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whump-town · 2 years ago

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Blind Rage

Warnings? I don't know. Jack punches a kid in the mouth and Hotch has a concussion but honestly it's nothing compared to my normal stuff

3,338 words so not very long but I wrote this down in one sitting. redbull is a powerful drug

I don't know if it's like the best thing I've ever written but I did write it so...

Jack didn’t know any better than to just assume his dad was the patent normal. He didn’t imagine a factory but he certainly assumed his father, like all fathers, had simply always been forty-years-old with tricky aches – dents from the rough travel of getting here to Jack. How else would a dad be other than how his is?

“Shit.” Milk splashes onto the table, missing Jack’s glass. Hotch’s own explicative and the milk on the table startle him, he is unable to think past the hammering of his own heart. The milk jug in his hands starts to ache with weight, his muscles straining, tense. “S-Sorry,” Hotch blinks and shakes his head, moving awkwardly forward before realizing he needs to put the milk in the fridge. Each step comes back to him a little too slow – put milk away, grab paper towel, clean mess.

Shit, the milk’s lid

He turns back for the table, cursing himself for being so out of it. “Sorry, buddy.” Hotch apologizes again, reaching out with his unoccupied hand to cup Jack's head, giving his hair a rustle. “I’m just all over the place this morning. Aunt Jess tell you I hit my head?” He knows she did, nearly immediately after he’d told Jessica, she had found a way to relay it to Jack. A reasonable enough lie, Jess told him that Hotch smacked his head on a low entry way. Jack had seen Hotch do this before, Jess had sent Hotch down to her basement to get a mousetrap and Jack stood on the stairs eager to be near but not actually inside the basement. Hotch had found the poor thing and held it out from himself, turning to come back and nearly knocked himself out, bouncing his head off of a low plank. “Yeah,” Hotch agrees as Jack giggles. Smiling at the pleasant sound.

Jack had thought it was funny to watch his aunt dump his father on the couch with an ice pack, his vision hadn’t cleared yet and it’d taken a very dramatic and careful fight to get him back up the stairs. Jessica had told him to stop moaning about his head and he’d realized that Jessica felt worse for the poor dead mouse than him.

Jack had remembered this too when Jessica told him Hotch got hurt. Of course, Hotch hadn’t run into another low beam. The floor gave out beneath them in the middle of a scene and Hotch (and Emily quickly after) had fallen through the floor down into the basement. Earned them both a concussion, a few cracked ribs, and one broken wrist. Emily had chosen to make her cast black.

Normally, he wouldn’t bring this sort of thing up again. Jack knows to be careful of his aches but they’re safe for the most part, Jack isn’t all that excitable and even when he is he’s mindful. But the contentious pounding in his head, tells him this foggy film over his thoughts doesn’t have any plans of leaving soon.

“There, all good.” Hotch finally slumps into his kitchen chair, his coffee splashing over the rim, his eyes find the spot but he’s beyond any reaction above a forfeiting grunt. He takes a bite of his toast, corner soggy with butter. It’s a white bread toast and coffee sort of morning and all he can do is pray his son is catching that same vibe from the heavy rain clouds outside. When he looks up he’s not met with a mischievous little grin, Jack’s brain conjuring up the idea of a fort he thinks he’ll have to beg to build, Hotch is met with something knowing. “What?” he asks, caught between alarmed and amused.

Jack giggles and tilts his cereal bowl for Hotch to see inside, “you’re silly daddy.”

Hotch leans forward, not sure what he’s seeing. Jack’s got his fruity pebbles, orange juice, and milk. It’s been his kick lately and Hotch is really having the sort of week where he’s taking Jack’s interest in something with the name fruit as a success. “What?” he asks again, eyes darting around the bowl quicker now as Jack keeps giggling. “I don’t–” fruity pebbles, orange juice, and milk. His face falls immediately as what he’s done clicks. His toast falls out his hands and he pulls in a big breath, the end catching on the tears gathering in his eyes. “I’m sorry, buddy,” he rushes out. Voice and hands shaking. “I’m just –” he shakes his head and shuts his mouth. He swallows down against the swollen knot in his throat, blinks his tears away. “Dad’s just, yeah, I’m just losing it this morning, huh?”

He reaches out for the bowl, hoping Jack just gives it to him without a fight, and he finds a moment later to cry about it later. But Jack just giggles and scoops a spoonful into his mouth. “It’s okay,” he chirps, nodding his little head along. He uses his sleeve to wipe his mouth but Hotch doesn’t comment.

“Are you sure?” Tears are threatening to fall. His head couldn’t possibly hurt more than it does now. “You don’t have to eat it, buddy. I’ll make you a new bowl.” He’s not even sure his knees will lift him up to do that.

Jack shrugs and takes another bite, “it’s good.” He eats the entire bowl which isn’t normal for him. He always leaves just enough cereal to cover the top of the milk so that when Hotch washes the bowl he has to touch soggy cereal. And because he’s Jack and he always knows how to drive that last nail in the coffin, he looks up at Hotch with the biggest smile (a fruity pebble stuck to his tooth) and says, “you did the bestest job. This is the bestest thing you’ve ever did made.”

He cries and Jack sits there swinging his little legs and eating his orange juice and fruity pebbles breakfast. His head hurts and he hasn’t slept well which will be the official downplay if anyone asks about his puffy red eyes but he really cries because Jack’s growing up too quickly. And because he’s terrified he isn’t doing this right. That he’ll fuck up everything that Haley did. That Jack won’t be this sweet kid in five years – when Hotch has had as many years doing the single parent thing as Haley.

Derek shows up before lunch and gives Hotch a much needed break. He almost hopes a blood vessel pops in his head when he answers the door and Derek kisses him very sweetly in the greeting. The kiss is nice, even if they’re still too much in the hall for Hotch’s liking and within eyesight of anyone who comes out into the hall. Jack comes running, stands at Hotch’s heels and impatiently sticks his head between Hotch’s knees so he can talk to Derek. Impatient that his fathe is in the way of Jack talking to his best friend. He huffs a dramatic sigh, fills his chest with a lungful of air and shakes his head. Rolls his eyes like he’s seen them do a thousand times before as he informs Derek, “he’s being a handful”.

Derek chuckles and smirks up at Hotch.

Hotch groans, “Jack please–”

Jack gives Derek a look, a see what I’m saying?

Derek’s smile doesn’t waver, “you think he needs a N-A-P?”

Jack frowns, trying to work out those letters in his head. Then his face hardens and he nods his head solemnly.

Hotch does need a nap but it’s not nearly as rewarding when a five-year-old says you’re being moody and need to go to sleep. It’s both patronizing and sweet that they lead him back to his room. “You can go watch your movie,” he grumbles, grouchy now that Derek’s here and pulling back the covers for him. “I’m fine.” He can pull down the parent-guard. Derek’s got things for a few hours.

Derek smirks but says nothing.

“I’ll tuck him in,” Jack says, “I know how to do it.” Hotch always packs the blankets around Jack’s legs extra tight and it makes him giggle because it jostles him around. Jack mimics the motions with a serious scowl that mimics Hotch’s, all his attention on this task.

“Alright,” Derek chuckles, plucking Jack up from the bed.

“Wait!” Jack demands, “he can sleep without a g’night kiss!”

Hotch clenches his jaw, holds his breath as Derek holds Jack over him. It’s a strange feeling. It’s unfamiliar but not unwanted, he’s just not sure how to deal with these moments of vulnerability. He has to suck it up, he has to let Jack be sweet and gentle. He has to mimic that himself. It’s just not what he’s been shown most of his life. His father didn’t tuck him into bed. Or read him bedtime stories. So to have someone else meet his weakness with kindness and love…

“I’ll be right back,” Derek promises. He kisses the top of Hotch’s head.

He just doesn't know what to do with that.

Derek comes in only ten minutes later. He bickers with Jack in the living room about which movie they should watch. Jack sticks with Toy Story but Derek’s going to lose his mind if he has to watch that fucking cartoon Sheriff one more time. They settle with Monsters Inc. and Derek makes them popcorn.

Hotch is already asleep by the time he gets back there with water and a Tyenol. He’s too out of it to fight the medication. It’s Derek sitting on the edge of his bed. Derek is tipping the glass so he drinks more water. His guard is too low with Derek. He trusts him more than he wants to and less than he does at the same time. He’s torn in half between the way he thinks they should be and what he’s capable of. He wants to tell Derek everything – the good things and the bad things, all together like there isn’t a difference. He wants to give him everything but he still holds back. He pulls himself away because he can’t be that reckless. That’s not fair. Jack loves Derek and he won’t spoil that with everything that’s dogshit in his life.

He’s fitfully napping when he hears the front door slam shut, Derek and Jack’s voices loud but not in the excited way they typically speak. Not in the way that means Hotch will pull himself out of bed and find the two of them splitting a carton of ice cream or smiling over a box of pizza. They’re loud and angry.

“Why would you do that?” Derek demands.

Hotch’s heart feels like it’s coming out of his chest. He’s afraid and he can’t really say why. His hands shake and his knees feel weak, his entire body pulsing with the hard beats of his heart. His vision is unsteady, he stands too quickly and pushes through it.

“You can’t hit other people, Jack.”

There are tears in Jack’s eyes. That’s the first thing that Hotch sees. It’s not Jack’s first time being scolded and not even the first time he’s been yelled at. Hotch tries his best. He tries to be mindful of the fact that he’s dangerously large. And that the only thing he fears nearly as much as becoming his father is other people thinking he’s like his father. But he loses it sometimes.

There are tears in Jack’s eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest and looks away from Derek. “He said something bad.” Two tears fall down his cheeks but Jack remains stoic. Unwaveringly certain that he’s done anything wrong.

“It doesn’t matter–”

“It does!” Jack never raises his voice. He rarely pitches a fit about much. He had tantrums as a toddler but that just comes with the complications of that age. The language barrier. Not now, though. He’s a calm kid. A normal kid.

“Jack–” Derek suddenly remembers Hotch sleeping and his goal switches from scolding to calming Jack down. They’re quickly approaching something bad, he can tell. Aaron’s not in the state to be dealing with this right now and Jack’s getting too emotional to handle it. The last thing they need is to wake him up on top of this. Let him sleep. Have dinner. Bring it up again.

Jack holds back a sob, sucking in quickly in a way that Derek knows means the waterworks are about to come hard. “They say mean things…” his lower lip trembles. “About – About you and about Daddy. And – And about–” he rubs angrily at his face with his fist. Getting too agitated to speak now, crying too hard to get his words out.

Derek can’t stand those tears, the kids gonna make him cry. “Alright, alright,” he caves, sinks down to his knees and Jack goes right to him. “Come here,” he holds Jack to him. “You can’t hit other people, alright?” He’s never sure where he’s allowed to be in these instances. His placement in this house is becoming more permanent and Hotch has started giving him the side-eye. Making him be the bad guy, a dad who scolds as much as he plays. This isn’t the fun part of the job for sure. He’s in the dark.

Hotch comes from down the hall and finds them on the couch. It takes him ten minutes to compose himself enough to be able to stand and get down the hall, to be in the mindset to have a conversation. “Wha’ happened?” His head is pounding, enough to start to make his stomach cramp up. But he sinks down on the couch beside them, a smile trying to tug at his lips at the way Jack sleeps against Derek’s chest. Derek’s got him nearly swaddled, a blanket tucked up around him.

Derek pulls in a deep breath, shakes his head. “It stopped raining so I sent him outside.” There’s only a little bit of yard for the kids to play in but it’s better than staying cooped up inside. Derek only left him for a second, just to run in and get him some water. And when he came back two of the mother’s had Jack and another little boy. The other boy’s lip was busted up pretty good. Jack had socked him right in the mouth. “He was–” Derek’s not sure how to say it.

Hotch is very aware that everyone in the building knows what happened in this apartment. The little kids whisper about it. People avoid him and the kids always act a little more stiffly in line when Hotch is outside watching them. They’re afraid of him. They talk about Hotch the same way they talked about the masked man. Like both are ghosts that phase through the walls. Both walk through the complex, watching and waiting to jump out from the shadows. Either could snatch you from your bed. Hotch suspects some of the mother’s tell their children just that, use him as a boogey man to make their children behave.

“Foyet again.”

Derek nods. He can’t even voice how much that enrages him. Let him hear them saying that shit… but maybe that’s why Jack did what he did… “And one of the boys,” Derek adds softly, “said something about us.”

Hotch already knows what that something is. He shouldn’t have to explain to his five-year-old the bigorty of grown adults. Grown men shouldn’t talk to children the way that they do. One of the boys has already said something to Jack about Hotch and Derek. Taunted and teased. Used words he’d heard his father say, repeated his father’s opinion about them.

“He’s got your left-hook,” Derek offers, tries to be humorous but it falls short.

Hotch just stares ahead. He couldn’t speak if he even knew what to say.

“He was protecting you.”

He knows and that’s the thing. Tears gather against his will. His head hurts too much to be thinking this hard and this fast about all the things that hurt him. All the wrong things to dwell on. His voice is thick when he does manage to speak, his tears hardly held off. “That’s not his job, Derek.”

Derek wants to reach out and pull Hotch down against him. He wants to be squished in the middle of his Hotchners but he’s not certain that Hotch needs physical comfort yet. So he keeps his distance. He resists the urge to touch him. Hold his hand or hug him. “No,” Derek agrees. “But you protect him. And he worries about you. He wants to be big and strong like his dad.” Derek knows what that’s like. Those feelings flood him too everytime he has to watch another UNSUB get the drop on Hotch. Everytime he walks away with even just a bruise, a scratch. The fury and pain that floods him more intensely than he knows what to do with. The blind rage.

Hotch chuckles? He makes a sound Derek can’t quiet make out, he smiles but it’s more of a scoff than anything. When he looks to Derek his eyes are red and he looks physically pained.

“Come here,” Derek finally caves. He stand this any longer. He pulls Hotch down against him, his head down on his chest.

“What am I gonna do with him?”

Derke shrugs, “I think it’s probably too late to return him.” The joke words this time and Hotch lets out that scoff sounding chuckle. There are tears coming down his face but he’s smiling. “Besides,” Derek says, “this one’s already potty-trained and when you get a new one you have to run through all that old stuff again.”

Hotch rolls his eyes and moves himself around a little more, gets his head placed on Derek’s chest somewhere that hurts the least. He sniffles, wipes at his nose with the back of his hand.

Derek moves his head to rest his chin atop Hotch’s head, squeezes his shoulders. “He’s a good kid,” Derek whispers. “We’ll figure this out and one day we might laugh about it.” Hell his mom laughs now about the first kid who’s mouth he bloodied. Some stupid little prick that said something about one of his siters. Derek can’t even remember. His mother had thought the world was coming apart. His father had just died and Derek was acting out.

Hotch hums. He doubts this could ever be something that won’t be devastating. That isn’t proof that he’s unfit for parenthood.

“It’s not like he punched a saint,” Derek goes on. He knows exactly which kid it was. He’s seen that kid do all kinds of shit. “It’ll be fine,” Derek’s certain. “He’s too much like you, that's all. Thinks he’s got to protect everyone.”

Hotch doesn’t know about that. The rage that it must have taken Jack to act like that, yeah that’s him. He knows exactly what that is.

“We should order pizza,” Derek hums. He’s already moving on. They’ll talk about this again later but Derek knows it’s still too fresh and harsh for either Hotch or Jack to talk about. Hotch’s concussion needs to clear up a bit. That’s making everything worse. “Are you up for take-out?” Then he hums again but not the pleased hum from a second ago. “Or is this one of those things where it’s like if we get pizza we reward the behavior?” Parenting stresses Derek out. “I don’t understand this stuff.”

Hotch sits up. Maybe it’s not the most sensitive thing but he likes to see Derek squirm. He’s so calm and collected all the time, but he’s terrified of messing things up with Jack. It’s different than he fears messing things up with Jack. It’s lighter and pleasant. Hotch wishes he could be like that but he settles for seeing it with Derek. It makes him smile. “We can get pizza.”

Derek narrows his eyes, “you’re sure?”

Hotch manages a real laugh. Not that strangled, harsh scoff. A laugh. “Pizza is fine, Derek.”

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #derek morgan #criminal minds fanfiction #jack hotchner #hotchgan #mortch

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shmaptainwrites · 3 years ago

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Hi Mimi. Can you do the bike injury prompt with mortch?

Omg of course I can!! This prompt works amazingly with the pairing 😭 I was gonna leave this for tomorrow but no

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x Derek Morgan

Warnings: injury, mentions of possible concussion

Distracted Driving

One thing that Aaron Hotchner never failed to be was predictable. He took the same biking route every morning on his the days he worked and a different one on his days off. Never would the two be mixed and matched. He liked having a schedule, something that told him where to be at what time and what to do. It gave him peace of mind and clarity. As a prosecutor he figured at least if his work life would have twists and turns and be somewhat unpredictable at least he could count on the spaces he created for himself.

So it was just like any other day off when he took his slightly longer and different route around the neighborhood.

He never felt the need to wear a helmet even though his mother had rigorously tried to instil the habit in him as a child. He found it pointless, he was on the sidewalk and always careful. Nothing would happen to him just as long as everything stayed the same.

But that was the thing about life. It doesn’t like to stay stagnant, it moves and adapts to whatever is around it and people have to adapt with it. Aaron didn’t like that very much… most of the time.

However today seemed to be different in all the good ways.

The sun was shining brighter, the grass looked greener, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky as the birds chirped away, singing their melodious tunes. But the most notable difference was his neighbour’s home.

They had recently sold it and he hadn’t yet met the person who moved in, or even knew what he looked like. Only that there seemed to be constant renovations ever since he got there. It seemed today yard work was on the list of things to deal with.

As Aaron was biking down the street his eyes were glued to his muscular, shirtless neighbour, lifting a large bag of dirt towards the flower beds in front of the home.

He had a tattoo of a lion on his shoulder and his brow was shining slightly with sweat from the summer heat, but to Aaron he was mesmerizing.

So mesmerizing that he didn’t notice the very large lamp post in front of him, causing him to crash his bike directly into it and fall to the ground hitting his head on the concrete.

After a few moments of laying there and groaning in pain his vision was slowly coming back, less fuzzy than it was to begin with and he saw the outline of his neighbour running his way.

His mind was racing. He just had to make a fool of himself in front of him.

“Hey man, are you okay?” he asked, bending down next to him.

“I-I think so,” Aaron said, trying to push himself up on concrete scraped hands and arms.

“Woah, easy there,” his neighbour lifted his hands off the pavement so they wouldn’t get anymore rocks or dirt in the cuts. “What’s your name?”

“Hotchner,” he said sheepishly. “Aaron Hotchner,”

“Well Aaron, I’m Derek,” he introduced himself. “And I’ve got a first aid kit in the house, why don’t I help you over to the patio and I can bandage you up a bit,”

“S-Sure,” now Aaron wasn't stuttering because of his injury, the nerves were taking over.

Once Derek had helped him over to the patio and sat him down on the front steps he went back to move his bike away from the sidewalk and then headed back to the injured man.

It seemed the adrenaline was starting to fade and the pain of his fall was becoming more evident, especially in his head which was now gripped in his hands.

“I’m gonna go grab you and ice pack and some pain killers too, okay?” Derek informed him and he nodded in response.

When he came back a glass of water was handed to Aadon along with two pills which he thanked Derek for.

“Let’s look at those arms first, huh?” he suggested and Aaron didn’t fight when he carefully took them into his strong, sturdy hands. “So Aaron,”

“Hmm?”

“You live around here?”

“I-What?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard him properly.

“Do you live around here,” he asked again, enunciating his words more clearly.

“Yeah. I-I do,” he nodded. “Just a block or so away.”

Derek had taken some antiseptic and placed it on a cotton wipe.

“This might sting a little,” he warned. “But do you work around here too?”

“No, it’s my day off,” he explained. “I’m a uh a federal prosecutor,”

“Oh a prosecutor, no way,” Derek chuckled.

“Do you um renovate houses or is that just more of a hobby?” he asked, wincing at the sting from the alcohol on his large scrapes.

“No, that's my job. Buy, fix up, sell,”

“So I guess you won’t be here too long then,” Aaron said somewhat sadly.

“Actually, I was thinking this one might be a keeper for me,” he shrugged. “Nice neighbourhood, close to a park and some stores, I’ve got this pretty cute neighbour who rides his bike around here on his days off,”

Aaron’s eyes went wide and he looked up at Derek. “What? I notice things,” Derek chuckled and paused for a minute. When there was no response from Aaron, only a shocked look he spoke again. “Is there any way I can convince you to take this route on your work days too?”

“Depends,” Aaron finally spoke.

“On what, handsome?” he grinned.

“If that means you’ll ask me to dinner, then sure, done deal,” his confidence was raised slightly after noticing that Derek seemed to have already taken an interest in him and the attraction was quite mutual.

“Alright if that’s what it takes,” Derek nodded, “Aaron Hotchner, can I take you out to dinner?”

Aaron gave him a victorious smile and nodded.

“I’m free tonight,” he paused. “Unless that’s too desperate, then I’m not,”

“No, no,” Derek laughed. “Tonight’s great,”

“Good,” Aaron let out a relieved chuckle. “B-But I think I might need to go to the hospital to make sure I don’t have a concussion,”

That made Derek laugh even louder as he stood up and grabbed his shirt from the bench near the door.

“Come on, handsome, I’ll drive you,” he offered a hand for Aaron to take which he did and helped him up to his feet. “And if dinner doesn’t work and the doctors say you need someone to look after you-,”

“We can just take a rain check on eating out,” Aaron agreed.

“My thinking exactly,” Derek nodded.

Aaron learned pretty quickly that sometimes different and unpredictable, don’t always mean bad.

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hotchappreciationweek · 3 years ago

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Day 7 - “I don’t deserve you”

We’re Family by @genevievedarcygrangerwriting

All I Want is You by @hotchner-clemmons [Hotch x Prentiss]

On Deaf Ears by @shmaptainhotchner [Hotch x Morgan]

With Love by @ssahotchie [Hotch x fem!Reader]

Made to be Broken by @masterwords [Hotch x Morgan]

Girl That I Knew by @arsonhotchner [Hotch x fem!Reader]

I Don’t Deserve You by @satchels-and-socks [Hotch x Garcia]

#aaronhotchnerappweek #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotchgan #hotch x morgan #mortch #gotch #hotch x garcia #hotchniss #hotch x prentiss

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slashcan · 3 years ago

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Hotch and Morgan accidentally stumble into a D/S dynamic when Hotch returns to work after Foyet's attack. It was just supposed to be about Morgan helping Hotch get his emotions under control out in the field, but both men like it a little more than they should. Neither can quit, and then it's about something else entirely.

Just uploaded the first chapter of my very first Criminal Minds/Hotchgan fic!! Yay!

#Criminal Minds #Hotchgan #mortch #hotch x morgan #Fanfiction #ao3

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hotchgan · 3 years ago

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nightmares

this is a wip i had kinda for a while and i decided to finish it. i really just procrastinated on finishing this. its just a small blurb. anyways, derek has a nightmare and luckily aaron is there to help. also, i'll be writting this fic in all lowercase so let me know if it bothers anyone.

taglist: @ellyhotchner @raegan-reid @prentissology @84hotpockets @aaron-hotchner187 @hotchley @anastasiahotchner @whoreforthebauteam @hotchscotchh @tenelvez

warnings: nightmares, death of a parent,

derek woke up in cold sweat and in the middle of the night. his heart's racing as he looks around to see if he woke anyone up. he sees his boyfriend, aaron, sleeping next to him with an arm around his waist. he sighs in relief as he lays down and tries to go back to sleep.

derek knew what day it is. it was the anniversary of his father's death. every year he would call his sisters and his mother to check up on him to see how they're doing. they would end up telling each other stories about their dad and making each other laugh. and at the end of their phone call, they would all feel better.

that's what derek hopes for. all he wants is for his family to be happy when they think of their father. he doesn't need them worrying about him. because he's doing just fine.

that was a lie.

derek woke up again in cold sweat and his heart racing. it was the same dream. his father getting shot in front of him. it keeps replaying in his head over and over and he just wants it to stop. suddenly, he feels a hand on his leg.

"derek, are you ok?" aaron asks sleepily. derek turns to face him. he doesn't want his boyfriend worrying about him. he was already under too much stress from his job.

"i- yeah... i'm fine", derek lies. aaron knows he's lying. derek even knows that he knows that's he lying. they both are profilers afterall.

"do you want to talk about it?" aaron asks. derek shakes his head. he doesn't want to talk about it and hopefully never again.

"ok, but we're going to have to talk about sooner or later", aaron says. derek sighs.

"yeah, i know", derek replies. aaron reaches for derek's hand and holds it, comforting his boyfriend. derek looks at him and smiles soflty.

"do you want to go back to sleep or maybe watch a movie? to get your mind off things?" aaron asks.

"yeah i'd like that", derek replies. aaron nods and gets out of their bed and goes into the living room. derek follows him and they both sit on the couch as aaron picks out a movie.

derek ends up falling asleep on aaron's shoulder half way through the movie. aaron pauses the movie as he also starts feeling tired too. they both end up sleeping on the couch together for the rest of the night. derek ended up sleeping peacefully for the rest of the night knowing that his boyfriend will be there to comfort him.

#derek morgan #aaron hotchner #hotchgan #mortch #mortchgan #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #tw nightmares #tw death of a parent

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hotchley · 4 years ago

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Dharma and Greg as Mortch is great but Dharma and Greg as Gotch just works so well🥺 I can’t let it go.

I’m going to be completely honest with you.

The first time I read this I was like: What the actual fuck is a Gotch?

And then I realised and OH MY GOD YES!!

It would be so in character and so perfect and for fucks sake take fanfiction away from me before I start shipping them as well-

Someone needs to write this.

Specifically to the plot of The Spy Who Said He Loved Me. (You know cos of all of Greg’s trips to the doctor because of... reasons)

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sapphiics · 4 years ago

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This felt like a buckshot just nicking my ear (I don’t tag anything anyway so when you see it from me. you’ll see it (plus plus I refuse to reblog fanfiction bc no one needs to know me like that))

i’m so ambivalent when it comes to hotch. like i love haley, gotch, and mortch but other than that I don’t think of that man at all . He doesn’t exist in my head and I just see him as meh. Like him and Emily are on the same tier for me: love the ships but the characters aren’t faves. Emily gets a boost because she’s hot and has a bit more liveliness. I also just don’t read x readers. There are no readmores in the cm tag and I’m not scrolling past 3k of dom hotch taking reader in the office late at night . I usually reblog cm fics and everything else i read on ao3. My history is honestly pretty tame right, it’s just a crap ton of steve and diana from wonder woman.

#i love angst but it’s still very sfw #adrianna #ask

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masterwords · 1 year ago

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Okay but one of the team accidentally walking into the room while Derek is feeding Hotch ice chips while he's in hospital.

And they're cute

💕💕💕

I've been sitting on this one for a while and wrote up a few different ideas for how this adorable shit happens, but finally the other day it came to me. And now we have this...it's a hot mess, a chaotic image and the writing quality isn't nearly as good as the picture it paints. Apologies for that. (2.7k words / warnings: gunshot wounds, dog bites, hospitals, canon typical unsub stuff, some sex talk)

Starts out intense, ends soft and squishy. Thank you for sending this in and I'm sorry it takes me for-fucking-EVER to write anything these days. I'd say it's going to get better, be optimistic about all the time I might have someday soon but...I think this is just my new speed. <3

He told Hotch to stop, to stay behind and wait for back-up and the medics. They couldn’t be that far out by now. He told him that he and Reid could do this part on their own. That it didn’t take three Agents to run down a pudgy middle aged man in the woods.

But Hotch was coursing with adrenaline and pain, running on the fumes of anger at being shot, and telling him to stay behind was like talking to a brick wall. A brick wall with anger management problems and he wasn’t about to argue too hard – he was bleeding too. He didn’t exactly have the logical high ground.

He keeps Hotch in his sights the best he can. They’re running like a pack of wolves, Hotch dead center, Reid flanking to the right and Derek to the left. The terrain is rough but not too dangerous except where they have to cross a ravine with a rocky bed. That’s where Reid and Morgan gain the advantage, they cross at narrow shallow places while Hotch and the unsub plod through knee deep ice water. On the periphery Derek watches Hotch slip on some rocks halfway through and the look of pain that flashes over his features says he probably wrenched his ankle on a rock but he keeps going, doesn’t skip a beat. If he can run with a bullet hole in his side, a twisted ankle isn’t about to stop him. Derek slows a little to let the unsub choose his path when he reaches the shore and he watches Hotch close on his heels. He's still a little dangerous, he's got a loaded weapon and he's got a girl they need to find. They could just shoot him but they might never find the victim that way. Hotch is calling the shots and he wants a clean take down, no weapons unless necessary. Even though he's already taken a hit, he still says clean. By the book. They're not taking any chances.

A warmth spreads in his groin, poorly timed reaction to his boyfriend being made of steel. Being so fucking intense that it's hard in the field not to find himself turned on by Hotch’s resolve and his refusal to give up. His eyes flick back to the unsub, Tim Connor, and though the throbbing in his injured leg is gaining in strength the further he goes, he speeds up his pursuit.

It’s not that he thinks Hotch is hot because he’s bleeding out or anything, and god if he had to explain this to his therapist she might really have some words for him about what this job has done to him...but something about the way Hotch is running full speed through the damn woods with a bullet in his side is a distraction that Derek can’t afford to indulge. It’s just that...Hotch is hurt and he can't seem to think about anything else with any clarity. For all intents and purposes he is running and dying at the same time, and the latter will catch up to him eventually if they don’t get him help, but right now he is running and showing no signs of stopping. He’s so damn strong, his features set grim and serious. Derek knows it must hurt, he’s been shot before. But Hotch won’t stop until they get their guy or he dies trying and there is something very sexy about that. Something in the way he refuses to give up, to lay down, to even mention that he needs a break. His strength is a beacon and Derek runs toward it. And being turned on by it is a hell of a lot less distracting than being worried about it, which is the only other place to take this mess of feelings.

They've had this talk before. Hotch isn't immune to it, either. Watching Derek kick in a door or run down an unsub has an effect on him...he's only human. Hazard of the job maybe. If he wasn't in incredible pain, he'd probably be thinking the same thing right now watching Derek run down Connor like a lion.

But the wound in Hotch’s side burns, the pain is unrelenting as he runs through the thick underbrush. He’s running and gritting his teeth against the constant barrage of pain. His feet are wet, pants soaked up to the knees with freezing water, but the blood that sticks his shirt to his side is warm.

They’re all gaining on Connor as the man loses steam. He’s not built for this kind of running and his only hope is that the knows these woods better than the three of them and he reaches whatever he’s running for before they reach him. If he manages that, they’re screwed. One of them is bound to reach him in time, before he gets there, before Hotch collapses from blood loss. He’s sure of it.

Derek watches the way Hotch runs, his long strides not deterred in the least by the deep red that blossoms and spreads over the expanse of his suit. He’s going to bitch about that later, this is his favorite suit. Now it’s got holes ripped through it and that stain isn’t ever coming out.

They hadn’t been wearing their vests – this guy was a witness, that’s what they thought. What they were told. Just going to talk to a witness, but then that witness had a dog that ripped into Derek’s shin while its owner tore a hole through Hotch’s abdomen right beneath his ribs with a .38 special. He was a bad shot and Hotch was quick, it didn’t seem like he hit anything major it just hurt like a bitch and bled twice as bad. In and out, Derek watched the bullet smash into a tree not far behind Hotch. At least there was that, he wasn’t running around with molten metal inside of him. Still, it burned. That was the worst part, the hot metal searing through the flesh and the flames that erupted in all of the nearby nerve endings. It was embers embedded in his flesh, smoldering just below his ribs.

It was Reid got there first. He was faster, operating with no injuries will do that for a body. His stride was as long as Hotch’s at least but Hotch had already started to slow some though he didn’t look like he’d realized it yet. Reid saw that he was close enough to take a chance and he slammed into the guy head down shoulder first like a football player, knocking the earth right from beneath his feet. Connor went flying and the force of the impact smashed both he and Reid into the ground. The scuffle that ensued was the part Reid had been concerned about – he wasn’t strong enough to overpower the other man, he just had the element of surprise on his side when he took him down.

“Nice tackle, kid!” Derek shouts, turning on the last reserves of his speed to sprint and help Reid get the guy in cuffs. Connor was realizing quickly that he could overpower Reid easily and was halfway to doing it when Derek finally got there.

Connor was about to understand that while Reid may have lacked some in strength, Derek did not. And when he drops his knee into the small of Connor’s back and wrenches his arms behind him, the guy gives up the fight. Which is smart, because Derek is pissed. His leg aches where the dog had made a chew toy out of him. It made him angry more than it hurt, though, and the way he ground his knee into Connor’s spine made that loud and clear. He’s mad about the dog, and he’s mad about the hole this guy put in his boyfriend. “You really put that shoulder to him. Wish you’d hit him a little harder though, asshole’s still breathin’.”

“Thanks,” Reid gasps with a smile, disarming the unsub while Derek tightens the cuffs. He tosses the gun and knife to the side and watches as Hotch collects them, one hand to grab both of them while the other grips the gaping hole in his chest. Blood pools between his fingers and he barely seems to notice. “You okay Hotch?”

“I’ve been better,” he replies with a heavy sigh. Breathing is taking a little more effort than it should after a run like that. “I’ll make it.” His hands are shaking uncontrollably and his knees are jelly but he plays it off well, stalking toward Derek to take a peek at his leg. “We’ve got to get you to the hospital. That’s an infection waiting to happen.”

“Hope that leg falls off!” Connor spits and Hotch looks away while Derek gives him a heavy kick to the ribs.

“Seems fine to me,” he mumbles and laughs, but it sounds weak to Hotch’s ears. Far away.

“You should sit down,” Hotch says as his vision narrows to a pinprick and he squints as if that’ll help him hear better what Derek says next.

“Yeah. Right. Says the guy with a hole in his damn side.”

Hotch wakes up in a hospital bed in a shared room with an old man who groans and complains of stomach pain attended to by a woman with deep wrinkles and a stern frown. She pulls the privacy curtain around them when she sees Hotch wake, like he’s going to be entertained somehow by their misery. He isn’t interested in the least. He’s a lot more concerned that he doesn’t remember getting to the hospital, and he’s alone. That part is actually okay once the shock of it wears off. He prefers it that way, the team just usually doesn’t. He’s shirtless, his torso exposed though there isn’t much skin that isn’t covered in bandages. His skin feels hot and tight around the wound and a small speck of red sits atop the fresh white gauze. Blood on snow, he thinks. It reminds him of winters in the forest hunting rabbits with his grandfather.

He hears the click of crutches coming closer before he sees Derek enter, his leg bandaged from the knee down. He’d been on the phone with Jessica, letting her know they’d be home late and giving her the low down. It was Jess that insisted he take the ice that’s rattling and clicking in the cup he grips with his teeth so he can operate the damn crutches. As soon as Derek told her what happened she jumped down the WebMD rabbit hole, a part of her personality that grated on Derek’s last nerve. He rarely said anything, it was how she stayed connected while they were out here risking their lives. She couldn’t stop that but she could help put them back together. So while they stitched up the last of his dog bite and bandaged his leg, he listened to her rattle off every bullet point WebMD had about blood loss. She said she’d save the statistics about infection and dog bites for when he got home, but he assured her that Reid would take care of it for her on the plane.

“It says he needs to drink extra water,” she said with an air of superiority Derek doesn’t care for. He’s usually able to smile and nod but the truth was, he was exhausted and in pain and concerned about getting Hotch home. In the field it’s easy enough to ignore this type of thing, when the case is on the line, but now that it’s done they’re just left with recovery and that part gets tricky.

“Reid says they’ve got him on an IV drip,” he points out. “I’m sure that’s for hydration.”

“So he can’t drink water too?”

He assured her that it was taken care of, but she wasn’t placated by that. She kept on nagging until he insisted they were done bandaging him up and he was going to go see Hotch. “We’ll be home soon. Don’t wait up, okay? We’re fine.”

“Give him water.”

“Jess,” Derek groaned with a huff. “I’m gonna show you exactly where you can shove that…” but she hung up before he could finish the sentence. It’s still boiling his blood when he enters the room Hotch is holed up in, the privacy curtain pulled around him now too. When Reid was in there, the room was wide open. Things change quickly and he’s thankful for the small bit of privacy that turquoise curtain would give them.

“You’re awake,” he mumbles, the plastic cup in his teeth shaking and rattling the contents while he tries to talk around it. Ice, a whole cup of ice. He knows Hotch well enough to know he’ll prefer that to water anyway, he probably hasn’t eaten much of anything and if that water hits his empty stomach it’ll make him feel sick. Sicker than he probably already does. “Thought you might be thirsty when you finally decided nap time was over.”

“How long was I out?”

“You passed out in the ambulance and then they sedated you so they could do their business. You got a lot of stitches, you definitely win this time.”

“How long?” he asks again, a little irritated. Derek never answers the part of the question he wants the first time. It’s a small thing but right now it’s grating.

“Three hours, give or take. Connor is booked in, he squealed like a pig once he was chained in the interrogation room. Soon as you’re all fixed up we’re blowin’ this popsicle stand.”

He tosses his crutches to the side and limps toward the empty chair beside Hotch’s bed. “Stop looking at me like that. I don’t need those damn things. They told me I shouldn’t put weight on it or I’ll bust some of the stitches but I’m not hobbling around on them. It’s bullshit. You thirsty?”

Hotch nods and tries to shift in the bed but he’s tangled in the IV tubes and sheets so he doesn’t get far. The movement sends a wave of pain crashing through his rib cage and makes him nauseous. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead into his hand, willing it to pass. Derek just sits and watches, he knows better than to make any sudden moves or to try and touch him when he’s like this.

“Ice,” Derek says after a minute, after Hotch’s features soften and his muscles unfurl. Hotch opens his mouth expectantly and smiles at the feel of the ice on his lip, the way it slides over his warm parched tongue. “More?”

Hotch nods and lets Derek feed him more. He’s got a spoon, a little plastic thing dwarfed by his hands, and he uses it to fish little bits of shaved ice out of the cup and set it against Hotch’s lower lip. Between each bite, Derek kisses him, little pecks and he tastes the icy residue happily. He’s thirsty too. In more ways than one. “You’re gorgeous,” he says, giving him more ice. “Hair all messy, smellin’ like sweat and cedar, sleepy eyes…you look just like when we went on vacation.”

“Atlantic City?” Hotch asks, greedily accepting more ice. He’s parched. He thinks he could probably guzzle a gallon of water and still feel thirsty.

“Yeah. Napping in that hotel room overlooking the ocean, waking up in the middle of the afternoon not knowing what day or time it is…”

“We should go back. When I have less holes in me.”

“You got it, baby.” They’re due more than a little time off and he knows it. He’ll make it happen.

“How’s your leg?” Hotch asks around a chunk of ice that crunches between his teeth. Derek shrugs.

“It’s okay. It’s not gonna fall off, I’m sure Connor will be disappointed in that.”

Derek digs around for more ice, lost in the repetition of feeding him and kissing him. It’s as good a way to pass the time as anything.

“Ohhhhhh…” Penelope gushes, startling them both. Derek had forgotten that the team said they were going to meet them there, that they’d head right to the airport once Hotch was discharged. Derek turns around to see all of them crowding doorway, peeking around the edge of the curtain. Penelope, JJ, Spencer, Rossi, Blake...they’re all there and they’re all looking at them like they’re watching adorable cat videos on YouTube, not two grown men full of antibiotics, morphine and stitches. It’s more than a little embarrassing. “You guysssssssssssssssssssss.”

“Woman,” Derek warns but Hotch shakes his head and squeezes Derek’s hand, dragging his attention back to where it belongs. He’s the one that got shot, after all. They can all wait their turn.

“Ice?” he asks pitifully and Derek complies. Hotch doesn’t seem to care that the team are watching him. Getting shot softens his edges a little. Derek pokes around in the cup, digs out a spoonful of ice and sets it on Hotch’s tongue before giving him the obligatory kiss and they do their best to ignore all the “awwwwws” that rise to a symphony in the doorway.

Derek, without turning to look, reaches behind him and pulls the curtain closed the rest of the way to block their view. The rest of the show is private.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds #hotchgan #mortch #fanfiction #spencer reid #bau team

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masterwords · 2 years ago

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stand as one

Summary: Derek & Hotch are invited to a BAU family reunion at Rossi's. They're semi-retired in Chicago, no one knows about them, and Derek is feeling a little self-conscious about his scars.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: alcohol, talk about scars/trauma (specifically from the episode "Derek", and George Foyet)

Words: 2.7k

Notes: Written for @imagining-in-the-margins CM Comfort Fic Challenge using the prompt: Character is insecure about a physical attribute. Honestly, it was hard to choose, the list of prompts was so good. This story fits into the post-WITSEC retirement in Chicago series: The Chicago Times.

***

“Are we really flying back to Virginia for a pool party?” Derek asks, staring hard into the mirror. Up until this point he hasn't given it much thought. The scar that melts its way from his collar bone to the tip of his sternum has been there long enough that he's learned how to live with it. Therapy has helped some, Savannah helped more, and he's(mostly) okay with it. What was left behind from the experience, tucked away on the inside is far worse, anyway, and he's plodding through that a little slower. He wants to take his time with it, not rush through it and expect grand results.

But that means there are a lot of things he still has trouble with.

Being in crowds, bumping shoulders, he can do it now if he has to but sometimes the light is just the right shade of faded denim blue and the streetlamp pools just the right sodium yellow and he breaks out in a cold sweat. He remembers clearly telling Savannah to call Hotch, call Hotch...it's a small consolation now that when it happens, he can reach out and take hold of Hotch's hand (if it's not in his grip already) and know that he's right there. Not a phone call away anymore, never again. It's usually his shoulder bumping against Derek's.

But a pool party at Rossi's sounds like digging up the bad shit. And then rolling around in it. It sounds like people looking at him with his melted scar tissue dead center, the scar that Jack says makes him look like Iron Man only way cooler, and feeling sorry for him. Remembering what happened to him, how they found him in that cabin, why he left the BAU.

He's so tired of feeling like their tragic baby brother. It was easier to leave when he considered that as an alternative – them never being able to see him as anything more than the sum of his traumas.

“We can decline the invitation,” Hotch says, a little pensive. He's only going out of some misplaced feeling of obligation after having not seen the team in over a year. Leaving the way he had, they'd been forced to move on quickly without him, not even a backward glance, no goodbyes and frankly there hasn't been a time that felt right for him to drop in on them. It seemed easier this way for everyone. Less painful, fewer tears. He didn't imagine they cried many over him in the first place, not with Emily coming back to them. “If you'd like, I can call Dave and tell him something came up.”

“No, you can't do that...we're going to Venezuela right afterward and our flight leaves from D.C, in case you forgot. We have to go.”

“We can change our flights, Derek. They let you do that.”

Derek touches his chest, runs his finger along the strangely sloped ridge of numb scar tissue and frowns. It's slick and smooth in places, nothing like the scars that Hotch carries with him. Hotch's are sensitive and cause him problems, he's in pain more often than he cares to admit after so many surgeries to correct what was damaged. Derek's...well, he looks at it and he frowns at the way it mocks him. It's like someone took a plastic doll and held it up to a hair dryer.

Or set a heated knife to a smear of white phosphorous. He sighs.

“You don't have to swim.”

“You know damn well it's gonna make things even weirder if I don't strip my shirt off and jump in. They're gonna zero in on that and make it worse.”

Hotch is behind him now, arms slipping around his waist, pointy chin digging into his shoulder. He's just a hair taller than Derek, just enough that he can do that without too much effort. “You're still the most handsome man on Earth,” he reminds Derek quietly. There is a sincerity in his voice that Derek can't remember hearing from anyone else. Sure, people look at him all the time and he knows damn well what he looks like, scar or not...but when Hotch says it, it sounds different. Reverent. Sacred.

“You're not wearing your glasses, you're practically blind.”

Hotch rolls his eyes and dusts a string of stubbly kisses along Derek's shoulder and up his neck, ending behind his ear. He hasn't shaved yet today and it makes Derek's skin flood with goosebumps. “Let's just say no thank you, send a case of wine and a card...”

“From all of us? Aaron, you keep saying we. We can decline, we don't have to go...baby, I hate to remind you, but they don't know about us.”

“What better way to tell them than by sending alcohol and not being there to see the reactions?”

Derek twists around until they're face to face, bare chest to bare chest, draping his arms over Hotch's shoulders. “The case of wine isn't a half bad idea, but we're showing up with it. Otherwise they'll come here...”

“Then you'd better get packed.”

- - - - -

Rossi's house doesn't look any different than when he was last here, but it feels strange. There was always something familiar about the feeling of walking up his steps, knocking on his door, feeling small inside his perfectly manicured grounds. It reminded him of afternoon spent running around in great emerald spaces while his parents rubbed elbows with Senators and other rich, important people.

He still does feel small, but he no longer feels familiar.

“Aaron!” Rossi shouts, throwing the door open. He pulls Hotch into a hug, the kind that squeezes the air out of your lungs, and mutters something about missing him and being a stranger and it sounds insulting but sweet at the same time.

Stepping back, Hotch watches as Jack takes his hug and then rushes inside to find Henry and Michael, he hasn't seen his friends in too long. And then it's Derek's turn, Rossi doesn't waste any time hugging both Derek and Hank in one go. He's practically weeping over how big Hank has gotten when he breaks the hold.

“Where's Savannah?” Dave asks, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. Hotch looks down at his feet while Derek begins to tell him about Doctors Without Borders and co-parenting long distance, and finally about their decision to see other people.

“It just made sense,” Derek says with a shrug. He doesn't look sad about it, but Hotch knows it still gets to him sometimes. He misses her. Hank squirms in Derek's arms and babbles something that sounds like half words and half nonsense, and instinctively Hotch reaches out to take him from Derek. He knows what Hank wants.

Rossi watches the interaction with one eyebrow cocked a little higher than the other. He doesn't have time to ask, though, because Hotch brushes past him while talking directly to the toddler in his arms, laughing and smiling as they go. Hank wants to see the pool. Derek has Hank's diaper bag with all of his swim gear thrown over his shoulder, so he follows dutifully while Rossi watches, takes note, and closes the door. They're the last to arrive. His entire family, estranged though it were, is all back under one roof. Temporary, but he's not going to give that more weight than necessary until the sun goes down.

- - - - -

“Poo! Poo!” Hank squeals as Derek changes him into a swimming diaper and covers it with a pair of Iron Man swim trunks. A gift from Jack who, though he was growing up, hadn't lost his love for The Avengers. He'd just moved on to collecting comic books and discussing the lore with his friends, except he loves to watch Avengers cartoons with Hank.

“Is he telling you he's pooped?” Alex asks, extending her hand to Derek, helping him up off of the ground. He laughs, snatching his running baby before he hits the pool by himself. He's already tried it three separate times.

“Pool,” he says, bending and twisting to hold the wiggly boy in his arms. “He wants to go in the pool. It's all he can think about.”

“It's very nice, Rossi keeps it pretty warm.”

Derek looks at the pool and nods. “I bet. Maybe in a bit, huh? We're still makin' the rounds.” He's avoiding the pool, that's all. And they're about to notice. Alex is the third person to remind him that the water is warm and that he'll enjoy it. That's why they're here, right?

JJ beans him with a squishy basketball, soaks the entire front of his shirt. “GET IN LOSER!” she hollers, wrestling Henry back down into the water before he can climb out to grab the ball from Derek.

Penelope has already made several comments about depriving them all of the Derek Morgan gun show, even Reid has mentioned that Hank looks like he'd really like to test it out. Finally, when Hotch can't take it anymore, he downs the rest of his beer and pulls his own t-shirt over his head.

None of them has ever seen him without a shirt, never even dreamed that it was a possibility. Frankly, most of them probably thought he slept in his suits (and they weren't exactly wrong on occasion, he had been known to fall asleep sitting at his desk or on his couch, curl up in a ball for a quick nap on top of his hotel bed...) so when he shows up in sweaters and khakis, or today in a t-shirt and swim trunks, people are already more than a little off guard. It doesn't look like the Hotch any of them remembers.

And when he takes his shirt off, baring for the first time not only the notes that George Foyet left scrawled all over his skin but a map of cruelty that stretches in a timeline of silvery scars back to his childhood, they can't help but look. His back is just as scarred as his front. “Hank, come here buddy,” Hotch says, extending his arms to the little guy who crawls happily from Derek to Hotch. He doesn't hesitate.

"Poo!!"

"Yes, buddy. Let's go try out the pool."

Derek is even staring. He can't help it. The sight isn't new to him, Hotch and Haley had a pool at their house and he was no stranger to disarming the alarm and hopping their fence late at night when his nightmares wouldn't quit and taking full advantage of the water. Most of the time he would find Hotch already in the same place, floating away from crime scene photos that whispered in his ear when the night stretched out a little too long. Got a little too dark.

But this sight, he's realizing now, has belonged to him so long he's not sure how to share it. Or even if he wants to. He wants to protect it. Like their eyes will wound him. He knows damn well that's stupid; Hotch isn't even that bothered by it anymore, it's just a comfort thing for him...he doesn't like to be cold. He likes layers.

All eyes are on Hotch and Hank as they take the steps down into the shallow end of the pool one at a time. The crystalline water laps at his ankles, his calves, his knees, and he hisses when the cold meets his waist and everything below. The shock of it takes his breath away. Hank giggles when the cold water tickles his toes and he tightens his grip around Hotch's neck.

“It's okay,” Hotch whispers against his ear. “I've got you.”

He bends his knees and lowers them down into the water until Hank is up to his knees and trying to scale him to get away from it. “You're choking me, bud,” Hotch laughs, trying to pry little fingers from his neck.

It doesn't take much thought before Derek takes his shirt off. If Hotch can do it, so can he. That was the idea, right? All eyes on Hotch, a distraction. He appreciates the gesture. Derek dives into the deep end and swims like a shark, stealthy under the water all the way to his son and Hotch teasing the water with baby toes. He surfaces, water pouring over his head and down his shoulders and he grins, drenched and happy. Hank claps.

"Den! Den!"

"Again?! What do you think I am?" Derek asks, but he obliges. Dripping wet, he hops out and repeats the stunt two, three, four more times until he's winded.

“Want me to take him?” he asks, standing close to catch his breath.

“Not a chance. He's keeping me warm,” Hotch insists with a smirk. “I was told the water was nice. These people are all liars.”

“I coulda told you that,” Derek says, wrapping his arms around both of them. He's sunny and warm, already mostly dry, and he can't believe that even in the afternoon sun Hotch's skin feels chilled. The man's circulatory system is a joke.

Now everyone is staring, but they're not staring at scars. “You two wanna let us in on whatever this is?” Emily asks, stretching out like a cat on top of her pink floatie and extending her arm to the edge of the pool, silently asking whoever is near for a refill. Rossi takes the bait gladly and gives her a heavy pour of something blushy, ice cold and sparkly. Her drink matches her floatie.

Hotch glances at her, and then at everyone else, and smiles. It's easier now, he's finding, when he doesn't have anything to lose. No job to protect, no secrets, no lies. In the morning they'll fly to Venezuela and spend a week exploring with Savannah during her break, and then they'll go back to their life in their house and their jobs in Chicago. Some of these people watching the standoff will return to their own BAU-free lives, and the rest will report to Emily bright and early Monday morning.

What he is surprised to find, in that moment, is that it all adds up to one simple fact: he has nothing to hide. No reason to hide.

But he can have some fun.

“If we have to explain this to a group of profilers, you may want to re-evaluate your team, Agent Prentiss.” He says it softly, not a trace of Agent Hotchner and his biting tone anywhere in it. And the smile actually reaches his eyes. She can't help but laugh at the rebuff.

“Touche.”

They swim until nightfall. Well, most of them do. Hotch's grand gesture to make Derek feel more at ease was short lived, his skin was flooded with goosebumps the minute Penelope and JJ took warm little Hank from his arms and he had to get out, get his shirt back on and hide beneath a sun-baked towel. He might come away with a sunburn but better that than freeze to death in summer.

Exhausted from the excitement of swimming and playing lawn games with the other kids, Hank passes out on Hotch's chest sprawled out like a starfish, leaving a puddle of drool that drenches his entire side. Derek plays pool games well into the evening with JJ and Will and Luke while Emily and Penelope float and drink. In the shade, Reid and Alex are playing a card game while Rossi and Luke trade stories. There are more people everywhere, some Hotch knows well and others he only recognizes, but it feels like a family. Some of them see each other every day, others pop in and out for special occasions, but they're all welcome.

“Thanks for inviting us, Rossi,” Derek says, shutting the car door on two sleeping boys and Hotch who looks about ready to join them. He's already spent the last couple of hours napping on a lawn chair. “Sorry we can't stay any later, our flight leaves early tomorrow.”

“Thank you for coming,” Rossi replies, hugging Derek for the third or fourth time that day. Harder this time. He smells like wine and is crying again. “You two...” he starts, allowing for the tears to have their places. “Don't be strangers.”

“Yeah. We won't. Thanks for bringing us back.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #bau team #team as a family #hotchgan #mortch #pool party vibes #fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x morgan #aaron hotchner x derek morgan

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masterwords · 2 years ago

Text

Summary: Derek misses Hotch while he's working at the Seattle Field Office.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: mentions of sex (not graphic)

Words: 1.7k

Notes: Pure, unadulterated cute. I sprinted out the entire barebones rough draft in 20 minutes and did my best to flesh it out but there just isn't a lot of substance here. It's just sweet, adorable, idiots in love...pwp but the cute no smut version.

“You've been gone for fourteen days...” Derek moans, spinning around in his chair. It's way too late to still be in the office, he knows, but it's the only time he gets to talk to Hotch who is 3 hours behind him in Seattle. The time difference feels surreal.

Short and fast, that was what they'd said. They needed someone to fill in and run the Seattle Field Office while they found a new leader, a week tops. They already had someone in mind. Except that person bailed, and now they're back at square one and well...the BAU has Derek to keep them in line, so Hotch has been over in the Emerald City for fourteen days and counting.

This isn't as bad as his station in Pakistan, but Derek had lulled himself into a false sense of security. It wouldn't happen again. That was an aberration. They'd tried to tap Hotch for Section Chief, and he always wound up right at his desk in the BAU like he belonged there.

But fourteen days...two weeks...that's when a short trip starts feeling an awful lot like something with real permanence.

“I think they've got their eye on someone,” Hotch says absentmindedly, pouring over a stack of employee evaluations that were turned in to him that day. He doesn't even know these people, he's just signing off on things. Putting his signature out there on things he can't exactly back up. It's not his usual prerogative, but these are desperate times. He's just a suit in a chair. Except he knows the truth...they love him here, they've wanted him back since he left and someone thought maybe bringing him here might remind him how much he loved this office too.

And he does. It's been a breath of fresh air being back in Seattle. But he can't live here, his family won't follow.

“I just want you home.”

“How has it been with you and Jack?”

“Great. He's great, he listens to me, we've been playing lots of games and eating lots of junk food...”

“Derek...”

“What? When the cat's away...”

That's not true. Derek hasn't fed Jack any junk food, that's been all Jessica who stops at the grocery store every day before picking Jack up for school and brings them some kind of treat. Ice cream, candy bars, sugary breakfast cereal, She eats her feelings. She also doesn't like when you point that out.

“How much longer?”

“I don't know.”

Gifts started showing up in Seattle on the third day. Nothing major. Just lunch, a burger and fries delivered to Hotch's desk from The Athenian.

“Sleepless in Seattle?” Hotch texted and Derek sent back a little red heart. He had enough to take back to the hotel and eat for dinner as well, though it didn't make it that far in the end. He ate his dinner at his desk as well...one of those days.

Never one to be outdone, he made sure coffee and pastries were waiting for Derek when he arrived at work the next morning.

And so it went, each exchanging little gifts of food and flowers from three thousand miles apart. Hotch hadn't even considered what he would have to eat in forever, Derek had it scheduled every day like clockwork. Jessica called it twisted. “Here I am gaining ten pounds with all the ice cream I have to buy myself and you two are playing cross-country footsie. It's disgusting.”

The next morning there was a chocolate croissant and a coffee waiting for her at her desk. Neither of them told her who was responsible and it didn't matter, it made her day. She was in on the game.

Donuts were sent to Jack's classroom courtesy of Voodoo Donuts. Hotch had to make a trip down to Portland to meet with another SAC and figured why not. Jack's classroom would get a kick out of the wild colors and silly little voodoo doll shapes, and he got to spend an hour waiting outside in the rain in a line that stretched around the block. Some might grumble at that, but Hotch likes the rain and he loves not being cooped up inside of an office building. Sure, he was cold and miserable, but he was also happy. (And out quite a pretty penny when all was said and done, shipping a box of donuts across the country fast enough to keep them relatively fresh wasn't cheap.)

He got a hot drip coffee and a fresh maple bar for his troubles.

“Seventeen days...” Derek whines. He's temping his roasted chicken, which he should have put in earlier, he knows that dammit. He's angry when it's still ten degrees below where he needs it. That's at least another half hour, they're going to be eating late again. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

A bouquet of bright orange tiger lilies shows up at his office around mid-morning on a day when Hotch has been feeling rather under the weather. He's had a headache for three days, the kind that makes your jaw tight and your teeth sing. It could be his sinuses or maybe dehydration, maybe it's just his body telling him it needs a rest. He hasn't had a day off since he arrived in Seattle, not really. They're no closer to finding someone to take over than they were the week prior, no one wants the job. The flowers make him smile in spite of the way his tight jaw clicks and groans like rusty old machinery.

“Thank you,” he says when Derek calls later. At their designated time. “The flowers are beautiful.”

“So are you...” Derek says quietly. “That tie looks nice. Is it new?”

“I found it at a little consignment shop on my lunch hour a couple of days – wait..”

He looks up, and in the doorway to the unit Derek is standing with another smaller bouquet of flowers in his hands. Peach and white peonies, the color of a sigh, the gentle color of a spring sunset. He looks like a kid ready for his prom date. Hope is smeared across his features.

“Twenty-two days...” he says, handing Hotch the flowers. “I know I shouldn't be here, but I thought sneaking into your hotel room and surprising you there might get me shot.”

“You're not wrong.”

Hotch shouldn't leave, he knows he has too much to do but he hasn't had a day off in twenty-two days and one night isn't going to cause irreparable damage.

The next day, when he calls in sick because his headache has reached its crescendo and he'd much rather lie in the hotel room with Derek all day than go sit at that desk. They make good use of room service, barely leave the bed. The view from the room is picturesque, a full and un-obscured view of the Puget Sound from over the top of the concrete jungle. Not even a crane gets in their way.

They drink their coffee on the balcony, smelling the briny air before heading back to the bed. They make love enough times that Hotch loses count, showering and sleeping and eating briefly between. He loses count, but he also loses the headache somewhere along the way and he'll take both of those things gladly. Twenty-two days apart had created a hunger in them that neither had realized until they were here sharing the same air, the same timezone, and this time (unlike Pakistan) there were no hard feelings to work through. Just making up for lost time the best way they knew how, with hands and lips and a Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the doorknob.

“So...what the hell is a consignment shop anyway?” Derek asks, still thinking about what Hotch said about his new tie while popping a strawberry into his mouth. Hotch hums and hunts for something to watch on the TV. They'll barely pay attention to it anyway but the noise is nice. It drowns out the way that neither one of them seems to be able to keep their inevitable moans in check. And why should they have to? It's been three weeks since they've even been in a room together, so if they get a little carried away between the sheets who can really blame them?

It isn't just about sex, they take short cat naps in their love-warm sheets and they do talk a little, too. Just enough. But they've been talking so much lately, it's all they've been able to do, that it doesn't feel very important. While they sit and visit over meals and drinks, Derek leans against Hotch, keeps one hand anchored on his thigh or his shoulder or his back at all times. And Hotch makes no attempt to break away. Time will do that for them soon enough.

“It's a secondhand store. I found something for you, too.”

Derek wears his new cashmere sweater back at Quantico when he returns from his whirlwind surprise trip and everyone notices. It's the color of rich, deep purple-almost-black plums and the way it sits against his warm skin is breathtaking. Penelope can't stop touching him. Running her hands up and down his arms. It even smells good.

“It smells like Hotch,” he says when she comments on it later. She purses her lips and doesn't really know what to say to that. She's rarely speechless.

“He really knows you.” She'd looked up the tag, gasped and nearly died of sticker-shock, and then tried to remind herself he'd purchased the thing secondhand. Or, he claimed to have anyway. She wouldn't put it past him to tell Derek that just to ensure that he wore the damn thing.

“I would hope so, after all this time.”

“How much longer? We all miss him. It's not fair, those stinky Seattle people get him and we're stuck here without our boss-man.”

Derek smiles and glances at his phone, ready for it to ring. Hotch said he'd be the one to call tonight. “Soon.”

“That's what you said last time.”

“And it's what I'll keep saying until it's true. Now get outta here so I can talk to my man in peace.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #mortch #criminal minds #hotch x morgan #aaron hotchner x derek morgan #fanfiction

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masterwords · 2 years ago

Text

too much to ask

Summary: Derek shows up on Hotch's doorstep needing to talk on a night when they're both needing a little extra comfort. (Coda to 3x05 - Seven Seconds)

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 6k

Warnings: discussion of child abuse past and present (the case & Derek's, and Hotch's), divorce, depression

Notes: For @yearoftheotpevent Year of the OTP event, this is my January entry using the prompt "first kiss". These two are a shit show, and this first kiss is anything but ideal, but it's a good jumping off point.

Tonight, Haley asked him if he'd started searching for an apartment yet. She didn't even wait. He walked in the door, and as she followed him down the hallway to the room Jack was staying in, right on his heels. “Have you even tried?”

If Jack hadn't been sleeping, if Jessica hadn't been right there, it would have started an argument. As it was, his blood boiled and he just said not yet through clenched teeth before entering Jack's darkened room and watching him sleep for what felt like ages. It was all he could think to do, just stare at his son and wonder where it all goes wrong.

“I had hoped we could take some time to cool off and reconsider our options,” he said, re-entering the hallway after all the time in the world had passed inside of that room only to find that no time at all had passed for her. She laughed a little too loud before clapping her hand over her mouth. Jessica slapped her arm for that one.

“Play nice,” she hissed. Hotch could tell how much she hated being in the middle of this. “I don't care how mad you are, we are all adults who love one another, no matter what else is happening. Act like it.”

“Aaron, I have given you more than enough time to reconsider your choices and nothing has changed, so why should my mind have changed? I'm not the one who walked out on my family for a job.”

“It was that job that provided for our family...” he reminded her with a little more vitriol than he'd intended. Oh well, he was in it now. The guilt would eat him alive in minutes.

"Yeah. But I asked you to stay, and Derek asked you to go...you made your choice. I'm finished trying to compete."

“Enough. Both of you.” Jessica was furiously pushing them down the hallway, toward the front room...away from Jack's door. She knew it was about to get ugly. She'd heard about the phone call, about what Haley was doing too. There was only one innocent party in this mess and he was sleeping soundly in the other room. “You're both being assholes now knock it off.”

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly. “I should leave.”

Jess almost felt bad for him. She knew that Haley was completely finished, and she hated to see the way he held on to some flicker of hope when he really just needed to let it go. “Aaron?” Jess asked, touching his shoulder. “Would you join me in the kitchen for a moment before you leave?”

Haley narrowed her eyes at her sister but said nothing. She knew her sister was playing both sides here, it was no secret that they'd always been close and that this separation was almost as hard for her as it was for them. Hotch followed her to the kitchen where she put on a tea kettle silently, her back to him, taking a full minute before she turned and looked at him. Gathering her thoughts. Trying to put out the fire before it consumed them all.

“What are you doing?”

He stared. “I'm trying to get my family back,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She shook her head, her arms folding over her chest.

“I mean no disrespect here, and I say this with all of the love I can muster...you can't get her back. She's gone. But Jack isn't...so just take a deep breath, admit your family is different now, and find a damn apartment so they can get the hell out of my house. Aaron, I want my house back.”

He couldn't think of a damn thing to say that wouldn't expose him for the fraud he was, standing there stoic and emotionless in her kitchen. Opening his mouth would destroy his defenses. He hadn't admitted to himself yet that Haley was gone, that this separation train was headed full speed ahead for divorce. It wasn't like he had anything he could hide from Jessica anyway. She knew.

“She's already met with a lawyer, Aaron,” Jessica said a little quieter, almost as if she was reading his mind. “The wheels are in motion. It's only a matter of time.”

His eyes welled with tears, and yet he remained silent while the kettle hissed and bubbled and finally screamed. She took it off the heat quickly, just shoved it to the side and busied herself with three mugs, three tea bags. As if he was going to stay.

“I should go,” he whispered, staring wide-eyed at nothing. “It's late.” He didn't see her turn around, didn't notice her walking toward him, not until her arms were around him and her head was against his chest.

“Call me tomorrow,” she said, holding back her own tears. “I'll help you find a nice place okay? I know a guy who gets all the good listings first. He got me this place when I moved back, it wasn't even on the market yet.”

He nodded, half listening, but he had no intention of calling her. Not really. He just had to get out of there. Fast.

So fast he walked right by Haley without saying a word to her on his way out.

- - - -

“How long have you been here?” Hotch asked, approaching his darkened porch slowly. He'd recognized the shadowy figure on his steps as Derek before he even put his car into park. He stopped short of the steps and peered at the six pack of beer sitting beside his friend, smiling at the coincidence. He was holding his own six pack of the exact same beer in his right hand.

The only difference was that Derek's was already missing a few.

“Long enough,” was Derek's somber reply in a rough, ragged drawl. “I'm surprised your neighbors haven't called the cops. I'm loitering.”

“Most of them know you by now. They watch things pretty closely. I am surprised Mrs. Sandoval didn't bring you out a blanket and some tea though.”

“She isn't home. She and her husband left in some pretty fancy clothes just as I was getting here...late night oldies dance, I guess. They looked pretty slick.”

“At least someone is having a nice night,” Hotch deadpanned.

His eyes met the darkness in his front window; he hadn't left any lights on. The last thing he wanted to do was walk in there, into that cavernous chill, the house that wasn't a home any longer. Haley had been coming by during the day while he was at work, while Jack was at daycare, and boxing up the things she wanted him to take – every day he comes home to more boxes with his name on them. He was, as Jessica put it, doing everything he could to ignore the inevitable but obvious thing: Haley was going to file for divorce. It was not a question of if, it was a question of when.

“I don't see your bike...” He looked around, breaking out of the trance he'd sunken into.

“Took a cab. I uh...” Derek cleared his throat, pushing up until he was standing. Until they were eye to eye, close enough that Hotch could smell the beer on his breath. “I couldn't settle down. Took Clooney for a walk but it just made it worse, so I got in a cab and came here hoping your offer was still good...”

“My offer?” Hotch asked quietly. He'd made plenty of offers over the years, all of which he believed himself capable of keeping. Lately he'd realized exactly how far he'd overextended himself, trusting his abilities that were currently in need of repair. But Derek was here and he wasn't about to turn him away, no matter where his head and heart were at. “You might need to be more specific.”

“That case tonight,” Derek started, already feeling that familiar breathlessness of panic creeping back in. “Katie's uncle, the look in his eye...the doll...”

“Oh,” Hotch said, nodding. “I...it's been a tough night, huh?” For them both, he thought bitterly. But focusing on Derek might help him forget about his own troubles. Derek's could be helped with a little tenderness, his couldn't. “Let's go out back.”

“You don't wanna just go inside?”

Hotch stopped, glancing at the front door with disgust. “No, I'd rather not.” Walking through the house would give him away. Piles of boxes with his name on them would let Derek know that things were moving along at a serious clip, and there was no longer any question as to whether or not Haley would be coming back. They could go through the side yard and put their feet in the pool, or he could pop inside for some trunks and they could get into the hot tub, but at least this way he could avoid discussing himself altogether.

“You seem a little...”

“It's fine. Nothing I can't handle. Let me put your beer in the fridge, we can start with mine. It's probably colder.”

Derek laughed. “Yeah. Guess we both had the same idea, huh?”

That kind of a case. That kind of a night. Hotch flipped through details of the case in his mind while he made his way to the kitchen to throw Derek's beer into the empty fridge. It looked worse now, the door empty save for the half used bottle of Tobasco sauce that Haley always put in there though he reminded her time and again it didn't need refrigeration. “Is it going to hurt it by being cold?” she would ask and the argument, snippy and rude, would escalate from there. If he really thought about it, he could name a hundred different ways they'd chipped away at their marriage over the years by being unkind, thoughtless, selfish. At their marriage and at one another. It was a miracle they'd hung on as long as they had.

He tripped over a new box on his way out and grunted as he fell to the ground in the dark, silverware crashing, spilling, clattering around him. He scrambled back to his feet, rubbing at the sore spot on his knee where he'd landed and kicked the box again. This time it was no accident, it was pure frustration that sent that cardboard sliding across the floor leaving a trail of silverware in its wake.

“Dammit,” he hissed, kicking at the silverware, each piece separately went flying as he connected with the toe of his shiny leather shoes, throwing what he knew was a pretty embarrassing little hissy fit right there in his pitch black kitchen. Thankfully, there was no one around to see him.

Derek had already peeled his shoes and socks off, rolled his pants up past his knees, and was sitting with his feet in the water. With just enough light to see thanks to the moon, the scene almost looked peaceful. He kicked out of his own shoes and socks and rolled his pants up before sitting down a careful distance away. There was already a bruise spreading across the top of his knee, it would be stiff and sore by morning. A delightful reminder of his performance in the kitchen.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hotch asked, leaning back against his hands. The water was a little cold for his taste, he wasn't going to be able to do this long. From beside him, he heard Derek draw a shaky breath inward, exhaling slowly to try and steady it. He stared into the water and waited, knowing that pushing wouldn't do any good. Derek would either talk or not, and there was no forcing it.

“I don't know, man,” Derek replied. “Why's it always someone you trust? Y'know? Someone your parents trust...that little girl probably never knew how to tell them what was happening. And every time they asked if she wanted to stay the night...”

Hotch knew he wasn't supposed to answer any of these questions. He couldn't even if he wanted to. His job was simply to listen. Until now, they hadn't spoken again about what happened in Chicago, what Carl Buford was and what he did, what Hotch knew when no one else on the team had a clue. What Derek had fought so hard to protect. He'd asked Derek to attend counseling but once he started going, Hotch stepped back knowing it wasn't any of his business. And the offer Derek spoke of, he recalled now with precision, was simply that if a case hit too close to home and he needed someone to talk to...he could find Hotch anywhere, and no matter what, he'd make himself available. It was that important to him, he'd said.

Haley had rolled her eyes when he told her that. “Anytime?” she asked, incredulously. She'd already been frustrated with him, it wasn't surprising.“No matter what? That doesn't sound like something a boss tells his subordinate, Aaron. That sounds like something a man in love says...”

“Haley, he's my friend.”

“No, Aaron, he's your co-worker.”

They never had been any good at figuring out where the line was between co-worker and friend and whatever else they might have slipped in and out of, carefully tiptoeing around boundaries like battlefields. Shared hotel rooms and nightmares, insomnia and fitness exams. They were tied together through years, bound in more than just badges and titles. Opening doors for each other, a hand placed at the small of the back or between the shoulders as a reminder that they're right there.

Only Hotch couldn't be there for this one.

He'd sent Reid and Morgan to Katie Jacobs' house, told them to get into everything, never suspecting...and when he got that call from Derek about the doll...

“He's her damn uncle,” Derek continued, pounding the last of his beer. It burned foamy and lukewarm down his throat. “The spittin' damn image of her dad. What's that do to her, huh? How does she come back from that? I told Reid she'd be okay, I told her cousin she'd be okay...but Aaron...”

“I know it's little consolation,” Hotch began, but Derek cracked the top off of his beer and raised his hand dismissively. He already knew what Hotch was going to say and yeah, it made perfect sense and it was undoubtedly good but...it didn't really make any fucking difference to how he felt right then. It really didn't make any difference at all because nothing could change the damage that was already done. Every single member of that family left the mall tonight broken. There was no happy ending, not even when they found her alive. Not even when Hotch, with his huge hands, performed chest compressions on that tiny little body while he held the fluid bag above her head and watched helplessly. Not when she coughed and gasped her way back to life, a moment that should have been blissful except for the knowledge.

There were no winners tonight.

“Yeah, yeah. We saved her life and we caught him. We put her aunt in cuffs for trying to kill her and we put her uncle in cuffs for stealing her innocence. And yeah, he's not gonna hurt her anymore and her parents know and she's got a lot of love and support...I know all that, and I hope you're right, man. I do. But I also know what it's like when the bad guy was supposed to be the good guy...when everyone looks at him like he's a fucking hero...and you know...Aaron, you know he's no fucking hero.”

It trailed off from there. Derek didn't have anything else he wanted to say, anything else he wanted to share with the moon and the stars and the crystal clear water. He felt Hotch's hand on his shoulder, fingertips pressing into muscle, and he relaxed some. Hotch scooted closer, closed the gap by inches, and took a deep breath.

“You are living proof that she can come through this,” Hotch whispered. He looked down at his feet in the water, the way it pushed over his icy skin in small waves, and sighed. “You had to do it on your own, she's got a lot of support and a lot of love. I have to believe that will help.”

Derek, staring now at Hotch's aquiline profile illuminated in silvery shreds of moon and pool light, realized something he'd been chewing on for years. He'd seen a look, some recognition, some connection in the interrogation room between Hotch and Vincent Perotta. It had been only he and Gideon watching the tape as they prepared for his trial, and Gideon sat enraptured by the discussion. Derek remembered wanting to ask Gideon a question – did you know about Hotch? But then, he thought maybe Hotch was just playing, he was an expert in the interrogation room, so he bit his tongue and helped Gideon prepare their evidence. And now, something in Hotch's silence, in the careful spaces he left between the words he chose...Derek knew there was some kinship here they had never spoken of. Would not speak of tonight. He could sense the weight of this moment, the way they danced closer to the line than ever before, one sideways glance or unsteady breath and they might just cross a line.

“Fuck. Is there anyone in the world that isn't broken?” Derek asked finally, lying back against the ground. Hotch smiled. It was a strange time to smile, he had to admit, but he couldn't think of anyone he'd rather be sitting beside right now and considering how completely terrible his day and night had been up until this point...that was saying a lot.

“I wouldn't call it broken. A little banged up, maybe, but not broken.” His smile turned a little sad. “You're doing better than I am.”

Derek pulled his feet out of the water, pressed them against the warm cement, and sat upright. “I'm getting in the pool.” Just like that, he'd flipped the switch. He was done wallowing. That hollow ache in his chest couldn't be talked out, but it could be drowned in moonlight chlorine.

“Now?”

“Now. I'm gonna go inside and grab those other beers, you can join me in the pool if you want but when I get back outside it's time to swim.”

Hotch forgot to protest, momentarily blindsided by the change in Derek's demeanor. He did that. One minute he was on the verge of tears, and the next he'd figured everything out, sorted his feelings, and wanted to walk away from the wreckage with something as close to a clean slate as he could manage. It was one of the traits Hotch most admired and envied in the other man. It made Derek's presence almost addicting, like he could acquire even a little slice of it just by being near.

It hadn't worked so far, but it didn't stop him from trying.

By the time Derek had let the screen door close behind him, Hotch remembered the box of silverware tipped and scattered on the floor, and all the towers in the next room. Every single one with AARON written in Haley's neat looping Sharpie scrawl on the side, as if anyone else would be coming for boxes of his things.

To distract himself momentarily, he started loosening his tie. He didn't really want to get into the pool, but some part of him had already made up his mind to do it anyway.

Inside, Derek walked with damp feet through the house, for the first time not terribly concerned about the little puddles he left behind. Haley had been very strict about tracking water through the house, and yeah he got it, but it was nice not to have to worry. If he slipped and fell on his ass on the way back out, maybe he'd think differently. The sight of the boxes stacked in small towers was a little jarring. Hotch had said Haley took Jack and he didn't know if she was coming back, but it looked to him like things had progressed in the short time since that conversation. This wasn't going to be Hotch's house much longer, by the looks of it, though he really couldn't understand why. Haley didn't work, no way she could afford a place like this and he felt a little guilty knowing that she was going to divorce his ass and he'd still keep paying for this house for them. Families were messy. Marriage was scary, huge and messy.

The upended box in the kitchen was in his way. Silverware scattered over the floor like a boobytrap right out of Home Alone. He dropped to his knees and scooped them back into the box. It wasn't neat, he didn't organize them, he just dumped them in to clear the floor. Whether this was accidental or intentional, he didn't plan to ask but it gave him pause. A moment to consider the volatile mindset of the man in the backyard. “Fuck...” he muttered to himself, grabbing a couple of beers. There was no sense feeling guilty for showing up needing Hotch to listen to him, though his mind tried to wade into those waters.

The walk back outside felt longer, and he hesitated at the backdoor, watching the way Hotch unbuttoned his shirt and draped all of his clothes neatly over the back of a nearby chair lawn chair. The state of the backyard was chaos, a mess of play toys and equipment, a dazzling array of things to entertain a child Jack's age and maybe even older. It was a kid's dream. But the way the toys were tipped on their sides and leaves had fallen all over the slide, grass unkempt and too long, it looked sad and deserted.

He hadn't even noticed.

Hotch showed up to work neat and tidy as ever, maybe he frowned a little faster now and it stayed a little longer, maybe he smiled less...but he never gave the impression that this was what he came home to. That this was where he was supposed to take some kind of reprieve from the day. From one nightmare into another.

“Hey,” he called, waving the beers in his hands at the man who was nearly undressed in the chilly night air. “You're joining me? Thought you'd chicken out.”

“Grab some towels from the cabinet on your way past, would you?”

“You're gonna freeze your balls off...” Derek warned. Hotch didn't deal well with cold. Everyone knew this.

“I don't think you need to be concerned about the state of my balls, Derek.”

Stars blinked in and out of existence above them, crickets and other night creatures sang their quiet symphonies and the sound of Derek's body splashing into the small pool broke the spell of the night. Just underwear, both of them. It wasn't ideal but it was better than wasting more time searching through those labeled boxes hoping to find his swimming trunks. She'd only left out his work clothes. The night wouldn't last forever, they were already chasing dawn and this was fine.

He forced his body down, down, sat cross-legged on the bottom until his lungs burned and he released the air so he could stay down longer. He ran his fingers along the rough bottom and turned his face upward, watching the still surface of the water for Hotch's entrance. He slipped in over the edge, there would be no jumping in for him, there never was. He just eased himself down like a bullet, propelled until they were face to face sitting there at the bottom. The world went silent and dark around them. Derek reached out, stretched his arm toward Hotch and waited for the man to reach back. To grab his hand. To anchor himself there for just a minute beneath the world. The moment was electric.

Breaking the surface, they stayed close together, treading water. It wasn't a deep pool, just a little over their heads, and it was cold. Hotch's teeth chattered almost immediately and Derek let out a wet laugh, sputtering as he wiped the water from his eyes and slicked it back over his head. Hotch's hair was matted to his forehead and dripping from his lashes, temporarily blinding him. But it was the goosebumps, the way he shivered in the water, that made Derek smile wide.

“Told you.”

“My balls are fine.”

Derek laughed, shaking his head. “Well the rest of you looks pretty damn cold.” They floated, caught up in a quiet moment, the gentle lapping of the water against the tile and the soft white light filtering up from the bottom.

“Hey...” Derek started quietly, slipping a little closer, maybe a little too close. “How long's this thing with Haley been going sour, huh? All those boxes in there...”

“A while.” He was purposely evasive, not eager to think too hard, too far back. A long while if he was being honest. Probably since before Jack, but the baby definitely hadn't helped. Love him as much as they both did, he wasn't enough to fix what was already crumbling. He knew Haley had hoped he would be able to fix what was broken, and maybe he had let himself get caught up in that too. It sounded so good. If they just had a baby, things would change. But that isn't really the way things work, and as she came to terms with that fact, a whole pile of others came to light. He was too busy with work to see her slowly come to terms with it all, and it came as a shock to him when it really shouldn't have.

“Yeah, and you don't say a damn word until she's already gone. By the looks of it, long gone. And I'm willing to bet if Gideon hadn't walked out on us the way he did, you still wouldn't have said anything to me. You haven't said two words to me about anything but work in too damn long, man.”

Hotch swallowed hard and felt his throat click. Gideon and Haley both left him at the same time, and he wasn't dealing well with either one. It was a careful game of avoidance, throw twice as much effort into work to avoid the suffocating feeling outside of his office. Pray for a case that would take them out of town, anything to put some distance between him and the carnage in his wake.

He was damn good at pretending, though, if you didn't look too close. No one really bothered to.

Except Derek. He was looking way too close to be fooled now.

“I'm sorry. I didn't realize how strained it had been between us. I've been...” he paused, not sure what he was even going for. “It's been difficult and I've dropped a lot of balls lately.”

“Oh please. It isn't like you haven't had your plate full being our one and only SAC. I know it was already your team but still having Gideon around was probably a load off. It's not your job to make my life easy, man. I managed just fine, but I'm not gonna lose any sleep over him hitting the road. I'm just glad we're here now. You remember when you told me that you'd be available anytime shit got bad? I bet you conveniently forgot that I said I'd do the same.”

There were tears in Hotch's eyes. “I can't do this alone,” he admitted, his voice thick and quiet. “I know Gideon was a lot to handle and he was deeply troubled, and after Bale you had trouble trusting him but...”

Derek reached up and took Hotch's jaw in his hand, pressing their foreheads together. Each of them was barely above the water, chins submerged so their toes could take hold on the rough concrete floor. “You're not alone. We're a team. You are our leader, but we've got your back. You gotta let us know when you need help though.” They're sharing breath a moment before Derek presses their lips together and then its all over. Hotch melts into the embrace, touch starved and desperate for affection. It has been so long since he's been touched like this. Part of his mind, the screaming realist, instantly began reminding him...very loudly...that this is Derek and this is going to get them into trouble. But some even louder part of him, the part that thundered wildly in his chest and pumped all the blood to his extremities screamed in a voice that drowned everything else out.

This is Derek and this is everything.

Box of silverware and bruise on his knee, inevitable nightmares and the creeping of dawn, box towers with his name scrawled over them and a date he really didn't want to keep with Jessica to hunt for a new home...none of that was louder than the way Derek's skin felt against his, the warmth of his hands pressed against Hotch's lower back, the taste of Stella Artois on his dancing tongue. This was heaven, or as close as a beggar like him could afford.

"Haley is going to fill in the pool," Hotch whispered against Derek's lips, tasting chlorine. "Now that Jack is more mobile. This all goes away soon."

"Well then I'm glad we're here now..."

There would be apologies dancing on their lips and towels to dry them off. Breakfast after no sleep would take the edge off with whipped cream on Belgian waffles and hashbrowns nestled beside a pile of scrambled eggs. Those apologies would die on their lips, unspoken because neither of them was sorry and that was the only truth they cared to admit. “I'm apartment hunting today,” Hotch said, dropping Derek off at his house after breakfast. The morning sunlight was golden and warm, his eyes were tired and yet he felt too electric to sleep even now. “But if you're not busy tonight...”

“You want me to keep you warm in the pool again? Soak up every last minute in that old thing?”

Hotch smiled and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “Yeah. Something like that.” He paused, giving Derek one last look before he closed the car door. “It was nice not being alone. It was nice being with you.”

“Cool. I'll call you later, see what's up.”

- - - -

“You're sorry?” Derek asked, a little louder than a hiss but still quiet. They were in Hotch's office, the door not entirely closed because that would cause a stir. Hotch didn't close his office door. But he'd called this meeting an hour after signing a lease for an apartment he didn't want and his heart was breaking in his chest.

“You came to me because you needed someone to listen and I'm afraid I may have taken advantage of that.”

“Taken...advantage? Do you even hear yourself?”

Hotch stood and frowned, folding his arms over his chest. “I'm your leader, and after some thought I feel that I may have crossed a line the other night.” What he meant to say was that there was beer and pool water and so damn many stars...and he'd been having a terrible night. He was out of sorts. And if he'd been thinking clearly he probably would have made better choices. Or, at the very least, not allowed himself to indulge in something so incredibly reckless no matter how much he wanted it.

But the problem with that theory was that he liked it. Loved it, even. Had wanted it for a long, long time. It had been a brief spot of light in his darkness. And the second night, while it didn't lead to anything more than devouring a whole pizza and combing through the verbiage in his lease agreement for the apartment he didn't want, he still felt that same electric feeling.

Jessica hadn't helped his anxiety. In fact, she was probably the reason he'd kept Derek at arm's length the second night. Probably the reason they read a contract instead of kissing until their lips hurt. The real problem was that even as mind-numbing an activity as it was...he still wanted more. He would do mind-numbing nights with Derek forever.

“You kissed him?!” Jessica had asked while exploring the third apartment of the day. It might be the one. Hotch looked like he didn't hate it, which was better than the others. He wasn't going to like any of them, but if he didn't hate it...well they could make it work. “You KISSED him?”

“Technically, he kissed me,” Hotch replied while opening a cupboard like he was even paying attention. He'd barely seen anything the whole day, but he did like this place. The basement was a fitness center with an indoor pool and some part of him was inexplicably drawn to the notion that he would still have a body of water to call his own. “But I did kiss him back.”

“Aaron, you dog!” She was smiling, but it faded quickly. “Can you do that? Are you going to get fired?” She hissed that last part so the real estate agent didn't hear them.

“It won't happen again. It shouldn't be an issue.”

“Won't happen again? You look happier this morning than you have in...well a long time. Why wouldn't you do it again?”

“Once is forgivable. Twice and...what if he doesn't feel like he can say no to me?” Given Derek's history, Hotch's face went pale at the thought. He might be sick. “I can't put him in that situation.”

“What, because you're his boss? That's absurd. Maybe if you'd kissed that little guy on your team...”

“Reid?” he asked, a little flustered. This conversation was getting worse by the minute. He chose the apartment more as a way to put a stop to one conversation and start another than anything else.

“Yeah. The kid. But you've worked with Derek for so long, no way he's not going to tell you exactly where to shove it if you do something he doesn't like.”

“Hotch...” Derek said, leaning a little closer, pulling him back to the conversation. “If you think for one second that you're actually putting me in a position where I can't say no, you're wrong. Now do I appreciate your thoughtfulness here? Absolutely. It's part of why I kissed you the other night and why I wanna keep doing it. But you gotta know I've never had a problem telling you to fuck right off if I think it's justified. Right now, JJ is about to walk through that door and tell us we have a case, I heard your phone buzz. So I'm gonna get outta here...and you can think it over. If you want to see where this kiss takes us...cool. I'm game. And if you don't? We never have to bring it up again. It never happened.”

Derek turned to walk out of the room, took a step and froze when he heard a small sound behind him.

“Derek,” came the voice, almost a whisper. He turned and found Hotch rounding the edge of the desk and approaching him cautiously. “I'm sorry. If you're certain...I am too. I don't know how to do this anymore; it's been so long. I never thought I'd feel like this again. I always assumed Haley was it for me.”

“Don't worry, boo, I got you. This is a two person sport.”

Hotch flushed and his face turned shadowy serious. He frowned and Derek knew exactly what he was going to say. “We should probably lay a few ground rules,” he started and Derek laughed and waved his hands in defeat before he had to continue. From the looks of it, they would have to move slowly. Very slowly.

Derek could do that.

He hoped, anyway.

“I won't call you boo again. At work or otherwise. I can't promise other pet names won't slip out on occasion...”

“Just not here.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #hotch x morgan #aaron hotchner x derek morgan #mortch #fanfiction #tw: csa #tw: divorce #yotp 2023

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