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persephonewritessometimes · 2 years ago

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me and the devil / unsub!hotch x reader / chapter three

Summary: Hotch has wormed his way into Y/N's life, much to her surprise. What happens when she lets him see the darkness in her? Will he return the favor?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x AFAB Reader

Word Count: 8557 (i got a little carried away)

Warnings: HARASSMENT, MENTIONS OF M*RDER, Y/N TALKS ABOUT K*LLING SOMEONE (in self-defense), HOTCH TALKING ABOUT M*RDER, DARK!HOTCH, BLEEDING, KNIFE WOUND, STITCHES, MEDICAL INSTRUMENTS, strip club, cursing, Derek being a cheeky bastard, pilates (not sure if this should be a warning but putting it here just in case), hotch being pushy, stubborn!Y/N, stubborn!hotch, flirting, reid get's propositioned

Key: y/n = your name

Author's Note: I apologize for the slow pace at first, I have to lay the foundations of the story! Also apologies for the long chapter, I just had a lot I wanted in this one!

me and the devil series masterlist

This work is meant for readers aged 18 and over. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

I had just come through the door after a very long day at clinical when my phone started to ring. I cursed, dropped my clinical bag on the floor, and almost tripped over Cujo in the process. Where’s my damn phone? I’m digging through my bag then remember that I shoved it into one of my backpack pockets. I rip my backpack off and open the zipper pouch, not even checking the caller ID. It’s probably Tia, she’s really the only one who calls me anyway, usually wanting to tell me about her shitty boyfriend.

“It’s Y/N, what’s up bitch?”

“Do you answer the phone like this every time?” Hotch’s dry voice stops me dead in my tracks.

“Oh my god, Hotch, um, no I thought you were one of my friends. She’s usually the one calling me.”

“Don’t you have caller ID?”

“Yes, but you have horrible timing. I just got home and nearly landed on my face trying to get my phone out of my backpack.” He chuckles and my stomach flutters. “What can I help you with today, Agent Hotchner?”

“Are you busy right now?”

“Well, that depends. I have pilates in thirty minutes but you’re more than welcome to join me.” I say, knowing full well he won’t take me up on the offer.

“I’m down for pilates. Where is it?” My brain short circuits a little bit.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Where do you do pilates?”

“You? Want to come to the pilates class? With me?”

“Why not? I’ve been cooped up in my office all day.”

“Um, sure.” I give him the address of my favorite gym. “Oh, and the air conditioning is always on the fritz so dress light.” Seeing him drop off the car for me the other day made me horny enough, with him in a tight quarter-zip and jeans, I can’t imagine what seeing him in workout clothes will do to me.

“Got it. I’ll see you there.” The line goes dead, and I stare at my phone for a few minutes trying to understand what just happened.

“Okay. I’m a little confused, but I’ll take it.” I mutter to myself as I put my backpack away, shove my clinical bag in the closet, and head back to the bedroom. I shimmy out of my scrubs, tossing them in my hamper before digging through my drawer of workout clothes. I usually just throw on whatever is on top and call it a day, but now I’m pulling everything out. Y/N, he’s literally seen you in next to nothing and in sweats, it doesn’t matter what you wear to pilates.

I settle on a sky-blue matching cropped tank and shorts and rush into the bathroom to fix my hair before I slip on a pair of shoes, kiss Cujo on the head, and I’m out the door. I jog down the stairs to the car he’s loaning me – he told me it’s decommissioned, but it’s still a black-tinted SUV and draws a lot of attention. I feel like a badass every time I drive it, and also that I might accidentally take out an unsuspecting mailbox.

I hear a low whistle and I see one of my downstairs neighbors, Max, approach with his hands on his hips.

“Who’d you have to blow to get that ride?” He says, grinning at me.

“Would you believe me if I said no one?” I shoot back.

“Not in a million years. Looks military-grade, like the cars they have at the FBI headquarters.” I watch as the gears start to turn in his head, and I just smile at him sweetly. “Wait a minute. Is this an FBI car?”

“A woman never kisses and tells.” I say, turning to walk to the driver’s side and shout over my shoulder, “It’s been decommissioned!”

“Who gave that to you?” He shouts.

“Doesn’t matter! I’m just borrowing it!”

“Can I meet him?”

“Hell no!” I get in the car and slam the door shut, buckling my seat belt. The gym I like is only five or six minutes from my apartment and I make it there in no time. I check my hair in the car mirror, messing with it until I’m satisfied, before sliding out of the giant SUV. I’m locking the car when a matching black SUV pulls into a spot a few down from me. I try to swallow my grin as I stroll over to Hotch’s car, and when he gets out my mouth goes dry. I knew he was muscular under that suit, but god damn he’s hot. He’s in a black tank top and black shorts and I want to do some not-very-pure things to him.

“Hey!” I say, kind of out of breath and I curse myself for it.

“Hey to you too.” He shoots me a disarming smile, and I turn and start to walk to the entrance. "Is now a good time to tell you I’ve never done pilates before?”

“Well, don’t come crying to me when you’re in pain tomorrow,” I say, and grin at him. I push open the door and swing right towards the stairs. “You’ll probably be the only guy in class, so I apologize in advance if everyone’s ogling you.” I wink at him, and he laughs.

“Got it. How hard can pilates be anyway?” He says, and I laugh at that, someone joining in at the top of the stairs. It’s Lily, the pilates instructor.

“Famous last words, my new friend,” Lily says when we get to the top of the stairs.

“What’s the AC status today, Lily?”

“Lukewarm air, so you’re gonna sweat, sorry.” I groan and Hotch and I follow her into the large room. I grab a mat by the door, and Hotch follows suit.

“Do you want to be in the front, middle, or back?” I ask, motioning at the space. There are only a couple of people here so far, so we have our pick of spots.

“Front. So I can see what the instructor is doing.”

“Smart choice.” We make our way to the front and lay out our mats. I immediately slide off my shoes and start stretching. I sit with my legs out in front of me and stretch toward them, folding gracefully. I flex my feet a couple of times as I’m bent over and then come back up, stretching my arms as I go. Hotch follows suit, stretching as well and before we know it the class has filled up and it’s time to begin. I can hear them whispering about them, the two girls behind us. They’re not as subtle as they think they are. I glance at Hotch and mutter, “Well, it looks like you’ve already got two admirers,” and minutely jerk my head in their direction. He just grins at me and shrugs and I roll my eyes at him.

Lily starts off slow, but by the middle of the class, Hotch is trying very hard to conceal his panting.

“Not so easy now, is it?” I say, shooting him a smirk. He glares at me and says,

“Shut up.”

“You’re not doing too bad.” I say, easily shifting to the next pose while he struggles, and I add, “At least, for a beginner.” He glares at me again and I just smile at him. When the class is finished, he flops down on his mat, chest heaving, and shirt soaked with sweat. It clings to his sculpted chest, and I realize I’m staring. I shift my gaze away, busying myself with stretching out instead. I finish stretching and Hotch is still lying there, breathing hard. “Do you need me to call an ambulance?” I ask, sweetly, and I hear Lily laugh. He scowls, pushing himself up and looking at me.

“You’re barely sweating, how is that possible.” He mutters.

“Well, I do this three times a week. Sometimes four.”

“YOU DO THIS THREE OR FOUR TIMES A WEEK? What are you a masochist?”

“Fuck around and you might find out,” I say, winking at him, and I swear the flush on the back of his neck isn’t just from the workout.

He catches his breath a few minutes later and stretches out as I pull my shoes back on. I roll up my map, tuck it under my arm and make my way to the back of the class, putting it away. A second mat thuds next to mine a few moments later and I can feel him behind me, his body heat radiating off of him.

“So, the final verdict on pilates?” I ask over my shoulder as we make our way out of the room, and he falls in step beside me.

“Hard. But good.”

“Not a man of many words, I see.” He chuckles at that.

“Do you want to get dinner with me?” I almost fall down the steps at that, and my hand grips the railing. He must read my response as negative when I’m really trying to get my breathing under control because the idea of spending time alone with him has me sweating. “I’m not expecting anything, I just want to get to know you better. You keep me on my toes – you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

“And that’s a good thing?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.

“That’s a very good thing.” He gives me a small smile. I’m quiet for a moment before saying,

“I would love to get dinner with you, but I really want to change my clothes and take a quick shower, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course. I’ll just hang out with Cujo.” I laugh at that.

“Cujo would love to hang out with you.” We part ways at the door, and I get into my borrowed car and drive home with him trailing close behind me. I unlock the door and let him into my apartment, Cujo running up to Hotch first, instead of me. “Traitor,” I mutter at him, and I can hear Hotch chuckle behind me. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll only be fifteen minutes or so.”

“Take all the time you want. I don’t mind waiting.” I make my way back to my bedroom and I’m struggling to decide what to wear when I hear his voice call to me.

“Hey, Y/N, what if we just get Chinese delivered instead?”

“Fine by me, I have a menu for the local place on my fridge. My favorite dish is circled if you want to go ahead and call it in.” I holler back. That makes my decision on what to wear a lot easier, I pull out a big T-shirt and a pair of gray joggers. I grab a pair of underwear and fuzzy socks and walk into the bathroom, rid myself of my sweaty exercise clothes, and turn on a hot stream of water. I can hear Hotch’s voice through the door ordering food, and I smile to myself as I step into the scalding water. I scrub my body efficiently and am done within ten minutes. I turn off the shower, step out on my bathmat, and dry my body off. I slip into the clothes I picked out, give myself a once-over in the mirror, and walk out of the bathroom. He’s on the couch with Cujo’s head in his lap when I emerge. I suddenly feel self-conscious in my lounge clothes, but I swallow it down. This man has seen me in next to nothing, an old t-shirt and joggers aren’t going to erase scandalous pictures of me inside his head. I settle on the couch opposite him, tucking my feet up under me and my hair behind my ears.

“Seriously, though, how can do pilates and still look angelic at the end of it?” He asks, leaning his head against the couch and looking at me. I feel the tips of my ears grow hot at his half-compliment.

“Lots of practice. And self-discipline.” He furrows his brows.

“Do you not like doing pilates?”

“I like the endorphins, but I mostly do it to look my best for the club. You’d be surprised how much of my paycheck goes to maintenance: waxing, hair care, the gym, makeup, outfits, and shoes. Yeah, I make a lot of money, but I’ve had to make myself valuable to get to that point.” He nods, and I can see him thinking really hard.

“Do you like dancing?” He finally asks.

“Nobody really ever asks me that,” I say, and pause, “I like the money. I like the attention, which I know sounds bad, but it feels good to feel desired. I like Tia, my friend I met because of dancing. But dancing as a whole? I’m not sure. There are a lot of pros, but there are also a lot of cons. Men who don’t understand boundaries, men who expect more than just a lap dance and pretty smile, men who think they own you. I don’t like that.” I watch his jaw clench at that. “I can take care of myself pretty well, but dancing can be very isolating. After all, who wants to date someone who literally takes her top off as a job?” I laugh a little, but it comes out short and harsh.

“Well, if someone doesn’t want to date you because of that, that’s their problem, and they’re wrong for not seeing you separate from your occupation.” He says and strokes his hand over Cujo’s head. Cujo lets out a heavy sigh and we both laugh at that, and it lightens the mood. There’s a sharp rap on the door and I get up and open it to see the delivery guy – it’s James, one of Tia’s regulars.

“James! How are you?”

“Good! Whoever bought you food tonight tipped me handsomely, so please thank your new boy toy for that.” He says, handing the food over. I peek my head around the door and Hotch just smiles and shrugs. I narrow my eyes at him but bid James a good night before shutting the door.

“How much did you tip him?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Mhmm,” I say and take the paper containers out of the plastic bag. It smells so good as I set the food on the coffee table and my mouth starts to water. “What did you order?”

“Shrimp Lo Mein.” He says, reaching forward and grabbing a container labeled with an “S” on it. I grab my container of orange chicken and open the vegetable fried rice.

“Do you want a plate for the fried rice?”

“I wouldn’t mind one if it’s not a bother.” I set my container down and walk to the kitchen, pulling down two mismatched plates.

“Do you need a fork or are you proficient in chopsticks?”

“I’m proficient in chopsticks.” He says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, that makes one of us,” I say and walk back to the living room, handing him a plate. We divide up the fried rice and I settle back on the couch. We make small talk as we eat, but it’s not awkward. It feels like we’ve known each other forever. He asks me about being in school, and what I’m doing in my clinical, and I in turn ask him about his cases (which he claims he can’t tell me much about, but I know he’s taking some liberties with that as I do get more than a handful of details about his latest case). We finish our food and set our plates on the coffee table, and he says,

“Oh, that reminds me. My team has been asking about you since our run-in with them at the bar last week, and Morgan finally conceded and agreed to be their chauffeur for the club. They’re coming tomorrow night, just giving you a heads up.” He scratches the back of his neck, seemingly embarrassed.

“And will their Section Chief be in attendance as well?” I ask coyly and watch as the tips of his ears turn pink.

“Well, someone has to keep an eye on them.” He says but won’t look me in the eyes.

“That’s good to hear. And tomorrow is fantasy night at the club, so it’ll be a different setting than you’re used to, different clothes as well.”

“Isn’t everything about going to a strip club a ‘fantasy’?” He says, miming air quotes on the last word. I laugh.

“Yes, you’re correct, but this is like witches, elves, princesses, pirates, all of that sort. We started it a few months ago, and if I’m remembering correctly, you haven’t attended one.”

“Keeping an eye on me, are you?” The room suddenly feels stuffy.

“Just staying aware of my surroundings, especially of men who seem to stare at me.” I shoot back, grinning, and he holds his hands up in mock defeat.

“So, what’s your costume?”

“I usually go as an elven princess. I’ve got fake ears and everything.” He chuckles at that. “And I typically wear a white wig with bangs.”

“Sounds like quite the getup.”

“People love it, I make a lot of money on fantasy nights. My friend, Tia, the one you’ve seen, always goes as a mushroom fairy.”

“What the hell is a mushroom fairy?” He looks genuinely confused.

“You’ll see tomorrow,” I say with a laugh. We continue talking late into the night, and we jump from one topic to the next with ease. It’s nearing midnight when he suddenly grows serious and says,

“Tell me your deepest secret.” I blink a few times in surprise.

“Well, Mr. Hotchner, that’s a very serious question for a first, whatever-this-is,” I say jokingly, but I know he can tell I’m deflecting.

“I’m just curious. There’s a lot I don’t know about you. A lot I’d like to know about you. If you’ll let me learn.”

“And there’s a lot I’m sure you don’t want to know,” I mutter, and he just watches me. Finally, I concede with a sigh and whisper, “Sometimes I worry that I’m not a good person. That I’m there’s something twisted and evil inside of me, just waiting for the right opportunity to snap.”

“Snap and do what?” It’s a non-judgmental question and I’m grateful for it.

“I don’t know, but sometimes I’m afraid of the violence I feel inside of me.”

“I understand that.”

“You do?” I ask quickly, glancing at him.

“More than you know. Thank you for telling me that.” It’s quiet, and I don’t know what comes over me, but I blurt out the next sentence quickly.

“I killed a man once.” His hand stills from petting Cujo but resumes quickly. I can feel his eyes on me as I stare at my hands and pick at my cuticles. “A few weeks into working at the club, a man started to take a special interest in me. He started to request dances, and then private rooms where he would say horrible things and try to get me to do things that aren’t allowed. Then he started to threaten me when I told him no, saying he knew where I lived, and that he was going to kill me and my dog. I didn’t know what to do. I told my boss and she just made other girls dance for him, never really kicking him out or anything. After what happened, we now have tighter security, and my old boss was fired for negligence. I always rejected his advances, desperate to find someone else to service. One night, it was really late when I came home, and as I was unlocking my door, I was grabbed from behind and thrown to the ground. It was him. He pulled out a hunting knife and advanced toward me. I scrambled back and as he approached, I kicked him in the crotch, really hard. He dropped the knife, and in a mad scramble for it, he pinned me to the ground, hands around my throat, intent on choking the life out of me. I had almost lost consciousness when I felt the edge of the hunting knife. I was able to slide it towards me and grab it. Without thinking, I slit his throat and he bled out on top of me. The court dismissed it, due to the fact that it was self-defense.” I collect my thoughts for a few seconds, then add, “Sometimes, late at night, I think about that moment and the power that I felt. He thought he was the one to be afraid of, but it was me all along. That’s why I’m afraid of myself. I have no idea what I’m capable of.” I pause and look at him. I’ve never told anyone that story except for Tia. He has a very contemplative look on his face but doesn’t say anything. “I understand if you don’t want to continue whatever this is, anymore,” I say with a dry laugh and glance away. I feel his warm, calloused hand grab mine, and he squeezes it.

“Nothing you say could scare me away, Y/N. I’ve seen and killed evil people, and I can tell you, you aren’t one of them.” My throat closes up and he has a sincere look on his face when I finally look at him.

“Thank you,” I whisper, then clear my throat, “Now it’s your turn, what’s your deepest darkest secret?”

“Well, mine’s along the same line as yours. I killed the man who murdered my wife.”

I nod and rationalize it, “Well, he can’t hurt anyone else close to you if he’s dead. Good riddance, I say.” I throw in at the end, trying to lighten the mood, and he obliges me, tipping his head back in a laugh.

“Good riddance indeed.”

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I shift awake when I feel a blanket draped over me.

“Huh?” I mutter, blinking slowly. “Oh, hi, sorry, did I fall asleep?” I whisper to Hotch, who’s standing over me.

“Just for twenty minutes or so. I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful.”

“It’s okay,” I reply, smiling up at him. “I guess I’ll see you out? Thanks for hanging out with me.” I stretch my arms over my head and yawn. Cujo is passed out on the couch beside me, and he doesn’t wake as Hotch helps me up. I walk over to the door, unlock it, and lean against it. “Well, I’ll see you,” I check my phone, “Tonight, I guess.” I give him a sheepish smile.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He kisses my cheek and jogs down the stairs. I watch him leave, then lock the door. The food containers are gone from the coffee table, and the plates have been rinsed off and are sitting in the sink. I smile to myself as I open the fridge, and sure enough, my leftovers are sitting right on the middle shelf. I brush my teeth and fill up Cujo’s food bowl before getting into bed.

It’s well past 1:00 PM when I finally force myself to get out of bed. I sit on the edge for a few minutes and collect myself, remembering that Hotch was over last night. I can’t believe I told him that. He didn’t need to know that about you. I scold myself. He’s a federal agent, Y/N, he’s probably done much worse than what you did. There’s something about him that I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s like he only lets me see so much, but despite that, I can feel that dark thrum from him, it’s something dangerous, akin to the feeling I had about him during the first meeting. He’s hiding something, and I’m desperate to find out what he thinks I can’t handle. I sigh and rub my eyes, Cujo sprawled across my bed and breathing heavily. I finally shuffle to the kitchen and make a slice of toast with strawberry jam, eating it over the sink, not wanting to dirty a plate. My phone starts to ring, and I walk back to the room to grab it. This time I check the caller ID, and I’m a little disappointed to see it's only Tia.

“Hey bitch, what’s up?” I ask, wedging the phone in between my shoulder and ear as I dig through my closet to find my fantasy outfit. We only have fantasy night once a month, so I keep my outfit wedged in the back of my closet so as to not take up what little space I actually have in there.

“I came by your apartment last night to hang out, and can you imagine my surprise when I saw you and your man get out of matching cars and head up to your apartment? When were you gonna tell me about that?”

“It’s not like that! We were just hanging out and eating some dinner. Tia, he came to pilates with me!”

“I’m sorry, a man willingly went to pilates with you?”

“Yes!”

“Did he almost die?”

“You know it. It was so funny; I was holding in a laugh so hard.” Tia laughs at that. “I’m sorry for not telling you. It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“I’m just giving you a hard time. So did you fuck?” She asks the question so nonchalantly and I choke on air.

“TIA! NO, WE DIDN’T!” I exclaim. “Jesus.”

“What? I’m just curious.” I can hear the smile in her voice.

“He’s coming to the club tonight. With his whole team. He said they keep asking about me. Remember I ran into them a week ago at the bar?”

“Ah yes, after your man heroically saved you from that group of men.”

“Stop calling him that! He’s not my man! And I’m the one who threatened to beat the shit out of them, Hotch was my backup, remember?”

“Okay, Black Widow, whatever. He’s coming tonight? On fantasy night? That man is going to be on his knees for you.”

“You flatter me.” I snort.

“We’re seriously getting the whole Behavioral Analysis Unit in the club tonight?”

“Yes, but don’t tell them I told you about them. You already know about Derek, but I swear these people can read you like you’re an open book.”

“Noted. What did you and Hotch talk about?”

“Nothing really, just chatted.”

“Yeah, sure. And how long was he over at your apartment?” I go quiet at that. “That’s what I thought. All I’m saying is, get your bag, get your mans, and get the hell out. I don’t care how many people you have to step on to do it, me included. I’ve seen the way he watches you; he would do anything for you if you simply asked.”

“Tia, now you’re reading into things. Last time I checked, you’re not a profiler.”

“I’m a dancer. That’s just as good, you forget that we know how to read people too. Use it to your advantage.” I finally find my outfit in the back of the closet and pull it out, throwing it onto the bed.

“You’re talking like I’m going to war, not getting a boyfriend.”

“Well, hopefully, you’ll be getting a husband.”

“Tia! God! We’ve hung out once! We’re not getting married!”

“You say that now. I’ll ask again a few months from now and see where you’re standing.”

“I’m hanging up now. I’ll see you later.” I end the call and toss my phone onto the bed. I groan. Tia can be up to no good a lot of the time, but I don’t know what’s gotten into her lately. All she can talk about is how Hotch looks at me, and believe me, I’ve noticed that myself.

I busy myself with homework for the next few hours; I’ve got a big test next week and I really want to do well on it. I heat up the leftover Chinese food midafternoon and eat it, still studying. I take Cujo on a walk closer to 4:00 PM and then gather all my stuff to get ready at the club. I kiss Cujo on his nose before carrying my bag and outfit to the car. I drive to work, parking closer to the entrance than normal. I’m not taking any chances after being followed last week.

Tia’s already inside getting ready – her fantasy night looks are always extravagant and take a lot of time to put together, so she always shows up earlier than me. She’s halfway through her makeup when I sit down next to her and dig around for my makeup bag. I find my primer and get to work. I go with a dark eye with gold winged eyeliner, dramatic lashes, and black lipstick. Tia helps me get my wig on and secured, and then I put my fake elf ears on and slip into my dress. Tia buckles my shoes for me, and I glance at myself in the mirror and grin. I’ve always loved fantasy nights – a night where I can pretend to be someone else for a few hours. I look every bit like the dark-elven fantasy I’m trying to capture. I wait for Tia to finish her makeup and we chat; it only takes her fifteen more minutes and then I help her into her baby doll dress that she hand-painted to look like a red mushroom.

“There you go, my little mushroom fairy,” I say, patting her on the shoulders when I finish zipping up her dress. She does a little twirl for me, and I laugh. “Come on, let’s get out there and make some money.” We make our way into the club and it’s starting to fill up quickly. I don’t have any stage sets tonight, due to my dress being a little longer than usual. I fidget, nervously adjusting the gold caps on my cape as I survey the crowd. Tia’s already run off somewhere, so I’m alone.

“Look at you, baby girl!” I hear from my left and I let out a sigh of relief when I turn to see Morgan approaching me with a grin on his face.

“Morgan! It’s so good to see you. Hotch said you and the team would be here tonight.”

“Hanging out with Hotch, are you?” My cheeks grow hot at the insinuation. “Just messing with you. God knows Hotch needs some loosening up. Do you know how many times I had to ask him to come here with me? I asked for months. When he finally conceded, all it took was one look at you for him to ask me to come back with him.” My jaw drops a little bit. Morgan just winks at me, offering up his arm. “Want to come and talk to the team?”

“Lead the way, Agent Morgan,” I say, and he chuckles. We walk towards the back left corner of the club, and sure enough, the team is commandeering an entire table. Penelope shrieks when she sees me, jumping out of her seat and rushing over to grab me in a hug.

“You look like someone straight out of a fantasy game! You’re stunning! I’m literally obsessed with you.” She speaks quickly, smiling at me.

“Thank you,” I reply and give her a small smile. JJ and Emily echo her sentiments. I feel suddenly shy as I turn to Hotch. “Well, what do you think?” I say low enough so only he can hear as I approach him.

“You look like an evil queen. I like it.” My cheeks grow hot, and I glance down.

“I need to go make some money, I’ll be back though, I promise,” I say to the whole team. “Please, enjoy yourself!” And with that, I make my way into the dense crowd.

I’m true to my word. I’m back an hour later and eight hundred dollars richer. I take note of Hotch’s body language as I approach. He sits up straighter, eyes always following me. God damn it, Tia’s right, we are profilers…kind of. He looks me over like he’s assessing for damage, or he just wants to look his fill. I approach him, and lean down to whisper in his ear,

“Can I sit in your lap? There are not really any open chairs here.” I glance at him, and he nods, shifting so I can sit in his lap. I feel the whole team pause for a split second, then continue their conversation, trying really hard not to stare. It gives me the opportunity to whisper in his ear, “I’m feeling generous, so I won’t make you pay for this.” He lets out a loud laugh at that and the table grows quiet again before quickly picking back up.

“Thanks for sparing my wallet.” He murmurs in my ear, and I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. This is the closest we’ve been since that first meeting when I laid him out. I lean back and rest my back on his broad chest before joining in on the team’s conversation. They’re currently trying to figure out how many times Dr. Reid, whom I just met, is going to get propositioned. I laugh at this.

“How many times has it been so far?”

“Three!” Morgan exclaims, “Unbelievable!”

“Not really. You’d be surprised how many girls prefer nerdy guys over, hmm, muscle head men like you, Derek?” I say with a smirk, quirking an eyebrow at him. Emily laughs at this, and JJ even smiles into her drink.

“Aren’t you going to fawn over Dr. Reid as well, Y/N?” Hotch whispers in my ear. I twist my head back to look at him before simply saying,

“He’s not my type.” I wink at him, turning back around and the team busies themselves with not looking at us. At that moment, I see a man making his way towards us. “Oh, fuck, come on!” I groan. The team looks confused, so I elaborate quickly. “The man that’s approaching kept trying to get handsy with me earlier. His hand literally tried to go up my skirt.” I feel Hotch stiffen underneath me, a hand coming to rest on my hip.

“Hey, why’d you leave?” He says, coming up to the table, oblivious to the federal agents – one whose lap I was literally sitting in.

“I got bored. Please leave me alone, I’m with someone right now.” The man looks Hotch over, and I feel his grip tighten on me.

The man snorts. “Yeah, right. Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll show you what a real man is like.” Hotch’s anger is rolling off of him in waves.

“If you keep bothering me, I’m going to get security and have them kick you out. You already tried to grope me; they would love to kick you out just for that.”

“Fucking bitch.” The man says, lunging forward and grabbing my wrist, pulling me out of Hotch’s lap, but he isn’t too far behind, and as I trip over my shoe, he’s quick to catch me, his arm slinging low around my waist.

“Leave her alone or you’ll regret it.” His tone is dangerously low, and I know if I were to look into his eyes right now, they would only show the promise of violence, not the man who always laughs at my jokes.

“I’ll get a hold of you eventually, bitch.” The man spats, finally letting go of my wrist and he shoots Hotch and me a hateful glare as he retreats into the crowd. I massage my wrist, holding it close to my chest. Hotch turns me around, taking my wrist into his hand.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little bit. Doesn’t feel broken though, so I’ll be okay. It’ll probably just bruise.” His gaze darkens at that.

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, eyes searching mine. I just nod and he takes a seat again, making room for me. I step over on shaky legs from the adrenaline and position myself in Hotch’s lap again. He starts absentmindedly tracing patterns onto my thigh, and my mind narrows down to the feeling of his hand on my leg. I know he’s just trying to calm me down after the confrontation, but I feel like I’m manually breathing as he continues, before quickly remembering who else is at this table. I calm my breathing, forcing myself to talk to them when talking to anyone but Hotch is the last thing I want to do right now. If he’s aware of the effect he has on me, he doesn’t show it.

Before I know it, an hour has passed, and I’m really enjoying talking to his team. They’re funny, and I find myself easily trusting them. I lean back to whisper to Hotch,

“I’m gonna go and make more money.”

“Will you be okay?”

“I think you know I’m more than capable.” He grins at that.

“Indeed, I do.” His hand retracts from my thigh, and I feel like I can breathe again. I slip out of his lap.

“Where you off to, baby girl?”

“To do my damn job, Morgan!” I shout over my shoulder and push my way back into the crowd.

I just finished giving a lap dance to one of my regulars when I feel strong fingers grab my shoulder. I turn around, seeing who has the audacity to touch me that rudely and I’m face to face with the man from earlier. I try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he’s got me backed into a corner. To anyone else, this would just look like a more intimate moment, no one would suspect anything.

“Get the fuck off of me!” I shout over the loud music.

“You made me look bad, little girl. Now, you’re gonna pay for it.” He raises his hand to strike me, and I’m pinned in the corner, with no room to move. I brace myself for the blow that never comes. I open my eyes and see that Hotch’s large hand has closed around the man’s wrist. He pulls, hard, and the man goes flying back and lands on his ass.

“I told you to leave her alone.” He growls, and many eyes are starting to watch us. Hotch starts to advance on the man, nothing kind left in his eyes. I rush up and grab his bicep.

“Hotch. Not here. This is not the time or place to make a scene.” I hiss. “I’m fine.” He won’t stop. “Hotch. Look at me, I’m fine.” I squeeze his arm, hard. The last thing we need in the club is an incident. He finally turns and looks at me. “I’m fine. Let’s just get security and have them kick him out, okay? I don’t need you getting kicked out too because you beat this man into a bloody pulp.” He just nods, jaw clenched tight, and I run to get security. They quickly kick the man out, telling him he’s no longer welcome in this establishment. He looks pissed, but not as pissed as Hotch, and frankly, he should be more afraid of Hotch than anyone else at this present moment. If looks could kill, that man would be dead in a heartbeat. When the man is firmly out the door, Hotch turns and grabs my face in his hands, searching it. “See? I told you, I’m fine. I thought for sure you were gonna shoot him.”

“I wanted to.” He finally grumbled. The first words he’s said to me since the altercation.

“You scared the shit out of me, Hotch. I thought you were going to murder him.” I say, looking up at him. And I can see it in his eyes – just how deep the darkness goes. Despite that, there’s not an ounce of fear in my body, as if my darkness acknowledges him and welcomes him in. What secrets are you hiding, Aaron Hotchner?

Finally satisfied that I’m okay, he grabs my hand and leads me back to the table.

“Morgan, are they still teaching that self-defense class this weekend?” He asks, his voice clipped.

“Hotch.”

“Yeah, 11:00 AM at the recreation field, why?”

“Y/N will be there.”

“Hotch,” I say again, yanking on his hand. “I can take care of myself.”

“And I would feel better if you attended the self-defense class.” He shoots back. Neither of us budges for a few seconds, just two stubborn people staring each other down before I sigh.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” Hotch nods, pleased. I narrow my eyes at him.

“Lover’s quarrel?” Morgan jabs and Hotch shoots him a glare so harsh that he holds his hands up in mock defeat. “Forget I asked,” he mutters.

“Keep an eye on her. I have some business to attend to.” He shoots me a look as if to not ask questions, and there’s a glint in his gaze, something hard and unyielding, and I just nod. I’m not sure if I want to know what he’s about to do, but the less I know the better. He turns and leaves.

“What the hell happened?” Emily asks, and I recount the incident to them and they all grimace. “Is this a common occurrence with your occupation?” She asks kindly, not judgmental at all.

“You’d be surprised, but things like this don’t happen all that often. There are a few outliers here and there, but people are respectful for the most part.” My mind flashes back to that night, and I push it quickly out. Now is not the time to be thinking about that. “They’re typically whipped into shape when they get threatened the first time.”

“And the more persistent ones?” I grin.

“They get kicked out. Sometimes I like to kick out the ones who are harassing me. It’s very emasculating to be talked down to by a woman and then kicked out on your ass. I enjoy it. But I only do it to the guys I deem as not dangerous.” JJ looks sick to her stomach and Dr. Reid looks appalled, but Morgan just grins.

“No wonder Hotch likes you; you have as much fire in your veins as he does.” I laugh and it lightens the mood. I talk with them for a few more minutes before saying, “I think I’m actually gonna call it a night, I’ve made enough. Thanks for coming you guys. I’d love to hang out with you all again.” The girls all give me a hug and bid me goodnight. I pass Tia on my way back to the locker room and she waves at me from someone’s lap. I wave back, grab my stuff, and walk to my car. I drive home, radio off, just spending some time in my own head. I park and head into my apartment, Cujo greeting me at the door like always. I fall into my routine quietly, eating a late-night snack as I undress, unpin my wig, and use a makeup wipe to get my makeup off. I take a long shower, needing to decompress after tonight. I’m out of the shower and in my pajamas when there’s a knock at my door. It’s 3:00 AM, and no one should be knocking on my door. I quickly grab my gun from the ottoman, holding it in my dominant hand. My peephole has been warped for ages now, distorting the image of whoever is outside of my door. I rip open the door, holding the gun up.

“JESUS HOTCH!” I shout, then realize he’s wounded. I click the safety on and toss the gun on my entryway table. “What the fuck? Get inside!” He walks inside, teeth grinding as he holds his hand to his arm. “What the hell happened to you?” I say, peeling his hand away from his arm quickly. His shirt is stained red. I swear again. “Sit on the couch. And don’t move.” I grab my clinical bag from the bedroom, dig around and find my gauze pads. “These aren’t the most sterile, but they’ll do.”

“That’s fine.” His words are short, leaning back on the couch. I chuck a bottle of ibuprofen at him, and he catches it easily, opens it, and swallows four pills dry.

“What the fuck, Hotch. Showing up on my door at three in the morning bleeding? Who does that? That’s what a hospital is for!” I’m rambling in my panic.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Take off your shirt, I need to assess the damage. His arm is stiff as he attempts to remove his dress shirt. “Do I need to cut your shirt off you, idiot?” I ask and he just sighs and nods. I grab my scissors from my bag and make quick work of his dark blue shirt. Thank god he has a t-shirt on underneath it. “You have to take your hand away from the wound for me to assess it,” I say quietly, gently pulling his bloody hand away. I let out a low whistle. “Serrated hunting knife?” I ask.

“How can you tell that?”

“The way the skin ripped, it’s obvious if you know what you’re looking at. I can stitch it, but it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

“Do it.”

“Are you gonna tell me how this happened?”

“It’s better if you don’t know.” I pause my frantic digging through my bag and glance at him. He just looks back and I sigh, finally finding my suture kit.

“Do you need something to bite down on?” I ask drily and he lets out a small laugh at that.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been stitched up on someone’s couch, and I doubt it’ll be the last. Go right ahead, sweetheart.”

“Oh, so now you want to pull out a pet name when I’m stitching you up on my couch? You really know how to get women.” I mutter, stepping in between his legs. I rip open an alcohol wipe. “This is going to sting. I’ll be quick.” I press the alcohol wipe to his skin, and he hisses, hands coming to grab the backs of my knees. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’m done.” I toss the alcohol wipe to the side. “Well, the bleeding has slowed, that’s good.” It’s only three inches long, but I’ve never done stitches on a real person before. “I’m really sorry if you end up with a scar after this. Are you sure you want me to do this? I’ll happily drive you to the hospital.” I’m stalling and he can tell.

“I trust you. The hospital will ask even more questions than you do.” He adds with a half-smile.

“Fair enough. If you need a break just tap my thigh. I’ll make it as quick as I can.” I unwrap the sterile needle and grab the needle driver. My hands shake but I take a deep breath and use the tissue forceps to expose the wound. It’s deep. I line up the edges of the wound and push the needle through his skin. His hands tighten on me, but he doesn’t tap out. I pull it until the thread is two to three inches long on the end, and tie three knots in the thread. I readjust the needle driver and push it through his skin again about a quarter inch down. I make quick work of the wound and he never asks for a break, just breathes deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth. I tie off the last stitch. “I didn’t do a bad job, but it’s not spectacular.” I say, stepping out from between his legs. He twists his head to look at the mostly straight line of stitches I’ve left.

I grab the large Band-Aid I had pulled out earlier and unwrap it, gently placing it over his sutures. I then realize in my haste; I didn’t put on gloves. My hands are covered in his blood, staining them red.

“You, uh, don’t have any blood diseases I should know about, do you?”

“Nope, clean as a whistle.” I nod, retreating to the kitchen to wash my hands. I’m scrubbing them but some of the blood underneath my fingernails is stubborn. I try my best, then dry my hands with a paper towel. I walk back to the living room.

“Do I want to know what you did to him?”

“How did you?” I cut him off.

“I can read people too. You’re not as subtle as you think you are. At least, not when I’m involved.”

“He won’t hurt you again, I promise you that.” I decide to leave it at that, the man looks exhausted.

“Is your son with your sister-in-law tonight?” He nods.

“Come on, I’m not letting you leave until I know you’re okay.”

“Y/N, I’m fine. I can drive home.”

“If you’re making me take that damn self-defense class you can let me keep an eye on you for one night.” I snapped.

“Fine.” He narrows his eyes at me. “I’m not sure who’s the more stubborn one here.”

“And we’re not about to start a pissing match and find out.” I cross my arms. “Let me get you some clothes.”

“Y/N, you’ve done enough.”

“Shut up and accept my generosity,” I mutter and walk back to the bedroom pulling out a pair of lounge pants and large flannel left behind by a shitty ex-boyfriend. “Now, do you need help getting dressed?” I ask sweetly, trying to irritate him. He shoots me a look that tells me I’m already in enough trouble for making him spend the night. “Jesus, okay. Someone’s not in a good mood.”

I walk back into the bedroom to give him privacy to change. I give him a few minutes, petting Cujo as he lay in his dog bed.

“You decent?” I call quietly and get a muffled yes in return. I walk back out into the living room, and he looks so comical that I can’t keep a smile off my face. “Okay, come on, I’m not letting an injured man sleep on my couch.”

“Y/N, seriously, I’m fine.”

“I’m not in the mood to argue, Hotch. Get your ass in bed before I drag you, okay?” He sighs but follows me back to the bedroom. “I sleep on the left side.”

“Well, that’s good, because I sleep on the right side.” He gets into bed, grunting as he has to move his injured arm.

“You better not die in the middle of the night, or else I’m gonna beat your ass in the afterlife,” I mutter, pulling the covers over me. “Here I was thinking it would be an easy night, but, no, someone had to show up bloody on the nursing student’s doorstep.”

“I’m sorry. I understand if you’re mad at me.” He says quietly into the dark room. I sigh.

“I’m not mad at you, Hotch. You just scared me, okay?” I admit. In just two weeks this man has seemingly wormed his way into every inch of my brain.

“I’m sorry.”

“Just don’t do it again.” I pause, “Or at least give me a warning next time.”

“I’ll do that.” I hear his smile in the dark.

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” I listen as his breathing deepens and he slips off into sleep. It’s a long time before I do the same.

chapter four - coming soon!

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