#mayhem arc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

masterwords · 6 months ago

Note

hi! would you consider writing something with oblivious rossi?

maybe hotch gets hurt and rossi is trying to take care of him and gets angry at morgan for trying to take over or be hotch's emergency contact or something.

could be paternal/platonic/romantic rossi

Sorry this took a freaking half a year to finish! I hope you like it! (Or are...you know...still hanging around this fandom. SO SORRY.)

Summary: When the excitement is over, all that remains is to regroup. Hotch won't get into an SUV so Rossi follows him to the wreckage of Derek's ambulance. Things just keep getting weirder for Rossi after that.

Words: 7.1k

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: explosions & injuries (if you've seen lo-fi/mayhem you know)

Notes: YEAH. Another Mayhem fic. Just a whole lot of Hotch being exceptionally Hotch-like. Frustrating and totally mad but we love him right? I am posting the whole fic here (and on ao3) because it's a one shot for once!

***

“I’ll give you a ride back to the hotel,” Rossi said, stopping Hotch in his tracks. He’d been hoping to make his exit in silence, while everyone was occupied, but Rossi was watching him. A little too closely.

“That’s alright,” Hotch replied coolly, his eyes trained on a spot on the floor. A fleck of mica in the linoleum held his attention longer than it should have, a dead giveaway that his marbles were suitably scrambled. They might not have evaluated for a concussion but he definitely had one and there was no denying it.

“I insist. They don’t need our help here and you look like you could use a nice hot shower. Come on.”

Hotch followed dutifully, unable to conjure an excuse on the spot. His mind was a hotbed of misery, he was about two minutes from complete collapse and that didn’t leave a lot of room for quick wit. Rossi smiled victoriously, attempting to make some kind of small talk on the way through the front doors of the hospital. The conversation was one sided. At the curb, parked beside the bright red no parking emergency vehicles only pain was a black SUV. His body turned to static electricity and he stopped dead in his tracks, the ache behind his sternum becoming a rumbling freight train. Rossi pressed the button and the fob set off a chirping noise in the SUV. Hotch didn’t exactly flinch, but his hearing went out entirely and became a high pitched screaming and nothing else.

“I think I’ll walk,” he muttered. It sounded completely nonsensical to Rossi, his speech somewhat slurred in his sudden panic.

“Come on Aaron, you need some rest.”

“I said I’d rather walk.”

“You look like you can barely stand let alone walk…”

“I said I’d rather walk.” He could scarcely hear Rossi, but that didn’t matter. He knew he wasn’t getting into that damn SUV.

“Okay, okay. I’ll walk with you.”

Hotch’s legs were already moving, feet pounding pavement as fast as they would carry him on weary bones and aching joints. Putting as much space between he and that powder keg SUV as he could. The faster he tried to move, the more pronounced his limp became and Rossi struggled to catch up.

“Aaron, slow down!”

“I don’t need a babysitter Dave.”

“I worry. Humor, me would you? Slow down. It’s two miles back to the hotel from here.”

Hotch realized as he moved forward that he wasn’t exactly headed back to the hotel. He knew the way, but he had other plans. Then Rossi would really think he’d gone mad.

Maybe he had. He wasn’t in any position to judge madness, not at this point. He’d spent the day watching people be murdered on city cameras and finished out his evening by being blown up in the middle of Manhattan and then watching the man responsible slice his own throat to avoid being arrested. Now he was touring the streets of Manhattan in a concussed fog looking for a street he knew had to be coming up soon. He knew the city well enough, maybe not as well as Rossi but he could manage. On a good day at least.

At a crosswalk he stopped and cocked his head to the side, listening to the sounds of the city. He’d been hoping to hear the sirens, the commotion, but this was a city that never went quiet and he’d lost his bearings. The smoke was coating the sidewalks in all direction, he couldn’t tell where the plume originated. Rossi caught up to him and stood by his side, awaiting his next move.

“If you’re headed where I think you are, take a left at the next intersection.”

“You don’t need to come.”

Rossi shrugged helplessly. “I’m not going to let you wander around Manhattan alone, Aaron. Not in your state. Besides, I’d like to see how our friend fared myself.”

Hotch didn’t respond, he just entered the crosswalk when the light changed and began heading for the next intersection. Rossi kept up with him but didn’t speak, not for a long time. He was too busy watching him, making sure that he didn’t fall over. Again and again his leg buckled beneath him and Rossi reached out, ready to stop his face from hitting the cement, but each time Hotch managed to right himself and move with even more determination to just get where he was going.

Ahead, a few exhausting blocks further, was an entrance to Central Park. They weren’t where they needed to be, but they were close. The footpath would take them over a small bridge, beneath streetlamps glowing through the smoky haze. As they crested the bridge, he could see the smoldering remains of Derek’s ambulance and it ignited something inside of him. He began running, turning briskly from the pavement into the great sea of grass.

It was more of a painful lope, one leg clearly doing the majority of the work, and Rossi kept on his heels. It wasn’t hard, Hotch wasn’t running fast. “Aaron, we can walk, no one is going anywhere.”

Rossi’s pleas fell on deaf ears. Partially because Hotch’s hearing had almost entirely gone out, partially because he was so focused on that ambulance that the rest of the world had disappeared. He didn’t even hear Rossi’s protest.

He whipped out his credentials when stopped at the barrier, flipping them open with one trembling hand. Rossi followed suit, and without much hesitation they were allowed to pass into the scene. The heat was astounding, charred grass and flickering embers still being snuffed out by the fire department. Hotch’s pace slowed as he got closer, as he took in the full image of desolation. Molten metal, the ambulance he’d driven not long ago reduced to nothing but charred remains.

“Aaron…” Rossi said when Hotch stumbled to a halt. Like he simply couldn’t move forward. “We don’t need to be here. They have it covered.”

The ground was wet, sopping and soggy, his feet were sinking in the mush. They’d been pushing so much water over the ground, over the ambulance, the whole place was saturated and swampy. It smelled like gasoline and the still billowing smoke made him cough.

“Aaron. Come on. Not tonight.”

“Hotch!” A voice rang out through the night, and while he’d heard very little of what Rossi was saying to him, he heard Derek’s voice clear as a bell. He turned and squinted in the direction he thought the voice had come from, trying to see through the stagnant smoke hanging thick around the site. “HOTCH!” Derek appeared then, running out of the plumes of smoke still rising like phantom geysers from the wreckage and Hotch stood dumbfounded as Derek slammed into him. For a split second neither of them worried about injuries, about the clash of ribs and the twisting of arms and the intense relief as Derek buried his face in the warmth of Hotch’s sweaty neck. He smelled like antiseptic and blood, a welcome reprieve from the overwhelming acrid smoke.

“You’re in so much trouble,” Hotch whispered, his nose against Derek’s ear, arms wrapped tight. If they were alone he might have been inclined to allow a kiss but they were already pushing past any professional boundaries that might still exist between them. He caught Rossi staring and turned away, avoiding the intensity of his glare.

“My turn?” Rossi asked, oblivious. Or maybe not. Maybe he was just trying to divert the attention from the emotional meeting before people started asking questions, before he had to start asking questions himself. Derek obliged, hugging Rossi with half the vigor of what he’d just given Hotch but it made people look away, satisfied that what they were seeing was more of a family reunion than a lover’s embrace.

Rossi still wasn’t sure himself. Hotch and Derek’s relationship had always eluded his grasp. One minute they were thick as thieves, sharing a braincell, and the next they were at each other’s throats barely able to even be in the same room. The charge between them was intense and the pendulum swung wildly back and forth.

This case in New York had been no exception. The two of them had been scrapping like cats and dogs, more glares than gazes. Everything had been tense from the first sight of Kate Joyner.

“I’ll call us a car,” Rossi said as Hotch and Derek stood having a silent conversation, just staring at one another in a way that made Rossi feel like an intruder.

“I’ll walk,” Hotch insisted again. Rossi thought he’d be over that by now, that he’d just wanted to get here without being at someone else’s mercy, but there was more to it. Derek and Rossi shared a glance, and all at once without putting words to it, they realized why Hotch wanted to walk.

“I’ll join you,” Derek said quickly. “Rossi, you can go back to the hotel. We’re done here anyway.”

“I don’t mind the walk,” Rossi insisted, but Derek shot him a look that was almost seething. It took him a second to realize he wasn’t being asked not to join them but told. He was a third wheel. “Okay. I’ll see you fellas in the morning. JJ has the jet scheduled to leave at 11.”

“I can’t fly,” Hotch muttered. “The field office has secured me a ride back to Quantico.”

“You?” Rossi asked, suddenly smirking. “The man who won’t get into an SUV with someone he knows and trusts tonight?”

“I’ll manage.”

Rossi shrugged helplessly. Hotch had to be the most frustrating person he’d ever known in his life. Hands down. Not even Gideon could hold a candle to the absolute madness of knowing this man.

“Watch him, will ya?” Rossi asked, looking directly at Derek.

“Of course.”

(x)

Derek woke up before anyone else. He knew because the lobby was quiet, the little continental breakfast room was quiet though freshly stocked with pastries and fruit and hot coffee, the whole place was quiet. If Emily or Spencer had been awake there would certainly have been noise. He threw his bag over his shoulder and wandered the carpeted hallways, taking a few extra minutes to gather his thoughts. The night before was a blur of fire and exhaustion. He and Hotch had walked back in complete silence, a little over two miles without saying a word except to bid one another goodnight at Hotch’s hotel room door. No invitation inside. Hotch didn’t offer, Derek didn’t ask. That hug had taken it all out of them, had quenched the immediate thirst for connection, but there was still so much turmoil between them that they weren’t able to touch the night before.

Sleep had cleared Derek’s mind enough that he could his his way to a resolution and he only had to hope that Hotch fared the same. Somehow he doubted that the other man had slept much if at all. Passed out in short spurts, probably, but not restful sleep.

“Has anyone checked out yet this morning from my team?” Derek asked, now standing in front of the front desk. He flashed his credentials and slapped down the list of room numbers he wanted checked. The young man with horn rimmed glasses and slicked back hair frowned as he clicked away at his keyboard.

“Room 614,” the front desk attendant whose nametag read Miraz said, sliding the paper back to Derek. “About fifteen minutes ago.”

614. Rossi. Where the hell was Rossi going this early? He was usually the last one up and moving, he liked to take his sweet time. At least Hotch had stayed put, he was still in his room, with any luck sleeping. They had hours left.

“I’d like to check out. Room 801.”

“Derek Morgan?”

“Yes,” he said, wondering now if Miraz had even bothered to look at his credentials. Probably not. “You see which way the guy from 614 went?”

Miraz shrugged and his face seemed to say he wasn’t a babysitter, he didn’t get paid enough to care where guests went once they were no longer paying for his services. Derek couldn’t blame him.

“Thanks bud.”

��Hey,” Miraz said as Derek turned to grab his bag from the floor. “Did I see you on the news last night? That explosion in Central Park?”

Derek thought about shrugging, just to give the guy a taste of his own medicine, but he really wasn’t in the mood to play games. “Yeah. That was me.”

“You saved a whole bunch of lives. That’s really cool. Was it scary?”

“Uh...yeah. It was a little scary driving an ambulance rigged to explode through Manhattan. Almost shit my pants when I jumped out. First thing I did when I stood up was check my pants.”

That got a laugh out of Miraz who seemed to lighten up a little. “That guy, 614? I only saw him go out the front door, he was on his phone when he checked out. Sounded like he was going to meet someone. Thanks for doing what you did...my mom lives close to St Sebastian.”

Derek smiled and nodded, lifting up his bag. “You’re welcome. That’s my job. Hey, can I leave a note for the guy in 311?”

“Sure. Here.” Miraz slipped Derek a pad of paper emblazoned with the hotel logo at the top and a pen to match.

“Just make sure you give this to him. He’s gonna look pretty mean...be nice to him, okay? He had a rough night.”

“Was he the guy in the car that blew up?”

“Yeah, kid. He was. You saw that on the news too huh?”

“It’s all everyone was talking about last night. Bet if you went into the restaurant you’d hear it everywhere.”

Derek left after that, feeling better about the interaction than he’d started. His note was simple, just asking Hotch to call him. Somehow he knew Hotch wouldn’t, but he couldn’t control that. He could control his own reaction to the situation. He’d given Hotch space last night – yeah, the case was over and technically they were well within their relationship limits to spend time together behind closed doors once that had happened, but something about the way everything went down told him it wasn’t a good time. To let Hotch have space, to lick his wounds. He needed to come to terms with what happened on his own before he could ever hope to let anyone else in, it was just a part of who he was. And maybe Derek needed some of that himself this time too. He had no regrets, but he did spend a lot of the night worried that Hotch wasn’t okay. That his injuries were worse than he let on. Kate died and Hotch just had a blown ear drum and some shrapnel in his leg? He didn’t buy it.

But they’d walked two miles together and Hotch held up. He limped and there were times it was pretty clear he was dizzy, that he couldn’t hear well or even at all, but he walked nonetheless. It wasn’t nothing.

Derek stepped out into the bright early morning and looked around, wondering where in the hell Rossi went. What was he up to? JJ had gone to stay with Will for the night but she’d already secured the jet, there was nothing to do except just show up and take off.

He thought about calling, but what would he say? There was no real reason he should find himself so concerned about Rossi’s whereabouts. Pushing it out of his mind, he made his way toward the FBI Field Office, intending to talk with them about Kate first, and then Hotch’s ride. He knew Agent Davis had been assigned to drive him back to Quantico, and then make the return trip on her own. Derek thought he could spare her the trouble and chauffeur Hotch on his own. At least then it would be a one way trip and they could have some time alone together. The last thing Davis needed was to have to spend 5 hours in a car with the grouchiest Unit Chief on the East Coast. No one was better equipped to deal with the emotional fallout of the last week as it settled on Hotch than Derek. He was somewhat responsible for it, afterall.

On his way, he called Sean and talked to him. Sean had seen the news by the ragged sound of his voice, by the way he sounded drunk at 7am. “I heard about Kate,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. Raw, red sounding words, like he’d been pounding whiskey and cigarettes all night. Derek wasn’t surprised.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“How’s Aaron?” The sound of Sean’s voice hadn’t surprised Derek, but Sean asking about his brother did. It wasn’t like him to be concerned about his brother, at least not before exhausting the attention himself. He must have seen the bomb.

“Rough,” Derek said, quickening his pace. It occurred to him that Rossi might have had the same idea he had, that Rossi might be off trying to reassign Davis himself. “But alive. I’m going to drive him back home, he can’t fly. Was thinking maybe the three of us could meet for breakfast before we skip town.”

“Oh. I uh…” Sean started, and Derek could hear sheets twisting and an inhale, he had a cigarette already. “I don’t think Aaron wants to see me. He didn’t even tell me you guys were in town.”

“You know how he is on cases, bud. Nothing personal. Come on. I’m buyin’.”

Sean’s stomach growled and he knew his hangover would be epic if he didn’t eat...hell, it was going to be epic anyway, but something greasy might curb the bite. “Yeah. Okay. Look my car’s broken down and my bike’s in storage…I pawned my ten speed for rent money a couple weeks ago so I’m hoofing it these days...”

“We’ll come to you. Text me a restaurant and a time, we’ll meet you there.”

He found Rossi outside of the field office looking pleased with himself. The look on his face was concerning and took Derek back to the night before. “Rossi!” Derek called, picking up the pace. Rossi turned and looked at him, waving a little as he did so.

“You’re up early. The jet doesn’t leave until 11.”

“Yeah, I actually thought I’d give Hotch a ride home. Came by to tell Agent Davis she didn’t have to drive Miss Daisy.”

Rossi, with a look of amusement, replied. “Already taken care of. I’ll drive Aaron back to Quantico.”

Exactly what Derek was hoping to avoid. The two of them, while not actively hiding anything, hadn’t really gone public. It never seemed like the right time. It was hard to look at pictures of humans at their worst, the evils of the world, and say Hey guys guess what? We kiss now.

“Would you mind if I did?” Derek asked, hoping he could play it cool. “We kinda had a rough time on this case and I’d like to do some damage control. You know?”

“I don’t think he’s in any condition to be doing damage control, Morgan. Why don’t you save that for next week?” The smug look on Rossi’s face was irritating. Derek wasn’t in the mood.

He’d been so confident, so sure that he could get here in time to seal the deal. Why would Rossi be so adamant about doing it? About spending five hours in a car with Hotch who was bound to be grouchier than a grizzly bear with a thorn in its paw? He was dangerously close to playing his trump card, the only thing stopping him was knowing damn well Hotch wouldn’t want that. Rossi was making it awfully damn hard.

It had started the night before, in the hospital. He was the first to show up on the floor, the first to rush into Hotch’s hospital room. Derek was in the bathroom cleaning himself up, giving Hotch a minute to sit quietly on the bed and just think without distraction – it was all he said he needed, just a minute to clear his head. They were missing something and if he could just get some quiet he might find it, but of course as he quickly came to realize, the joke was on him. There was no quiet to be had, not inside his head. The ringing and the pain were louder than anything in the hospital, and then there comes Rossi jogging into the room shouting “Aaron! Aaron!” and trying to force him to lay down. “You need to rest.” That hadn’t gone over well, not for any of them. Hotch didn’t want to rest, he just wanted Rossi to stop making noise, and Derek just wanted the night to be over. He’d tried to get Rossi to leave, to let Hotch get dressed in peace, but it only turned into an argument outside of his room while they waited for Hotch to finish.

“Just because they’re pointing at you to run the field office up here…” Rossi had started, and Derek looked around helplessly at the team who hadn’t known any of that. “Not here Rossi. Back off.” No, things had definitely not gone well the night before. The scene in the park had been less frustrating but there was still some uneasiness about Rossi, some hesitation there and it had clearly spurred him on this morning. He had little hope that Rossi was going to let him have this without a fight. Not when he looked at Rossi’s little smile that said I win, though what he thought he was winning Derek couldn’t decide.

“We’re having breakfast with Sean before leaving. I just got off the phone with him. He’s expecting us.”

Rossi cocked his head to the side like he didn’t quite understand what Derek said. “You called Sean?”

“He and I have been buddies a long time, man. He knew Kate pretty well...they kinda dated a while back…”

“Kate Joyner? Dated Sean Hotchner?” Rossi could barely believe his ears. She seemed far too smart and put together to date someone like Sean, that was what Derek saw flash over Rossi’s features. He took immediate offense, bristling at the thought that Sean might not be good enough for someone. He had plenty of faults, but he was a good man and he’d never treated a lover poorly. That was reserved for himself, self-loathing a particularly strong Hotchner trait. They didn’t care half as much about themselves as they did others.

“I guess when she was new to the city. I don’t know man, he’s handsome and he cleaned himself up pretty good for a while. But I’m a little worried this is gonna make him relapse. I thought if we...Hotch and I...took him out for breakfast maybe we could help.”

There was a dawning look of curiosity on Rossi’s face that Derek didn’t like, but he supposed it was only a matter of time. “You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d say there might be something going on between you that you aren’t sharing with the class.”

“Me and Sean?” Derek asked, feigning ignorance. He wasn’t very good at it. Rossi didn’t smile.

Now Derek just felt like a slimeball. Sure, he’d been angry at Rossi the night before but it wasn’t really angry it was just frustration, exasperation. Rossi was pushing him and it would have been so much easier if he could just fucking tell him WHY because he knew Rossi would respect that and leave them alone but he was trying his best to honor Hotch’s wishes that they be discreet for a while longer. Until the dust settled on his divorce, until they were back on Strauss’ good side...well this sure as hell wasn’t going to put them there and frankly that they ever would be on her good side was starting to look hopeless. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had to have a heart to heart with Rossi. He had to lay it out or this game of tug-o-war was never going to end.

“Let’s go grab a coffee,” he suggested, looking at the time. He still had a while before Hotch would get up. Or at least a while before he would be leaving his room. His rendezvous with Agent Davis was 9am, there was time enough to have a meaningful talk with Rossi and still make it. “I think maybe we need to have a chat.”

“If you’re planning to explain the birds and the bees, kid, save your breath.” Rossi said with a smirk and Derek shook his head. He couldn’t believe this man sometimes.

“Well damn. Guess we’ll have to find something else to talk about.”

“I have a feeling you’ve got that covered.”

They walked along listening to the sounds of morning in Manhattan, street vendors and taxi cabs, people shouting and cars honking and music everywhere. The city never slept but it seemed a little extra electric this morning after the terror of the last week, after the excitement of the night before. Newsstands were showered with photos of explosions in black and white and full color spreads, and everyone was telling what they knew or heard. Even in passing Derek could pick up how little of it was true. “I heard it was the President in that hospital…” “No, it was the Secretary of Defense…” “No, it was the Pope…” Derek had to roll his eyes as the stories got more and more outlandish. Still, no one seemed to recognize him immediately though a few people did do quick second takes as he walked by – he thought Hotch might not be so fortunate. His picture was all over the papers.

“Looks like you boys are celebrities,” Rossi said, pointing at a photo of Derek crouched in front of Hotch on the street. It was taken by zoom lens, probably somewhere just past the barricade Derek had worked his way through. Rossi picked it up and stared for a minute and Derek wondered what he was thinking – could he see the look in his eye? That absolute devastation at seeing Hotch bleeding in the street? And could he see the look in Hotch’s eye? Like Derek was some kind of savior? Rossi looked at the photo for a long time and Derek sucked in a shaky breath, glancing around at the crush of people crossing the busy street. “They’re calling you heroes.”

“They don’t know what else to do with their fear,” Derek whispered, still staring at the picture of Hotch. He didn’t know what else to do with it either.

“How about this place?” Rossi indicated a little cafe with outdoor seating that looked like they had room for a few more. Just a few steps past the newsstand. “Looks nice.”

They were seated quickly and ordered just as fast – a coffee and a slice of quiche for Derek, coffee and a croissant sandwich full of meat and cheese for Rossi. Easy and fast, they had their food right from the glass deli counter and began eating. Rossi was going to wait Derek out and watched with curiosity as he picked the egg away from the crust and set the crust aside.

“So that’s how you get a body like that,” Rossi said with a smirk. “You deprive yourself of the good parts.”

“Good parts? Man, crust isn’t the good part. Not when you got spinach and egg and cheese in here. I love food, I don’t love empty calories.”

“Not ever?”

“Did I say that?”

Rossi smiled and shook his head, lifting his sandwich to tear into it. He was starving. The minute his mouth was full, Derek took his opportunity to speak.

“Listen. There’s no easy way to bring this up, and I really probably shouldn’t but here’s the thing. I’m driving Aaron back to Quantico. You can argue all you want but I’m not gonna budge so it��d be a lot easier if you didn’t. I need to be with him right now.”

Rossi, chewing, nodded. He didn’t seem all that surprised.

“This week’s been rough for us and we need some time to talk. Or maybe just to be together quietly. He’s hurting, Rossi. And with the whole Kate...New York job...thing...I don’t know but I’m not going home without him.”

“And if I say no? I do still have the keys.”

“I’ll throw down, Rossi.” Derek grinned at that, knowing damn well Rossi was going to hand him the keys to the SUV without any further argument. It wasn’t like Derek couldn’t just get an SUV of his own to drive back in, that wasn’t really the issue. It was a principal thing. “I know you just wanna make sure he’s okay. I know you’re worried about him, I get it. I’ll take good care of him.”

“I know you will.” That was the first really serious thing Rossi had said all morning. He was glad, in some ways, that Derek was so devoted but his reputation worried Rossi. Maybe he wasn’t the dog everyone made him out to be, but Hotch was in no frame of mind to be dealing with personal drama. Between the divorce and now Kate’s death, he’d had enough. It just kept piling up and all Rossi had wanted to do was try to ease it. He wanted to ask questions that would probably come across as insensitive or prying, definitely pressing for information he wasn’t owed but Hotch had become like a son to him. He cared deeply for him in ways he hadn’t for anyone – there was a time he felt more devoted to Hotch than his own wife. (Wives.) And he was usually welcome in with open arms, this was jarring being pushed to the outside. Not being given an opportunity to help at the hospital and again now, it didn’t sit well.

“Do you remember Adrian Bale?” Derek asked, digging a tomato out of his quiche.

“The bomber who killed 6 Agents and wounded several others, sending Gideon into a tailspin. I recall the case vaguely but I know I checked in on Gideon several times during his leave. I was on a book tour at the time.”

Derek nodded. “Yeah. Well, Hotch was one of the wounded. I sat with him in a hospital room for three days while he battled his injuries. Three days I listened to him cough his lungs up, cleaned up blood, helped him eat and go to the bathroom. Three days. I should have been there when it happened but I was too busy licking my own wounds after a fight with he and Gideon about where I was needed. I thought I should be on the front line, they didn’t think so, I got pissed at them treating me like an outsider. That’s not what they were doing, I know that, but it pissed me off anyway. And I let that anger keep me away when they needed me. Last night was like a repeat. Only this time it feels worse because that first time I wasn’t really mad at him but this time I was. I almost lost something last night and I’m not gonna...not again. Not without a fight.”

Rossi nodded but said nothing, just regarded Derek with a seriousness he didn’t often employ. The restaurant shrank around them, suddenly cramped and tight, and Derek found it hard to breathe. He hadn’t even really said the words, probably didn’t need to at this point. If Rossi wasn’t picking up on it, he might need to look for a new job. He thought Rossi understood completely though, and instead just didn’t like it.

“You’re either not surprised or you don’t wanna invest much in it because you think it won’t last. Which is it?”

“Both, maybe,” Rossi admitted, pulling a piece of ham from his sandwich and eating it. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re good for him, but he’s...his marriage ending is probably not the best time for him to jump into something new, especially not something committed. Measure your expectations.”

“You callin’ me a rebound?”

“I guess in a matter of speaking. Maybe that’s not exactly what I’d call it...but close enough. They were married a long time.”

“No, they were together a long time. They actually weren’t married that long. They got married right after I came to the BAU.”

“Are we arguing semantics now? They had been together since high school, in whatever capacity you’d like to imagine. You don’t just get over that and jump into another healthy relationship right away. There has to be a grace period. A rebound, if you like.”

“Damn Rossi. That’s a little cold don’t you think?”

“Am I wrong?”

Derek considered what Rossi was saying while he sipped the too hot coffee. It burned his tongue. “I don’t know. I think you might be. I know how I feel, and I know how I’ve felt for a very long time. It’s not like this just came on out of nowhere for either of us. It’s been a long time coming. I guess I thought I knew how he felt...before Kate, anyway. Now I’m not as sure.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You saw the way he was with her. I know she dated Sean but it doesn’t take a genius to see the way he looked at her. And her resemblance to Haley was uncanny.”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose?! They’re practically twins.”

“Because they’re both blonde? That’s hardly fair. You’re jealous.”

“Damn right I am. Wouldn’t you be?”

“With anyone else, maybe. But you know Hotch better than that. That man was made to be married. If he’s with you, he’s with you. He’s not looking at anyone else. You should have seen all the LEOs and lawyers and other Agents who chased his tail, slipped him phone numbers for years and he was either completely oblivious or if he picked up on it he shut it down right away. You don’t trust that, you should probably cut your losses now and move on.”

“Yeah. I know. It’s just that I know how he still feels about Haley, how he’ll probably always feel about her and I saw this chick walking around like hot shit with him following behind her looking like a lovesick puppy…”

“Did you ever stop to consider that his motivation was deeply rooted in the fear of you leaving, not attraction to her? And that perhaps her intense interest in him had more to do with trusting him to save her job than it did with sexual attraction? I think your insecurity is leading you down a dangerous path.”

“Damn Rossi. You’re not pulling punches today. How’d you even know about that anyway?” He remembered talking to Rossi in the bar, and he never questioned Rossi’s knowledge then. He’d been too distracted to wonder, to puzzle that out. And the hospital had been the wrong time to bring any of it up. He couldn’t get that look of betrayal on Spencer’s face out of his mind. But now he wanted to know. There shouldn’t have been anyone outside of he and Hotch and Kate who knew and he thought they were going to keep it that way. At least until the case was finished.

“People talk, Derek. And I listen.”

What he meant was he had eyes and ears everywhere. He was connected. He probably knew before Hotch or Derek did. He’d probably been hearing whispers for months, judging by the cocky look on his face.

“It would be a terrible thing, you leaving the BAU. You would hate it up here. A desk job, suit and tie, dealing with all of that red tape. It’s not you Derek.”

“I’m not even tempted. I don’t want to leave the BAU. Only reason I considered it the other night was anger.”

“You tell him that?”

“I plan to...if you ever give me the damn car keys.”

Rossi finally handed them over and paid the tab before telling Derek he should get going. “Hotch will be checking out anytime now. You’ll want to catch him before he decides to take matters into his own hands or you’ll be chasing his tail lights down the interstate. You know how he is.” What Rossi imagined wasn’t Hotch in a car so much as Hotch on foot, wandering along the side of the road in some desolate Stephen King torturous walk, his feet bleeding inside of his shoes and him content to continue just so that he didn’t have to slide into the seat of an SUV.

“Shit.”

Outside the FBI Office, Hotch was talking with someone Derek didn’t recognize. He held himself stiff and tall, Derek could tell his back hurt but he looked shockingly put together and cleaned up. Upon closer inspection, he could still see a smear of blood behind Hotch’s ear and another at the nape of his neck. Clearly he hadn’t showered, just gave himself a wipe down – he probably didn’t get up in time, or maybe he couldn’t manage it. Derek really had no idea.

The sight of Derek approaching was startling to him, Derek could see it on his face. “Derek. What are you doing here?”

“I know you got my note. That kid at the front desk said he’d give it to you.”

“He did.”

“And you just decided to ignore it?”

Hotch’s features melted into a slow, cautious smile. “I knew you’d find me regardless. You always do.”

Derek rolled his eyes and leaned forward to grab Hotch’s go bag before he could. It was easy, he wasn’t exactly moving quickly. Bending at the hips looked painful. “I’m driving you home. Don’t bother acting surprised.”

“I had assumed Rossi might get to it first. He sent me a cryptic message this morning alluding to a road trip.”

“He did but I fought him for the honor. Won fair and square.” Sort of. Maybe he fought a little dirty. Maybe he said some things he wished he hadn’t. Given too much up.

“You told him about us, didn’t you?”

“Had no choice if I wanted to win.”

Hotch nodded and set out to walk toward the car. He moved slowly and Derek knew he wasn’t wrong about that stiffness, his back was messed up. He didn’t seem to move his neck either, instead he shifted his entire body in the direction he wanted to look.

“You’re lookin pretty rough today.”

“Feeling it.”

At least he admitted it, that was a step in the right direction. “Yeah. Me too.” Derek stopped at the SUV and hit the unlock button on the fob, keeping Hotch in his peripheral vision. He didn’t exactly flinch but he did stiffen up some, and his thumb started working a little faster over his nail bed as he looked around. PTSD. Maybe not alarming, not yet, but small signs. Derek didn’t miss them.

“We’re having breakfast with Sean.”

“I know. He sent me a text this morning.”

“Damn. Is there anything I can tell you that you don’t already know?”

Hotch reached for the door but Derek got there first, clicking it open and putting his body between Hotch and the car. Hotch smiled at the gesture. “You could tell me that you love me.”

That wasn’t what Derek expected. Not after his talk with Rossi, not after everything they’d been through with Kate. “If I did that...would you say it back?”

“You’re going to have to try it and see.” Something about him looked so serious, Derek couldn’t resist. He didn’t think Hotch had ever looked like he needed anything more in his life than to hear that Derek loved him right this minute, and how could he deny him that?

“I do. Dammit, I do. I love you Aaron.”

Hotch smiled and leaned forward, his body awkward and screaming in pain, every movement of his aching joints driving him mad but he kissed Derek once softly and then again a little harder. Slowly he raised one hand and cupped the back of his neck, holding him in place. “I love you too. Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Hotch smiled into another kiss. “Good.”

He was broken, his head was pounding mercilessly, his ear was ringing so loud and the sound of the city wasn’t helping any of it but for the moment, just this one moment, he wasn’t thinking about any of that. He was only thinking about the way Derek smelled, and being able to sit beside him for hours alone. They were never alone. It felt like a luxury and he could only wish that he felt better, that he felt halfway decent so he could enjoy it. This was probably the best he would feel all day and it wasn’t good, not even a little, and it was bound to get worse. He could already feel his head swimming and filling with that cottony otherworldly confusion that comes hand in hand with a concussion. The coffee and advil he’d pumped into his system had given a valiant effort at staving off the symptoms but it was a temporary solution to a much more resilient problem. There was no wishing this away, he would have to walk head first into the pain and hope he came out the other side in better shape.

“Your brother’s a wreck,” Derek whispered against Hotch’s warm lips and Hotch nodded. His brother was always a wreck. “I think maybe we all are.”

“Probably right.”

“Let’s go get some food. It’s as good a place to start as any.”

“Somewhere quiet, please.” It was the simplest request he could make. What he really wanted was somewhere to lay his head down, it was already feeling about twice as heavy as it should on his neck. The look in Derek’s eye said he had plans for them today, plans that probably involved talking and hashing things out, but the reality was grim. He needed to sleep.

Derek pressed his hand to the side of Hotch’s head, thumb caressing the cup of Hotch’s injured ear. To his surprise, Hotch didn’t flinch away from the touch. “Somewhere quiet. You got it.” He paused, smiling, and just for the hell of it spoke again. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“Dammit Hotch. You’re such an asshole.”

“I know that too.”

“I’d punch you in the mouth if I thought it would change anything…”

“Kiss me instead.”

Derek didn’t need to be told twice.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #david rossi #criminal minds #hotchgan #criminal minds fanfiction #lo-fi/mayhem arc #mayhem my beloved

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