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masterwords · 2 years

Text

stops and starts (1 of 2)

Summary: Pre-BAU, Hotch & Morgan are roommates at the TRP (SWAT training)...

Notes: I am creating all of the rules in this universe so please don't come at me with "that's not now this works" because it is exactly how it works here. Because I say so. If the CM writers can bend time and space for their canon/backstories, so can I. Reality has no bearing here. This story is part 1 of 2 but fits into a whole SWAT AU I'm working up, so I'll create a landing page for all of the one-shots that live in this universe.

Pairing: Hotch/Haley & Hotch/Morgan

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: consensual "cheating", food & alcohol

“I'm rooming with Mister Rogers...” Derek muttered to himself, poking around in the perfectly manicured framed photos stacked neatly inside of a box on Hotch's bed. He knew he shouldn't be so damn nosy but they were about to spend 19 weeks crammed into this tiny bedroom together and he wanted to know what he was up against. He fancied himself a people person, he could get along with just about anyone really, but 19 weeks is a long time...

Besides, the box was already open. That made it okay right?

Derek had already moved in the day before. His small number of personal effects were on display, his books were stacked on his desk, clothes in the tiny dresser and his toiletries neatly stashed in bins under the bed. It was always preferable to get in first, pick the bed you wanted, get to know the lay of the land. They were right at the end of the hall near the stairwell, and Derek made sure his bed was nearest the door so he could get in and out without disturbing his roomie...just in case. He didn't plan to have his nose in the books for the entire time, that was for damn sure.

He'd heard through the grapevine about a few bars that were good times, and a few houses nearby that would hold parties he could really let loose at. He'd already gotten to know all the right people to make sure that these few months wouldn't be absolutely the most boring time of his life. Derek was serious about his studies but he was also serious about balance. Pleasure and pain. Letting loose was as important as passing his tests.

But Hotch? His bed was just a mattress with a couple of boxes on top. Late didn't seem like it was in this guy's vocabulary, but around here not being early meant being late. When he finally had opportunity to lay eyes on Hotch, it all became clear. He looked flustered, a frustration thick and wild radiated from his otherwise neat facade. His eyes were radioactive amber sparking.

“Hey,” Derek greeted him with a smile, hoping to diffuse whatever bad energy the guy was trying to bring into the room. He wasn't into that. “I'm Derek Morgan...you must be Aaron Hotchner?”

“Hotch, please,” was the response, and just as Derek hoped, the sparks faded to smoldering embers and a small smile twitched at the corner of his lips. Apprehensive, a little shy, but not so angry now. An extended hand, a firm and textbook perfect handshake. The kind that dads practice with their sons before sending them off to law school, he figured. He wouldn't know, his dad was nothing but ashes and a headstone when he headed off that direction, but he could imagine. “Pleasure to meet you.” His eyes flicked from the open box then to Derek and a flush rose in his neck at realization that he'd left it open, that Derek wouldn't even have to pry in order to see right into his pathetic life.

“Can I give you a hand with anything?”

Hotch stared at him for a moment, lips pursed tight enough to become almost colorless. It was like he was being completely sized up right in that moment, and whatever move he made or word he spoke would be held on some sort of personal record. The scrutiny in those eyes was daunting. Derek didn't know much about him except that he'd been a prosecutor and was now running the Seattle FBI Field Office, but he'd wager there were a lot of people who were just as likely to piss their pants as shake his hand when they met him. His initial assessment may have been a little off...Mister Rogers he was not.

“No,” he said finally, his features softening. “Thank you for the offer, this is all I have.”

“Alright.” Derek stood up, arching his back and stretching his lazy muscles out. “Look. I'm not about getting off on the wrong foot...you good? Did I do something to piss you off?”

Hotch's eyes went wide, his eyebrows shooting up almost comically high. Derek had caught him completely off guard. “What? No, I...” but a sudden realization flashed over his features, and he sucked in a few breaths that expanded his ribs until they were at capacity beneath his too crisp to be casual navy polo. “I'm sorry if I'm coming on a little strong. It isn't you.”

Clearly he didn't want to talk about it, but Derek wasn't going to just walk away from that kind of opening. 19 weeks they'd have to sleep three feet away from each other...he couldn't have this dude carrying around so much baggage. In his experience, baggage turns into landmines and he really hated dodging landmines. It wasn't his style to side step them, he just jumped right on top of them.

“Wife?”

“I'm not married,” Hotch returned a little too quickly. It was fast enough that Derek knew he'd hit the target on the first try. Maybe not a wife, but a someone. Important enough someone to really get under his skin. Turning his back on Derek, Hotch began unpacking his few boxes, hoping that the topic would find its inevitable conclusion in his refusal to elaborate...but Derek wasn't having it.

“Someone pissed you off big time. What'd they do, starch your boxers? Put raisins in your cookies but let you think they were chocolate chips?”

Hotch didn't laugh, but he did smile. He wasn't entirely sure he liked Derek and his jokes or his prying, and still there was something about him that was so easy to just...talk to. “Nothing so egregious,” he replied finally, sliding his folded clothes into the dresser and closing up the box of framed photos without putting any of them out. He couldn't be more obvious.

“Well that pretty blonde lady must've done something to get you all worked up...cos she doesn't look like your sister.”

Hotch turned and regarded him seriously, folding his arms over his chest. This is when Derek thought people would be ready to piss their pants...he'd be lying if he didn't say he hadn't felt a little tingle down there the minute that frown was aimed at him. Although, that might be something else entirely.

Derek's game of twenty questions was met with stone cold silence and a frigid stare. A dare, maybe, to keep going or shut the fuck up. He decided on the latter...they had plenty of time for him to get all the nitty gritty details. “I'm heading out for pizza in a few, wanna join me?”

“Depends,” Hotch replied coolly, tightly coiled muscles melting beneath the crisp lines of his navy polo. “Are you finished with the inquisition?”

“For now.”

Pizza led them to common ground, but that had its limits for usefulness. Cheeky banter about law school quickly drove them down a path of comparison, good-natured but ultimately spiked with the intensity of competition. Hotch was shocked to find out how much pepperoni pizza he could consume with a pitcher of beer and good company, so when they found themselves kissing in the alley with greasy lips and desperate hands...no one was as surprised as he was. He would have put good money on that.

They didn't really talk about that night, but things eased up between them at least. Hotch's cold front had melted, and Derek tried not to ask as many questions. They had a long stretch ahead of them and this wasn't going to work if they pushed each other too hard.

Sitting cross-legged on Derek's bed after a week of brutal physical punishment on the training courses, they ate shitty cup o' noodles, slurping loudly while comparing their schedules and instructors, which parts of training they were most excited for, and when talk turned to what they planned to do with all of this after training was done, Hotch found himself already missing Derek. Barely a week in and he was already anticipating heartache. He got too attached to people too quickly.

“So, what's your plan? You got your sights set on FBI Director I bet...” Derek's voice was quiet, his mouth full of a pot sticker he'd crammed in whole. There was a small takeout box of them sitting on the bed between them and one set of chopsticks shared. He really had tried to bite into it, be some sort of gentleman, but it was still way too damn hot and the liquid exploded and started to burn his chin so he shoved it in quickly to avoid further humiliation. Hotch laughed, tearing his own pot sticker apart with the end of one chopstick to let the steam out.

“Someday. First I'd like to get into the BAU. They've got an opening now and another coming up soon, all those guys are retirement age...thought this might look good on my resume. Set me apart, those jobs are competitive.”

“You already run the Seattle Field Office, I doubt you need to pad your resume...” But Derek knew how hard it was to get those BAU oldies to even look at you, he'd had his eye on that prize a long time too. He was busy diversifying, as his mentor had put it in school after he blew out his knee and had to come up with some other career options on the fly. Diversify, make your skill-set unique and irreplaceable. He was working on it.

“What about you?”

Derek's face erupted in a smile that could light up a dark alley and poked a hole into his next pot sticker, following Hotch's lead. “Same. But I think my resume needs more help than yours.”

“Yeah, right, mister bomb squad...”

“Hey, you get in, you hire me alright?” He winked, and Hotch felt the flush beneath the collar of his shirt. His smile was shy, subtle, and Derek let out a booming laugh that made him jump a little with surprise. “I'm kidding, man. I'll get in, don't need any favors from a pretty boy like you.”

“I know...that's not...”

It wasn't. It truly wasn't. He had just found himself suddenly completely overwhelmed by the idea that this SWAT certification might lead them both in the same direction, and he might not have to mourn this loss. Too attached already but how could he say any of that? It would make him look insane, so he excused himself to call Haley. He didn't even want to talk to her, necessarily, he just needed to not sit here beside Derek.

What he needed was a cold shower and well...she would provide him with enough of that feeling. She'd been nothing but cold lately, and still he tried. He called her every day to check in dutifully and she, in turn, answered every call he made. But there was something strained now that hadn't been there before.

There were other calls to make, too, so he took a pocketful of change and made his way to the payphone in the hallway. Sure, his cell would have been fine but then he'd have to go outside to get any reliable service and it was really damn cold out there. The Seattle Field Office was still calling him for help, short staffed perpetually, so he'd have to call them after Haley. They were currently unattached, at her suggestion, busy deciding whether they really wanted to be together or if it was just more of an obligation because they'd already been at it so long. That whole high school sweetheart thing came with expectations that Haley was struggling with. He wasn't aware of how serious she was until she announced that she was already seeing someone. “It's casual,” she'd said as if it helped. “I barely know anything about him. We met at the gym.” He'd only been gone a few hours, was sitting in an airport somewhere in the center of the country on his second layover when she shared the news. Her openness was jarring and sharp, the way she smiled into the phone and said she was glad they were doing this. What he refused to think about was how long she'd actually been seeing this person and waiting for an opportunity to arise. He preferred the thought that she'd only been considering it until now, and as soon as he said he was okay with it (what choice did he have?) she made the call. It still felt terrible but not quite so bad. It was a sting he could live with.

“Trying new things...” she'd called it. “I still love you, Aaron, but this is good for both of us I think. I hope you try it too.”

“I don't have time to try anything, Haley,” he had replied quietly, defeated. The problem was that he was going to be busier than ever, doubling up on SWAT training and profiling courses while she was suddenly without anything to occupy her time for 19 weeks. That was an awful lot of time for her to explore. He had little hope that she would return to him, and maybe that was for the best. They had, perhaps, outgrown each other.

In any case, maybe he would have liked to do some exploring too but it ended there. Aside from that night, after pizza and beer...that night that was still a blur but brought a weary smile to his face. But nothing was going to happen there. Derek had better opportunities than whatever that might have been. Of that he was certain.

“Haley,” he said quietly into the phone when she picked up and tried his best to smile through the agony of knowing he was fighting a losing battle. He was losing her and there wasn't anything he could do to change that. “How are you?”

#derek morgan #aaron hotchner #haley hotchner #criminal minds #hotchgan #hotch x morgan #aaron hotchner x derek morgan #masterwords SWAT AU #fanfiction

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