Wheels Up in 30

"I'm outside of your building but I'm too afraid to come in. I'm not sure they'll let me. I need a badge, right?" 

"You're outside." 

You pick at the hem of your sweater, a loose thread marring your otherwise pretty outfit. You'll admit to dressing up unnecessarily to see him. Nice clothes, your most subtle perfume. 

"I found something confidential this morning, a piece of paper. I didn't read it, I promise."

"You really shouldn't be here," he says. 

Your smile abruptly drops. You press the phone closer to your face and wait, hoping he's not talking to you. When it's clear that he is you cringe, the silence pervasive and the most awkward it's ever been with him. 

"Sorry." Your apology is quick, quiet. "I thought it would be easier for you. I didn't mean to… overstep." 

"It's not that. It's busy. Would you hang on to it for me? Maybe I can come and get it tonight, bring dinner." 

You love how he says it. It's not a question, not an assumption. And it's a relief. If he wants to see you on a night where you hadn't planned to get together, he can't be mad at you for being here. 

"Yeah, please. If you want to." 

"I want to. Okay?"

Not for confirmation, it's shorthand. You okay? 

"Yeah. Okay. Have a good rest of your day, handsome." 

"Bye." 

You like to think you can hear the sound of his phone clicking shut, imagining him at his desk in one of his neat suits with a case file open in front of him. You're not sure on the specifics of his job but you know he looks good doing it, and you also know he's very, very busy. You don't take his clipped goodbye as anything but efficiency. 

Maybe you should. 

—

The next time Aaron inadvertently hurts your feelings is in person. 

Compared to him, you wouldn't say you're an incredibly exciting character. Your day job is tame, your hobbies are invaried. You like to watch TV, see movies, you enjoy people-watching. When you hold that stuff up to his job, his profiling, and his hobbies (seriously, who likes triathlon?) you feel rather immature. 

You know deep down that hobbies are hobbies and that your job doesn't define how special you are, but when you're with someone like Aaron who lives and breathes his profession it can play with your head. 

"Is there something interesting about my shirt?" he asks, a murmur under the sound of the TV. 

You look up from the hem of his nice button down and smile, a half-smile. You want it to be more genuine than it is. "Don't you already know?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"You can tell I'm…" You frown, dropping the starched material of his shirt from between your fingers. "I've given myself up, haven't I?" 

"A little," he concedes sympathetically. 

You huff your defeat and let your cheek fall into his chest. Nice to seek comfort from him, nicer for him to give it to you, his arm rising from behind your shoulders to hook around your neck. 

"I'm not profiling you," he says, voice close to the top of your head, "I'm wondering what you're thinking."

You relax under his touch, his big hand settling in the curve of your neck. A semi-hug. It doesn't take long for you to melt into his front completely, your unhappy thoughts dissolving with any tension and leaving only a want to kiss his stupidly nice neck.

"It doesn't matter," you say. 

"You sure?" 

You lift your head from his chest. He has to lean back to meet your eyes and he does it unflinchingly, a bemused smile playing on his lips. 

"I'm good. Better, if you would…" 

"Yeah?" he asks quietly, leaning down, down. 

You can't withstand his charms. He knows exactly how to get you, his smile and his eyes, his lashes kissing in the corners as they close. 

He's imposing in the best way, a heavy presence that overwhelms you. All you can think about is the way he nudges his nose with yours to encourage your head back and the heat of his lips as they touch your own. His arm tightens behind your head.

You try to rise onto your knees, hands vying for his neck and his pitch dark hair. You're doubly pleased when you feel his mouth turning up into a smile, a mirror of your own. 

"Slow down," he chides gently. 

You're about to say something unlike yourself, something loud and brash. Speed up, Hotchner. You're hopped up on the giddiness that comes with being close to him. You're just about to say it when his phone rings. 

He gives you a short, hard kiss. 

"Hotchner." 

You sit back in his lap, his hand sliding to the small of your back to keep you close as his face clouds with confusion. You attempt to climb off of him because you're not a sack of sugar — you're probably giving him numb thighs — but he won't let you.

"Garcia," he says eventually, "is this an emergency?" His tone makes it clear to you that whatever it is Garcia is saying, it's far from an emergency. 

His hand climbs up, over your shoulder. You shudder as he tugs your earlobe, a mild and thoughtless gesture. You're so busy shivering you almost miss his playful eye roll. 

"I haven't changed my mind. Yeah. Thanks for the invitation, but I'm perfectly happy where I am tonight." 

Whatever Garcia says makes him laugh. If you weren't sitting as close to him as you are you wouldn't have heard it. 

"Have fun. Bye," he says succinctly. He snaps his phone closed in one hand, the other dropping from your ear to your shoulder. It's heavy with a remorse you can't allow. "Sorry."

"Doesn't matter," you assure, tilting your head toward his hand and pretending to size him up. You don't know how to profile, but you're a good guess. 

"You're not telling me something." 

"No?" He blinks in surprise.

"No. You've been invited somewhere with your work friends, and you usually go. Why not tonight?" 

"I think that's obvious." 

"You don't have to flake on your friends for me, Aaron." 

He smiles as you say his name. "Like I told Garcia, I am perfectly happy where I am." 

You hide your face in his neck lest he see your doped up smile. "You have nice friends," you murmur, working your hands under the hem of his shirt. 

"I think you'd love Garcia after the infinitial terror." 

"I think I would too. She's good to you, after all. Makes me like her… Maybe one day we can all go out for drinks." 

You don't have to be a profiler to feel the way he tenses. 

"Yeah," he says. It sounds very much like Probably not. 

That's a strumming hurt. Aaron is so nice, so so nice, and he treats you like you're gold dust. He does all the movie boyfriend stuff like flowers, silver earrings on your birthday (with tiny diamonds!), dinner reservations at dauntingly fancy restaurants. And he does stuff you didn't know men did, like calling you near every night to make sure you had a good day, and praising even your smallest achievements, and leaving notes in places he knows you'll find them on hard days. You don't know how he knows when days are hard, he just does. 

You'd figured all of this stuff meant he must really like you, might even love you though he's yet to say it, and that's why his lack of enthusiasm stings. 

Why doesn't he want you to meet his friends? He's obviously very proud of what they do at the BAU. They're not the issue. 

It's you. 

You cuddle him as a pit forms in your chest. 

"You're tired?" he asks.

Funny how it's his comfort you crave when he's the one who's hurt your feelings. You're a little lopsided being upset with him, and you know if you tell him how you feel he'll try to make it up to you, but you're too afraid of the other alternative — a fight. Right now his arms are a sanctity you wouldn't trade for anything. You hope he feels the same. 

You're not sure anymore. 

"Yeah," you say roughly. 

Your eyes burn as he pats your back. "Let's go to bed, honey." 

You'll just… have to prove you're someone worth showing off. 

—

Your plan, loosely titled 'Get Aaron Hotchner to Show Me Off,' is going about as well as you'd thought it would. 

If Aaron doesn't want me to meet his friends there must be a reason. You've been thinking about it and it can't be a coincidence that he hadn't wanted you to return his paperwork a few weeks ago. That must've been something significant. 

But what? 

You start with your hair. Aaron has expressed a lovely and heaping handful of times that he thinks you have pretty hair. He plays with it often, usually when he's limp and tired from a long day. You've always taken care of it. Now you're going to the extreme — hair masks, hair appointments you can't afford, anything to make it look perfect. 

It doesn't work toward the plan, though your boyfriend certainly notices. 

"Your hair," is the very first thing he says when he sees you, stopping only in his smiling assessment to kiss your cheek in greeting. 

"Is it okay?" you ask, turning your face to one side. 

"More than okay. Do you want to go in?" 

So it's kind of a bust. But that's okay, you weren't expecting to get a haircut and magically be invited to team dinners. You persevere, and eventually you forget the plan for the night when Aaron promises to show you how much he likes your new look with a hand at the small of your back. 

Phase two, your clothes. 

You dress as nicely as you can but you're no fashion guru and you can't afford an entirely new wardrobe. You get a bunch of magazines and look for fall staples. What's in this year, and how do you style it? You buy a couple of pieces that fit your budget and try to work around them. 

Aaron's favourite are the new corduroy pants. They aren't a great fit. 

"They're too tight," you lament, pulling the fabric from your thighs where they hug snugly. They're a desaturated sort of burgundy, not bright by any means but a good 'pop of colour'. 

"I know," he says. 

You gawp at him, and when he gets his fingers on the buttons afterward, you break. 

"You like them?" you ask worriedly. 

"What makes you think I don't?" 

"Besides how eager you are to get them off of me?" 

He hooks two fingers in your belt loops and holds your gaze as he tugs them down. "I like them." 

A good time, but still no dice. You suppose a new look, besides looking smarter, doesn't actually prove your merit as a girlfriend. Maybe he wants something a little more concrete before he introduces you to people. Maybe things aren't as good for him as they are for you, and he doesn't see the point. 

That particular thought sparks a wave of panicked tears. 

The next time you see him, it's like he can tell. You wonder if he has x-ray vision, some sixth sense for tear stains that he has yet to tell you about. He's been gone for a few days in St. Louis, and when he'd come back he'd spent the weekend with Jack, so it's a whole seven days since the last time you saw him and your worries have festered. Not even his doting phone calls had kept the thought at bay. 

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 

You open your door and there he is in a quarter zip with an overnight bag, matte suit cover draped over one arm. 

"Hi," you say, unsure. 

"Did I get uglier while I was away?" he asks seriously. 

You startle. "No, of course not." 

He smiles and meets you in the doorway, your head dipping back to accommodate. "I think I've had it too good," he says lightly, bringing a tentative hand to your cheek. "Are you okay?" 

You're trying to work out what he means, and when you do your heart skips. "Handsome!" you say urgently. "Hi, handsome. No, you didn't get uglier, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, and-" 

He kisses you. It's malaligned because of your parted lips, but it's good. You'd really missed him. 

"You're definitely still handsome," you murmur. 

"Doesn't count. I begged for it-" 

"No!" you deny, lifting on tiptoes to give him another kiss and stop his slander. "It does count because you're always handsome, I promise. I think I slept too much and miswired my brain when I woke up." 

"I don't mind that you didn't call me handsome," he says firmly, "now let me in. We have dinner to make." 

"Right, sorry."

Aaron frowns at you, then. It's weird. He frowns at his phone, at the TV, at nothing, but he doesn't frown at you. 

"Is something wrong?" he asks as you traverse down the hall. You hold your hands out for his suit and bag to take to your room and hang up, ignoring his question. He doesn't give them to you. "Is there?" 

"No." You smile as you say it. 

You're an awful liar, especially with him. He makes you more nervous than anyone because he's your boyfriend and because he's a literal human lie detector. 

"You didn't even try." 

You cover your face with both hands and groan dramatically, spinning around and away from him. You don't want him to see how flustered you are. 

"Don't make fun," you beg. 

"You're embarrassed." 

"Teach you that at the Bureau, do they?"  

You stop in the doorway of the kitchen, distracted by your own racing thoughts when suddenly there are two long arms needling around your waist and pulling you backward. You gasp a laugh and squirm uselessly to escape. 

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. 

You tip your head back, hands falling from your face in surprise. "What for, handsome?" 

His laugh fans out over your face but when he speaks again there's no humour there, only sincerity, "For being gone so long." 

"Well don't be. You can't exactly help it, Agent Hotchner," you hum. 

"Oh, don't." 

"Going out and saving the world takes time. I knew that when I met you, 'n I know it now. You don't have to say sorry." 

"I'm not apologising for my work. I'm apologising that we've," — his nose presses into the highest point of your cheek — "been apart." 

"I did miss you," you relent. 

He presses his lips to your cheek. "I missed you too." 

It's a nice distraction. You'd missed one another, and now you're together. You forget for a while what you'd worried, and only when he leaves again do you remember. 

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 

You're not stupid enough to think Hotch is using you for anything, or that he's insincere. You're level-headed, though. His affection for you isn't necessarily permanent no matter how genuine. 

You don't want to be overbearing. The offers start slow. 

I can wash that for you. Of course I'm sure, I'm great with whites. 

Maybe I could make you lunch tomorrow. You can take it in, spare yourself the federal cafeteria. 

Yeah, I got them shined for you. They were looking a little dull at the toes. 

"Do you want me to press these?" you ask. 

Aaron looks up from where he's sitting in bed. You'd been out on a foray to the bathroom and have come to a stop by his bedroom door where a pair of black slacks hang in wait for the morning. 

He pushes a darling pair of reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No." 

"Are you sure? It won't take five minutes." 

"I'll do it in the morning." 

"I can do it for you, then. Just wake me up," you say, pushing back the sheets on the empty side of his bed. Your socked foot bumps his thigh as you pull up your legs. "What are you reading?" 

He puts his book on the nightstand, takes off his glasses. It's too bad. He really suits them.

"I want to talk to you about something." 

You laugh and slide down onto the flat of your back. 

"What?" he asks, confused, the tiniest hint of amusement in his eyes. 

"It's unlike you to start that way. You always cut around the fat." You bring his bed sheets up to your nose and squint at him. "'M I in trouble?" 

"Depends." 

"On what?" 

"You know I care about you." 

Your heart somersaults. That feels very much like a break-up opener, and he must see your anxiety on your face. He wrangles your hand from under the sheets and leans over you, his face in your eyeline, his fingers massaging yours until they ache in the good way. 

"Do you know how much?" he asks. 

"Is that a trick?" 

"No." 

You wait in case there's something he's going to add. When there's nothing, you pull the sheets to your chin and tamp down your perplexed pouting. 

"Yeah, I know how much." 

"I'd like to tell you how much." He pulls your joined hands toward his jaw. "I know I'm not always here, but I'm always thinking of you. In roundabout ways." 

"What ways?" you ask. Self-indulgence.

Aaron Hotchner indulges you. 

"I see," — he kisses your hand — "trees. I've seen a thousand trees, but when I see the bigger ones I wish you could see them too." 

It's a dropping sensation, near uncomfortable, that's how gutted his confession makes you feel. "You do?" 

"Sometimes women walk past me and I swear that it's you because they smell like your perfume. Flowers growing through cracks in the sidewalk. Lights through the jet window." It's the kind of stuff you like to point out to him when you're together. 

He stares at you, a long, reassuring look. 

He deserves a better reply, but all you can say is, "I think of you all the time, too." 

"I love that you want to take care of me, but you don't need to wear yourself out." 

You bite the inside of your bottom lip. So that's what this is about. Aaron has profiled you, and now he's being the gentleman that he is and assuaging your fears. 

"I'm not," you say quickly. 

He understands that you're saying I'm not wearing myself out rather than I'm not taking care of you. You are taking care of him, the best that you can, the best that he'll allow. 

"I can press my own pants," he says, leaning down for a kiss. "I can shine my own shoes." He kisses you again. You screw your eyes closed as the warmth of his breath heats your cupid's bow. "I can do my own laundry." He pulls back, dropping your hand in favour of your neck. His thumb pushes against your windpipe gently, palm hot over your skin. "I'll accept the lunches, if you're sure you don't mind making them." 

You feel as excited as you did the very first time he touched you, chest full of a dizzying pleasure, heart bump-bump-bumping a racing rhythm. His thumb strokes a lazy quarter circle into your neck. He can probably feel your pulse, see the way your eyes have blown. 

"I love making them," you say, breathless in earnest.

"The team think I'm spoiled." 

"You aren't spoiled." You're adored, you want to say. You cup his cheek instead. "You'd be spoiled if I brought them by everyday." 

Aaron doesn't stay with you and you don't stay with him enough to make him lunch everyday. He might get one or two a week, and that's when he's home. 

"Wouldn't that be nice," he mutters, his fingers pushing between your neck and the pillow underneath. 

You hike up on to your elbows slowly to avoid headbutting him. "Well, I could." 

His easy, loving smile flattens. "No." 

"I wouldn't mind. My lunch break is super long and it only takes me ten minutes to get there. We could have lunch together." 

"That's not going to work." 

"Okay." You wish you could take it as calmly as he says it. You sound choked up. You are choked up. 

"Sweetheart, the office is a war zone. Half the time I'm not there." 

"I get it," you say, dropping flat onto your back again. 

"Sweetheart." 

"Handsome," you mirror, putting on your best unaffected smile. 

You can't hold it very long, his concerned brows too much to deal with. You turn your head to the left and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, throwing at least half of your expression into darkness. 

Aaron doesn't give up. Does he ever? He cups your cheek and pulls you back to face him. 

"I can't promise any lunch dates. But I was thinking we'd go out for dinner next week, Friday," he begins hopefully, "somewhere nice." 

It feels like an apology and you're desperate to take it. 

"I don't need somewhere nice, s'long as you're there 'n not in Kansas, or Colorado, or Idaho, or New Jersey-" 

He hums and drops his head until his nose lies against your own. "Gonna go through all fifty?" 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Hotchner?" 

"I love your voice," he says agreeably. 

Disarmed, you let him charm you, and you let him push it all out of your mind. Plan foiled, your fears fall on the backburner for a third time. 

—

His fourth rejection is the first that feels entirely intentional, though you won't know until later. 

Mostly because Aaron pushes you. 

Far from cruel, the two of you are actually out walking in the city when he forces you into an alleyway, your fancy drink sloshing down the front of your sweater. 

You laugh in surprise and almost roll your ankle, hands clinging to his coat to stop an unfortunate fall. 

"Holy shit, Hotchner, learn to be a gentleman," you say as he presses up against you. "What are you doing? I'm soaked, you're gonna ruin your sleeves." 

He kisses you hard. It's a surprise, your head jumping back against the wall to find his hand already there to protect it. 

It's worth noting that Aaron is a sweetheart in practically every aspect of life. He once apologised after having walked in on you changing, which is ridiculous because most of the nights where you're together he insists on getting you some sort of undressed (even if it's just to help you into your pyjamas).

Needless to say, he's never kissed you like this. Your emotions spike so suddenly you laugh into his mouth, a girlish peel of giggles that you'll regret afterward but can't stop for the life of you. 

He shushes you. "Sorry," he whispers, as ill-composed as you've ever heard him. "Sorry, just-" He cuts you both off with another bruising kiss. 

Your laughter fades into sighs and little gasps for air. Somewhere near the alleyway opening a group of people pass by, a jovial series of cheers and friendly laughter trailing behind them. Aaron presses you further into the wall behind, and slowly, slowly winds down. Weirdly, you think his last couple of pecks feel sorry, softer and sweeter. 

Your lips buzz. 

"Why'd you buy me that fancy drink if you were gonna tip it all over me?" you ask good-naturedly when he finally pulls back. 

"You looked too nice today." His deadpan voice wars with the smile on his face. "I'm sorry. We'll go find you something to change into." 

"Was it really that important that you kiss me right then?" you ask, feigning disdain. 

He looks out toward the main street again. "Yes. Where do you want to go? There's a Nordstrom." 

You take a sip of your drink, unsurprised when he takes your hand and starts to lead you toward the department stores. "Have you ever been inside of a Nordstrom?" 

"I'm sure I'll figure it out."

— 

The fifth time is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Or the brick. It feels heavier than a strand of straw. It's technically already come to pass, so it's an invisible brick. 

You're out for coffee by yourself which really means you're out for something sweet, bundled up in a coat and scarf to fight the night-time chill. 

"Thank you," you tell the barista, accepting your drink and receipt with a smile. 

You turn around and almost walk straight into a pretty dark-haired woman with really nice hair. You make a note to tell Aaron about it when you see him next, not because he'll care but because he likes to hear what you've been thinking about. And right now, all you can think about is her feathered bangs. 

I want nice bangs, you think offhandedly. 

"I'm sorry," you say, trying to move around her. 

She steps into your path. 

"Sorry," you say again. 

She's squinting at you, thin eyebrows peeking out from behind her hair. "Sorry, have we met?" she asks. 

You try not to be too hasty, but you're not sure you've ever seen her. You stare at her as she stares at you, and you get a tiny inkling of familiarity, but it's gone as quick as it comes. 

"I'm really sorry, I don't think so," you murmur, tilting your head to one side. 

She bites her lip, let's it go. "Oh!" she says excitedly, voice bright with triumph. "Oh oh oh! I know who you are, you're Hotch's mysterious girlfriend!" 

Your smile turns quizzical. You know nearly everybody calls Aaron 'Hotch'. Whenever you try it he either gives you the silent treatment or covers your mouth with his hand. 

"I'm Emily Prentiss, I work in the BAU," she explains rapidly, shoving her purse under her hand to offer it for a handshake. 

You do the same and shake her hand. Introducing yourself feels awkward. She knows you. You don't have a clue who she is. Only- 

"Oh, I know who you are now, I'm sorry I didn't recognise you before!" you say contritely. "I've seen photos of you and the team together. It's really nice to meet you." 

She nods. "It's nice to meet you too. I have to say, we've been dying to meet you. We even have a betting pool on what you're like, because Hotch barely says a thing about you." 

You try not to look as devastated as you feel, re-wrapping your fingers around your cup. "No?" 

"We didn't even know what you looked like until we saw you the other day. We came looking to say hi and you'd disappeared." 

You lick your dry lips. "The other day?" 

"Yeah, last Friday. We were out for impromptu drinks, celebrating a case. You know, you should come with sometime. It would be fun." 

Emily talks each word with an undertone of good humour. She's stunning, bubbly, and her hair flows around her face with every movement. 

"He really doesn't talk about me?" 

Emily drops into girl code niceties, backtracking. "I mean, not too often. We catch him smiling at his phone and hear your voice sometimes when you call. He seems happy. Well, happy as Hotch can seem." She swallows. "He's a private creature."

He doesn't talk about me. 

You pretend to check your watch. 

"It was really good to meet you," you say, voice airy with a feigned nonchalance. 

"Yeah, of course. Super nice," Emily says. 

You smile at her. It's more like a grimace. By the time you're outside of the coffee shop you're too upset to care, a humiliated shock of tears brewing behind your achy eyes. 

You hold your cup to your chest and unzip your purse to tuck the receipt inside, trying to maintain some control. There's a folded note inside, thick cardstock quartered. 

You take it out. Your fingers tremble with offended adrenaline. 

You're beautiful. 

Short, sweet, extremely Aaron Hotchner. Too bad you can't believe it. 

Emily Prentiss being out and about means the BAU are done for the night, though whether your workaholic boyfriend got the memo is anyone's best guess. You're not sure if it's better or worse if he's in work when you call. You're so upset that you can't help yourself. 

"Hi, honey." 

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" you ask, staving off tears with all your willpower. 

"I wouldn't write it if I didn't mean it. That one took you a while to find, I was-" 

"Are you sure?" 

"...Are you okay?" 

You glare up at the dark sky rather than answer, blinking hard to force down your tears. You really don't wanna cry, but it's been a bad day and meeting Emily has made it worse. No matter how hard you try to think otherwise, all signs point to Aaron being ashamed of you. Embarrassed to be with you. He's hiding your relationship from everybody. 

"Am I- Is it my clothes? My job?" 

"What's wrong with your clothes?" 

"You tell me, detective." 

You're getting angry. He's- he's lying, or he's messing with you. He's making fun of you. At least that's how it feels. 

"Where are you right now?" he asks. You can picture him shrugging on his suit jacket, putting his files in order to come and meet you. 

You don't want to see him. "I'm at the coffee shop by your apartment. I actually ran into somebody, and I'm feeling very well-informed." A first tear bumps down your cheek. You ignore it. 

"I don't understand." 

"I don't understand! What am I doing wrong?" You bite your tongue in last ditch efforts to remain intact, but the tears won't hold off any longer. You swallow a sob. "What's wrong with me?" 

"Nothing. Nothing, honey, nothing is wrong with you." 

You wipe your wet face with mean hands. 

"Stay where you are. I'll come and meet you." 

"No. I don't wanna see you." 

"Honey-" 

"Leave me alone, Aaron." 

You hang up. You walk for a while, feeling as though steam is rising off of your flushed skin with every clumsy step. It had been a short phone call and already you can't remember what you said, all you can feel is angry, and then that runs out and all you can do is cry. 

You've never felt incredibly attractive. Aaron makes you feel better than that — he has the uncanny ability to inspire self-confidence with a loaded look alone. He can smile at you and your skin feels like it's glowing. 

So why doesn't that translate? If he thinks you're so pretty, why does he insist on hiding you away?

Because that day, he'd seen his friends. He could've introduced you but he took you down the alley and kissed you so you wouldn't be seen. That's not too busy: That's secretive. 

That kiss. You fooled yourself into thinking you must've looked irresistible. Fuck. You went home that night thinking you were the best thing since sliced bread. 

"I'm so stupid," you mutter, sniffling. 

Your self deprecation is muffled by the sound of a slowing car. You don't look up. There are two possibilities for who it is, and you don't want to deal with either. 

The car parks and then you do look up. Despite how mad you are you're not suicidal, and Aaron's given you extensive coaching on sex trafficking. 

It's him. Shocker. 

You're half-expecting him to reprimand you. You didn't look up until I parked. You know it takes five seconds to snatch and incapacitate someone? 

He looks haphazardly put together. Suit jacket on but tie loosened, he rounds the hood of his car and joins you on the sidewalk. You don't want to play games with him. He really doesn't need it, he didn't sign up for it, and drama isn't your style, but you're sick of this. 

"You want to tell me what you're thinking?" he asks, standing an amicable two feet away, hands at his hips.

"I'm really mad." 

"What else?" 

"I'm thinking," you say, looking down at your cold hands, "that you… That you're…" You rub your cheek into your shoulder to hide a fresh tear. "I don't know, Aaron. I'm thinking lots of things." 

"Do you want to think about them in the car?" he asks. 

Do you want to talk about it?

You don't want to talk about it. You don't like crying in front of him on a good day. 

You're pretty sure he'll combust on the spot if he knows you're walking home alone in the dark and distracted. 

You get in the car. He has the good sense not to touch your shoulders like he normally would. 

You buckle as soon as you've closed the passenger side door. "I'm sorry," you mumble, looking down at your knees. 

"Let's forget that, for now." He turns the key but doesn't pull out. "Tell me what's upset you and I'll explain." 

"I met Emily Prentiss." 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye.

"She told me that you don't talk about me. Ever. That they didn't even know what I looked like." 

You know he's listening but he keeps his eyes on the road, and you chance a look at the side of his face. He doesn't seem mad. 

"I don't talk about you often," he says. "But that doesn't mean never… It's true that they didn't know what you look like." 

"Until last week, when they saw us together and you pulled me into an alley so they couldn't see me." 

"Yes." 

Your lower lip trembles. "Do you see why that would upset me?" You're asking genuinely. 

"Yeah, honey." 

Your head jolts up. He's diverting his gaze from the road to you intermittently, offering up a regretful grimace. The oncoming headlights splash over his work worn face. 

"Then why are you doing this? What's so wrong with me that you won't even admit we're together?" 

"Nothing is wrong with you. I'm not ashamed of you," he says firmly, volume rising. 

"Then why?" 

His eyebrows pull together. "You're the best person I've ever met that isn't my son, and I selfishly don't want to share you yet. I also don't want to scare you off." 

You pull your sleeves over your hands and turn in your seat, wiping your damp cheeks as he continues. 

"My job is hard, and it's dangerous. It has jeopardised the safety and wellbeing of people I love before. So no, I'm not eager to introduce you to my world. The more intertwined with my life that you become, the more danger I put you in, and…" The car slows down again. He turns to look at you. "And I like that I'm the only one who knows you like this.

"I have been hiding you. I have. But it was a," — his tone turns wry — "misguided attempt at keeping you all to myself. Safe, and to myself." 

You're finding it difficult to be mad with him. 

He's finding it difficult to maintain his poker face. A fat tear rolls down your cheek and you're not sure what it's made of, fatigue or relief or plain hurt, whatever it is he doesn't like it. He pulls over. 

You hold still as he pinches the tear off of your chin. 

"How long have you felt like this?" 

"Like what?" you ask wetly. 

"Like this." He opens his hand against your cheek. It encompasses your face; you lean in, hungry for reassurance. 

"I don't know." 

"This is why you changed your hair. Your clothes. And started making my lunch." 

You cover his hand with your own. "I actually really like making your lunches." 

You stare at each other until suddenly you're laughing, sniffly, short of breath. Aaron joins in soon after. He always sounds so surprised to be laughing.

"I'm glad," he says when your laughter has abated, pinky and ring finger caressing down the slope of your cheek. "I really like having them. Rossi can't hide how jealous he is." 

"They know about the lunches?" 

His mindless petting pauses. "They know about the lunches. You're not a secret. I'm… selfish with the details. I'm selfish." Aaron takes back his hand. "I'm sorry." 

You take as deep a breath as you can. "Okay." 

"Yeah?" 

"Mm. Can we go home?" 

His eyebrows jump and swiftly smooth again. "Yeah, we can go home." He chucks your chin and gets the car moving again. 

You watch him drive. 

When you get home, he doesn't mind reassuring you some more. Actually, it's like he needs to do it. You'd love to say that it's overkill and that his low murmurings of praise are unnecessary, but you can't. 

"You're lovely," he says seriously across two plates of pasta. Again through the mirror when you're brushing your teeth, and again when you've curled into his chest for the night. You're lovely. Nothing that needs hiding. 

You hear him on the phone early in the morning, half asleep. 

"Hey, Dave. Yeah. Okay. Uh… No, that's fine." He laughs under his breath. "Yeah, if she was awake I'd ask her to make you one. I think she would… Okay. See you in forty." 

You bury your tired face into his pillows and beam. 

—

+1 

Aaron's office is terrifyingly hectic. You can see already that the bullpen is full to bursting with agents, including but not limited to his special team of profilers. There's the distinct smell of coffee, sharp and burning, and then the underlay of printer ink, new paper. 

You can't believe you're here. 

You're not brave enough to introduce yourself to his team, and half aren't at their desks anyways. You hover in the doorway until somebody needs to get past you, taking a reluctant step inside.

You shouldn't wait for Aaron. You should be brave. You're a grown up, and you're bringing your grown up partner his very grown up lunch. You'd wanted desperately to do this. The least that you can do is do it by yourself. 

You've scrapped most of the fall staples but kept the burgundy pants Aaron likes so much at his request. They feel insanely tight on your thighs, as does your collar. In fact, the room has definitely shrunk since you got here. 

Like an idiot, Aaron says your name loud and clear, standing with a hand on the railings at the top of the instep. You hadn't even noticed him emerging from his office.

His voice demands — commands — attention. People turn in their seats, first toward him, and then toward you. 

All eyes on me. 

You don't run but you don't walk either, weaving through desk chairs and people looking a mix of busy and curious.

"You're being cruel," you say as you approach him, a brown paper bag held close to your abdomen. 

"Hi, honey," he says. He wears a knowing smile, all dark and tall and handsome as he starts down the stairs to meet you. 

"Don't punish me." 

"Is that what you'd call this?" he asks, hand quick to clasp your shoulder, glueing you in place so he can kiss your forehead.

And yes, this is what you'd wanted. The doting boyfriend not just at home but at work, too.

That doesn't mean it isn't really, really embarrassing. 

"Is everyone looking at me?" you murmur. 

He slips his arm behind your shoulders to walk you up the stairs. "Yes." His voice drops lower. "At one place specifically, I imagine." 

"What part is that, Agent?" 

He laughs and opens his office door to beckon you inside. "Don't start." 

༺༻

"You want me and Tony to go undercover as a married couple?" You corner Gibbs later that night before he left. "Absolutely not. I will not pretend to have sex with that man."

"Better than actually doing it."

"Gibbs, please I can't."

"What's so bad about Tony? He's serious when he has to be. You'd rather go undercover with me?"

"Yes!" You blurt without thinking.

"Ok." Gibbs shrugs and agrees.

"Wait really?" You really thought you would have to get on your knees and beg not to be put with DiNozzo.

"Mhm. Don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"Thanks boss, I'll be here early tomorrow to get all the stuff together."

"Kay. Oh and Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"You're gonna need a bathing suit."

You gulp. "Alright."

-

-

-

The next morning you showed up to the office in a pair of jean shorts that showed off your curves and a cropped shirt, wearing one of those button up Hawaiian shirts. "So, what do you think?" You twirled around, loving the small smile on your boss's face. He too, fit the vacation profile, wearing a pair of khaki shorts and, of course, a Hawaiian shirt.

"Cute, Y/N." Tony smiled. "Ah, wish I could be the one to see you in a room with that on."

You roll your eyes. "Never, will you see me in anything less than this." 

"I will." Gibbs remarked, saying it only to see Tony's reaction. 

"Only if you cross your fingers." 

"M'kay, off to the resort we go," Gibbs shuffled you away and into the elevator.

-

-

-

The resort was nice, that's for sure. The room was surely big enough, there was only one problem. Only one bed.

"Kay sweetheart, which side ya' want?" Gibbs asked.

"I'll take the window so you can see the door." 

"Kay. Room service is coming up in a few minutes to bring dinner." 

Room service meaning McGee to look for bugs. There was a knock on the door and you rush to answer it. 

"Room service?" McGee called. He swept the room, inconspicuously placing a flower vase with a camera in it, as well as a platter lid over the only visual bug he had found. "Alright, you two should be good. If there's anything else, don't hesitate to let me know."

"Thank you," you smile.

McGee whispered something to Gibbs and he nodded, shooing his junior agent out the door.

"Gonna take a shower," Gibbs says to you. "Wanna join?"

You knew it was all an act but the idea made something in you heat up. "If you insist." You shuffle into the bathroom. You turn away and go to unbutton you blouse but Gibbs starts talking. 

"McGee said this was the only place they couldn't hear." He flipped on the shower water.

Ohhh. Yeah that made sense. "Figured," you lied. "So what's next?"

"Want a show," Gibbs explained. "Need to prove we are who we say we are."

"Married?"

"Mhm." 

"Promise that I'll keep my pants on," you laugh.

"Too bad." Gibbs winked and grabbed you a towel. "Wrap up." 

-

-

-

When you had both undressed and wrapped your respective towels around yourselves, Gibbs reached up and placed his hand on your cheek. "If you're uncomfortable, tell me. Kay? Tap me twice."

You nod. You'd kept your bra and underwear on, but you weren't sure if Gibbs did. 

"Ya' ok? Jus' remember, coulda been Tony."

You didn't answer, you tentatively kissed him instead, moving your hand and opening up the door. There was no doubt inferred sensors that could tell your body temp so you would have to sell this. Gibbs dropped his towel as he pressed into you, you were grateful to see that he had also kept his boxers on. He pushed you to the wall and your towel fell as well. For a second you saw Gibbs scanning your body and you felt insecure, hanging your head. Your boss pressed his mouth to your neck and you had to stop yourself from reacting. He guided you to the bed and pushed you down, harder than he probably needed to. The next ten minutes were ones you would remember forever.

You flipped over on your back, breathing heavily as you stared at the ceiling. It had taken everything you had not to give in to Gibbs, but somehow you hadn't. 

"You ok?" Gibbs asks, running his hand over your cheek.

You nod, still trying to process everything that had just happened. "Kind of hungry. I think we should go out and get some food. Maybe the restaurant across the street."

"Good idea. You wanna hand me my shirt?"

"Yeah, no problem." You get up out of bed and make your way over to his suitcase, picking out what you wouldn't admit, but was your favorite shirt of his. You glanced in the mirror and were suddenly aware of the way Gibbs looked at you. "I'm going to change into one of the bathing suits I brought." After picking out a matching  halter top with triangle that were probably too small, and some white stringy bottoms with cover up shorts, you hurried into the bathroom and slammed the door, immediately dialing Abby. 

"Y/N! What's wrong??"

"Abs I can't do this," you whisper.

"Why what happened? Did Gibbs hurt you?"

"No," you breathe. "No not at all. Quite the opposite actually," you admit. 

Abby's tone changed from concerned to excited the she spoke again. "You didn't-"

"No but I almost did," you whine. "And we weren't even fully naked."

"Oh Y/N/N."

"I know I know." You started pulling your bathing suit on, still speaking quietly so Gibbs couldn't hear you.

"What are you gonna do?" You sigh. "If I knew that I wouldn't have called you. You used to perform! How did you do it?"

Abby thought for a moment. "Not sure, to be honest. I just never really found it attractive. I was doing it for the money, not for the show."

"Y/N!" Gibbs barked from outside. "Not a big bathroom. Ya' get lost in there?"

"Be right there," you yelled back. "Trying to tie my top." It wasnt a lie which is why you panicked when the door opened. You slammed your phone into a drawer and held the little bit of fabric of your chest.

"Can I get it for you?" 

You bite your tongue and nod. You felt a few tugs before the ties were finally done and your bikini top was secured. Gibbs's fingers brushed your back and you felt goosebumps rising. You reached over and pulled out two rings from your cosmetic bag.

"Abby had them made for us. Since we're married and all."

Gibbs smiled. "Long time since I put one of these on." He took his ring from you and slipped it on his finger, adjusting it so it sat where he wanted it to. "You?"

"Never," you respond. "Engagement ring, twice; never a wedding ring." 

"Never told me that." 

"Never told anyone that," you admit.

"Guess we both have trouble with relationships," Gibbs laughed half heartedly, leading you out the front door. "Think this one'll last? Or we gettin' divorced when we catch this bastard?"

You laugh with him. "How you dance tonight might have to decide it, how about that?"

"Who said anythin' 'bout dancin'?"

"I did."

-

-

-

The restaurant was too 'sexy' for Gibbs, you could tell. Wether it was the way he kept messing with his shirt or how he drummed his fingers on the table. He was uncomfortable. Although it could also be because you were at an outdoor bar in 90 degree weather despite the fact that it was almost 7:00.

"You ok?" You ask.

"Fine." Gibbs answers, reaching over to take your hand over the table. "Why're we here again?"

"They're probably watching us right now. We need to do some sort of couple-y thing."

"Think ya' mentioned a dance earlier."

"Good idea." You take a gulp of your wine and Gibbs offers you his hand. The music was upbeat and still Gibbs pulls you close, resting his hand on your bare back. You put one of yours on his shoulder and the other on his hip, biting your lip at the way he felt. "So what are we doing here?" You asked. "I know we're being monitored and such but why?"

"Didn't you read the case file?"

You shook your head. "One minute it was 'hey! We gotta case.' And the next. 'You and Tony goin' undercov'r.' I just didn't really have the time. I'm sorry."

"Rule number 6."

"Yeah well. So are you going to be a hard ass or are you going to tell me what we're doing here?"

The corners of Gibbs' mouth turned up and his eyes sparkled.

"Tomorrow. McGee and DiNozzo are surveying now. They'll let us know in the mornin'." 

You were spun around and pulled into Gibbs's chest before he let you rest your hands back where they were. "Not a bad dancer, Spears." You liked his old code name. Leland Robert Spears. Something about it really seemed to fit him.

"Yea? Not so bad yourself, Alison." You liked your name too. Alison Marie Spears.

"Gettin tired of this though."

"We've been dancing for two songs Leland!" You laugh. "How are you tired already."

"I'm old." Gibbs put his hand a little lower on your back and you stiffened. "Maybe we should head back to the room."

The thought did things to your mind (and more importantly, your body). "What about a swim? We're wearing bathing suits for a reason."

Gibbs shrugged. "Guess so."

You took his hand and stepped into the warm water. "You ever tried to bang someone in a pool?" You ask, floating over to the little waterfall.

"Excuse me?" Gibbs pulled off his shirt and came in next to you.

"You heard what I said," you laughed, realizing you were probably a little tipsy from the wine. 

"No, no I have not. You good Ali?" Something in your behavior must have changed.

"Yeah fine," you smile.

Gibbs tilted his head. "You saw em' too?"

"Yea, we got in the pool and they were suddenly very interested."

The them that you were referring to were the two men dressed in Costco Hawaiian shirts and dress paints sitting at a table. They were clearly wired and clearly waiting for a show. 

"So I'll ask you this," You sway and stand in front of Gibbs, slipping your thumb in his waist band, and the other hand on his chest. "Would you like to bang someone in a pool?"

You both saw one of the men move closer, hiding (not well) what appeared to be a listening device under his book. It was time to ramp it up.

"Baby we're in a pool! Too many people here." Really there were only about 15 out on the deck, everyone else was preoccupied at the bar or back in their rooms.

"Never too many people." You start tugging at his shorts, with no intention of taking them off, but just wanting to see where he'd go. You got your answer when his hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you in, pressing his lips to yours. He tasted like bourbon and pineapple and somehow still smelled like sawdust. He was kissing you urgently, like the world would end if he didn't, like it would be the only time in the world that he would be allowed this close to you. 

But you knew it was just acting.

But you kissed back anyways. You fought for dominance even though you knew you wanted Gibbs to have it. His hand squeezed your butt and you groaned into his mouth, tangling your hand in his hair. 

"Alison," he whispered, his lips leaving yours, instead traveling down your neck and over your collar bone. His eyes were closed but you couldn't help the feeling that he wanted to look at you. You bit your lip to keep from making a noise you shouldn't be making as he places a kiss on your shoulder. "Alison," he groans again as your hands grip him tighter, begging for more without saying a single word.

You feel a tingling in your belly and you let out a gasp. "L-Leland." It took everything in you not to say his real name. "Leland st- st." you tried to tell him to stop but you couldn't, you tried to push away but all strength had left your body. Instead you put all your weight into him, breathing heavily. You messed with his shorts again, wanting nothing more than to rip them off, but you knew you couldn't.

"Our room," Gibbs groaned, moving his hips on you and suddenly you couldn't do it anymore. There were no feelings behind it all. 

"Please stop," you put your hand on his chest and pushed him away.

"Hey hey, what's wrong??"

"I don't- don't feel well." You put your hand to your head, trying to breathe. "I'm going back to the room." 

You pull yourself out of the pool without looking back, taking your towel and running, ignoring Gibbs's calls

-

-

-

Once back in the room, you turned on the shower, desperately needing to wash chlorine and Gibbs off of you. Tears streamed down your face as you scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. You were one of the best agents at NCIS and went undercover all the time but this was too much. You slumped down on the wall and cried. By the time you had got your senses back the water had run cold and the moon was out. You shut off the water, not even shivering. Your sweatpants clung to your damp skin as you wrapped a bathrobe around yourself. Peeking out you saw, much to your dismay, that Gibbs was already in the room and in bed. 

"Hey. You feelin' better?" Of course he had seen you. 

You nod. "Much. I guess dinner just didn't agree with me."

"Ya' sure that's it?" Gibbs patted the bed beside him and you reluctantly climbed under the covers. "What's goin' on?"

You shrug, trying to hold back tears. "Tired," is all you can manage to say. "Don't forget to cal McGee in the morning." 

"Kay. Love you." Gibbs presses a small kiss to your forehead before switching off the light. He lays down facing you but you put your back to him, biting on the blanket so he can't hear the sobs that escape your lips.

You just wanted to be loved.

Little did you know Gibbs loved you more than anyone in the world ever would.

TAGS: @aleck-cross @ah-blossom @ilovemark1951 @marennnx @originalsoulcollector @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

“Nice to meet you all.”

“It is very nice to meet you.” Derek comes up and takes your hand in his own before pressing a kiss on the back of it. You scoff at his forewardness.

“Morgan, not my sister.” Spencer warns, and you laugh.

“Sorry Morgan, not my type.” He laughs and so does the rest of the group.

You sit and get to know them, and of course share embarrassing stories of Spencer from when he was young. You do take a special interest in Hotch, as the team called him. He’s a bit closed off, but once you get him talking, he doesn’t seem to want to stop. The team seems surprised by this, and you guess he isn’t the talking kind.

Eventually your pager goes off and you bid the team and your brother farewell. You send one last lingering look at Hotch, before leaving and heading down the hall.

You don’t see Hotch again for a few days. You regularly check on your brother, you demanded he stay a few days so you can keep an eye on him. He doesn’t mind, lots of free jello. The team had been taking turns staying with him, and finally it seemed to be his turn.

You walk in the room and find Spence talking his ear off about astrophysics.

“It’s fascinating really, all of the things we don’t know, and the fact that we keep discovering more and more. Like the-“ he cuts himself off when he sees you walk in. Rolling his eyes he scoffs playfully. “I don’t need you to check in every hour Y/n/n.”

“I’m just making sure you are following doctor’s orders.” You eye him and turn to Hotch. “Is he?”

“For the most part. Aside from the resting part.” You chuckle and so does Hotch. Spence just stares at you unamused.

“Well I’m going to grab you some food, some actual food, not just jello.” You say as he holds up a cup. “Care to join me Hotch?”

“Sure Dr. Reid.” He says with no hesitation. The formal title makes you sag a little but a small smile makes its way to your face. You both leave the room with promises of being back soon.

“Aaron.” Hotch says as you walk down the hall.

“Huh?”

“Call me Aaron.” You can’t hold back your grin.

“Then please, I insist, call me Y/n.” He nods as you make your way to the cafeteria. Again once he begins talking he doesn’t seem to want to stop. You could talk to this man for hours. He tells you about how good of an agent your brother is, and eventually moves on to more personal subjects like his son Jack.

“He sounds like an angel.” You say softly looking at a picture of Jack on Aaron’s phone.

“He really is. Losing his mom was difficult for him, but he’s adjusting.” His eyes are sad when he says it, but there is also a sense of calm around him.

“God Aaron, I’m so sorry.” You say.

“It’s alright, it was a while ago.”

“Doesn’t make it any better.” He nods sadly and you share a smile before moving on to a more lighthearted topic. Eventually you check your watch and realize nearly an hour had gone by.

“It was really nice to talk to you Aaron.” You say as you walk back to Spence’s room. “We should uh, do it again sometime.” He stiffens beside you and you instantly regret your words.

“That probably wouldn’t be appropriate Dr. Reid.” Your heart falls with the sting of rejection.

“Oh.” You clear your throat. ”Of course Agent Hotchner.” You walk a little quicker, wanting to get back to work as soon as possible.

“Wow, right back?” Spencer chides as you walk back in.

“Yeah um, sorry.” You murmur. “I have to get back to work. We’re going to discharge you tomorrow, so you can get back to work. The nurse will talk it over with you.” You say in a rush before setting his food down and turning to leave.

“Hey hey hey. What happened?” He asks, and you shake your head before Aaron walked back in.

“I need to get back to work.” You press a kiss on his forehead before walking towards the door. Spence stares quizzically at the door before turning to look at the solemn and regretful look in Hotch’s face. He quickly puts two and two together.

“She’s single. She is fantastic with kids. She understands busy schedules, her own is a mess. And from what I can tell from her dating patterns, you seem to be her type. So what happened?” Hotch cursed himself for forgetting how observant the young profiler was.

“It’s inappropriate, she’s your sister. She’s, she’s young.”

“You’re struggling to find excuses. You’re obviously attracted to her. Don’t overthink it Hotch. Just go ask the woman to dinner.” Hotch, admittedly, was taken aback by Reid’s abruptness but knew he was right. He turns to leave the room, and looks around, spotting you at the nurse’s station.

A week later you go on your first date and you remind yourself to send a special thank you to your brother.

——————————————-

“Code Blue!” A voice sounds across the hall and your head snaps up as the alarm goes off. A cart is grabbed and you're already sprinting down to the room.

“She’s coding!” Dr. Greene, a fellow surgeon and close friend, stands above the body of a little girl, performing chest compressions.

“Charge to two hundred!” You say as you step forward, grabbing the paddles and watching her monitor. You hear her parents cry out behind you. “Get them out of here, now.”

“Charged.”

“Clear!”

“We’ve got a pulse.”

“Prepare an OR!” People rush around as you grab the railing of the bed and move quickly to the elevator. Once you reach the floor, you instruct the nurses to take her in as you and Greene begin scrubbing in.

You don’t say a word but you look at each other and nod before walking in. Two nurses suit you up with gloves, gowns, and masks, and you get to work.

Instruments fly between hands as you begin, doing everything you knew how to.

It was a simple surgery, one you’ve done a thousand times before. But this time on a little girl, Lucy, who was far too sick for her young age. She had been deteriorating week after week, and had finally seemed to be getting better after treatments. Her parents, Mindy and Carl, had grown close to you over the weeks of treatment for their daughter.

“Dr. Reid, there’s a man here to see you. Agent Hotchner.” You smile softly, but continue working.

“Tell him I’m in emergency surgery and will be out as soon as possible.” She nods and stalks out.

Aaron had heard all about Lucy in the weeks since you had started dating. That in itself was its own story. You two understood each other's busy schedule and even had to reschedule your first date three times before it even happened. But you understood each other like no one else seemed to. Tonight he had promised to take you out for a fancy dinner, it would be your fifteenth date and you were just excited to spend time with him.

You prayed the surgery didn’t run too late, but didn’t focus on anything but the precious little girl in front of you. Seconds go by, then minutes, then what feels like hours.

“Heart rates dropping.” Your nurse breaks the silence that fills the room.

“Why, that doesn’t make any sense.” You say, your head shooting to the monitor. You continue working until the beeping intensifies.

“Pressures low and continuing to drop.”

“There’s too much blood.” You say as panic rises. “Sponge. Keep them coming.”

“Where is it coming from?” Greene’s and your own moves become more frantic as her heart rate continues to drop.

“She’s in vfib!”

“Internal Defibrillators!”

“She’s coding!”

“Charge!”

“Clear.” Nothing.

“Charge again!”

“Clear!” Nothing.

“Charge Again!” You shout desperately.

“Clear!” Still nothing. Greene backs down and steps back, his shoulders sagging. The nurses take a step back too and you look around.

“What are you doing? Charge again!” You shout.

“Reid.” You shake your head.

“No. Charge again.” You hear the paddles charging. “Clear.” Another shock, and still nothing. Your heart falls and you struggle to take in a breath. You stare at the monitor, praying for something, anything.

“Time of death, 19:07.” You back up and rip your gloves off, your mask soon following. The gown is next as you storm out. You pace the hallway, trying to calm your breathing.

“Reid. I’ll tell the parents.” Greene, Paul, says as he walks out of the OR.

“No.” You murmur. “They need to hear it from me.” He nods before patting your shoulder. You take a deep breath before stalking towards the waiting room. Her parents are sitting but stand when they see you.

“Mindy, Carl.”

“How’s Lucy? Can we see her?” You take a deep breath.

“Lucy was taken into emergency surgery after her heart stopped. There we found internal bleeding, unfortunately…” you have to stop, you’re about to ruin their lives. “Unfortunately her heart stopped again, and we were unable to revive her. She died on the table.” You watch emotions spread over their faces, until they grasp what you said.

“But, but you said she was get, she was getting better.” Mindy says as she falls into her seat, her head in her hands.

“You lied! This is your fault!” Carl yells at you and you back away. You know they need someone to blame.

“Carl, stop.” Mindy grabs his arm and he sits beside her, holding her as they cry. You walk away, and notice Aaron standing in the doorway. You turn and walk swiftly to your office knowing he will follow. You barely make it in the door before turning and crashing into his body as you begin crying.

Loud, ugly sobs fill the room as you cry out for the little girl you grew to love. You can’t seem to catch your breath. Arron soothes you, and rubs his hands through your hair. He moves you to the couch before bringing you even tighter into his arms.

“She was only eight.” You sob. He pulls you back and cups your face.

“What do you need sweetheart?”

“I don’t know. I need, I need you to just hold me. Please.” You stutter.

“Okay, I’ve got you. Let it out.” You sit there for what feels like hours before you finally quiet your sobs and catch your breath.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter out pathetically.

“No honey. Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.” He rubs his hand up and down your back.

“Its my fault.” You whisper.

“No, it’s not. You did nothing wrong. She was sick, you did everything you could. You did everything you could.” He repeats soothing words as he holds you. He knows what you're feeling and knows that nothing will help. He knows the pain you’re feeling and knows better than anyone that you just need to be sad right now. He doesn’t care that you’re missing your reservation. He just holds you.

He just holds you.

——————————————-

Jack whines as he tugs on his dad’s sleeve.

“Daddy it hurts.”

“I know bud. We just have to wait for the doctor.” No sooner do the words leave his mouth that you are strutting into the room panting.

“I heard Jack was in the hospital! Where’s his chart? Who’s his doctor? What happened? Is he okay?” Hotch barely stops you before you trip over your own feet after reaching to grab his chart.

“Hey, it’s alright sweetheart. He fell off his bike. We are waiting for a doctor.

“It hurts daddy.” Jack whines again.

“Okay hang on. Let’s take a look.” You calm down a bit after seeing Jack all in one piece. “Hey bud.” You say as you stand beside him.

“Miss Y/n?”

“Yeah buddy.” You sit in the edge of his bed. “Can you tell me what hurts?”

“My leg. It really hurts.” You take a glance at his leg, and instantly know there is nothing you personally can do for him besides give him some minor pain meds.

“Alright sweet boy, I’m going to call a special doctor down here, she is going to take a look at your leg and we will get you all bandaged up okay?”

“Will it stop hurting?” He asks, tears filling his eyes. Your heart shatters. And your eyes meet Aaron’s. He sits on the edge of the bed and grabs his son’s hand. Even though he had been trying to calm you down, you could see the stress and worry brimming through his expressions. You know you will need to talk later but for now you focus on the boy in front of you.

“Yes buddy.” Aaron murmurs as he runs his hand over Jack’s forehead soothingly. You quickly get to work on his pain meds and page both ortho and pediatrics just to be safe.

Ortho gets there first, and the doctor, Sarah Gellar, takes one look at you before knowing exactly who the patient is.

“Hi Jack, I’m Dr. Gellar, I hear you hurt your leg?” He nods sadly and she begins her exam. “Alright Bud, I’m going to try and move your leg a bit, can you tell me when it hurts?” He nods and you grab Aaron’s hand. You don’t see it, but he smiles softly at you as he realizes you’ve gone instinctively parent mode instead of doctor mode. His attention quickly moves back to his son as he cries out in pain.

“Alright bud, alright. I’m sorry.” She stands and calls in a nurse. “I think it’s broken, we’re going to take him for x-ray, and then go from there.” You and Aaron nod and rejoin Jack before walking with him and the nurse to x-ray.

An hour and half later you are sitting in a private room, a chipper Jack is picking out his color for his cast. The pain meds had finally kicked in and he could barely feel the pain in his leg anymore.

“Blue! Or Green! Or orange! I don’t know.” Jack looks to you and Aaron for help and you chuckle.

“I thought you hated orange?” Aaron says.

“I do.” He nods firmly.

“Okay, and blue is your favorite color right?” You say and he nods.

“Blue it is.” Jack says. “Man that was tough.” The nurse laughs, and you lightly tickle Jack’s side. He giggles and begins talking about how excited he is to show everyone his cast. Exhaustion hits him soon after the cast is put on, and you sit with him even after his eyes slip close. Aaron on the other side of the bed.

“When does your shift end?” He asks. Jack should be discharged soon, and Aaron wanted to know if you would go home with them.

“It ended hours ago.” You say absentmindedly, staring down lovingly at Jack.

“What?” You look up at him and furrow your brows.

“You, you stayed here after your shift to, to make sure Jack was okay?” He asks.

“Of course I did. He’s your son Aaron, I love him.” Aaron’s eyes well up. He never imagined he would meet someone that would accept him and love his son so much. He is beyond happy as he reaches over and presses a kiss to your lips. “What was that for?”

“I love you.” You stare at him in shock.

“What?”

“I love you.” Your shock wears off after a minute and you smile and lean over and give him another small peck.

“I love you too.”

——————————————-

“Where is he?” You yell frantically as you run past hospital staff. You know you must look like a crazy woman sprinting down the halls, but you couldn’t care less. You needed to find your husband.

“Dr. Hotchner stop!” The nurse behind you yells but you don’t stop, if anything you push harder to get to the operating rooms. You slid to a stop in front of O.R. 3.

“Aaron.” You whisper out as you pummel through the door, grab a mask and walk through the second door. The surgeon looks up at you and once he realizes who you are his eyes fall with sympathy. Your heart drops at the sight of Aaron. He’s covered in blood, a tube in his mouth. You’re a surgeon, you’ve seen patients like this before.

But this is different.

This is Aaron.

“Y/n you need to get out.” You glare up at one of your closest friends before speaking defiantly.

“No, that’s my husband.” You argue sternly. He sighs, frustrated. “I’m scrubbing in.”

“No, I can’t save your husband if you are in the room, you know that.” He calmly tried to talk you down.

“I can’t lose him. I can’t. Paul, please.” You feel tears slip down your face. Hands grab your arms and begin to tug you back gently.

“Trust me, I’ll do the best I can. I promise.” Your eyes water as you struggle slightly against the hands pulling you back. “I need you to trust m-“

“He, he’s allergic to Amoxicillin. He has at least nine stab wounds across his abdomen. The scar tiss-“ A sob cuts you off. “The scar tissue is still healing. Oh god, please save him.” You let the tears fall.

“I promise I will do everything in my power to bring him back to you Y/n.” You nod in defeat and let the nurse tug you out.

Paul, Dr. Greene, has to wait a few moments to begin working again. The weight settles on his shoulders that his best friend's husband is lying before him and he starts again, fighting for Aaron’s life.

You make your way to the waiting room where you find your husband’s team already waiting. Spencer takes one look at you and is striding to take you in his arms.

“It’s okay. Everything’s alright.” He coos as he brings you to sit with the team. Derek is covered in blood from his attempts at putting pressure on the wound. Penelope sits beside him, a comforting hand on his arm. Emily is pacing, JJ sitting with Rossi.

“What happened?” You choke out.

“An unsub was deteriorating. He knew he was going to die and took as many shots as he could.” Reid explains. “Hotch took a shot to the shoulder and to the abdomen right below his vest. The unsub was shot once in the chest, Hotch’s shot. None of us were close enough to take a shot. He came in the ambulance behind us.” You nod as you take in the words.

As you’re processing, your pager goes off.

“Shit.” You sniffle and pull it out of your pocket to read it. “GSW to the chest. They need a surgeon.” You stand quickly, knowing exactly who this patient had to be. “I gotta go.”

“Bella, is that really a good idea? This man shot your husband.” Rossi asks with uncertainty.

“Which is exactly why I’m going to do everything I can to keep that son of a bitch alive so he can rot in jail.” You walk away determined, you can’t sit around and wait anyways.

You reach OR 1 in record time, scrubbing in with purpose. Your resident stands behind you, scrubbing in as well.

“Are you sure you can do this?” He asks, already having heard about Aaron.

“The other trauma surgeon is Dr. Greene. He’s busy, so that leaves me. I can’t let him die, I won’t give him the satisfaction.”

Four hours later, you are walking back out of the OR, and handing your unconscious patient over to the local police. You strip off your gloves and gown and trudge to the waiting room. You didn’t bother taking a peak in the OR down the hall, already knowing you couldn’t handle the sight of Aaron bloody and bruised again until you knew he was safe.

The team looks up at you when you walk through.

“Son of a bitch is alive, handed him over to police. Any news on Aaron?” You ask impatiently. Spencer shakes his head no and you sag. You find your seat next to him and hold out hope.

You hadn't even thought about calling Jess and Jack yet, but you don’t want to worry them just yet.

What feels like lifetimes but is only forty minutes later, Paul is walking through the doors. You're on your feet before a word leaves his mouth.

“How is he?” You ask, he sighs.

“He coded on the table, twice. But he’s stable now. Both shots were through and through, with minimal damage to his scar tissue. He’ll be sore, and he’s going to hate it, but bed rest for at least a week, and desk work for at least three weeks after that.” You sigh in relief as a weight lifts off your body. You feel as though you’re going to pass out, but Spence is there to catch you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Can I see him? I need to see him.” Paul nods and you rush past him as he shouts the door number. You hear the team behind you as you walk swiftly down the hall.

You push the door to his room open and nearly collapse on the chair next to Aaron’s bed. He’s unconscious, but just the sight of his chest moving up and down and the sound of the heart monitor is enough to soothe you.

He doesn’t wake for hours. Not until after the team is gone for the night.

“Y/n?” The sound of his voice startles you awake and your head shots up from the spot on the edge of his bed.

“Aaron. You’re awake.” You murmur, wiping the sleep from your eyes. “How do you feel?” You ask.

“Sore, but not terrible considering I got shot.”

“That would be the pain meds.” It’s silent for a few moments before you speak again. “Your heart stopped beating twice on the table.” Your whisper, and it hurts just saying the words. He eyes you with sympathy as you begin rubbing your fingers through his dark strands.

“I’m sorry sweetheart.”

“Greene wouldn’t let me scrub in. Probably for the best.“ He nods and you continue sifting your fingers through his hair as his eyes drift shut. “Don’t ever do that to me again okay?” He smiles and scoots to the side of his bed to make room for you.

“I’ll try.” You smile back and climb up next to him, watchful of his injuries. He wraps his good arm around you and you bury your face in his neck.

“I love you.” You whisper. His lips find themselves at your hairline before he whispers the words back.

“I love you too.”

———————————————-

“I need a doctor!” Aaron’s voice rings out in the OR, eyes flying to look at the two of you. You’re breathing heavily as pain flys through your back. Aaron is sweating from running around and you feel like you’re going to collapse.

“I am a doctor.” You grit out.

“Dr. Hotchner! Are you in-?”

“Labor! Yes! Get me a room!” You yell, your voice straining. Your legs are on fire and Aaron is trying to coach you through the pain as you walk back to a private room.

“I’ll get the doctor down here as soon as possible.” The nurse says as she helps you get comfortable.

“Drugs, I need something. Agh!” A contraction hits and you feel like you are being ripped apart.

“Hi Dr, Hotchner, is this dad?”

“Yes.” Aaron answers as you nod.

“Alright, let’s take a look.” You nod, taking a deep breath. “You’re only a few centimeters dilated. It’s going to be a little bit, we can get you some of the good stuff, but you’re going to get very uncomfortable Y/n.”

“Hee thanks Laura.” She chuckles and pats the bed.

“You know the drill. I suggest some ice chips. That helped me, and something to squeeze.” You grab Aaron’s hand as another contraction hits and she excuses herself to her other patients. He winced at the squeeze and you apologized.

“Squeeze all you want.” He says and you smile at him, though it appears as more of a grimace. He runs his hand through your hair, and you relax a bit.

Thirty minutes later, Spencer is marching through the hall, finding your room.

“There you are!” He comes in. “Your husband is horrible at giving instructions. I mean he told me about a completely different part of the hospital.” Aaron rolls his eyes as you giggle.

“Good to see you, Spence.”

“You too sis. What did the doctor say?”

“It’s going to be a while. Agh.” You shoot upright when another contraction hits. Aaron’s hand finds its way to your back, he rubs gently as he coaxes you through it. Spencer watches, while unnerved that his sister is in pain, it makes him happy that she found someone like Hotch to take care of her like this.

“Would you mind watching Jack for us?” It was no secret Jack loved his Uncle Spencer, and Spencer him. And Jess needed to get to a late shift at work, so with no one to watch him soon, the awaiting parents didn’t need one more thing to worry about.

“Of course I will. Is he at the house?”

“Yes, thank you Spence. We really appreciate it.” He leaves soon, and you're back to hours of pain without relief.

“I want this baby out of me!” You grunt in frustration. Aaron wipes the sweat from your forehead.

“I know sweetheart. You’re doing so good.”

“M’tired.” Dr. Stevens walks back into the room and she takes one look at you before signing in sympathy.

“Alright Y/n, let’s take another look.” She gets down at the end of the table. “Looks like you’re about ten centimeters, it’s time to push mama.” You look at Aaron in panic.

“I’m not ready to be a mom! What if I’m terrible.”

“You won’t be.” Aaron soothes as the doctors begin preparing for the birth of your daughter.

“How do you know?”

“Because you are already an amazing mother to my son, and soon to our precious baby girl.” You smile, and kiss him quickly before you feel another contraction hit, the most painful yet. You yell out in pain.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, seconds, minutes, hours. You don’t care, you just want the pain to be over with.

“I hate you Hotchner!” You yell out. “You’re never touching me again!” Laura laughs and so does Aaron.

“I love you too sweetheart.”

“She’s crowing! Come on Y/n one more push.” You push as hard as you can.

“I can’t, I can’t.”

“You can Y/n, come on one more.” You grunt as you push before a searing pain, and a cry breaks through the room.

You sag on the bed and sigh in relief. Your head turns around the room in search of the baby, but she is quickly swaddled and placed in your arms.

“She’s beautiful.” Aaron murmurs into your hair as he wraps an arm around you.

“Yeah. She’s perfect.” You press your lips to her forehead. “Jack’s gonna be so excited.” You whisper.

“Of course he is. He’s been asking for a sibling since we got married.” You giggle.

“She needs a name.”

“Are we still good with the one we chose?” He asks. You think about it for a second.

“Maybe a change in the middle name?” He looks down at you quizzically.

* * *

Hours later, your family surrounds you, the team included. They coo over the baby, passing her around. Jack can barely sit still when he gets to hold her for a second time.

“She’s so cute!” He exclaims, you all laugh.

“What’s her name?” JJ finally asks, and you smile, your eyes drooping from exhaustion. Aaron sits beside you and you nod at him.

“Her name is Sophie Diana Hotchner.” Spencer looks between you and Aaron and smiles.

“She would have loved it.” You nod and feel yourself slowly falling asleep. You rest peacefully knowing your baby girl is surrounded by the people who love her.

————————————-

The end :)

Hope you guys liked this one. I loved writing it.

Just about the same time his did.

You didn't even recognize him at first. His disheveled hair and sleepy eyes. But you couldn't mistake that face for anyone else.

"Hotch!" You squealed.

"Y/l/n! What are you doing in my bed?" He shouted right back.You stared at him wide eyed and he had a similar look on his face.

"Your bed? What are you doing in my bed?" Your voice got higher as each word left your mouth. What the hell happened?

You looked sound and realized you were in fact, in his bed, in his room, in his house!

You both scooted away from each other and you felt the sheet slip from your chest. It took a moment to notice that you were indeed naked. "Oh my god!" Hotch shouts before slamming his eyes shut and looking away.

"Oh my god." You repeat as you bring the sheet to your chest. "I'm naked! Are you naked? Why the hell are we naked?" You stuttered out while trying to stay calm.

"Yeah, I uh, im naked too." He replies shyly as he shifts so that he can hide himself. "Why the hell are we naked?" He repeats your earlier question turning to look at you, and you try to think back to the previous night.

"I...I don't know. I just know I was really drunk." He nods, because he was too. You both just sat there staring at each other before you asked the dreaded question.

"We didnt… we didn't have sex did we?" You asked. He was silent for a few minutes trying desperately to think back to last night.

"I-I don't know." He says exasperated. You nodded and take a deep breath before wrapping the sheet around yourself, grabbing your clothes and scrambling to the bathroom. You got dressed as quick as humanly possible and quickly came back out of the bathroom.

"I'm gonna go. And we, can just pretend this didn't happen." You suggest and grab your phone before bolting out the door.

"Y/n wait-" but you were already grabbing your keys from the table by the front and leaving.

Your mind was running a million miles a minute and this mornings popular question kept running through your head.

What the hell happened?

* * *

September 30, 2010

It had been, an awkward couple of weeks to say the least. You still had no idea whether you and Hotch actually slept together and you both mutually decided not to mention it and to avoid each other at all costs.

And it was working just fine.

Awkward, but fine.

That is, until you got sick.

Puking often, sore boobs, you were bloated and you just felt exhausted.

"Y/n, are you sure you're okay? This is the third time this week that you've run to the bathroom to throw up." Garcia paused as she paced outside of your stall. "Maybe you should go to a doctor." You leaned back from the toilet seat before moving right back up to puke again.

This was getting old.

"Maybe you're right, Pen." You got up and gathered your things. Garcia assured you that she would clear it with Hotch while you called your doctor and left for a quick pop in.

The appointment took a while, per usual and the doctor insisted on drawing blood. She came back quickly to ask you some questions.

"Okay Y/n, how long have you felt like this?" She asked, a clipboard in hand ready to record your answer.

"Um, about two weeks I think?" You say, unsure of when the puking started.

"Okay, and when did you last have your period?" Your blood ran cold at the question. And it all came rushing back. Being drunk, the did we did we not sex thing, Hotch. You were three weeks late.

"Oh god. I'm, I'm three weeks late." You stuttered out and the doctor's eyes grow wide.

"Is there any way you could be pregnant?" She asks hesitantly and you close your eyes, begging the tears to stay at bay as you nodded your head slightly. A nurse walked in the room and handed the doctor some paperwork.

"Well, the test results just came back in, and you are in fact pregnant Y/n. We will need to get you started on some prenatal vit…." Her voice drowned out as everything went fuzzy.

Pregnant?

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.

You were pregnant.

And Hotch, your stern, strict, bossy untit chief.

He was the father.

***

October 2, 2010

Four days. It had been four days. Four days since your world came crashing down.

Since you found out you were pregnant.

You wanted to be excited. You had always wanted to be a mom.

Not like this though. Definitely not like this.

Because you had to tell your boss that you were pregnant with your baby. And that you were not giving it up.

You couldn't.

Penny knew. You told her as soon as you got back. She was the only one. She just didn't know who the father was.

But she was begging you to just tell the father. Ot was obviously eating you alive.

Morgan and Prentiss even began noticing your lack of engagement. And even though it had only been 4 days, they still noticed.

Stupid profilers.

You decided to just rip off the bandaid. You waited until everyone left the office, knowing he would stay after. You slowly made your way up to his office after Reid finally left.

You gently knocked on his door, hearing a soft come in. You walked in and took a seat across from his desk and waited for him to acknowledge you.

"What can I do for you y/l/n?" He asks after looking up from his paperwork.

"Um, I need to talk to you. It's important, Hotch." He sets down his pen and folds his hands together in front of him. His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

"Okay, what's up?" He asks, brows still furrowed.

"T-there really isn't a good way to say this." Your voice shakes as tears spring to your eyes. Hotch's expression grows worried.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" He asks quickly.

"Yeah. I think so. Um but, I just need you to not freak out okay?" He nods and you take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "I'm pregnant." You say. Hotch nods along in understanding but looks confused, wondering why he would freak out. Until it hits him. That night. That drunk night. "Y-you're the father." You day softly, in case he didn't realize.

His face is frozen, showing no emotion at all. He takes a deep breath before evening his mouth. Just to shut it again. It takes him a few minutes to speak.

"Pregnant? As in-" you cut him off.

"Pregnant Aaron. I'm pregnant." Your voice is soft and he just nods. You both sit in silence before Hotch stands up and begins pacing back and forth muttering to himself.

"Hotch?" You say hesitantly.

"Hmm?" He asks, stopping for a moment.

"Can you say something? Plese?" You begged. He only said one thing.

"What the hell happened?"

* * *

October 9, 2010

A week later you were sitting in the waiting room of your new obgyn's office. Hotch sat beside you, rubbing his thumb over his fist. Your knee bounced up and down nervously as you sat and waited for the lady to call you back.

"Y/n Y/l/n?" She finally calls and you and Hotch follow her back to a room where you wait in awkward silence once again.

The doctor finally comes in 20 minutes later with a smile and warm welcome.

"Alright, so miss Y/l/n are you and your husband ready to see the baby?" She asks after going over the technical stuff.

"Oh, um no he's not we're not-" he speaks at the same time, stuttering just as much.

"I'm not her, you see its complicated." She just laughs and nods in understanding.

"Oh don't worry, I get it. We get couples like you guys all the time." You ignore her comment and watch as she gets the stuff for the ultrasound. She rubs the ointment on your stomach and it's freezing to say the least. You wince at the cold and subconsciously grab Hotch's hand, squeezing it as you wait for her to show you the picture.

A faint beating is heard and she looks at you both with a smile.

"That's the heartbeat." She tells you and you feel Hotch squeeze your hand as a smile breaks out on your face. "Would you like to see your baby?" She asks and you mod vigorously.

She points to a little bean on the screen and you gasp lightly, as tears spring to your eyes.

You looked at Hotch and he stared at the screen, a soft smile adorning his face. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. You hoped your baby was just as beautiful as him.

You quickly shook your head of these thoughts as you turned and desperately tried to focus on the doctor's words.

There was no way you were attracted to your boss.

There was absolutely no way you could ever be attracted to your boss.

Right?

* * *

November 26, 2010

Thanksgiving, your favorite time of year. You all gathered at Rossi's, a feats prepared before you. Fall decorations surrounded the room alongside the sound of laughter.

If only you could enjoy it.

If only you weren't worried for them all finding out.

You and Hotch had discussed not telling the team shortly after your first ultrasound. They didn't need to know until they really needed to know.

Which may have been sooner than you though considering the growing bump and the constant urge to throw up.

Rossi broke you away from your thoughts as he called you all to the dinner table. You all sat down, smiling and laughing along to Morgan's awful jokes and Garcia's teasing. While you all waited for Rossi to bring in the turkey, the topic moved to relationships and somehow the focus landed on you.

"So Y/n, what about you baby girl? Got anyone special?" He jokes raising his eyebrows up and down. You giggled awkwardly avoiding Hotch's obvious gaze.

"Um no, I-I dont. What about-" your voice cut off as you got a whiff of Rossi's turkey as he walked into the room. You suddenly stood up not being able to hold anything down anymore. "Oh god-" you ran from the room straight to the bathroom, Hotch following soon behind to hold your hair back.

He rubbedd your back softly as he whispered soothing words as you puke your guts out.

As soon as you finished you quickly washed up and Hotch walked back out with you.

"Y/n, you okay?" Prentiss asks, sending you a worried glance.

"Mhmm, fine." You turn slightly as you sit down and JJ gasps. Your eyes shoot to her and you know she knows.

"No way." She says softly. "No way!" She says a bit louder. You look at Hotch worridly and you know that now JJ knows everything. "No way." She says one more time after seeing the look you sent Hotch.

Everyone looks confused before you sigh and take a deep breath.

"There is no way that you are pregnant!" JJ says and you look shyly at your plate.

"Well…" you trailed off and the whole table erupts. Questions begin flying about when and how long and who the father was. You glanced at Hotch again and they all shut up, adorning the same look JJ had on her face.

"Before you all freak out, just know we were very drunk, and we barely remember what happened. But uh, I am pregnant and Hotch is the father." You look down shamefully and you can see Hotch does too. Though why, you're not sure.

The team just stares at you wide eyed.

One stupid question going through their mind.

The only question anyone can seem to ask.

What the hell happened?

* * *

December 17, 2010

Another month goes by and you and Hotch are close. You have become friends, good friends. You joke and you tease and you mess with each other. But he's also caring and sweet and sincere.

He takes care of you and he comforts you.

And he fucking confuses you.

Noone ever told you that when you're pregnant you're emotional. That your feelings are all mixed up. That you want to cry all the fucking time.

But apparently, that's a normal thing, according to your doctor.

But is it a normal thing to start growing feelings for the man that is both your baby daddy and your boss? You're not really sure.

Which is why you decide to just ignore Hotch and push him away.

In your emotional state of mind, it was your only choice. Admittedly it was hard considering he had insisted you stay with him until the baby was born.

So here you sat, curled up in the guest bed, crying because you can't get a hold of yourself.

You check the time and it's about 2am when you hear a knock on the door. It slowly opens and Hotch walks in, worried look on his face.

"Hey, hey, hey. Honey, what's wrong?" The word slipped from him before he could stop it, but you barely noticed through your crying.

"I-I don't- hotch what are we gonna do?" You ask desperately for an answer. Suddenly all of your insecurities hit you like a brick and you start rambling. "I mean, we aren't together, I'm pregnant, we're having a baby. We work so much! When will we have time to watch our kid? And we don't live together so our kid will have to grow up switching back and forth from houses. And hotch I had to do that, I can't do that to my kid." Your breathing grows rapid and Hotch tries to calm you down.

"Y/n, I need you to breathe. Breathe honey. Just breathe with me." You match your breathing to his and slowly begin to calm down. It isn't until your completely calm do you realize that he has his arm around you, you pressed into his side. One hand clutches his shirt while he shushes your cries.

"I know it's scary. But we'll figure it out. It will be okay. We will figure it all out." He says soothingly, running his hand through your hair as your sobs subside.

This was going to be such a long pregnancy.

* * *

January 22, 2011

Soon enough it was time for one of the most exciting moments of your life. Finding you the gender of your baby. You were showing quite a bit now and you were so excited to figure out what your baby was going to be.

You both sat in the office, like you did at the first ultrasound.

You got called back quickly and only twenty minutes later your doctor was asking you if you wanted to know the gender..

You nodded vigorously and Hotch chuckled at your reaction.

“I just want to know. I’m so impatient I think it would kill me not knowing.” You say with a smile stretching across your face. Aaron, as he has insisted you call him many, many times, grabs your hand and holds it tightly.

You wait with baited breath as the nurse spreads gel across your bump and begins looking at the monitor. She smiles softly and turns to you.

“Your baby is very healthy, which I know you are happy to hear.” She takes a pause for a moment. “I am very happy to share with you that you will be having a baby boy.” You feel Aaron squeeze your hand as tears fill your eyes. You can hardly believe it, a baby boy.

You let out a watery chuckle as Aaron leans down and presses a kiss to your stomach. Your heart soars and you don’t know if it's butterflies or nausea that flutters in your stomach. Maybe both.

But that’s a discovery for another day. For now you celebrate with your boss, the baby boy you will have in only a few short months.

* * *

February 14, 2011

Unfortunately the bubble of happiness could only last for so long. When Hotch informed you that you would be benched from this moment on, you were extremely, well frustrated. You understood why, of course.

But it left you with days and days of bordem and uncertainty for your team.

You knew this wasn’t good for the baby, so you needed to find a hobby, something to distract you that you could very well end up raising a child yourself if a case went wrong. Worrying about Aaron this much was new to you, and a very unwelcome feeling when so many other feelings flooded your mind about this man.

To distract yourself you decided that cooking and baking was the way to go. You had asked Rossi for some recipes before they left for the most recent case and you had decided to make food for Aaron the night he got back, especially because it was the week of Valentines.

Of course you had not been planning a romantic dinner. Rather a thank you for not leaving and for being so supportive in such a weird situation.

He called to let you know they would be flying back the day of Valentines, and you were ecstatic. It was perfect. You had begun the recipe in the early evening, serving a special pasta with some delicious brownies you had made on your baking adventure the past week. You put the food in the oven so that it would stay warm and poured Aaron some whisky before heading to the sink to wash some dishes.

Aaron is welcomed home by the smell of dinner and the woman carrying his child humming while doing dishes. He isn’t able to hide his smile, and his heart beats out of his chest at the domestity of the situation. He watched you for a moment before making his presence known.

“Hey.” He says softly as he enters the kitchen. You turn to him with a smile.

“Hey, Happy Valentine’s Day.” You grab a rag and dry your hands. “I made dinner.”

“Smells delicious. One of Rossi’s?” He asks and you giggle as you pull dinner from the oven.

“Yeah, I don’t trust anyone else other than the Italian chef himself.” Aaron chuckles and tries to help you move evrything to the table.

“Let me help, you’ve been on your feet way to long anyways.” You roll your eyes but let him help nonetheless.

Dinner was a nice affair. It was quiet, but not awkward, more peaceful than anything. For some strange reading however, you found yourself staring at Aaron quite often. His features illuminated in the dim lighting of the kitchen, and despite the tiredness so obvious on his face, he looked quite handsome.

It stole your breath, realizing how long you had been staring and you quickly looked away.

You shook your head in disbelief, blaming the pounding of your heart and the heat on your face on pregnancy hormones.

But really, how much longer would that excuse work?

* * *

March 27, 2011

The day started out like any other. You had however woken up, a bit more tired than usual, back aching. Your feet were swollen, and you felt too huge to even sit up.

One of those days you supposed. You grumpily got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom to start your morning routine.

Hotch was doing the same in his own room, unbeknownst to you however, he was thinking about you. How you should be in his room, waking in his bed.

His feelings had grown extraordinarily since the news of your pregnancy. But it’s to be expected, hormones are flying, you’ve been living together, so many intimate and domestic moments. It was bound to happen.

He wonders often if you are pushing the feelings away like he is. Are you feeling it too? Are you pretend inf it’s not there? Are you imaging the family you could be if you two were together? All of these were questions Hotch constantly asked himself.

If only he had the courage to talk to you about this. If only he could-

“Aaron!” His thoughts are cut off by yoir voice yelling his name from your room. “Aaron!” He’s leaving his bathroom in an instant, he swings open your door so fast you think it might fly off the hinges.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He begins panicking as he looks you over. “Is it the baby? Honey, what’s wrong?” You calm him down by placing your hand over his.

You draw him closer by his wrist and press his open palm to your stomach.

“What are you-?” He begins asking but quickly shuts his mouth when he feels it. A small thump. Barely there, but noticeable enough.

It’s his son.

He’s kicking.

Hotch stares at his hand on your bump as the baby kicks harder right in his palm.

“He knows it’s you.” You whisper. Aaron looks up at your face, tears gathering in his eyes. He brings himself to his knees, eye level with your baby bump.

“Hi buddy.” Another kick.

“What are you doing?” You ask with a giggle.

“I read somewhere that it’s good to talk to the baby, it helps the baby realize who you are.” Makes sense. He places both hands on your belly.

“It’s your dad.” You smile widely at his words. “I just want to say hi, and that we can’t wait to meet you.” Another kick.

“Keep talking.” You murmur.

“Uh, I- I can’t wait to see you. I can’t wait to hold you and take care of you. Your mama has been holding you for so long I think it might be my turn.” Hotch chuckles and so do you. “We love you buddy.” He presses a lasting kiss to your stomach before standing and grabbing both of your hands.

“He’s kicking.” Aaron says and you smile, nodding as a tear escapes your eye. His hand reaches up to swipe it away, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing your cheek gently. You're so close together, you see him lean in slightly closer, your lips close. You can feel his breath fan you face. And just as you lean in, lips almost meeting-

A shrill ring brings you both out of your trance. You move away from each other quickly and Aaron takes a moment to compose himself before answering his phone.

“Hotchner.” He says, his voice gruff as you try to collect yourself. What just happened?

You were going to kiss. He was going to kiss you, your boss, your baby daddy, the man you have grown to care for was going to kiss you.

You didn’t think you could really blame this feeling on pregnancy hormones anymore.

“Hey.” Aarons soft voice stops your thoughts and you turn to face him.

“Yeah?”

“That was JJ, we have a case.” You nod.

“Of course, I’ll uh, I’ll see you soon then. Let me know when you guys land.” He nods, leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek and takes his leave.

And you stand in the middle of your room, with feelings you can no longer push away. Feelings that are very much there and that, apparently always have been.

* * *

April 19, 2011

Another month passes and the moment when the baby was kicking is not spoken about. Of course there are plenty more times where the baby kicks and Aaron wants to know about it, but other than that the topic is avoided.

He has however, been acting strangely. You can’t quite figure out what it is, but he is softer around you, even more so than before. He is caring, meeting we’ve need you have, whether it would be driving to the store in the middle of the night for a craving or reading you a story on the couch. Like you are doing now.

Your head rested on his shoulder while he read to you softly from the novel in his hands.

His gruff voice swarms your mind like honey, and the warmth from his body lulls you to sleep.

It isn’t quite a deep sleep, but you are just so damn comfortable curled up with him.

Aaron swears he will wake you soon, but for now he rearranged himself so he is laying on the couch, an arm thrown around you. He grabs a blanket, and wraps you up so you are warm.

He swears he will wake you up.

He promises himself.

But alas, he falls asleep circled around your protectively. He was just too caught up mesmerizing the features of your face to realize quite Joel’s tired he had been.

He awakens with a soft jolt the next morning. It’s enough to jolst you, but you are quick to murmur softly and fall back to sleep. Aaron waits with bated breath for you to begin softly snoring before he looks down at you.

Sunlight streams through the windows and shines on your face, making you look almost angelic to Aaron. He smiles slightly, and presses his hand to your protruding belly. He speaks softly to the baby, whispering words of love and care and that’s what tou wake up to.

You don’t want to disturb the peaceful air, or interrupt Aaron so you pretend to sleep, making sure your breath is even as to not give you away.

“You are going to have a great mom.” You hear his say. “She’s so strong, and brave, and beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking.” You fight to keep the blush from your face. “And I love you both so much.” Your breath hitches slightly b ur it’s enough for Aaron to notice. He holds his breath and thinks you just shifted in your sleep. He decided to take his leave, standing slowly and leaning down above you.

“I love you sweetheart.” He murmurs and presses a kiss to your hairline before making his way to his room to get ready for the day.

He loves you.

He loves YOU.

And yeah, you definitely, stupidly, one hundred percent love him too.

* * *

May 5, 2011

It’s been almost a month since Aaron had whispered those three words to what he had thought was your sleeping form. It had been a month since you had last spoken to him properly with awkwardness in the air. It had been a month since you had let him near you other than reasons for the baby.

And Hotch was pained. He was physically pained by you pulling away. It hurt more than he could describe because he didn't know what he had done.

Had he offended you? Had he hurt you in some way? He hadn’t the slightest idea.

Meanwhile you had been stewing on even more than the confusing feelings. Like how were you going to work with an infant at home? How were you and Hotch going to live? Would it be together?

Everything from that first time Aaron had found you crying came crashing back. That was the last time you had pulled away from him so much, and at the time the problems seemed solvable, but now, now they were here. The due date was a month away and you felt completely helpless.

Aaron was done with the avoidance however, and on a particularly bad day (dealing with Strauss), he came home angry.

Your avoidance only made things worse.

“What is your problem?” He demanded after you brushed him off. You were stunned, but figured he would have said something sooner rather than later.

“I-“ you could say what you really wanted to say. “I just don’t know what we are going to do!” Your voice raised slightly and Aaron rolled his eyes.

“This again? Really?” Hotch was beyond pissed. He knew he shouldn’t be taking it out on you, your feelings here were valid, but he couldn’t seem to get past the blinding rage in front of him.

“Oh I’m so sorry that I’m burdening you with my issues.” You say sarcastically.

“I work all day and come home to complaining. Of course you're burdening.” His words hit deep and you turn away from him.

“What do you care! You don’t have to listen! It’s not like we are in a relationship!” That strikes him deep. Especially because he knows how much he loves you.

“Thank god.” He murmurs and tears prick your yes.

“If I’m that damn bad I will gladly leave Aaron!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” You stomp off, not knowing how the conversation had escalated so quickly. You slam your door shut and crumple to the ground in a fit of tears. Why had you said that? Why had he said that?

What had happened, and why did it happen so quickly?

Aarons heart clenched as he heard your sobs from the kitchen. Sometimes he hates his stubborn and stony nature. He was being rediculous, taking out his frustrations on you for no reason. And calling you a burden.

“Dammit.” Aaron murmurs before making his way back to your room. He knocks hesitantly. “Y/n?” He calls and you try to silence your cries.

He opens the door slowly and takes a look at your broken state. He falls to his knees and quickly pulls you into your arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” He says and you continue crying into his shoulder. “I should have said any of that. Strauss was on my ass all day and I just, I’m sorry.” He says and you nod in understanding through your tears.

“I just, I-“ you hiccup and Aaron shushes you, cradling your head against his chest.

“I’ve got you. Let it out. I’ve got you sweetheart.” The term of endearment warms your heart, but you continue crying. Because you love the man who is holding you, but you don’t know how to tell him.

You know you will work out plans and how to live and how to work. But how on earth will you figure out doing all of it with the man you love? Especially when he doesn’t even know.

* * *

June 11, 2011

The day the baby comes is hectic, but also very calm. On a rare day at the office, you had decided to pop in for a visit.

“Hey mama, what are you doin in here?” Derek welcomes you with a hug.

“Just wanted to visit my favorite profilers.” You say as JJ notices you and also greets you with a hug. Soon the whole team is gathered around Derek’s desk, catching up and gossiping about office drama.

Aaron dooms comes out of his office and notcices the crowd.

“Y/n?” He asks and you send him a small smile and wave. “What are you doing here? You should be on bed rest.” You roll your eyes as your team mates chuckle.

“Oh hush I’m fine. Besides, I was going stir crazy in that apartment.” You laugh along with the team and even Aaron gives a small smirk.

“Fine, but please take it easy.” Hotch leans forward pressing a kiss to your forehead, shocking you in the process. You knew he loved you, but you had never thought he would show it like that in front of the team.

Although, your thoughts quickly change when a searing pain shoots through your back.

“Agh!” You exclaim lightly and all heads swivel to tou.

“You okay sweets?” Garcia asks rubbing you back, but you wince.

“Um… I-“ you can’t for a word before water gushed between you legs.

“Oh my god.” Reid mutters.

“Oh my god.” Rossi shouts.

“Oh my god!!” The girls squeal. You look right into Aaron’s eyes and he grabs your hand.

“Oh my god.” You say. “My water just broke.” Your voice is trained as another contraction shoots through your body and suddenly everyone is moving and running.

The next thing you know you are in a car being rushed to the hospital.

“Just deep breaths Y/n. Big deep breaths.” Reid encourages from the passenger seat. Morgan’s driving and Aaron is gripping your hand in the backseat.

“Tell me that one more time Reid! I fucking dare you!” He flinches at your words but knows it’s just because of the pain. You are quickly rushed from your vehicle to a room once arriving at the hospital.

Hotch is the only one with you as your contractions hit quicker and quicker than before.

The doctor is in the room sooner than you are ready for and everything seems to be happening too fast. You turn to Aarona me find him staring right at you.

“Aaron, I’m scared.” You whisper, but he hears you nonetheless.

“I know, but I’m here. Just a little longer and we get to meet out baby boy.” His words encourage you. The doctor tells you it’s time to push and the. Your pushing with all your might.

“You’re doing so well honey.” Aaron allows you to squeeze his hand as you yell out in pain. “So proud of you.” You push and push, sweat gathering on your forehead.

You’re panting and you’re tired and you’re crying, but the whole world stops when that cry fills the air. You don’t even realize it’s over, until the doctor is placing your healthy baby boy in your arms.

“Hi baby.” You coo at the newborn. “My sweet sweet boy. It is so good to meet you.” Tears leak from your eyes as your exhausted body sinks into the bed. Aaron stands behind you, and arm wrapped above the top of the bed.

“He’s beautiful.” He murmurs. “I’m so proud of you, look at our boy.” He’s so happy he can barely contain himself.

“Aaron?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to hold your son?” You ask and look up at him.

“Yes.” He whispers and takes the delicate baby from your hand. “Get some rest sweetheart, we’ll be here when you wake up.” You nod and smile, falling asleep to the sight of Aaron and your precious baby boy.

* * *

You wake hours later, your key slumped and groggy from the extraneous activities that filled your morning. The team is gathered in the corner taking turns cooing at the baby. They leave one by one, not realizing you are awake.

You watch as Aaron bounces the baby in his arms.

“You’re only a few hours old and you are already so loved.” He walks over and take a aseat in the chair by your bed. “You are so beautiful, just like your mama. I love you both so much.” You’re taken back to that first moment, when the baby first kicked. How Aaron was so delicate when he spoke to your child. How he told the baby how much he already loved him.

“You know, I don’t think I ever would have realized how much I love your mama if it wasn’t for you.” Aaron says and you smile despite your façade of sleeping.

“I probably wouldn’t have realized either.” You say, startling Aaron for a moment. He readjusts the baby in his arms and stares at you for a moment.

“What?”

“I love you Aaron.” You smile at his shocked expression. “I think I always have.” He sitter for a second before carefully handing your boy. Once held in your grasp, Aaron leans over and places his lips firmly against yours. You smile as pieces click into place in the most chiche ways. You love this man with all of your heart, and he you.

“I love you. And I love your child, and I will love you both for the rest of my life.” You smile tiredly and peck his lips one more time before adverting your attention to the infant in your arms.

“We need a name.” You say softly and Aaron nods.

“How about Jack?” He suggests and you love it already.

“It’s perfect. Jack David Hotchner.” You say and Aaron laughs.

“Daves gonna have a field day with that.” You giggle and press your lips to Aarons again.

“God I love you.” He says and you nod.

“I love you too.”

The end <3

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Thank you so much for reading <3<3<3