doubt what we have.”

You swallowed, the words tugging at something deep inside you. It was the way he spoke to you, like he meant every syllable, that made your heart swell, and for a brief moment, you almost wished you could freeze time and just stay in that moment, locked in his arms, no words left to be said.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling a little, despite the overwhelming feeling in your chest. “Well, you’ve already got me feeling all kinds of things,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again, even as your voice wavered just slightly. “But I think you’re safe for now.”

Aaron chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing down your arm, a reassuring gesture that made you feel grounded. “I don’t want to just be safe, though,” he murmured, his eyes dark with something a little more serious. “I want to be the one who makes you feel like you’ve found home, even when the world is too much.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest, causing your heart to flutter in a way you couldn’t quite put into words, no matter how many languages you spoke.

There was something about Aaron - his warmth, his steady presence, his certainty - that made it so easy to get lost in him. You didn’t know what the future held, but with him by your side, the world seemed less daunting, less frightening.

“Then maybe you’ve already won,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. The walls you’d so carefully built around your vulnerability came crashing down, and for the first time, you let yourself feel the full force of it. “Maybe you’ve already made me feel at home, windows open or not.”

Aaron’s lips brushed gently against your forehead in a soft kiss, his arms tightening around you in a way that made you feel completely safe. “Then I’ll keep doing it,” he murmured against your skin, his words a promise, a vow, and a reassurance all in one. “Every single day.”

"In love, one and one are one." Jean-Paul Sartre

---

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

#aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #symposiumff #criminal minds x reader

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vilevenom · 3 days ago

Note

Shadow gets captured by someone, is tested on and tortured. Sonic and gang try and rescue him. After they find him, Sonic panics because his boyfriend is near death.

Idk how to end this lol

Hello, Anon!

I'm going to assume you were the same anon from my previous prompt/ask? I sure hope so, 'cause as much as I love writing hurt Shadow, I only have one idea for this particular prompt, lol I hope you like it!~ P.S - I may have gone a little ham on the torture scenes? Uhm...not too descriptive, but enough, I think, so please be mindful of that.

Shadow groaned as he slowly came back to consciousness, his eyelids feeling heavy as he blinked groggily against the dim lighting in the room he was in. The heavy, sluggish feeling permeating his limbs was not one he was familiar with, as usually, if he was knocked out, his healing factor would kick into overdrive and fix most of what was ailing him. This time, however, something seemed to be off.

"Ah, you're awake."

With a disgruntled grunt, Shadow turned his gaze in the direction the voice had come from. An involuntary noise of surprise left him when he found Doctor Starline, of all people, stood before him.

"You were crushed to death," the disoriented hedgehog grumbled, squinting at the doctor, as if his eyes were deceiving him.

"So everyone thinks," Starline said with a shrug, wandering from the doorway he'd been stood in to stand in front of Shadow. It was then that the dark hedgehog got a proper good look at the doctor. A rather nasty looking scar ran from near his temple, down towards his jaw, while he visibly walked with a limp, and one shoulder didn't seem to sit quite right in its socket. The doctor smirked lightly at noticing Shadows scrutinizing stare, gesturing towards his injuries. "It's rather nasty, what being trapped under rubble will do to a person, isn't it?"

"Death would've suited you better," Shadow agreed, a sharp, dark grin of his own splitting his lips. For his trouble the doctor snarled, reaching forward to grab at the collar Shadow hadn't realized was secured around his neck. He choked as the doctor yanked him forward in the chair he'd only just realized he was strapped to, still a bit drowsy and unsure as to how the doctor was able to manhandle him so easily.

"Enjoy your little barbs while you can," Starline snapped, tugging the collar hard enough so Shadow visibly gagged, "I don't think you'll be so chatty once I've gotten started with you."

"And what is it you plan to do with me?" Shadow gasped once Starlin let him go and took a swift step back.

"Well," Starline hummed, suddenly sounding giddy, which set Shadow's quills on edge, "Finish the good Doctor Robotnik's work, of course."

"Ivo?" Shadow murmured, confused.

"What? No, no," Starline snorted, flipping on a few additional lights so the room was properly illuminated, "That fool doesn't have proper vision for this sort of work. He's too fixated on that damnable blue hedgehog and his robots." Starline chuckled as Shadow took in the medical equipment and monitors littered around the room. "No. Gerald Robotnik, of course."

"The professor was trying to find a cure for his granddaughter," Shadow snarled, yanking roughly against the bonds holding him down, anger spiking at the fact that they did not give way. He barred his fangs at Starline as the doctor chuckled at his struggle.

"True. But, his research has so many other applications. First, Ivo's additional notes about your Black Arms DNA sheds some fascinating light on your abilities. Add to that what Gerald was already experimenting with on the ARK, and you have so much hidden potential within you." Starline strode back over to Shadow, flicking the dark hedgehog in the nose with a smirk and simply chuckling at the low growl he received for it. "I plan to dig deep into that research and see what makes you tick."

"Hey, have you seen Shadow?"

Tails glanced up from his work bench with a light frown. "No. Why?"

Sonic sighed, tapping his foot in irritation. "He was supposed to come by, like, half an hour ago. We were planning on going for a run, and then maybe grabbing lunch after."

"He's late for a date?" Tails teased, earning a light blush from his older brother.

"Shut up," Sonic grumbled, rubbing at his warm cheek.

Tails simply chuckled, going back to his work. "Relax. He probably got caught up doing something with Rouge, or called away by GUN for a mission."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Sonic sighed, pulling his phone from his quills, "He just usually texts me when he can't show up to something…"

The scream that rang through whatever base Starline had Shadow hidden away in was loud, and riddled with pain. It wasn't a sound that Shadow let lose willingly, either. The hybrid had discovered, once he'd managed to properly wake up and become a bit more lucid, Starline had added some sort of devices to his inhibitors that nearly cut him off entirely from his natural chaos energy. He could only assume that the collar around his neck added to their potency, or was some sort of separate contraption that weakened him on its own. Either way, with his new accessories, Shadow found he was at the doctors mercy, unable to even muster enough strength to break the leather straps binding him to his seat. As such, the doctor was taking full advantage, having attached little electrodes to various spots on Shadows body to "test his electrical resistance", according to the doctor.

Shadow was fully convinced that the doctor was just having fun torturing him while he was unable to defend himself.

"Interesting," the doctor hummed, scribbling down notes while leaving the little device that controlled the electrodes running at a low voltage, watching as Shadow's muscles twitched and convulsed involuntarily, while the dark hedgehog did his best not to bite his own tongue off.

"Hey, Rouge!"

"Hello, Blue," Rouge replied with a smile, looking up from the magazine she was reading, "What can I do for you?" She was sat at a fancy little cafe, conveniently across the road from a jewelry store that Sonic had no doubt the bat was scoping out to rob. However, that really wasn't his concern at the moment.

"Just wondering if Shadow was called off to work on some secret GUN mission? We were supposed to go out a day or two ago, and I haven't heard from him. Normally he'd at least text me to let me know he wasn't going to be around for a few days," Sonic asked, leaning casually against the table, trying not to betray just how worried he really was.

"Hmm," Rouge hummed as she set aside her magazine. "Can't say I've heard from him, either, honestly. But, you know Shadow. Half the time when he does get called away I don't even know about it until he gets back. I'd say, give it at least a week before you start calling in the guard to find your lost boyfriend," she teased, offering Sonic a saucy little wink and chuckling at the flush that spread over Sonic's muzzle.

After three days (at least, Shadow thought it had been three days. There wasn't exactly a good way for him to tell time in the room he was trapped in), Starline had apparently gotten tired of Shadow's screaming and had stuffed a gag into his mouth. His mouth had long since gone dry, and his jaw ached from how it was being held open by the bit between his teeth. Starline seemed to find even that interesting, as he turned Shadow's head this way and that, scribbling down little notes and muttering to himself as he did.

Shadow became grateful for the gag as Starline finally brought out a set of scalpels and began to cut into and peel back the flesh of his arm. It gave him something to dig his teeth into as he tried to keep his mind off the way Starline dug his fingers into exposed muscle and garbled the rough screams that ripped apart his already shredded throat.

"Aw. Why so blue, Sonic?"

"Very funny, Knux."

The echidna chuckled as he strode over to Sonic, flopping onto the grass next to his mopey looking friend. "Couldn't not take the opportunity," Knuckled offered with a shrug, "Seriously, though. What's up? You don't normally visit on your own."

"Can't a guy want to visit his reclusive friend on his floating island without an ulterior motive?" Sonic scoffed, feigning a look of offense.

Knuckles simply raised an eyebrow at him, and Sonic immediately deflated.

"…Shadow hasn't messaged me in a few days."

"Well, damn, guess we gotta call out the troops," Knuckles snorted, grinning at the sharp glare Sonic shot him. "C'mon, you know I'm teasing. Did you talk to Rouge?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"She said to wait at least a week before I get worried."

"Well, then?"

Sonic groaned, shoving himself to his feet. "I know! Why do you think I'm here? C'mon, spar with me. I gotta get my mind off of it. I don't like you being more level headed than me."

Knuckles chuckled, rising to his own feet with a smirk. "Okay. Just remember, you asked for this ass kicking."

Occasionally Starline would let Shadow rest. Sleep would claim him almost immediately, once whatever painful stimulus Starline was using on him was taken away. It was weird for Shadow who very rarely, if ever, truly felt the need to sleep. He certainly enjoyed curling up in his bed at the end of a long day, but it wasn't truly a necessity the way it was for others. But here, in the dank room he'd been trapped in for who knew how long, his body craved it to the point of nearly making him pass out even in the middle of whatever torture Starline had cooked up for him that day.

Generally, when Shadow passed out, his mind went blank, floating in a sea of dark oblivion. However, once in a while he would dream. He knew he had been dreaming, because when he woke he could vaguely recall the blurry images his mind conjured to try and comfort him. Most of which consisted of the color blue in various shades.

At one point, before he could fully pass out, Starline had ripped the gag from his mouth and dumped a glass of water down his throat, which had made him sputter and gag. The doctor had tsked at him and said some asinine comment about Shadow being a mess, which the hedgehog had let drift in one ear and out the other as he coughed red tinted water onto the doctors white jacket. He grinned at the repulsed look Starline had shot him, before the gag was unceremoniously shoved back into his mouth.

Blissfully, the doctor let him pass out for what had to have been at least a few hours after that.

"I brought you some cupcakes, Sonic!"

Sonic offered Amy a smile, taking the little box of baked goods from his friend. "Thanks, Ams. I assume you heard through the grapevine that I've been a bit on edge."

"Tails might've mentioned to me that you've been worried about Shadow," Amy conceded, sitting at the kitchen table. "Did you want to talk about it?"

Sonic sighed, flopping into a chair across from Amy and digging into the box to pull out a bright pink cupcake. "It's dumb."

"It's not, if you're worried."

"Do I even need to be worried?" Sonic peeled away the paper wrapper on the base of the cupcake, "Shadow's a big hedgehog. He can take care of himself. I know he can handle pretty much anything, and he's gone off the radar for weeks at a time before."

"…But?" Amy prompted, watching Sonic unceremoniously shove the entire cupcake into his mouth with a slight grimace.

"But," Sonic echoed around his mouthful of cupcake, pausing to take a moment to chew and swallow before he continued, "Something about this time just feels…different. Like something is off."

"Well, speaking from experience in listening to your gut feelings, maybe something is up. I know everyone else has told you not to worry, but would it really hurt to have Tails run a quick scan to see where Shadow is? His phone has a tracker in it, doesn't it? If he's in an area you know GUN is working, then there really is nothing to worry about," Amy offered, holding a napkin out to Sonic.

"Thanks, Ams," Sonic said with a smile, taking the napkin to wipe icing off his muzzle, "You always know just what I need to hear."

Shadow didn't know when Starline had moved him from the chair to an examination table, but the very idea that he had been so out of it to not notice such a drastic move was worrying to him. His mind was becoming more muddled the longer he was trapped here, and he could barely feel his extremities anymore from how numb they'd become over time. Slowly, the thought that he might die in this dingy room crept into his mind.

When Starline appeared next to the examination table in a full doctors smock and facemask with a scalpel in hand, the thought slammed into the forefront of his mind like a freight train. He struggled weakly against his bonds as the doctor lowered the scalpel towards his abdomen, his mind screaming at him that he couldn't succumb to such a fate. He couldn't let this crazed asshole pull him apart and kill him in such an undignified way. Maria would be so disappointed in him. Sonic would never know what happened. He'd think Shadow had abandoned him.

"Enough of that," Starline snarled, lifting the scalpel, only to stab it viciously into Shadows bicep for his effort, the dark hedgehog letting a garbled wail of pain out around his gag. Starline left the little makeshift dagger in his arm and grabbed another, before proceeding to cut into Shadow's belly.

The pain pulled Shadow into oblivion, his tired and damaged body unable to keep his mind awake as Starline began to poke around in his guts.

"I…I can't find him," Tails admitted after his tracking program ran for the fifth time. Sonic growled lowly behind him, while Amy let out a distressed little noise.

"Scour every known Eggman base for any trace of him. I'm going to call Commander Tower," Sonic snapped, suddenly wishing he'd listened to his gut sooner. Or, at the very least, spoken to Amy first.

"He could be on a blackout mission," Tails offered, turning to watch as Sonic walked out of his work room.

"That's why I'm going to call the Commander," Sonic ground out, pausing in the doorway, "Please, Tails. Look at the bases. Something isn't right. I can feel it."

"Wake up."

Shadow groaned as he owlishly blinked open his eyes, squinting against the light that was shoved in his face. He made an inquisitive noise as Starline moved the light away, his mask tugged down to show a rather unhinged grin. Shadow frowned as much as he could around the gag in his mouth as Starline brandished something at him, the doctors hand dripping red.

It took far too long for Shadow's sluggish brain to realize Starline was holding one of the hybrids organs in his hand, still connected to the hedgehog, but only just barely. He couldn't really tell which it was with the way his vision was turning dark around the edges and his eyes were having trouble focusing. Shadow made a wounded noise as Starline squeezed it gently.

"Isn't this fascinating?" Starline asked, sounding borderline manic, "You're still alive and conscious with your organs being removed. True enough that they're still functionally attached, but the implications!" He let out a crazed little laugh, setting the organ to the side. "I can see why Doctor Robotnik thought you were the key to immortality. Your body's ability to heal and maintain functionality is incredible."

Shadow let out a weak growl at the way Starline spoke and got into his face, not in the least bit regretful as the doctor moved back to twist the scalpel he'd stabbed into his arm previously. At least Starline wasn't in his face anymore.

"We found him!"

"How long will it take to get a task force put together?"

"How did Starline survive?!"

"Move it!"

Sonic's quills bristled at the commotion around him, his friends and GUN agents alike running around behind him. But his focus was solely on one thing - the tiny dot on the screen telling him exactly where Shadow was.

A harsh burst of wind and a blur of blue whipped through the room as Sonic took off, ignoring the shouts called after him to wait until the others had a plan of attack.

He had a plan. Attack.

The next time Shadow woke, he was pleasantly surprised to find that Starline had the decency to put his organs back inside him, even if he could still tell that his torso was split open and on display to the world. He figured that the damp feeling on the table that had soaked into his fur was likely blood. He wondered idly how much longer he could survive without food or water, with the wounds he'd been sustaining, when he had barely a trickle of chaos energy flowing into his body.

Perhaps he truly would die in this room. At least he'd get to see Maria and Gerald again. That would be nice. Though, he was sorry he'd never get to explain to Sonic that he hadn't meant to abandon him. He'd actually been looking forward to their stupid little date of a race and chili dogs. That conversation seemed like so long ago, now. Sonic had been bouncing on his toes as he'd proposed his idea to Shadow, a bashful little blush on his muzzle, despite the fact that it was no different than any other time they had spent time together. Shadow had found it stupidly endearing.

He choked quietly around his gag as he felt tears build up in his eyes. For everything that Starline had done to him, he'd not cried. But, the thought of disappointing Sonic, of not getting to speak to him again, had finally brought him to tears. He tried to hold them back, not wanting to give the doctor the satisfaction of seeing him cry, but the tears dripped down his temples unbidden as he stared forlornly up at the ceiling.

The tears, however, came to an abrupt stop as an explosion sounded somewhere in the distance, but close enough that the room shook. Shadow gasped as a heart monitor near the table he was strapped to crashed to the floor, wide eyes trained on the door. There were only two things that an explosion like that could be; Starline fucking up another experiment somewhere in the hell hole Shadow was trapped in, or a rescue team. Shadow desperately hoped it was a rescue team.

The door to the room burst open not a moment later, Starline looking haggard and frenzied as he stumbled into the room. Shadow watched him in trepidation as the doctor raced around the room as quickly as his limp would let him, gathering notebooks and loose papers. Shadow could hear him muttering to himself as he stuffed everything he gathered into a bag, his gaze finally landing on Shadow as he turned to leave the room. Shadow squirmed against the bonds holding him down as Starline stalked towards him, his body still too weak and damaged to break free. His heart began to beat wildly as Starline snatched up another scalpel, his sluggish mind idly wondering if Starline could see just how quickly his heart was pumping with his chest splayed open as it was.

Shadow could tell Starline was saying something, though whether it was supposed to be directly at him or to himself he had no idea, the words fading into a buzz in his ears. His focus had zeroed in on the scalpel as Starline raised it above his head, obviously planning to stab Shadow to death with the tiny implement. The urge to shut his eyes was strong, but Shadow wanted to stare death in the eye as it came for him. He let out a low snarl as the scalpel came down towards him, only to blink in surprise as Starline disappeared from his view and a blue blur raced passed him.

Sonic.

Shadow squirmed weakly against his bonds, his ears swiveling towards the sound of something smashing in the room and the soft sound of shattered glass raining down on the floor. He could hear Sonic growling, which, even in the most dire of situations Shadow had never heard before. Starline screamed something, with only the sound of more equipment in the room being destroyed answering him. He tried to turn his head, only to wince at the pain that caused, and looked back towards the ceiling. Apparently, at some point, Starline had sliced into Shadow's neck around his collar, most likely when he'd been passed out.

His ears perked as Starline screamed again, though it was abruptly cut off, followed by the doctor flying across the room, back into Shadows line of sight, and smashing into a shelf of random equipment. He slumped to the ground, obviously knocked out from the impact. Shadow let out a vindictive little growl at the sight, pleased as punch that Sonic blatantly didn't go easy on Starline, if the smattering of red, weeping wounds on the doctor was anything to go by. He jerked as Sonic strode into view, wriggling against his bonds as an uncharacteristic whine left him, finally catching the blue hedgehogs attention.

"Shadow!" Sonic gasped, racing to the table to immediately begin working on untying Shadows bonds. "What did he do to you?! Chaos," he muttered, staunchly ignoring the fact that he could see inside his partner.

Once one of Shadows hands was free he weakly lifted it to his mouth to rip the gag away from his mouth, working his sore jaw with a low groan. "He wanted to see what made me 'tick'," Shadow finally croaked, his throat revolting against the simple sentence. It felt like Starline had stuffed it full of razorblades. Maybe he had.

"That's not funny, Shadow," Sonic growled, finishing off with freeing Shadow's feet. He dared not move the hybrid until the GUN unit finally arrived. He was fairly certain that if Shadow even sat up right now his guts would go spilling across the floor. He moved back up the table, trying his best to focus on his partners face, and not the horrific evidence of what had happened to him over the last five days. He let a shaky hand slowly card through Shadow's quills - one of the only parts of his body not soaked in blood. He heaved a heavy breath, fighting back tears as they gathered in his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"What for?" Shadow asked, tugging idly at the collar still wrapped around his neck. He wanted to rip it off, but without knowing exactly how it was effecting his body, he dared not, given how close he believed he probably was to death at the moment.

"For not coming sooner," Sonic gasped, ducking his head as the tears forced their way down his cheeks. "When you didn't show up for our date, or even text, I thought something might be wrong. But everyone told me to wait. That it wasn't unusual for you to drop off the radar without notice. I should've listened to my gut. I should've looked for you sooner."

"Hush," Shadow murmured, hating how his hand trembled as he lifted it to brush against Sonic's face, frowning as it smeared blood across a peach cheek. "S'not your fault," he sighed, swallowing against the dryness in his throat, only to cough quietly after doing so and wincing at the pain that shot through his abdomen from the action. He wheezed and Sonic panicked, clutching at Shadow's hand with wide, teary eyes.

"The rest of the team should be here soon, then we'll get you to a hospital," Sonic reassured, "You'll be okay."

"I know," Shadow hummed, he ear swiveling towards the doorway at the tell tale sound of boots running down a hallway. GUN had arrived.

The path to healing was a slow one that drove Shadow insane.

He'd been taken away to a GUN facility to be patched up, and for his recovery regime. Sonic had nearly been barred from visiting, only for Rouge to point out that she or Omega would just sneak him in if GUN didn't allow him clearance. Thus, Commander Tower gave Sonic a special clearance card that would allow him to the medical wing, much to the blue hedgehogs delight. Shadow had no doubt that Sonic was going to use the card to get into much more than the medical wing while he was in recovery.

Stitches were not an experience that Shadow was especially fond of, however the GUN doctor who had patched him up had been worried that putting him under anesthesia while working on him might just finish him off, so he'd been awake during the entire ordeal of having his abdomen stitched closed. Truly, he felt like a cadaver, with the borderline y-incision stitches the doctor had done on him. Sonic had made an mindless comment about how at least Starline had cut him open underneath his chest fluff, so that was mostly undamaged. The distasteful joke had made Shadow laugh, and his laugh had eased a little bit of the stress that had made itself home on Sonic's face, much to his relief.

The inhibitor ring adjustments were the worst parts of what Starline had done to him, in Shadow's opinion. He had used Gerald and Ivo's research notes to create the little add-ons, and they had screwed with his chaos energy enough that they had to be removed one at a time over a lengthy period of time, otherwise his body may go haywire and shut down at the sheer amount of energy that normally occupied it. Luckily, however, the collar was able to be removed right away. It's only purpose appeared to be to physically weaken Shadow, since a lack of chaos energy would only slow him down.

Meanwhile, Starline had been locked up in the deepest, darkest cell that GUN unofficially had. For once, when Shadow made an off-color joke about burying Starline alive, Sonic stayed silent, instead of his usual quip about how everyone should have the opportunity to be free. He'd simply squeezed Shadow's hand gently and stared off into space. Perhaps, just this once, Sonic had changed his mind about the possibility of redemption.

And that was what was slowly, truly driving Shadow insane. Sonic had become quiet since the whole ordeal. He stuck close by Shadow's side during his physiotherapy, offering quiet little comments of encouragement, and he would tell Shadow about his day and read to him while he was trapped in the hospital bed. However, gone were his boisterous declarations of adventure and sarcastic little remarks about the people he came across during his day to day activities. It was like the light in Sonic's soul had been snuffed out while Shadow had been detained.

One day, Shadow had simply had enough.

"I'm not dead, you know."

"…what?" Sonic stopped in his explanation of the latest project Tails was working on while the two of them sat in the GUN cafeteria after one of Shadow's physio appointments.

"I'm not dead. I didn't die. You're talking to me like you would speak to a grave."

Sonic blinked in surprise, sitting back and up at the table, quickly shaking his head. "No I'm not."

"You are. You're speaking to me the way I speak to Maria about my day. You're soft and somber, and it's driving me nuts." Shadow was never really one to mince words, especially not when speaking to Sonic.

"I…I'm sorry?" Sonic looked genuinely confused, his hands falling into his lap, "I didn't realize…"

"I know what you saw was a lot. And I am sorry that you had to see it at all. But it wasn't your fault, and I survived. I need you to be boisterous, and loud, and annoying. I need you to be you, Sonic. I need you to run amok through some top secret area of the base and bring me back a pen from Commander Tower's office, just because you know it will annoy him. I need you to bring a stack of comics into my room and leave them scattered everywhere because you're too excited to finish reading an issue before you move on to the next, while trying to explain the ridiculous plot to me. Please…I feel like Starline killed you when he was trying to kill me."

"Shadow," Sonic breathed, reaching across the table to gently take the hybrids hands into his. "I'm sorry. I just…When I saw you on that table, I really thought I was going to lose you. I guess I still feel like you could slip through my fingers if I hold on too tight."

"Once the last inhibitor is fixed, you can hold on as tight as you want," Shadow soothed, brushing his thumbs across the back of Sonic's hands, "Moderate pressure can currently be handled at this time."

Sonic snorted at Shadow's deadpan joke, a short peel of laughter escaping him as the hybrid offered him a short, lopsided smile.

"There you are."

Sonic sighed and brought one of Shadow's hands up to his lips to press a soft kiss to the back of it. "Well then…I hope you're prepared for me to go full koala once you're all better."

"I don't think I'd have it any other way."

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #sonic fanfiction #doctor starline #things that i wrote #tw: violence #tw: blood #fic prompt

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