dumb bitch

Of course, it was complete and utter bullshit. If anything, Jack was overjoyed at having the genius around more often if only so there was more time for him to interrogate Spencer about all things dinosaurs and superheroes.

Still, despite wanting to go slow, the second Hotch called and told him Jack was asking for him, Spencer dropped everything. It was a twenty-minute drive between their homes, but Spencer was letting himself into the house after fifteen.

Spencer hardly even said hello to Hotch, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before taking off in the direction of Jack’s room. The man was a germophobe, but that night he held the puke bowl for Jack and held the boy when he cried over the uncomfortable feeling. He performed magic tricks and told wild tales of brilliant superheroes (of whom Hotch was sure were actually distant scientists Jack would learn about in school someday), and never once would he leave the boy’s side until he was fast asleep in bed, the fever finally broken.

And when all was said and done, Hotch never once told Spencer about what Jack had called him. It was said in a near-delirious state, and surely Jack wouldn’t even remember it if asked. So, the man swallowed up the word like a dark secret, keeping it close to his heart with no intention of ever letting it go.

The second time, it’s harder to call it a slip of the tongue.

It’s Christmas morning, a time when Hotch was sure his son would be preoccupied with the presents sitting waiting for him to open. Instead, Jack stood beside the tree, hands picking at each other in front of his middle and a peculiar expression for a young kid.

“What is it, Jack?” Hotch asked, concern lacing through every word of the question. While it had been a few years since the loss of Haley, holidays were still tough for both of the Hotchner boys. Christmas was the worst—it had always been Haley’s favorite holiday, so they’d had plenty of traditions that Hotch ached not to cry through every year.

Every year, Jack told him he wished his Momma could be there. And every year, Hotch would sigh and hug his son a little closer, reminding him that she was there with them, always and forever.

This year was different, because now Jack was eyeing the presents but not once moving toward them. This year was different, because he was looking at Hotch with such a mature expression for his age and saying, “We can’t open presents until Papa gets here.”

“What do you mean?” Hotch asked, dark eyes widening. Though he was sure Jack would have no problems having Spencer around more, they hadn’t once discussed the possibility of spending holidays together. It was too soon, too new, and much too complicated.

“You always say Christmas is about being with family,” Jack stated simply, shrugging his shoulders, “our whole family should be here.”

And God, did that break Hotch’s heart and build it from scratch all at once.

“Buddy, Spencer is spending Christmas with his mom in Las Vegas,” Hotch had to tell him, wishing not for the first time during this work break that Spencer wasn’t a five-hour flight away. Though Jack tried to put up a strong face, it was impossible not to notice the flash of disappointment in his eyes. And suddenly, Hotch was pulling out his phone and dialing the number he’d long since unnecessarily memorized.

“Aaron? Is everything okay?” Spencer’s voice always sounded a little lighter while visiting his mom. Whether it was because of the time away from the horrors they saw at work, or because the guilt of not regularly visiting her was eased momentarily, Spencer was happier while in Las Vegas. Now, though, the edges of fear seeped into his voice, a sharpness that sliced at Hotch’s chest if he thought about it for too long.

“Everything is perfect, Sweetheart. Someone here wanted to talk to you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Hotch chuckled, putting the phone on speaker and holding it out. Almost immediately, Jack was rushing over to crowd the phone, leaning in close as if he could see Spencer through the screen. “Guess who it is, Jack?”

“Spencer!” the little boy cheered, laughing so brightly that Hotch had to join in too. What no one had ever told him before having a kid was that their emotions were infectious—when Jack cried, Hotch was sure he’d never be happy again, but when Jack laughed, Hotch was just as sure that the world hadn’t completely lost its magic.

“Merry Christmas, Jack,” Spencer spoke, and Hotch could practically hear that smile through the phone. It wouldn’t be the small one, the kind with the slightly pursed lips as he fought against it. No, this would be a wide grin, showing off his dimples and laugh lines in their entirety and brightening up his whole face until Hotch could no longer imagine his face without that smile present.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer!” Hotch’s son answered back happily, and the older man winced for Spencer considering how close the boy’s mouth was to the microphone. “What’d you get for Christmas?”

“Well, your dad got me a book.”

“What kind of book?”

“It’s a book of the original Grimm fairy tales. If your dad says it’s okay, I’ll read some to you when I get back.”

“Are you coming home soon? Daddy and I miss you.”

Home. Not back, not to his own separate home then coming here, but is Spencer coming home? Home to them, to their little broken family that had found how to exist without Haley. Home, to Hotch and to Jack.

“I miss you too, Buddy. I’ll be home tomorrow night, I promise,” Spencer promised. And then Hotch would turn off speaker so he could give a proper farewell to his boyfriend, and he would immerse himself in celebrating Christmas with his son.

But when he went to bed that night, he pictured Spencer coming home to their little family each and every night.

The third time, it’s most certainly not an accident.

When Jess brought Jack back from summer camp, tears shining in her eyes, Hotch expected the worst.

Had Jack gotten hurt at camp? No, he was standing there looking perfectly okay. He was safe, the man had to remind himself. Foyet is dead, Jack is safe, Spencer is safe, he is safe.

“Jack made something at camp today,” Jess explained, and when the boy shyly handed over the card Hotch had to fight back tears too.

Spencer was already on his way from the half-day he had at the office. He’d bashfully told Hotch that he’d gotten him something for Fathers’ Day, and the pair decided that maybe this was the perfect holiday to ease Jack into the idea of celebrating together. It was even more perfect now, Hotch thought, seeing the way Jack was practically buzzing with excited energy.

“When’s he getting here, Dad?” Jack asked for about the fourth time in as many minutes, pulling an amused laugh from the man.

“Any second now, Bud,” he answered.

Sure enough, it was forty-seven seconds later that Spencer knocked on the door (even though he’d practically moved in two months prior). “Happy Fathers’ Day, Aaron,” Spencer told him, holding out the little bag in his hand. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want, I just thought it might be, you know, kind of fitting becau–”

“Spencer?”

“Yes?”

“I haven’t opened it yet.” Though all of Spencer’s expressive faces were wonderful, Hotch loved the way he blushed red now, teeth pulling on his lower lip and honeyed eyes staring at him with such unexpected intensity that Hotch fought not to look away.

“Oh, right,” Spencer laughed then, eyes glancing down to stare at the bag in Hotch’s hands, practically willing the older man to open. “Will you open it? The anticipation is killing me more than the anthrax was.”

“Spencer,” Hotch admonished, knowing the younger man tended to downplay his many (many) near-death experiences but still wishing he wouldn’t anyway. It had nearly crushed the man each and every time, wondering if he would lose the genius before he ever really had him at all.

Still, Spencer is stunningly unapologetic and Hotch loves him all the more for it. So the older man focuses instead on the gift, pulling the grey tie out of the bag. He was unable to stop the smile from pulling at his lips then, eyes taking in the little pink conversation hearts patterned across the tie.

“They’re sweethearts,” Spencer clarified, “you know, because you call me Swe–”

“Spencer!” Jack’s shriek of delight ended whatever moment the two men were having as the little boy ran up and practically tried to tackle Spencer to the ground with the force of his hug.

“Woah, hi, Jack,” the man laughed, shaking his curly hair out of his face and giving the boy a bright smile. “How was summer camp?”

“So good! I made you something.” And oh, Hotch wasn’t sure he could take it. Still, he watched with bated breath as his son pulled out the purple card he’d spent hours on (“because Dad, you said purple was his favorite color”). He knew it would take a second tops for Spencer to read the card but as a minute passed, and then two, Spencer’s eyes still hadn’t left the inside of the card.

And when they finally did, Hotch could see tears fully streaming from them, wetting his cheeks and making his eyes a little swollen. The younger man’s lips parted then closed, once, twice, three times before he engulfed Jack into a hug. He wouldn’t let go for a long while, holding onto the little kid who was now beaming over his shoulder at Hotch. If Hotch could see Spencer’s face now, he’d see his lower lip quivering and his eyes full of love. Love, because Spencer had admitted more than once that he always assumed he’d never have a family of his own. Love, because he’d found the person he wanted to spend forever with and was still holding back to make sure someone else was okay.

Love, because this was Spencer now, fully and completely accepted into their family.

Eventually, Hotch would join in too, crouching down to wrap the two most important boys in his life up in his arms. He’d tuck his face into Spencer’s neck to hide his own tears, because he’d wondered if Jack would ever be able to really call another person a parent after how he’d lost his mother.

“Happy Fathers’ Day, Papa,” Jack told Spencer, eliciting a tearful laugh from the man.

“Thank you, Jack,” Spencer told him in return, squeezing just a little tighter.

It was unclear how long they stayed like that—the three of them wrapped up in each other on the floor of the house’s entryway. Eventually, Jack would get up and wander off to go play outside while the sun was still up. Spencer and Hotch would be given a moment alone, a special moment when the two men could properly discuss what this all meant for their relationship.

For now, though, Hotch clung to his family, never more thankful for them. And when he was sure he could speak without giving away the tears he’d once shed, Hotch lifted his head just enough to find Spencer’s gaze and say, delightedly,

“Happy Father’s Day, Spencer Reid.”