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sailorrhansol · 2 days ago

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Santa Baby | JWW (m)

Pairing: Wonwoo x reader

Summary: Your boyfriend is stuck working on Christmas Eve in hell on earth. You decide to pay him a little visit to cheer him up - and give yourself a good laugh.

Word Count: 1,400

Genre: Established Relationship

Type: Fluff, Humor

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Cranky reader, children slander because the author (me) is a childless wench, some light suggestive talk at the end, explicit language, a single chaste kiss.

A/N: Merry Crimbus Malison Jederson. You wanted mall Santa and by god, I fucking wrote mall santa lmfaooooo please enjoy this borderline self-insert of what it’s like to experience the mall right before Christmas in that weird holiday-liminal space.

A/N 2: For @kkaetnipjeon's Haliday request

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliday’s Request Event

Christmas Eve at the mall should be illegal. It’s most certainly a hazard to your health as yet another family bumps into you with their handful of demons - children - nearly knocking you into the swing sign at Victoria Secret telling you to buy something so someone could unwrap you.

You would love for someone to be unwrapping you right now in the warmth of your home in the sheets that smell like laundry detergent and spicy cologne. The man who would do the unwrapping, however, is currently only available to the population of the world’s most hellish mall.

Which is why you’re in said hellish mall in the first place.

Christmas music blares over the speakers of the mall. The smell of grease and the distinct scent of cheese drifts from the food court. Your stomach rumbles, not for the burnt taste of Sbarro pizza but at the thought of going home and finally digging into a proper meal.

That will have to wait, though.

Smack in the center of the mall is a towering platform decorated like a winter wonderland. Occasionally, a snowblower from somewhere on the second floor shoots out foam, turning it into the North Pole proper. It earns a combination of screaming in delight and terror from the mostly-kid population waiting in line to walk up the metal catwalk to the top of the winter wonderland where Santa is waiting for them.

Sighing, you get in line, by-stepping a little girl covered in sticky candy cane residue as she runs from her mother, tears streaming down her face while screaming she doesn’t want a picture with tanta. Well, you’re not sure who tanta is but you can’t blame her, looking at your watch to see it’s nearly eight o'clock at night.

The line moves sluggishly slow. You shift back and forth on your feet, scrolling mindlessly through social media. The mother in front of you accidentally knocks your phone with her purse as she shifts one of her screaming children from one arm to the next.

“I��m so sorry,” she apologizes, bouncing the baby in an attempt to soothe him. You wince. You get it - she doesn’t have it easy. “And sorry for his screaming.”

“That’s okay, I think it’s a requirement for kids to scream during the holidays. It’s like an instinct.”

She laughs. “Is this one yours?”

You look to where she’s pointing. There’s a child standing next to you with snot running down his nose and a grinch t-shirt on with several questionable stains. He looks up at you with big brown eyes, blinking and asking, “Dada?”

“No, definitely not.” You point to the father swiftly coming over to scoop the child, an apologetic look on his face. “That’s dada, buddy.”

“Dada,” the kid agrees, turning to reach his arms up as he’s scooped up and taken away from the line.

“Oh.” The woman in front of you frowns. “No kids? Just here to see Santa yourself?”

“Yes. I want to ask him to destroy all the Cybertrucks.”

“Oh.” End of conversation.

One less friend and an infinite amount of line to go, you flip through your work emails, cringing to see how many people think it’s appropriate to send you emails on Christmas Eve. Don’t they know you have a line to stand in for forty five minutes?

You think about asking Santa to send all your coworkers away like Kevin on Home Alone, but realize you’d still be expected to take on all their work. Maybe you should ask for the destruction of capitalism. That seems like a world-wide benefit.

Finally, the line moves forward significantly. The metal catwalk twangs underneath your boots. You lean on the greasy rail, listening to the musical styling of Mariah Carey as she earns yet another number on her paycheck as foam snow blows overhead.

In a weird way, it’s not terrible. You look around, drinking in the miserable families just trying to take a last second holiday photo, late shoppers scrambling to get the last of their presents before tomorrow morning, the kitschy decorations making up the mountain with Sana’s chair somewhere at the top.

You grin, feeling a sense of nostalgia as the line moves forward again. It might be an annoying way to spend your evening, but there’s no denying there’s a bit of magic in the air, even for capitalism Christmas. And Sbarro pizza.

Finally, you near the top landing. There are elf workers helping take photos and managing the line while Santa sits on a gold chair with velvet cushions. His robes are equally as red, nearly blending in with the seat save for the white beard and hair and the slightly askew glasses as the little kid in his lap knocks him in the head.

Coughing to disguise your laughter, you watch as Santa delicately removes the child from his lap and gives a hoarse ho ho ho before sighing and readjusting to accept the next family. He doesn’t see you in line, entirely focused on lifting up the little tyke in front of him into his lap to ask what he wants for Christmas.

The teenage elf working the line looks you up and down, raising her brow as she chews her gum. “How many?”

“Just me.”

“Oh. Ummm. Alright I guess. You get five minutes with Santa. Please don’t go over time. Your photos will be available at the kiosk downstairs. Take this ticket and they’ll print them.”

You take the piece of paper from her. “How much are photos?”

“Fifty bucks.”

“Jesus Christ, do I get to kiss him on the mouth too? Why is it so expensive?”

She stares at you before turning over her shoulder to see the family leaving. “I don’t make the prices. Your turn - and don’t kiss Santa on the mouth.”

Shoving the ticket in your pocket, you mutter under your breath that you can actually kiss this specific Santa all you want. The Santa in question turns to greet you, halfway through his greeting when he sputters,” Ho-ho- holy shit what are you doing here?”

“Wow, what terrible language, Santa Baby.” You grin, plopping yourself on his lap. Wonwoo nearly drops you as you do, but he recovers quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight. “You smell like cheese.”

“It’s the food court,” he mutters. “It won’t leave me, I swear.”

“Gross.” You adjust his glasses, heart fluttering. “You look cute.”

He does, in a weird way. Not because the giant suit and the beard and the hair are flattering, but because you know it’s Wonwoo underneath it all. Wonwoo who somehow got roped into covering for Mingyu as a mall Santa for the evening, Wonwoo who is a little bit overwhelmed by kids but eager to make them laugh anyway, Wonwoo whose grip tightens on you a little, eyes sparkling at your arrival.

“Do I?”

“No, but I like you anyway.”

“Alright, pose with Santa,” the photographer says.

Both of you ignore him as Wonwoo laughs. “So,” he hums. “Have you been naughty or nice?”

“Well, I drove an hour in traffic to come to this shitty mall and then fight for parking for another forty-five, got run into by a bunch of families, stood in line and got called dada or mama like four times, all to come see my boyfriend and make his night a little better.”

“Got it. Nice list.”

You brush stray white hair from his beard. “Definitely nice list.”

“Thanks for coming to see me.” He hugs you a little closer, softening. “It’s really sweet of you. I’m off in an hour.”

“Good. I’m hungry and I want to watch The Muppets Christmas Carol with my own personal Santa Baby.”

“Is that what’s on your Christmas list?”

“Yes. And for all the Cybertrucks to be destroyed.”

His laugh is jovial. You think Wonwoo’s laugh outranks Santa any day, full-bellied and cute. You feel your affection swell, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips despite the teenage elf telling you not too. Too bad she doesn’t decide if you get to kiss your boyfriend or not.

“Hey!” She yells behind you. “I told you not to kiss Santa!”

“I’ve gotta go,” you laugh. “I think I just made the naughty list.”

“I’ll see you at home?”

“Mhmm.” You think of the Victoria Secret sale sign. “Come unwrap me.”

TAG LIST

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy@thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched@avochele @eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery@iamawkwardandshy @gyuguys @codeinebelle @ateez-atiny380

#wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #wonu x reader #wonwoo fic #wonwoo fanfic #svt fic #svt fluff #wonwoo x you #seventeen x you #svt x you #halidays

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masterwords · 1 year ago

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something worth fighting for

Summary: Emily's ready to call it quits, Hotch and Morgan already have, and then a party at Rossi's changes everything.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: ~7k

Warnings: hotch's ear injury (canon - 7x24 explosion), gunshot, vomiting, pain medication

Read on AO3: something worth fighting for

Notes: I humbly submit my work to the CM Holiday Gift Exchange (@cmgiftexchange), a gift for @hosseinis. I wrote almost 30k words for this exchange scattered between 4 different stories before this one became the keeper. I was incredibly fortunate to be matched to you, to be able to create a gift for you, but as happy as I was...it became almost impossible to decide among all the things I wanted to make for you! The other 3 stories were a lot darker, didn't feel much like holiday gifts, but they'll still be posted at some point probably soon because they were all solid stories. You inspired me to write a LOT of words this month my friend. Thank you for loving hotchgan and for being fun to talk to! Merry Crimbus! (Read under the cut or on AO3)

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“Do you ever think about what might have happened if we had done for you what you and JJ did for me?”

Hotch frowned and laced his fingers together in his lap. His hands were cold in spite of them currently being in Georgia. The heat outside was well matched by the air conditioning blowing into the cabin of the jet. He would have preferred not to have it on but the team liked it chilly. They still had an hour before anyone would begin trickling onto the jet, but he’d been surprised to find Emily boarding early. Only about fifteen minutes behind him. She was normally one of the last, stretching the time to the very last moment. He’d been anticipating a nice long period of quiet, a head start on the pile of paperwork he had to complete to shut the door on this case. Not today.

It was his own fault. He’d invited her to come to him when she had a bad day, and those seemed to be coming harder and faster lately. He found her in his office, texting, even once at his door with an apologetic bottle of wine. That night ended up with her drinking the whole thing and him calling her a cab because she refused to sleep on his couch. She wouldn’t look him in the eye for two full days after that because she was worried they’d done something they shouldn’t have while he repeatedly assured her that he hadn’t had a drop of the wine and they’d remained respectable distances from one another the whole night.

“How so?” he asked, his voice a little breathless. She didn’t often bring his situation into the mix. No one ever really dared to talk about Haley, about Foyet, it was like a field full of buried unmarked landmines. They’d all more or less decided to pretend it never happened, everyone but Dave and Derek anyway. JJ had offered support once or twice but she didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry. It was easier for all of them to ignore it.

“If we had decided to fake your death, put you into WITSEC with Haley and Jack. Send you off to some boring old place where you could be a teacher or something. Do you ever wonder how that would have played out?”

“Why would I be a teacher?” he asked, a little offended by the implication that he was dull. She smiled warily.

“Fine, you could be something more exciting. A lion tamer in the circus. Anything you want. Do you ever wonder?”

“No,” he replied truthfully. Painfully. He couldn’t allow himself to wander down the path of what if, it hurt too much. Knowing that there were paths he could have taken that would have kept Haley alive was enough to bring him to his knees, the weight of it too much to bear. It wasn’t that he didn’t know it anyway, there were plenty of choices he had at one time that would have led to Jack not losing his mother. There were better outcomes, maybe, but there were also worse.

Emily hummed, a noise he was sure she had picked up right from him, spending too much time together. Especially lately, because she couldn’t talk to the team about any of this. Sure, she had JJ, but when she looked at JJ she only saw the pain she’d gone through and how hard it has been for her to mend what was broken...the rest of them were still grappling with it. How could she tell them she wasn’t happy? That she might want out? Hotch was the only one she thought could take it, or even worse, understand.

“Why?” He knew why, he’d known it for a while now, but it was still his job to ask. To get her to do the talking. She needed to open up and get something off of her chest. He hated to do this, to slip into his negotiator role, but it worked. It was for her benefit.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she started quietly. “I guess I’m having a hard time being myself again. I spent enough time being someone else so completely, coming to terms with Emily Prentiss dying...this is harder than I thought it would be. Living this life again. And I guess I wondered if you thought you would too. If we’d gotten Foyet and Haley lived, if you got your family back. Could you go from being Joe Schmo in the middle of nowhere...Utah or Wyoming or something...could you be Aaron Hotchner again? Could you just forget dying and pretend it never happened?”

“I would have to try,” he said rather matter-of-factly, but he knew it wasn’t so simple. “It would have been a very different circumstance, though. My situation and yours were not the same.”

“No, yeah, I know...I know…good people, innocent people still died because of me though. I can’t help thinking that I should have stayed dead to honor their sacrifices.”

“Emily.”

“No, don’t Emily me. Look, I tried to buy a house and put down roots. I called my mom and had dinner with her...but I can’t...I can’t fix this. Look at the trouble I’ve caused. I see Spencer still not sure he can trust you guys. I see what happened to you and Derek. I did that, Hotch. I did that.”

“No,” he replied sadly. His voice cracked before he finished his thought and he shook his head, waiting for it to come back. “I did that.”

“Not without my help,” she added timidly. “You two would probably have gotten married, adopted some babies, maybe. White picket fence, two car garage...you guys had it all and what you did for me…I guess I’m not sure it was worth it, in the end. Because look at me now. Look at me thriving.” That last part, as emotionally wrecked as she was, dripped in sarcasm. His chest ached.

“How can I help?”

She scoffed at him and rolled her eyes dramatically. She hadn’t let go of the sarcasm, it was her last line of defense, but her voice was shockingly vulnerable and sincere. It broke his heart. “Tell me it was worth it?”

“It was worth it.”

“You’re going to have to do better...come on. Don’t insult me. You were a Federal Prosecutor, you can lie better than that if you’re not going to tell me the truth.”

“You want the truth?” He glanced down at his watch to make sure they still had time. That he wouldn’t be in the middle of a vulnerable monologue when the team started boarding the jet. That was the last thing he needed. He had a few minutes to safely get it off of his chest. “There are aspects of what happened that I would go back and change if I could. Hindsight is a gift and a curse. But I wouldn’t take it all back. I would do it for you again in a heartbeat, even if it went exactly the same again. No matter the blow-back on me, protecting you was worth it.”

She blinked rapidly, tears clinging to the mascara she’d just put on. That wasn’t what she’d expected and she hated him a little for it. For the cruelty in his honesty. She couldn’t reciprocate that kind of shredded, gaping wound of vulnerability for him no matter how she wanted to. “You jerk.”

“I’m sorry,” he spoke quietly, reaching into his pocket and procuring a small square of silk with his initials stitched in delicate thread along the hem. He offered her the handkerchief without hesitation, waiting for her to make fun of him for it. For being so old fashioned that he carried an old hanky around with him. She didn’t, though, she just looked at him, blinked the tears from her lashes and dabbed at her under eyes with his pale silk gift. He was such a relic, she’d always thought, but a beautiful one. He wasn’t meant for this time. He wasn’t meant for many of the things he did. Everyone thought he was so tough, unbreakable, harsh and ruthless but she knew the truth: he was none of those things. He was certainly good at putting up his shields and playing the game, but he was one of the gentlest, softest most broken men she’d ever met in her life. She wanted to protect him with every last breath in her body, he was such a fool sometimes. But she couldn’t protect him, not from himself or anyone else.

“No,” she whispered finally, sniffling. “I’m sorry. I don’t...I need to suck it up, huh? Get on with it. Shit or get off the pot.”

“You don’t need to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“Says the guy that came back to work a month after getting stabbed nine times.”

He frowned and shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t know what else to do with myself. In retrospect, coming back so soon did more harm than good. I can’t go back, and I can’t wonder what might have been different had I...waited.” The way he said that last word made her squirm. Years later and he was still living with the crushing guilt, the lasting pain both physical and emotional. It struck her that this thing that had been burying her alive for a couple of months had been doing the same to him for years and it made her feel sick. He hadn’t healed he’d just hidden it beneath layers of life. It was mean of her, she knew it, but as she looked at him she knew...she didn’t want to become him, and that was exactly where she was headed if she didn’t get out now.

He’d given her all the answer she needed just by allowing her to see the truth of his existence. It was a cautionary tale.

“Thanks Hotch,” she said finally, knowing they had to wrap it up. He’d checked his watch twice since he opened up. The team were going to board soon and the last thing she wanted to do was be crying when they walked on. She wasn’t ready to tell them yet that she was thinking about leaving. She could see it in Hotch’s eyes, he knew. She didn’t have to say those words. The fact that she was thinking so hard about this was enough for both of them. “This is gross, by the way. There’s a reason Kleenex exists.”

“My grandmother made them for me.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“It’s clean,” he added a little defensively. “I do wash them.”

“Yeah. Sure. It’s all fine then.” She handed him back the wet silk and watched as he stuffed it into the pocket of his pants without thinking twice. “God. Do you have more of those on hand?”

“The clean ones are in my breast pocket, the soiled ones are in the pants pocket. I told you, I do wash them Emily.”

She scrunched up her nose in disgust. “You look good for ninety, you know that?”

He considered a reply, but decided it wasn’t worth it and settled for a long suffering sigh instead before turning back to his paperwork. His mind wasn’t in it anymore, now he could think only of one thing – Emily was going to leave. And probably soon. How would they survive that a second time?

(x)

The explosion that blew out the bank, crumbling concrete and shattering glass was unexpected. It rocked the ground beneath his feet as he dove behind the police car door, heart hammering in his chest so hard and so loud he thought it might actually break his ribs. Derek was in there. JJ was in there. Emily was in there. Dammit. He felt his ear pop, the sudden high-pitched screaming sound piercing his skull even after he covered his ears with shaking hands and squeezed his eyes shut. The pain was instant, the pressure behind his eyes building to a crescendo and for a whole ten seconds that felt like eternity he thought for sure his head was going to explode. There were tears in his eyes when he opened them again and he swiped at them with ash caked fingers, failing to notice for a moment the blood on his palm. His ear was bleeding.

Again.

He’d been on top of the PTSD, for the most part. Once the Bureau appointed therapist pointed it out to him and gave him some exercises to maintain his composure in situations he knew were going to be troubling to him, he’d been on top of it. “Mild,” she called it. When his palms got sweaty and his heart dropped into his stomach, when he felt sick and angry and vulnerable...it didn’t feel mild, but who was he to argue with her? She saw this kind of thing all the time. And he’d been close enough to explosions since that night in New York, had managed to work his way through them without incident, but now seeing the blood...being in the middle of the street...hearing sirens wailing and watching flames flicker...he wasn’t exactly right there again, it wasn’t a flashback, it was just that same sick feeling. Different but the same.

Except this time he had his whole team, and half a city’s worth of cops to look out for. He had civilians and hostages to worry about. The safety of hundreds of people rested on his shoulders and his fucking ear was bleeding down the side of his jaw. Will had been inside that building with the unsubs. He didn’t have time to walk himself through all of the steps as his stomach twisted in painful knots, as the bile rose in his throat. Not now, so he just stood up and shouldered his way through the reeling cops with one hand over his bleeding ear to keep the offending noise out of his head, at least a little. God it hurt.

“Dave!” He called, rushing toward his colleague. He was breathing through his nose, deep harsh breaths to stave off the nausea that was increasing in intensity. “Have you seen any of them?” He didn’t need to use names, Dave knew exactly who he meant.

“There,” Dave pointed at Derek and JJ on the ground with various members of the SWAT team they’d been charging in with. Emily had been ahead of them, she wasn’t in the group but she couldn’t have gotten far. He watched as Derek began to sit up, followed by JJ and then some of SWAT. They were all confused, coming to, but seemed okay. He turned to Dave, refusing to allow personal feelings to get their claws in. Not only did they have no place here right now, but he wasn’t welcome to them any longer. Derek was not his to care for in any way more significant than as colleagues, and as colleagues, what Derek really needed was for Hotch to take complete control of the chaos. Get them all out of this mess.

“Dave,” he began, setting his jaw and trying to regain his composure. His head was a grenade and the pin was barely holding on. Dave raised his hand and shook his head before Hotch had a chance to continue.

“You go get that ear looked at,” he said adamantly. “I’ll go find Erin and we’ll be waiting for you.”

Hotch wanted to argue that he was fine, but his the pressure in his head must have been visible to Dave because he wasn’t having any of it. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’m not sitting this one out, but I’ll go get cleaned up.”

“I’ll take it.”

(x)

Finding Derek in the alley, pinned against a dumpster with a man’s hands around his throat, Hotch didn’t even think. He wasn’t going to bother announcing himself, he wasn’t going to bother negotiating. This was one of those times where he simply couldn’t abide the protocols and procedures – this man allowed Will to be hurt, used him, put Henry in danger and was now trying to kill Derek. He had no trouble at all justifying the shot he was about to take.

And when Matthew Downs dropped at Derek’s feet, when the blood sprayed against Derek’s cheek and the dumpster and pooled on the ground, he felt no remorse. He simply stood with his gun still aimed, breathing heavily, his ear screaming louder than ever. He was going to be sick. That knowledge rumbled through him with the force of a freight train as his stomach twisted with the pain of the gun shot, but the look on Derek’s face, the look of pure gratitude and relief and maybe something else…it made him feel better as he dropped to his knees and dry heaved a few times. Derek hurried over to him and placed a hand between his shoulders, instinctively rubbing up and down over the vest. Even if Hotch couldn’t feel it, he knew Derek was there.

“Hotch?”

“I’m okay,” he gasped, glad that nothing was actually coming up. You have to eat in order to have anything to expel and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything but coffee. Dinner the night before? Maybe? “Go. Find Will. I’ll be right behind you.”

Derek did as he was told without arguing, but took one last moment to glance back as he stepped out of the alley. He knew better than to go back, knew better than to ask what was wrong. He could do that later.

(x)

How Dave managed to put together a wedding on such short notice was beyond any of them, but Hotch knew better than most what money could do to trump time. Enough zeroes on a check and you could get anything (and anyone) you wanted. So, mere days after being shot and chained to a bomb, Will was ready to take JJ's hand in marriage and Hotch...well he was just trying to gather the courage to show up.

Jessica was smoothing his sweater over his shoulders and smiling at how soft he looked in it while he grumbled about every minute detail.

“You’re still not sure you should go,” she said, turning him toward her. He shrugged.

“I think everyone would have more fun if I didn’t go.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Considering what I put everyone through this past year…”

“Stop it. Right now, stop it.”

His shoulders slumped pitifully and she almost felt bad for snapping at him, but not quite. He deserved it. He could be so stupid sometimes she just couldn’t stand it.

“You didn’t do anything maliciously. You were trying to help, and sometimes that means getting it wrong...it isn’t as if you had all the time in the world to consider repercussions. You had to make a split second decision. Maybe it was right, maybe it was wrong, but Emily is alive and your team is intact and isn’t that what you were going for?”

“Not everyone is intact.”

“Derek’s going to come back. He loves you so much. He still does. You don’t wake up at the crack of dawn and show up to babysit a kid so his dad can go do some stupid triathlon if you don’t still care.”

“I didn’t tell him I’d asked Dave.”

“Of course. You assumed that breaking up meant that you had to find someone new to watch him, that’s reasonable. And he assumed that he’d made the commitment and he had to honor it. Also reasonable. Of course, if you two were better at communicating…”

“I know.”

“My point being, he still loves you. And Jack. I think he just needs time. You have plenty of time.”

He slumped down on the couch and put his head in his hands, breathing in deep. Once, twice. Filling his lungs, pausing, exhaling. His head hurt, hadn’t stopped hurting since the explosion. He had an MRI in the morning, an MRI he should have scheduled sooner but he thought it would go away. He hadn’t been as close to this explosion this time, it shouldn’t have been so bad, but then there was the gunshot and the noise from the scene and the pain in his head had been like a hot knife slicing through his brain like a Thanksgiving turkey ever since.

“How about you take one of your nuclear pills and I’ll be your designated driver?” Jess offered, crouching before him with her hands on his knees. “Come on. Take one and you might actually enjoy the wedding. You know I love crashing weddings.”

“You have a date tonight,” he countered miserably before lying back and throwing his arm over his eyes, resting his head against the cushion to try and take some of the pressure off. She huffed at him, that irritated little puffing noise she made that meant she thought he was a complete idiot without actually saying the words.

“I can reschedule. Anita will understand.”

“Anita? The nurse?”

Not just any nurse. The nurse who had cared for him when he was in the Urgent Care sick as a dog a few months back. The nurse whose sarcasm was biting and her smile was enchanting. The nurse with a head full of silver hair she claimed was due entirely to the stress of her job.

“That’s the one.”

“You got a date while I was sick? That’s low, even for you.”

“She’s pretty. And she said I was a saint for dealing with you. How can I resist such compliments?”

He groaned miserably. “I was sick.”

“You were. Very sick, really. But her point still stands. You’re a pain in the ass and I’ve been putting up with it for decades. I deserve to get a little something for my trouble once in a while.”

“Is she nice?”

“Very,” Jessica replied with a smile, her fingers scratching at his scalp mindlessly as she settled in on the couch beside him. He’d always liked his head being scratched but even more when it hurt. “She’s smart and charming and sweet, too. She has great taste in restaurants, but she drinks sweet white wine so I guess she’s not perfect.”

“Not many are.” His shoulders relaxed as she scraped her nails over his scalp. It didn’t exactly do anything to the pain itself but he found it easier to ignore, at least marginally. “You could bring her,” he offered quietly. “To the wedding. If you want.”

“I don’t think she’s ready to meet the whole family,” Jessica said with a smile.

“She’s already met me. Everyone else is easy.”

“Good point. I’ll ask her. Does that mean you’re going to take the meds like a good boy?”

“I don’t think I can go if I don’t.”

“Look at you, making good choices.” He didn’t want to take the pill; it made him goofy. It made him feel lightheaded and dizzy, made him say things without thinking first. Made him cry over silly things, like Disney movies and finding crayons crunched in the couch cushions. The pill really didn’t do much except make him forget how bad his head hurt. Which he knew was ultimately the goal, but the tradeoff didn’t always seem worth it. He didn’t like the way it made him feel like a different person.

“Here,” Jess said, extending the pill and a glass of water to him after rummaging around through the medicine cabinet for a moment. He was always pushing it to the back like he was ashamed of it. “Anita said she’d love to come as long as there’s an open bar. I told her that David Rossi never skimps on the booze and do you know what she said?”

“She’s a big fan of his books,” he deadpanned and she let out a barking laugh that hurt his head.

“Exactly. Said she couldn’t believe I was just casually inviting her to David Rossi’s mansion for a wedding hours before the wedding and what was she going to wear.”

“She doesn’t need to worry,” he said quietly, sipping at the water. “She could come in scrubs if she wanted. No one would hold it against her.”

“Did you learn nothing from being married to Haley all those years?”

He hummed, admitting defeat. “I think the answer to that should be obvious.”

“Point taken. I’m going to go home and find a dress, you lay here and rest. Let that pill do it’s thing. We’ll be by to pick you guys up in an hour.”

(x)

The party was bigger than Hotch had imagined it would be on such short notice. More people milling around, many faces he recognized and some he didn’t. They were a little late, maybe it was fashionable, maybe it was rude, he couldn’t be trusted to tell the difference in his fuzzy state.

“Aaron,” Dave said, pulling him in for a hug. “How are you?”

Hotch never know how to answer that question truthfully, so he rarely did. “Good,” he replied, smiling. The smile wasn’t even forced, at least. But Dave knew anyway.

“Liar.”

“I’m okay, Dave.”

“You get that ear looked at?”

“I have an appointment in the morning for an MRI. It’s giving me some trouble but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“You keep me posted. In the meantime, why don’t you introduce me to your guests?”

Hotch smiled a little sheepishly and stepped out of the way to let Jessica and Anita be greeted by their host. Jack was standing beside Hotch, still in his shy phase even if he did know everyone here. “You know Haley’s sister Jessica,” Hotch said, waiting a moment before continuing. “And this is her date Anita.”

“Anita,” Dave said, kissing her hand with all of that charm he had at his disposal, holding nothing back. Hotch watched, blinking slowly, doing everything a little slowly. “How did the two of you meet?”

“She brought him to the Urgent Care with a pretty bad case of strep throat,” Anita replied casually. “By the time they left he had antibiotics and a doctor’s note to stay home from work and I had a pretty girl’s phone number.”

“I remember that, it’s hard to get him to miss any work,” Dave said, eyeing Hotch. “It’s been a couple of months now.”

Emily approached Hotch as Dave took Jessica and Anita by the arm, one on each side, to show them around the house and the party. To get them drinks and push them out on to the dance floor. He insisted that his live band not go to waste, and they still had some time to kill before the bride was ready to walk down the aisle. The look on her face was sad, unbearably so, and he knew he wasn’t up for the conversation she looked ready to have. Ready or not, he had to try.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked when she sighed more than spoke her hello. She looked distressed, sad, heartbroken really.

“No, not here,” she said quietly. “But soon. Tomorrow maybe. Okay?”

“Tomorrow,” he repeated. “I have an appointment early in the morning, we can meet for coffee afterward.”

“It’s a date,” she replied, forcing a smile. Derek watched the interaction from across the room, his drink in hand. He knew she was leaving, and he missed her already. It was crushing him, and he knew it would crush Hotch too. After everything they’d done, he felt for the man. His world had come crashing down when Emily died, but he knew Hotch’s hadn’t ever stopped. Everything just kept stacking up – from Emily’s death to her new life, Pakistan and Emily coming back and the Senate Hearing Committee, his team being scrutinized, the trip to Chicago for Derek’s cousin that was made more awkward by his family’s knowledge that the two of them had broken up. His aunt Yvonne had tried to push them back together and only made it worse for them in the end. And his mother...his mother was angry at him. “He didn’t lie to hurt you,” she’d scolded first by phone and then later in person, in Desiree’s hospital room of all places. “He lied to protect you. I seem to recall you pulling the same stunt on us, your family and we still love you.” But he still lied, and it was hard to put that trust back in place. It just wasn’t that easy. He was trying so damn hard.

Showing up and watching Jack for him so he could go do his race, showing up at 4am only to find Dave already there...it had been an olive branch opportunity, but he couldn’t do it when he saw Dave. Because that meant Hotch didn’t believe he would still honor his commitment, it meant Hotch really believed it was over. At least that’s what he told himself when he entered the apartment anyway, because how could he leave when Jack’s eyes lit up? When Jack hugged him and said he missed him? “I miss you too, kiddo,” he’d said and Dave asked him to stay, invited him to have some of the scrambled eggs he was cooking up while Hotch thanked them both and rushed out the door. It wouldn’t take both of them to watch Jack but he couldn’t leave the kid. It gave him an excuse to throw Jack up on his shoulders, to cheer Hotch on, and it surprised him when he called him baby as he approached the finish line. He detected amusement from Dave beside him but the rest of the team were so wrapped up in their own morning drama that they didn’t say a word.

He watched Hotch make his way through the party as he danced with Penelope, as he danced with Emily and even Reid. The music was upbeat and fun, easy for dancing and forgetting the weight of the last few days. The last few months. When he saw Will talking to Rossi, waiting for his bride, he couldn’t help being a little jealous even if he was happy for them. He thought it would be him next. He really thought he and Hotch had it all, too. Did Will care that JJ lied to him about Emily? Of course it wasn’t exactly the same, Will didn’t know Emily like that, he didn’t stick his hands in her blood, hold her while she waited for the ambulance, look into her eyes and watch the light fade. But he still didn’t know she’d lived. JJ kept it from him, too.

Finally Hotch, in his customary rounds, came to Derek near the drinks. “Hey,” Derek said, reaching out to catch him by the elbow like he was just going to walk by. He probably was. He’d almost gone out of his way to respect Derek’s request for space, gone so far overboard that it felt like he’d been the one dumped and not the other way around. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay,” Hotch replied quietly, barely audible over the DJ’s dance music. He was blaring something by ABBA that had Jessica and Anita out on the floor having a blast. “You?”

“Same.”

The conversation stalled predictably. They couldn’t talk to one another anymore. “Where are you sitting?” Derek asked casually. Hotch shrugged.

“Wherever Jack tells me we’re sitting I suppose.”

At that Derek smiled. “Well, we’d better find some seats huh? Looks like things are getting serious.”

As it ended up, the seats Jack chose put them right beside Derek and Penelope. Hotch’s knee bumped Derek’s as he took his seat and tried to make himself smaller so he didn’t block anyone’s view, so he didn’t take up too much space. Nothing ever had the kind of leg room he needed.

The wedding was fast, short and sweet, to the point. JJ looked beautiful and Will looked so happy Hotch could hardly stand it. He cried, not at all surprised by the display of emotion. He knew it was going to happen the minute he swallowed that damn pill. At least he wasn’t alone, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when he glance around. Not even Derek beside him could contain the tears in his eyes.

What he hadn’t expected was to find Derek’s hand circling his, dragging it into his lap and letting it rest there against his thigh. They didn’t look at each other, but that connection made Hotch’s heart nearly burst in his chest. He froze, staring straight ahead a little too intently, breath painfully tight and burning in his lungs. Derek squeezed his hand and his vision narrowed to pinpricks, splotches of color flashing over the scene.

When JJ and Will kissed, Derek squeezed his hand again and then let it go. They didn’t talk, Derek just got up and took Penelope to the dance floor at the invitation of the DJ, swaying along with her. Hotch watched from beside Jack and Henry as everyone made their way back out there.

“Hotch?” Emily asked, coming up beside him quietly. He hadn’t realized she wasn’t out there, but now her hand was extended to him with a sheepish smile. “You can’t sit this one out. It’s the law I think.”

“Sure I can,” he replied, but he took her hand and led her to the dance floor anyway, holding her gently as they settled into the foxy. She looked up at him with wide eyes and a grin.

“You actually know how to dance,” she said. “Of course you do. Why am I surprised that the guy who carries silk hankies can ballroom dance?”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Emily.”

“Yeah...well...there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, too, y'know…”

That made him laugh, a light lead in to giving her a gentle twirl and a dip. Derek glanced at them as he swayed with Penelope.

“He’s really good,” Penelope whispered in Derek’s ear. “Did he ever take you dancing?”

Derek nodded, closing his eyes. “Yeah. He did.”

“You should go cut in. I saw what you did back there…”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

“What is it going to take?”

“I don’t know mama. I don’t know. I never broke up with someone I was still in love with before.”

“Is Emily leaving us?” The way she changed course made him stiffen up and she could hardly contain her emotion at that. She knew just by that alone. “She is. Why?”

“You’ll have to ask her yourself.”

And all at once she was dragging them across the dance floor, cutting in on Hotch and Emily’s dance. He wasn’t sure if it was calculated or not, but he thought it probably was. She was like that. She didn’t even ask before peeling Emily away from Hotch, before taking her hand and moving them away. Emily glanced at Hotch apologetically and shrugged, not bothering to fight back.

“Well,” Derek said quietly, extending his hand to Hotch. “You want to take me for a spin? It’s been a while, I’m a little rusty. I’ll try to keep up.”

“I’m sure you still have it,” Hotch said, taking Derek’s hand and pressing in close. Derek smelled good, sweet like cigar smoke and cinnamon and bourbon. He began leading, stepping in time with the music and wasn’t surprised when Derek fell into step easily. “If I stumble, I’m sorry,” he added quietly, his mouth unbearably close to Derek’s ear. “I had to take some medication and it makes me a little loopy.”

“What for?” Derek asked, hardly caring whether Hotch stumbled over his feet.

“The explosion at the bank re-injured my ear. I’m sure it’s fine but it does hurt quite a lot.”

“You get it looked at?”

“I have an MRI in the morning.”

Derek smiled and nodded, realizing that they had fallen into perfect sync with one another almost effortlessly. Like no time had passed. Talking felt forced but it was getting easier the further in they went.

“Do you need me to take Jack to school?”

“Jessica said she could,” Hotch replied. Derek nodded.

“I know she will, but she’s getting herself pretty good and liquored up…”

“She was supposed to be my designated driver.”

“Yeah. I’ll drive you guys home, I’m not in the mood to drink tonight anyway. Had a bourbon with Rossi and Will to take the taste out of those nasty cigars he gave us, but otherwise I’ve been sipping soda water with lime.”

“You don’t need to do that. I think Anita has been drinking Sprite. She works in the morning.”

“Hotch…” Derek said, leaning back just far enough that they could lock eyes. “I’m not just offering to drive you home because I think you need a ride. I’m really trying here…”

“Oh.”

“Oh? I mean if you don’t want me to...if you’ve moved on…”

“No. I...no. That isn’t it.”

“Okay, so what is it?”

Hotch let out a small sigh and pursed his lips. “You asked for space, and I gave it to you. But in Chicago...it felt like you were finished. The way you behaved led me to believe your need for space had become something more. That you had come to a decision and that we had no future.”

“You really think I’d do that and not talk to you?”

“I don’t know, Derek. I have no right to expect anything of you anymore.”

“So you’re good just letting it die? You’re not gonna fight for it?”

“Derek, what do you want from me? You said you couldn’t trust me, that you needed space...when you ask me for space, I am going to give it to you. Did you really want me to fight?”

“No, but I didn’t think it would be so damn easy to let go of either.”

“It hasn’t been easy. Has it looked easy? Is that really what you think?”

“Well it hasn’t exactly looked hard.”

Hotch was on the verge of tears, maybe angry tears at this point, he didn’t know. He had almost no control over that and wasn’t going to expend any energy trying to. “I think you’re the only one who can’t see it.”

Derek didn’t like the sound of that, mostly because it hurt. It was probably true. He’d been doing his best not to pay any attention to Hotch, because paying attention hurt and made him want to go back to him and he knew he wasn’t ready for it. Because he felt like he shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t just be okay with Hotch lying to him, should he? Even if he’d done the same damn thing to his family over his cousin? And they forgave him because she was back in their lives, they forgave him because his motivation was for good. Wasn’t Hotch’s too? It wasn’t like he did it for his own gain. Every time he got close, something pulled him away.

“Maybe I am,” he admitted finally. “Hotch. I love you. I never stopped, I hope you know that. But I just don’t know how to forget what happened.”

“I would never ask you to forget.”

Of course Hotch would say that. Just be willing to keep a relationship up when he’s at an automatic deficit. Spend forever trying to make up for his failures.

“I hope for your forgiveness,” Hotch added quietly, almost too quietly for Derek to hear. “But I wouldn’t expect you to forget.”

“It can’t happen again.”

“I can’t make that kind of promise, Derek. I think you know that. There was no way I could have predicted being in that situation before and I can’t know something won’t arise again, but if there is any way around it, I will take it. I can do better than I have done at including you and sharing the burden. I can do better at including you in the hard decisions. I can do better.”

“You can, or you will?”

Hotch smirked at that, at the wording only they would pick apart. “I will.”

“Good enough,” Derek said, finally, taking the lead from Hotch for a moment. Remembering his own feet, his own rhythm. He’d missed this feeling, their bodies moving like one, the smell of Hotch. It was soft and clean, cotton and sunshine, he never wore more than deodorant and maybe some aftershave that lingered. He swayed his hips, stepping back and then forward, upping the tempo with the music. Hotch never missed a step even if he did look a little pale, a little light on his feet. Derek wanted to spin him, to twirl and dip him but he thought that might be pressing his luck. Instead he leaned in and kissed him, stealing his breath. “I don’t want space anymore. I want this.”

“Me too.”

From the bar, while she waited for her new drink, Emily smiled and watched Hotch and Derek. She couldn’t help it. “All it took was me leaving,” she said quietly and Penelope let out the wet sob she’d been holding back for two songs now.

“No,” she wailed, pulling Emily into a teary hug. “No no no.”

“It’s okay Pen. It’s for the best. We all need it. A fresh start for everyone. We can’t go back to the way it was before and it only hurt everyone to try...this is good. I promise.”

“Why doesn’t it feel good?”

“Because goodbyes are hard, even if they’re necessary. But look at that...look at them…look at Hotch and Derek...and JJ and Will...don’t cry over me.”

“Can I come visit you?”

“Of course.”

“Right away. I’ll help you move in. We can shop for furniture and explore your new neighborhood and find the best place for um…fish and chips...you eat the fish I’ll eat the chips…”

“Yes,” Emily smiled, holding Penelope’s hand tight. “To all of it. Yes. I’d love that.”

“Good! Now, come dance with me. Because I need to soak up as much Emily Prentiss as I possibly can tonight…”

“Anything for you, Penelope.”

"Ahhh," Penelope gushed, squeezing Emily's hand. "You are so right."

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #bau team as family #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hotchgan #hotch x morgan

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