:( i miss aaron hotchner
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@ssa-squint
:( i miss aaron hotchner

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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AARON HOTCHNER AND PENELOPE GARCIA in: Route 66 (9.05) Criminal Minds
AARON HOTCHNER Criminal minds 10.19
fav criminal minds moments: the chaos of them in this barâ¨
2x14 the big game

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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43rd. (nsfw)
a joyful future fic aaron hotchner x fem!reader
a/n: sorry this is lateee and i missed a couple of chapters. they will be rescheduled! the world series got me good and i personally apologize to all blue jays fans and/or anti-dodgers-on-principle people. enjoy this one--i had a blast writing it :)
co-written by @ssaic-jareau links: masterlist | posting schedule | ao3 turn on post notifs to join the taglist!
word count: 5.9k content warning(s): aaron gets absolutely cracked on his birthday, oral (f & m receiving), p in v sex (be safe kids, don't be like these fictional monogamous people who never use a gd condom), creampie, counter sex minors dni!
âevery day is a gift. but some days are packaged better." -- sanhita baruah
november 2nd, 2011 aaron's 43rd birthday
+++
You havenât been asleep long when you stir, only half-aware of the weight curled around you. His breath is warm against your shoulder.Â
Heâs already awake. You feel it in the deliberate way his fingers stroke over your hip, in the kiss he presses behind your ear, soft enough not to wake you on purpose.
âAaron,â you murmur, voice still sandpapered with sleep.
âItâs still early,â he whispers. âI didnât want to wake you.â
You hum. You donât mind being woken like this. His hand glides slowly across your stomach, tugging you closer until your back fits against his chest, until his mouth can brush the edge of your jaw. He smells like heat and sleep and skin. His chest rises and falls behind you, warm and steady.
You shift your hipsâjust a little. Just enough to feel him hard against you. His breath stutters.
âOh,â you say, teasing. âIs it your birthday or something?â
He groans softly. âThatâs not whyââ
You turn in his arms, slow and easy, and kiss him before he can argue. You let your hand trail up his side, over the familiar curve of his shoulder. He presses his forehead to yours.
âYou donât have toââ
âStop talking,â you murmur. âI want to.â
You press two fingers to his shoulder and he turns, rolling onto his back, and kiss down his chest, over the line of old scars, reverent in your touch. You take your time.Â
When you finally settle between his knees and reach for him, he tries to help, reflexively, but you swat his hands away with a firm, âAbsolutely not.â His boxer briefs are easy work.Â
Your eyes glint with challenge. âHands to yourself. Birthday rule.â
He groans, dropping his head back to the pillow, but he listens.
You hum in satisfaction and begin slowly, your lips and tongue dragging up the base of his cock with slow, warm purpose. One hand cradles his balls, rolling them gently, while the other spreads across his hip, thumb tracing circles just beside his lowest scar.
When you finally take him into your mouth, you donât rush. You let him feel the heat of your mouth, the plush drag of your lips, the tongue pressed to every sensitive place you know by heart. You go slow, deliberate. He twitches under your touch.
When you glance up, heâs watching you like he canât believe it.
You smile around him, and then sink deeper. You chokeâjust a littleâand pull off to catch your breath, spit slick and shining on your chin. Then you go back in, adjusting your angle until your nose presses to his stomach. The stretch is obscene.Â
Heâs panting now, his hands gripping the sheets, fingers curling into the fabric as if itâs the only thing grounding him.
You pull back with a gasp, hand stroking him in time with your breath. You lick your lips, smile wickedly, and whisper, âYouâre not allowed to help, but youâre allowed to come.â
âJesus Christ,â he mutters, voice strangled.
You press your lips to his tip, then take him againâdeep and slow, tongue pressed flat, letting gravity help. He groans when your throat tightens around him. Heâs already so close, and you know it. You moan softly, letting him feel it.
He breathes your name like a prayer.
âCome back up here,â he says after a while, voice raw. âPlease.â
You crawl up his body and straddle his hips, forehead to his. His handsâfinally allowedâgrip your waist, grounding himself.
âI want to feel you,â you whisper. âI want to make you feel good.â
âYou do,â he says. âYou always do.â
When you sink onto him, he swears. Low and guttural. The stretch is divine, the fullness exquisite.
You release a shuddering breath as your ass meets his thighs, as deep as he can go without moving.
âAaron,â you breathe, pulsing around him. âYou feel so fucking good.â
His hands grip your hips tight, and to his credit, he doesnât moveâdoesnât helpâeven though it clearly kills him.
You ride him slow, controlled. His hands roam your body like heâs trying to memorize it all over again. Your rhythm is steady, the pace unhurried.
His head tips back, throat exposed, eyes fluttering shut as your hips roll in a slow, devastating rhythm. His hands trace your thighs, your waist, your face, as if heâs trying to commit every curve to memory. You rock together like you were built to.
When you lean down to kiss him, his hands cradle your face like he might fall apart with it.
âHappy birthday,â you whisper. âTime for your other present.â
He blinks. âWhatâs that?â
You smile, eyes dark and steady. âTake what you want.â
And he does.
He pulls you close, still connected, and shifts, caging you under him.Â
You kiss him again, soft and reverent, before shifting your knees higher, drawing them up beside his ribs. He holds you close, pressing a kiss to your cheek.Â
The first thrust is deepâmaybe a little too deepâand he pauses when you make a noise, one hand moving to your face. âOkay?â
You nod, eyes fluttering. âDonât stop.â
He thrusts again, deeper still, and you feel it spark up your spine like fire licking at the base of your skull. You tighten around him, pulse pounding, fingers clawing at his shoulders.
âFuck, baby,â he murmurs.Â
âI need you to come inside me,â you whisper. âPlease. I need it. I want to feel it.â
He groans like youâve knocked the wind from him. âJesus. Okay.â
But he gives it to youâevery inch, every thrust, every broken, whispered vowâuntil the world falls away and all thatâs left is you, shaking and splintered in his arms, coming so hard it draws his orgasm right out of him.
And when you collapse, boneless, breathless, he holds you close, whispering your name like itâs sacred, telling you how much he loves you.Â
When youâre curled up together, breath slowing, his lips brush your shoulder.
âWhat did I do to deserve you?â he asks softly.
You smile against his chest. âYou made it to forty-three.â
+++
Itâs just after four in the morning when you stir again. Thereâs a weight pressed along your backâfamiliar, steady. A kiss lands at your shoulder.
Aaron shifts behind you, murmuring, âItâs still my birthday.â
You laugh quietly, already half-aware of what he wants. âThat excuse only works once.â
He kisses your spine again. âIâll make it worth your while.â
âYouâd better.â
And he does.
You open your legs without protest, still drowsy, letting him ease you onto your back. He kisses your stomach, the inside of your thigh, working his way down with unhurried reverence.
âYouâre insatiable,â you murmur, your eyes closed.
He smiles against your skin. âAnd you love it.â
Then his mouth is on you.
Slow at first. Luxurious. Like heâs savoring dessert after the best meal of his life. His hands hold your thighs open as he licks you open, firm and steady, tongue dragging up and over your clit in languid strokes. He groans when you twitch, when you moan, like he can feel your pleasure in his own chest.
âYouâre so pretty like this,â he murmurs, breath warm. âWaking up in my bed, coming on my mouth.â
Your fingers curl in his hair as he sucks your clit, breathing softly against you. It starts slow, but builds fastâhis tongue working you with aching precision, fingers sliding inside, curling just right. You whimper, thighs trembling, breath catching.
He doesnât stop. Doesnât let up.
He holds you steady while you come, messy and unrestrained, gasping his name into the pillow as your body arches off the mattress.
Only then does he crawl up your body, kissing your stomach, your ribs, your breastbone.
You straighten him out before he can say a word, guiding him onto his knees as you rise.Â
âNo more birthday excuses,â you whisper. âThis oneâs for me.â
You turn away from him, planting your knees on the bed, hands gripping the headboard.
You look back over your shoulder. âHold on.â
He groans when you guide him inside you againâslow, sweet, the stretch a familiar ache.
And then you move.
You rock back on him, slow and steady, your body doing the work, his hands holding tight to your hips. You fuck yourself on him, taking exactly what you need.Â
His hand anchors at your hip, fingers digging in as you push back onto him, your rhythm desperate, needy. He watches the way you take himâmessy, greedy, slick with both of you. The headboard creaks as you use it for stability and leverage. If he had any blood left in his brain, heâd be a little concerned.Â
âFuck,â he groans, voice shredded. âYouâreâGodâso fucking wet.â
You whimper, breath catching as he thrusts up into you, meeting you in the middle.Â
âYou like using me like this?â he says, his voice low. âHm?â
You gasp, your reply lost in a cry as he buries himself deeper, grinding into you.
âSo pretty,â he mutters, hand sliding down to where youâre stretched around him. âGripping me so fucking tight, babyâlike you never wanna let me go.â
Your whole body tightens at the sound of it, your orgasm crashing hard through youâlegs shaking, breath caught, vision white-hot.
âFuck, thatâs it, sweetheartâjust like that.â He hisses between his teeth.Â
âYesâyes, Aaronâplease, I needââ
Thatâs all it takes.
He growls your name, pace snapping as he presses as deep as he can go, spilling into you with a long, shuddering breath. His hands donât leave youâone still at your hip, the other at your good shoulder.Â
When you both finally still, chests heaving, your eyes meet again in the mirror off to the side. Your chest is still against the mattress, your knees spread and hips low.Â
You smile.
He grins backâa rare one.
âBest fucking view Iâve ever had.â
He softens inside you slowly, his breath still a little unsteady against your neck as he lowers you both to a position more comfortable, pulling you back into his chest. Neither of you speaks right away. Thereâs just the sound of your breathing, the quiet hush of the early morning light filtering in through the sheer curtains, and the occasional creak of the cooling bedframe above you.
Aaronâs arms wrap around you, protective and loose. One hand traces idle patterns over your stomach, then slides down to your thigh. He presses a kiss to your shoulder. Then another. Slower.
âYou okay?â he murmurs.
You nod, cheek pressing against his bicep. âBetter than okay.â
He exhales through his nose, a soft, amused huff. âGood.â
Thereâs a long stretch of silence. You can feel how warm his skin is against yours, how safe he makes you feel even now, in the aftermath of something so intense. He smells like sex and sweat and skin, but beneath thatâjust him. That scent you know by heart. Clean and warm and home.
You twist a little, just enough to look at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze, soft-eyed and pink-cheeked, and you press a kiss to his jaw, then his temple.
âWe should shower,â you say, eventually. A gentle tease.
He groans quietly, nuzzling into your hair. âFive more minutes.â
âYouâre already getting sticky. And itâs almost five anyway. Weâd be up in an hour or so anyway.â
âIâll take the stickiness if it means I get to keep you like this for a little longer.â
You smile into his arm and let your eyes drift shut again. Let yourself breathe in the calm. The steadiness. The reality of him still wrapped around you, even now.
+++
The waterâs already running by the time you wander into the bathroom, warm steam curling at the edges of the mirror. Aaronâs at the sink, toothbrush in hand, hair still a little wild from where your fingers tugged it last. He glances up at your reflection as you come up behind him, pressing your chest to his back and wrapping your arms around his waist.
You murmur into his skin, âYouâre gonna pretend we didnât almost break the bed as y0u stand here and waste water?â
He smirks, toothbrush still in his mouth. âIâm choosing to focus on how impressively well it held up, actually.â
You snort and nudge your nose into the curve of his shoulder. âYou gonna write a review?â
He spits into the sink, rinses, then leans forward to meet your eyes in the mirror. âFive stars. Would absolutely recommend.â
You give his waist a playful squeeze and press a kiss to his spine before stepping past him into the shower.
The heat is immediateâwelcoming, soft. You tilt your head back under the stream, eyes closed, letting the water soak your head, your shoulders, your already buzzing skin. When you blink them open again, Aaronâs thereâpulling the door closed behind him, stepping in close like he canât stand the idea of being more than a breath away.
âIs it too hot for you?â You ask.
He shakes his head. âEnjoy your scalding water. Iâll stay over here until my turn.â
Youâre both warm from the water, but itâs his hands on your hips that make you flush.
He kisses your shoulder, your neck, the spot just behind your ear. âYouâre glowing.â
You laugh under your breath. âThatâs condensation.â
He hums. âNope. Thatâs all you.â
You reach for the body wash, and he takes it from you before you can uncap it. âLet me.â
You raise an eyebrow, teasing. âSo now youâre helping?â
His eyes twinkle as he lathers his hands. âBirthday exception.â
His hands are soapy and slow and far too thorough, sliding over your arms, your back, your stomach, then lower. You swat his hands away when they wander. âItâs a delicate ecosystem. Not happening.â
He smiles like heâs not even pretending to be innocent. âDidnât say it was.â
But his hands linger just a little longer than they need to.
He steps back as you finish your routine. Every so often, he reaches outâbrushes your hip with his knuckles, steals a kiss between rinses.
Eventually, you switch places, and itâs your turn to wash himâfingers dragging through his hair, down his chest, over each scar with careful reverence. You kiss one, then another, and he exhales through his nose, steady and fond.
âI could stay in here all day,â he murmurs as you reach for the conditioner.
âYour skin would prune.â
âI donât prune,â he replies in a deadpan.Â
You laugh and slide your arms around his neck, conditioner forgotten. âI think youâre drunk on orgasms. Youâve had like twelve.â
âI think Iâm in love with you.â
That slows you, just a beat. But not because itâs new. Because it still feels like something you never get tired of hearing.
You kiss him slow, water falling around you both, warm and easy and whole.
Then, when your fingers skate too low again and he groans into your mouth, you smirk, pulling back. âOkay, now weâre getting out. Youâve had enough birthday privileges for the morning.â
He chases your lips for one more kiss. âSpeak for yourself.â
+++
Around 6:45, the kitchen smells like coffee and toast and the faintest trace of lavender soap. Youâre barefoot in one of his old, stretched out FBI waffle knit shirts, sleeves pushed up as you hover over the pan, spatula in hand. Aaronâs at the counter, pouring two mugs of coffee, eyes following your every move like youâre a miracle on legs.
âYou gonna stand there looking like that all day?â you tease over your shoulder.
He leans on the island, sipping slowly. âJust trying to commit this to memory.â
You raise an eyebrow. âScience?â
âVisual recall. Helps in high-pressure situations.â
You laugh, shaking your head as you slide scrambled eggs onto two plates. âSure. Thisâll really help you the next time someone pulls a gun on you.â
âAbsolutely. âHold on, sir, I just need to picture my girlfriend in my t-shirt making eggsâokay, Iâm centered.ââ
âGirlfriend?â you echo, grinning as you set his plate down in front of him. âSince when did I agree to that?â
He smiles into his mug, but you can see real fear as he worries he overstepped. âWhat would you prefer? Partner? Companion? Love of my life?â
You press a kiss to the crown of his head as you walk by. âIâm partial to problem you canât live without, but sure. Love of your life works.â
He actually chokes on his coffee a little.
You take a bite of toast, completely innocent. âEat your breakfast, birthday boy.â
But Aaron is watching you again, eyes tracking the slow movement of your mouth, the curve of your thigh as you shift your weight.
âI thought you said I wasnât allowed to start anything. This isnât fair.â
You shrug, unbothered. âIâm just eating toast.â
He sets his mug down. âYouâre doing it very provocatively.â
You lick a crumb from your lip, gaze locked with his. âAgain. Toast.â
Aaron clears his throat, clearly fighting a smirk. âYouâre gonna get us in trouble.â
âYou are dangerously suggestible after sex and caffeine,â you counter. âNot my fault you canât stop picturing me naked on the counter.â
He looks at said counter. Then at you. Then back again.
You follow his line of sight and shake your head with a quiet laugh. âNo. Aaron. Youâre forty-three now. You will throw out your back.â
âNot if you bend over,â he mutters, completely betrayed by his own mouth.
Youâre already backing toward the sink with your plate. âIf we donât eat, weâll die.â
âIf Iâm not inside you in the next five minutes, Iâll die.â
You blink slowly. âThatâs dramatic. And alsoâfine, but after eggs. Protein.â
He watches you sit beside him, legs brushing under the table, and hums in surrender.
âFor the record,â he says, biting into toast, âyouâre a very dangerous creature.â
You smile sweetly. âI know.â
+++
You donât even make it through half the eggs.
One moment, youâre laughing into your mug, barefoot and loose-limbed at the edge of the counterâand the next, Aaronâs behind you, hands warm on your hips, mouth against your neck like heâs been holding back for a full calendar year.
âYou didnât finish your breakfast,â you murmur, your voice already a little breathless.
His nose brushes behind your ear. âI found something better.â
Your hands slide across the counter for balance, spine arching into him as he palms your hips and crowds your space. Youâre still in his shirt, loose and tempting, and itâs the only thing between you. The hem rides up as he nudges your thighs apart with his knee.
âRight here?â you ask.
Aaronâs voice is low, wrecked. âRight here.â
He lifts the back of your shirt and moves your underwear to the side. His fingers trace over your hips, dipping to test how ready you are for him. When he finds you soaked, his breath catches.
âJesus,â he mutters, pressing his fingers inside you slowly. âYouâve been wet this whole time?â
You nod, head dropping forward. âSince you kissed my neck in the bathroom. Maybe before.â
His free hand splays across your lower back, anchoring you, and when he curls his fingers just right, you gasp.
He exhales like it hurts.Â
You tilt your hips back. âI thought I was your birthday present.â
His laugh is quiet, tight. âBest one Iâve ever gotten.â
He pulls his fingers from you and presses the tip of his cock to your entrance, pushing just enough to make you squirm. He groans softly as you open around him, slow and slick, taking him ease.
He grips your hips, pulls you flush, and the moan you let out when he bottoms out echoes softly off the kitchen walls.
âFuck,â he says, and the sound of it, the restraint in his voice, makes your knees wobble.
The first thrust is slow. The second deeper. He pulls you back into every one, letting the rhythm build, letting you feel every stretch, every grind of hips to ass. His hand finds your clit, stroking lazy circles with the same control youâre rapidly losing. He's sensitive to your plight, knowing youâre wrought out and sore. The pressure is gentle, almost teasing.Â
âAaronââ you gasp, voice trembling. âOh my godââ
He leans forward, chest brushing your back, mouth against your ear. âLet me feel you come, sweetheart. Right here, like this. Let me have it.â
âI literally donât think I can.â You laugh through it, unable to catch your breath.
His hand slides up your back, his fingers wrapping around the back of your neck. âYou can.â
It takes you off guard. You shatter in his hands.
He groans at the feeling of you clenching around him, your whole body rocking as he holds you through it, fucking you through the waves until his own orgasm breaks loose with a curse muffled into your shoulder. He thrusts deep one last time and stills, shaking, fingers digging into your hips like a man drowning.
Youâre both panting when he finally pulls out, and you reach for a paper towel with a half-laugh, half-gasp. You manage to catch at least some cum as it drips. The rest will have to be swiffered at some point, you suppose.Â
âGuess weâre microwaving the eggs,â you say.
Aaron presses a kiss to your shoulder, utterly debauched. âIâll never look at this counter the same way again.â
+++
Youâre both sprawled on the sofa, skin warm and flushed, still in the half-dressed aftermath of breakfast-turned-counter sex. The TVâs on, low and aimless, playing something neither of you are really watching. Youâll have to leave for work soon, but it is nice to wake up early enough to pretend you have a life.Â
âIâve never been fucked this many times on my birthday,â he admits. âItâs kind of nice.â
You glance at him, smug and glowing. âGuess youâll have to raise your expectations.â
He smiles, dazed. âTheyâve never been higher.â
You snuggle into him as he puts his feet up. His hand is on your back, slow and steady. He traces idle shapes along your spine. You lie half on top of him, cheek against his sternum. For a moment, neither of you speak.
Then, softly, âWas this your best birthday?â
He hums. âThatâs a dangerous question.â
You smile, holding yourself up with a hand on his chest. âWhy?â
âAgain. Iâve never been fucked stupid before eight in the morning.â
You laugh into his chest, your whole body warm and soft. âSo⌠top five?â
He laughs, low and gravelly. âTop one.â
You shift enough to glance up at him. âBe serious.â
âI am.â His hand slides up your back, curling gently at the nape of your neck. âThough⌠there was one when I was twelve. My dad took me to a football game in DC.â
You smile. âThatâs sweet.â
âMmm. He had his moments.â He presses a kiss to your temple. âThis still wins.â
The two of you settle deeper into the couch, your bodies a warm, satisfied tangle of limbs and shared air. You listen to his heartbeat. He traces another lazy circle between your shoulder blades.
After a long moment, he says, âI didnât know it could be like this.â
You lift your head slightly. âWhat?â
âThis,â he murmurs. âYou. Us. All of it.â
You nuzzle into him again, voice quiet. âYeah. Me either.â
And thatâs it. No need to say more.
+++
âOh my god,â you say, squinting at yourself. âI look like I lost a fight.â
The two of you finally get it together, making the final preparations for work. Youâve paused on the way to button your slacks, noting the shadowing of your skin where Aaron held your hips.Â
Not to mention the war zone thatâs your neck and chest. A turtleneck will have to do today.Â
Thank God itâs November.
Aaron leans out of the bathroom doorway, studying you with a kind of amused reverence.
âYou look incredible.â
You narrow your eyes at him, but thereâs no heat in it. âI look like Iâm going to need a scarf. And possibly a cape.â
He smirks. âGood thing itâs November.â
You toss a wadded pair of socks at his head.
+++
The BAU bullpen is quiet for onceâbetween cases, between briefings, between any real need for anyone to be here past five. But Aaronâs still at his desk, flipping through an after-action report.
Dave doesnât knock. Just leans one elbow on the doorframe and sips from the travel mug he never seems to refill. âSo,â he says. âBig plans?â
Aaron doesnât look up. âFor?â
Dave tilts his head. âDonât insult me.â
Aaron sighs. âDinner.â
âNeed wine recommendations?â
Aaron doesnât look up. âNo, but thank you.â
âYou sure?â
He does look up then. âItâs handled,â he says.
Not by me, he doesnât say.Â
Dave raises both hands. âFair enough.â
+++
Emilyâs more direct. She corners him in the elevator around 4:30, pressing the button for the parking garage with a pointed look.
âYouâre leaving on time. Either the world is ending or someone has plans.â
Aaronâs mouth lifts at one corner. âMaybe both.â
âDinner?â She asks.Â
âDinner.â
âWith?â
He raises a brow. âSomeone I like.â
Emily snorts. âIâll pretend I donât know exactly who that is.â
âYou donât,â he says, and the corner of his mouth lifts. âYou only suspect.â
Emily tilts her head, grinning. âYou deserve to be spoiled.â She pauses. âHappy birthday, Hotch.â
+++
Youâre still fixing your eyeliner in the bathroom mirror when you hear the front door unlock. You snuck out a little early with Spencer, your inbox nearly empty and your desk clear.Â
âHey,â you call.
âHey,â he calls back, his voice lower, softerâalready taking off his work costume, in more ways than one. You hear him set his keys down, take off his shoes, walk into the bedroom, slide the closet door open and closed again. The quiet rhythm of domesticity.
A minute later, he appears in the doorway behind you.
Heâs changed into the shirt you picked outâslate blue, crisp collar, cuffs rolled twice to the fullest part of his forearm. You havenât gotten to the tie yet, but itâs already draped around his neck.
You smile at him in the mirror. âHappy birthday.â
And it has been a happy birthday indeed. Following your spirited morning, Garcia brought him a cupcake.Â
His reflection softens. âThank you.â
He leans into your space, hands finding your waist, and presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder. You let your eyes flutter closed for a second. His thumb traces the fabric of your dress.
âYou look beautiful.â
You look at him in the mirror, lips tugging into a grin. âI havenât even put on shoes.â
âI donât think shoes are going to affect the outcome.â His lips wander down your shoulder, his eyes still on yours in the mirror.Â
You laugh quietly and turn to face him, looping the tie over his collar. âWe have a reservation in thirty minutes.â
âI know.â He straightens and lets you work in silence, watching you with open affection. âI still want to enjoy this part.â
âThe getting-ready part?â
âThe standing-close-to-you part.â
âYou think youâre slick, huh?â Your eyes flicker to his and he tips forward. You make a little noise and gesture to your lips. âItâs not transfer-proof. And itâs sticky.â
âHow do you feel about reapplying?â He asks. His eyes track between your eyes and your mouth.Â
âThirty minutes,â you remind him. âAnd I was trying to spare you.â
He shakes his head a little, taking your face in his hands. âYou could wear paint thinner and Iâd still want to kiss you.âÂ
You hum, your hands rising to his wrists as he closes the distance, pressing a light, barely-there kiss to your lips. Itâs the practiced action of a man who was married to an avid lip-gloss wearer for much of his life.Â
With a scoff, you tell him, âYou canât threaten reapplication and then kiss me like someone who cares about the integrity of my makeup.â
He tips back, considering you for a moment. âAlright.â
He leans in like heâs done it a hundred timesâbut thereâs something different this time. Slower. Weightier. Like heâs savoring it.
His mouth moves with devastating precision, barely parting yours, just enough to draw a breath from your lungs that you didnât know you were holding. His hand curves around your jaw. His thumb grazes your cheek. He doesnât rush. Doesnât push. Just lets the moment stretch out, unrushed and infinite.
When he finally pulls back, youâre blinking up at him, a little dizzy, a little dazed.Â
You clear your throat. âMuch better.â
It comes out thin. He smiles.
His tongue sneaks out as you return to his tie. âWhat is that, cherry?â
+++
You stop just outside the restaurant, tugging lightly at his hand.
Aaron turns, brows lifting slightly in questionâbut whatever he was about to say disappears the second you reach out and kiss him. Youâve learned your lessonâthe only thing left on your mouth is a soft lip stain.Â
You curl your fingers in the lapel of his jacket and press your mouth to his like youâve been waiting all day.Â
(You have.)
He kisses you back immediately, like his whole body already knew what to do.
(It did.)
When you finally pull back, his hand is still at your waist, and heâs looking at you like you just gave him the world.
You lean in, close enough for your lips to almost brush his again.
âIf you try to pay for your own birthday dinner,â you murmur, âI will break your kneecaps.â
His breath catches. A beat.
âYouâre stunning when you threaten me, you know.â
You smirk. âIâm serious.â
âI know.â
+++
You take a sip of your wine, settling deeper into the booth. The lightingâs low, the foodâs impeccable, and Aaron looks goodâtie loosened just a little, watch catching the low light. Heâs watching you like he always does, quiet and focused, giving you every bit of his attention.
You smile at him over the rim of your glass. âOkay,â you say, voice low, âtonight thereâs a rule.â
He tilts his head, curious. âA rule?â
You nod. âNo kid talk, no work, no serial killers.â
His mouth twitches. âTough sell for two profilers.â
âMaybe.â You give him a look. âBut itâs your birthday. Letâs pretend weâre boring civilians for one night. Just two people, out on a date, ordering fancy steak and pretending we didn't work last Saturday â
He laughs softly, eyes warm. âAlright. Just two people, then.â
A comfortable quiet settles between you. You let it last until the second course arrivesâsomething decadent and shareableâand then he glances at you with that thoughtful, patient sort of look that usually precedes something meaningful.
âYou know,â he says, voice quiet but steady, âIâve said this before, but last year⌠I didnât think weâd get here.â
You meet his eyes.
âNot because I didnât want to,â he clarifies. âBecause I didnât think I deserved it. You. Any of it.â
You let that settle. Itâs trueâthis isnât the first time heâs said something like that, but he means it differently now.Â
âLast year,â he continues, âI was still clawing my way out of everything. Haley. Foyet. The job. You and I were circling each other so carefully.â
You smile faintly. âWe were very professional.â
His brows lift. âPainfully.â
âTerrified,â you add.
âBoth of us.â
You nod, looking down at your fork, then back up at him. âItâs better now.â
âIt is,â he agrees, softly. âBecause of you.â
Your hand finds his under the table, squeezing gently. And thenâ
âHow are you?â he asks.
You pause.
âI mean really,â he says. âNot work, not logistics. Me. How am I doing with⌠everything?â
You know what he means. Trust. Rebuilding. All the cracks and silences from the past year, still healing.
You take a breath.
âYouâre doing well,â you say honestly. âThereâs still stuff that will just take time. Still moments where I get mad all over again, or remember something I havenât let myself think about in months.â
He nods, already bracing.
âBut.â You squeeze his hand again. âYou show up. Every day. You listen. You donât flinch when Iâm upset. You let me be honest without getting defensive. That matters.â
His jaw shifts, emotion surfacing and settling again. âI want to earn it back. All of it.â
âI know.â Your voice softens. âAnd I can feel that.â
The silence between you is heavy, but not uncomfortable. It hums with sincerity, with work being done even here, even in the middle of a birthday dinner.
You lean in. âSo tonight,â you say, âJust me. Just you. Just this.â
He lifts your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles gently. âThank you.â
âYou earned it,â you say.
And you mean it.
+++
You step into the apartment, laughing under your breath about the older couple who eavesdropped shamelessly on your dessert conversation that was definitely a little edgy for public consumption.Â
Aaron flips on the lamp in the living room and you watch the warm glow catch on his jaw, the soft, aging lines of his smile. Heâs relaxed in a way you wish you could bottle.
You toe off your heels by the couch and dig gently in your bag. âI have something for you.â
He raises an eyebrow. âAnother thing?â
You shrug. âCouple things. Small.â
You hand him the first, wrapped in thin, matte paper.
He opens it carefully, and when he sees itâjust a slip of brown leather, stiff with craftsmanshipâhe stills. A bookmark.Â
The letters are uneven. âI love you, Dad,â stamped into the leather on one side, âHappy Birthday!â in the same uneven hand on the other.Â
You watch him read it once, then again.
âJack wrote it,â you say, voice soft. âI had it pressed. You donât have to use itâbut I thought maybeâŚâ
âIâll use it every day.â His voice is quiet. Weighted. âThank you.â
You pass him the second, tucked in a flat box.
Itâs a photo. Framed in simple silver. From Christmas last yearâbefore the couch, before anything changed. Penelope snapped it while the team exchanged gifts. Jackâs in your lap on the floor, all teeth, and youâre smiling up at Aaron. Heâs in the background, sitting on the couch, out of focus, his face turned slightly toward you.
You donât say anything. You donât have to.
He looks at it for a long time before speaking.
âI remember this,â he says, voice low. He puts the photo down, wraps both arms around you, and breathes you in.
You ruck his dress shirt out of his pants and slide your hands under his shirt, over his back, and rest there.
âGood day?â
You can feel him nod. His voice resonates in his chest, humming against your ear. âYeah. Good day. Great day.â
âIâd really like to do youâagainâfor your birthday,â you murmur into his collarbone.
He chuckles against your cheek, delighted and maybe a little hopeful. âYeah?â
You lean back to look at him. âBut the best gift I could give you is eight-to-nine hours of sleep.â
Aaron groans. âThatâs cruel.â
You grin. âItâs responsible. Weâve gotta save something for next year.â
He presses a kiss to your forehead. âEven when youâre responsible, Iâm in love with you.â
You grab his hand, twine your fingers through his, and head toward the bedroom. âGood. Because Iâm still in love with you, too.â
+++
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KINKY ASS MFERS ⌠I LOVE THEM !!! đđŤśđź
recollection. (nsfw)
a joyful future fic aaron hotchner x fem!reader
a/n:Â is it cliche to keep apologizing for being late? lmao anyway enjoy!! let me know if you loved it :)
co-written by @ssaic-jareau links: masterlist | posting schedule | ao3 turn on post notifs to join the taglist!
word count: 2k content warning(s): unprotected p in v sex (be safe kids, etc.), lots of chatting and reminiscing minors dni!
âremembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.â -- marcel proust
november 8th, 2011
+++
âYou know,â you murmur into the dark, âwe used to do this. Sleep next to each other on purpose.â
Aaron lets out a low, amused hum. âYeah. Like idiots.â
Youâre next to each other, both snuggled in with a familiar sigh of comfort, the soft click of the lamp, the settling after a long day.
You laugh, nudging your toes against his shin. âWho were we trying to fool?â
He rolls his head on the pillow to face you, and even though you canât see his expression clearly in the dark, you feel his smile.
âI have no idea,â he says. âPretty sure everyone but us knew.â
You hum, grinning. âWe knew. We just didnât communicate. And we hid a lot from each other..â
Aaron chuckles. âYou mean me trying to hide my morning semi every time you rolled into me?â
You choke on a laugh, turning your face into the pillow to muffle it.
He reaches over, finds your hand in the dark, threads your fingers together easily.
âWhat about you?â he asks, voice low, teasing. âYou seemed awfully composed for someone sleeping next to a very available man.â
You snort. âAvailable, my ass.â You pause, squeezing his hand. âI had to manually override my attraction every night. I had a whole system.â
âOh yeah?â he teases, his thumb stroking idly over the back of your hand.
You nod solemnly, even though he probably canât see it. âRemind myself how comfortable you were with me. How safe you made me feel. How much I didnât want to ruin it by jumping you in my pajamas.â
Aaron laughs quietly, squeezing your hand.
You turn your head to face him again, feeling the weight of the moment settle a little differently.
Thereâs a pause.
Then, quietly, âWhat would you have wanted me to do?â His voice is almost shyâalmost.
You blink into the dark, your chest tightening a little at the question.
You could lie. Brush it off.
But itâs Aaron. And you donât want to lie to him anymore. About anything.
You breathe out, slow. âI wanted you to reach for me,â you whisper. âEven just once.â
Another beat of silence.
âI would have met you halfway,â you add, softer still.
Aaron holds you close, your forehead tucked against his arm, your hand still laced in his.
The air between you is warm now, dense with things unsaid.
His thumb strokes lazily over your knuckles once, twice.
Then he says itâlow, a little hoarse, like heâs not even sure he should be asking, âAfter you met me halfwayâŚâ
A pause. A breath.
ââŚwhat would you have wanted me to do?â
You lift your head, just enough to see the faint outline of his face in the dark.
Heâs watching you.
Your heart thuds heavy in your chest.
You lean in closer, your voice barely a whisper against his skin:
âI wouldâve wanted you to kiss me.â
Aaronâs breath catches.
âAnd touch me.â
You slide your hand up his chestâslow, exploratoryâfingertips tracing the muscle, the warmth, the life under your touch.
âHere,â you murmur, your palm flattening over his heart.
Then lowerâdrifting down his stomach, your nails dragging lightly through the fine trail of hair below his navel.
âAnd here.â
Aaron makes a low, broken sound in his throat, tightening his hold on you.
You smile against his skinâsmall, secret.
âAnd I wouldâve let you,â you add, bolder now.
You lift your head from his chest, find him looking at youâsoft, open in that quiet way he only ever is with you.
You reach for him, fingers brushing lightly over his cheekbone, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his mouth.
And you whisper, because it feels like something sacred:
âI wouldâve wanted you too.â
Aaron catches your hand, kisses your knuckles, your wrist, the inside of your palm.
âI know,â he says quietly.
You watch him for a long moment, feeling the weight of the years you waited for thisâwaited for himâpress against your ribs.
âIts cheesy, maybe, butââ
âNo,â you coax. âSay it.âÂ
âI wanted to make love to you,â Aaron says softly, threading his fingers through yours, cradling your hand against his chest. âNot just fuck youâthough that absolutely has its meritsââ
You laugh, a breathless, stunned sound, and he smiles against your skin.
âBut for our first time,â he murmurs, voice deep and sure, âI would have wanted something slow. Something gentle. Something to savor.â
You swallow hard, heart kicking against your ribs.
âShow me,â you whisper.
Aaronâs hand tightens in yoursâgentle but sure.
He shifts over you, the mattress dipping with his weight, his body so warm, so familiar now.
âI wouldâve kissed you like this,â he says, voice a roughened thread of promise.
And then he does.
He kisses you slowly, reverentlyâlips soft but firm, coaxing your mouth open with his, savoring every tiny sound you make, every little hitch in your breath.
His hands roam your body like heâs memorizing you from scratchâsmoothing over your hips, your waist, the curve of your ribs.
You sigh into his mouth, arching into him, desperate for more but willing to let him set the pace.
Aaron pulls back just enough to look at youâeyes dark, tender, hungry.
âI wouldâve undressed you,â he murmurs, sliding the hem of your shirt up, kissing every inch of skin he reveals.
You whimper, threading your fingers into his hair, guiding him without urgency.
âAnd then,â he says, voice a little rougher now, âI wouldâve taken my time making you come.â
Your breath catches, hips tipping up into him automatically.
Aaron smiles against your belly, teeth scraping lightly at your skin.
âI wouldâve touched you here,â he whispers, slipping his hand between your thighs, cupping you over your underwearâwarm, steady, sure.
Your voice breaks over his name, half-laughing, half-crying from the tenderness of it.
âAnd here,â he adds, sliding one hand up to cradle your breast, thumb brushing lightly over your nipple.
âYouâre killing me,â you gasp.
He chuckles low in his throat.Â
âNot yet,â he promises. âI would have taken my time getting to know you, this way. And I would have enjoyed every second. Just like I have so loved getting to know you every other way.â
He slides your underwear off and you kick them off, knowing youâll find them later.Â
He kisses his way back up your bodyâyour belly, your ribs, your throatâand when he finally lines himself up, pressing the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, he pauses.
âAnd then I would have asked.â
One hand cups your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek.
âYou sure?â he murmurs, even though he knows the answer.
You nod, voice shaking with how much you want him, âYes. Please.â
Aaron pushes into you slowâso slowâfilling you inch by inch until youâre gasping, clinging to his shoulders, completely wrung out by how good it feels.
How right it feels.
He groans against your mouth, turning his head to press his cheek to yours.Â
âYou feel like home,â he whispers, voice breaking.
He moves slowly inside youâevery thrust deep, careful, intimate. You breathe him in, your lips pressing to his cheek, his temple, the corner of his mouth. Your hands trace his shoulders, come to rest on either side of his face, holding him to you.Â
His hand glides up your thigh, hiking your leg higher around his waist, opening you for him even more.Â
Heâs so deep it almost achesâbut in the best way.
His forehead presses to yours again, breath ragged, but his voice steady.
âI would have found all the places to kiss you,â he murmurs against your mouth, âthat make you make all these beautiful noises.â
He drags his mouth down your throat, finding the sensitive skin just below your jaw and kissing you thereâslow and hot.
You whimper.
âLike that one,â he says, smiling against your skin.
He rolls his hips deeper, grinding just right, and you let out a soft, broken moan before you can stop it.
âAnd I would have found these places,â he whispers, voice tight, âthe ones that make you fall apart for me.â
Your nails dig into his back, clinging to him.
He thrusts deep again, perfectly angled, and you gaspâhigh, desperate.
âFuck,â you manage, trembling.
âYeah,â he breathes against your cheek, rolling into you again. âJust like that.â
He stillsâburied all the way inside youâand you pull in air like your lungs forgot how to work, the feeling so overwhelming you donât know how to breathe through it.
Aaron kisses your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.
âI would have filed that away,â he says softly, almost smiling through the strain.
âBecauseââ
He pulls back just enough to look at you properly, his eyes dark and so full of love you could drown in them.
ââI always want you to feel this good.â
Your breath hitches, and a soft, wordless sound falls from your lips, wrecked and open.
Aaronâs hand strokes down your side.
âI would have asked about that, too,â he murmurs. He rolls into you. âFeel good?âÂ
You nod frantically, unable to find words at firstâonly gasps, broken sounds.
âYes,â you finally whimper, voice cracking with how much you mean it.
Aaronâs face softensâalmost a grimace, almost a smileâlike he canât quite contain it, like your pleasure is the best thing heâs ever been given.
He rocks into you again, slow and devastating.
âGood,â he whispers against your skin. âYou deserve it.â
Aaron kisses you againâsoft, deliberateâhis hand still firm on your thigh, keeping you open for him.
He pulls back just enough to whisper against your mouth, âI wouldâve taken my time with you.â
You make a broken sound, half plea, half surrender.
He smiles against your skin, a little strained now from the effort of holding back.
âI wouldâve told you,â he murmurs, âhow long I wanted you. How long I waited. How much it fucking killed me every time you fell asleep next to me and I couldnât touch you.â
You gasp, clutching at him, feeling every word like a blow against your ribs.
âI wouldâve told you,â he says again, his hips grinding down in a rhythm so devastatingly deep and slow it has you seeing stars, âthat I didnât just want your body. I wanted you.â
You sob, hips jerking up into his without rhythm, desperate to keep him, to feel more.
Aaron braces himself on one elbow, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheekbone like you might slip away otherwise.
âI wouldâve made you come slow,â he says, voice breaking slightly, âover and over until you believed me. Until I was certain you knew how much I loved you.â
You whimper, clutching at him, your body trembling from the slow burn building too high, too fast.
He thrusts deeper, grinding down just right, and you cry outâwrecked and clinging to him.
âAnd then,â Aaron breathes, his voice so low itâs almost a growl, âI would have asked youâŚâ
Another slow, devastating roll of his hips.
âWhere you wanted me to come.â
You exhale against his throat, nails scraping down his back.
He stills for a secondâburied so deep inside youâand pulls back just far enough to look at you.
His breath is short, wrecked. His body trembling with restraint.
âAnd you would have saidââ
He breaks off, waiting, holding you wide open on the edge.
Waiting for you to finish it.
You can barely breathe. Barely think.
But you know the answer.
You always knew the answer.
You press your forehead to his, voice breaking into a whimper:
âInside. I would have said inside.â
Aaronâs whole body shudders.
He groans, low and wrecked, kissing you hard, hips grinding into you again, desperate now, pushed right to the edge.
âTogether, baby,â he rasps against your mouth.Â
And when you come apart under him, sobbing his name, clenching around him so tight it feels like youâre pulling him into your soulâ
Aaron follows you right over the edge, burying himself deep as he spills inside you, gasping your name like a prayer.
He presses his forehead to yours, still inside you, still tangled in every part of you, murmuring against your lips.
âI love you. I love you. I love you.â
You kiss him back, breathless and broken and perfect.
âI love you,â you whisper.
+++
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these two⌠always so hot and steamy whew đłđŤŁ ONCE THEY STARTED OOF NOBODY COULD EVER STOP THEM
CRIMINAL MINDS âł 7x06 â Epilogue
You know in Criminal Minds when Garcia opens a file on an unsub and says something like "this reads like a 'How to make an Unsub manual'", or "aw, poor kid didn't stand a chance"
You cannot tell me she wouldn't say the exact same thing if she'd opened Reid's file in that context.
Absent father, mentally ill mother, high intelligence, probably autistic, bullied at school, left unsupervised for a decent portion of his childhood, independent from a young age, consistently losing people he loves, several kidnappings, addiction issues
Literally every single part of Reid's life seems designed to make him snap and do something drastic, he's got the genetics, the trauma and gets a new stressor like every season
Frankly props to him for not just going rogue and killing someone, he could so get away with it too.
#Bonesweek12018: Day 5 - A FEW Favorite Song(s)

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He actually found her in a University.
Emily correcting David like a HBIC (sheâs so witty) during the Two Bodies in a Lab commentary
DAVID: Is that your phone? EMILY: Oh my God. DAVID: They told you to shut the phone off. EMILY: I turned off my phone. DAVID: Thatâs the phone in the scene! [both laugh] Thatâs how gullible she is, ladies and gentlemen. She actually thought that was the phone ringing in this session. Itâs a first.. well actually itâs not a first. EMILY: Well, it is a first. Iâve never done one of these DVD commentaries before. ~ DAVID: TJ, I think has got the longest eyelashes of any actor Iâve ever worked with. EMILY: âAny actor?â Just that? DAVID: Theyâre batting. EMILY: It means a lot because actors have long eyelashes. ~ EMILY: And you didnât know Cat Power. DAVID: Iâve never heard of Cat Power. What is Cat Power? I still donât know what Cat Power is. EMILY: Itâs a woman. DAVID: Thatâs strange. Why am I listening to Cat Power? EMILY: Itâs me- itâs my apartment. Iâm the one listening to it. DAVID: Have you ever listened to Cat Power? EMILY: Yes, I have, actually. ~ DAVID: It looks like weâre going 105 miles an hour. EMILY: I know. We? Youâre not even in that car. DAVID: Thatâs right. ~ DAVID: Thatâs a real mini cooper, you know? Thatâs a real- nah, itâs an original. EMILY: What do you think they build? A fake mini cooper? DAVID: Well, they got the new oneâs today. Thatâs not a new-new one. Thatâs an original. EMILY: Itâs a classic is what youâre saying. Itâs a classic mini cooper. The original mini. ~ EMILY: Thereâs your medal. DAVID: Oh, now itâs out. Letâs see. Now itâs back in. For those that are looking and counting, every time you see the medal out, do a shot. EMILY: Wait. Then theyâll only have done one shot. DAVID: Mhm. ~ DAVID: Yeah, I know in hospitals youâre not supposed to use cell phones in hospitals. EMILY: You arenât. But I used it very briefly, if youâll notice. DAVID: Thatâs interesting.
fucken adorable !!! theyâre so đĽ´đĽ°
schoolyard politics: part i.
a joyful future fic aaron hotchner x fem!reader
a/n: aaaaaand we're back! i hope this one was worth the wait. let me know what you think!
co-written by @ssaic-jareau links: masterlist | posting schedule | ao3 turn on post notifs to join the taglist!
word count: 6.4k content warning(s): wasp-y passive aggression and snide remarkes, innuendo instigated by someone's mother, aaron acting like a 14 year old, sean hotchner mention
âsouthern women can say more with a cut of their eyes than a whole debate clubâs worth of speeches.â --allison glock
october 8th, 2011 jackâs 6th birthday
+++
âRoyâs decided heâs coming tomorrow.â
You glance up. âYour dad?â
Jess nods, arms crossed now. âAnd my mom. But sheâs not the problem.â She pauses. âUsually.â
You wait. She lets the silence marinate for a moment.
âDad was never more pleased than when Haley moved out,â Jess says finally. âSwear to God, I think he opened a bottle of wine.â
You blink. âSeriously?â
âOh yeah. He made it weird, actually. Haley was actually kind of offended by how fast he took her side. I think he said âThatâs great, Princess. Iâm proud of you.â She shakes her head, a little rueful, a little mournful. âHaley was always his little princess.â
You lean back against the sink, facing her. âAaronâs never said much.â
âHe wouldnât.â Jess shifts her weight, jaw tight. âBut itâs always been bad. There was a question of whether heâd come to the wedding. Skipped Jackâs baptism. The closest he ever got to a compliment was saying Aaronâs suits looked expensive and he probably worked hard for the money to buy them, which is kind of backhanded, and he didnât even say that to his face.â
âJesus,â you mutter.
âAaron was a problem teenager, by all accounts,â Jess admits. âLittle too smart, little too angry, little too rough around the edges. You know the type.â
You raise your eyebrows.
She smirks. âOh, please. You know exactly the type and you can definitely imagine it.â
You smile despite yourself.
You can, in fact, imagine it. Aaron, developing that patented scowl, double lines between his brows, shaggy hair, downturned mouth. Scruffy, scruffy, scruffy. A far cry from your buttoned up lover writing FY12 budget notes in his office. Â
Jess shrugs. âI didnât always get Aaron or agree with him, but he tried. He showed up. He did the work. He was good to my baby sister, even when they didnât see eye-to-eye.â She throws up her hands. âI mean, they were good together for like 20 years. Heâs practically a brother to me. And still, nothing was ever good enough for my dad.â
She sets the dish towel down, then adds, âI guess it shouldnât have surprised me when Haley started seeing Joseph, and Dad was thrilled.â
Your brow furrows.
âI mean,â she continues, voice lowering, âit was pretty obvious it started before they split. But Dad didnât care. If anything, he looked relieved. Like that made it easier to cast Aaron as the villainâlike it gave him permission to stop pretending heâd ever wanted it to work or that there were two sides to the divorce.â
You stare at her for a second. âDoes he still feel that way?â
Jess laughs, dry. âIt got worse. He couldnât wrap his head around witness protection. Hated that no one could call her, was absolutely incensed that Haleyâs call to Mom had to reset her protection and anonymity. He thought, and I still donât know if it was a joke, that the Bureau was lying to him, like Aaron personally ordered her disappearance. Even implied some things that didnât age so well afterâwell.â Her mouth twists. You cringe.
Jesus.
Roy Brooks, in all his sanctimonious grief and confusion, even suggested witness protection was a cover storyâthat Aaron had somehow orchestrated his own ex-wifeâs murder and hidden it under federal authorityâŚ
Aaronâs been shouldering that kind of venom in silence. Thatâs suddenly a thousand times more infuriating.
You swallow the heat crawling up your throat.
If Aaron ever said one unkind thing about that man, youâd understand it now.
But he hadnât.Â
âDidnât send a card while Aaron was recovering, just kept asking when Haley was coming home. Like it was an extended business trip she could control.â
You blink. âHe really hated him that much?â
Jess picks up her wine again. âHe needed to. Otherwise, heâd have to admit Haley made her own choicesâand that some of them were wrong. Dad likes his villains clean. And Aaron was always easy to blame. Itâs not like heâd argue with him.â She shrugs. âAnd Haley could do no wrong.â
You snort. âItâs not like Aaron disagrees that itâs his fault.âÂ
Jessâs mouth twists again.
You let out a slow breath. âWhat about your momâKathleen right?â
Jess nods and shrugs. âMom never liked him, but she kept it to herself. Mostly.â
âAnd Aaronâs mom?â
âShe canât stand them,â Jess says bluntly. âBut Evelyn loved Haley, despite everything. She was always polite to my folks, at least on the surface.â She sighs, waving a hand. âTheyâre super old school, so even the Catholic-Protestant thing was an issue.â
You nod. âSo tomorrow might getâŚtense.â
Jess laughs, dry. âIf weâre lucky, itâll stay at tense.â
You nod again, more solemn now.
Jess glances over. âAaronâs gonna be okay. But heâs gonna be⌠quiet. Heâll swallow a lot of shit that he shouldnât have to, because itâs Jackâs day. And because he still thinks he has to make up for everything. He knows itâs impossible but heâs going to try.â
You donât speak.
She takes a sip of her wine. âSo if you see him slipping into that old âstand up straight and show me some respect boyâ mode, maybe remind him he doesnât have to perform anymore. Not with you and me. And itâs bad for Jack.â
You nod. âI will.â
Jess presses a hand to your shoulder. âThank you.â
She rinses her wine glass and sets it gently in the drying rack. The kitchenâs quiet again, just the soft tick of the old clock above the door. She grabs her coat off the back of the chair and shrugs it on with practiced ease.
âIâll see you at Daveâs tomorrow,â she says, adjusting the strap of her purse.
You nod, walking her to the front door. âThanks again for talking through everything.â
Jess smiles, small but sincere. âThanks for listening.â
She opens the door, hesitates, then turns back just long enough to pull you into a tight hug.
âLove you,â you say against her shoulder.
âLove you too.â She squeezes once more before stepping back onto the hallway. âYou staying here tonight?â
You glance back into the apartment, toward the soft light spilling from the crack beneath Aaronâs bedroom door. âMight as well. Iâll be here early anyway.â
Jess adopts a familiar lookâsardonic, fond, just the edge of knowing.
âRemember our chat this summer?â
You groan. âShut up.â
She grins. âAlright. Tell me youâre sleeping in the guest room and Iâll stop.â
You narrow your eyes. âGoodnight, Jess.â
She backs down the hall, waving with wiggly fingers. âThatâs what I thought.â
You close the door behind her, lock it, and lean your forehead against the wood for just a second. With a sigh, you lean back, set the alarm, and head toward the bedroom.Â
When the door closes, Aaron asks, turned on his side in bed, already under the covers. âDo I want to know what that was about?â
You shake your head with a light, humorless laugh, leaning against the door. âNo.âÂ
He raises an eyebrow. âJess teasing you again?â
You give him a look. âYou know sheâs got a sixth sense for it.â
Aaron smiles faintly. âSheâs not wrong.â
You roll your eyes, push off the frame, and start pulling off your sweater. âThatâs enough.â
He watches you for a beat. The playfulness fades. âSomethingâs bothering you.â
You donât answer right away. Just slide your jeans off, fold them over the chair. The silence stretches too long.
Aaron speaks again, quieter this time. âItâs about tomorrow.â
âItâs not nice to profile me at home, you know.â
You exhale. Sit on the edge of the bed, back to him, the humor fizzling out of you. âJess told me some things.â
âAbout Roy?â
You nod. âAbout what heâs said. About Joseph and Haley and you.â
Aaron doesnât respond. Not at first. Then, âHeâs not wrong.â
You freeze.
Aaronâs voice is steady, but itâs too even. âIf Iâd quit the BAU, if Iâd stayed home more, if Iâd been a better husband and father⌠Haley might still be alive. Jack wouldnât have nightmares. You and his last remaining daughter wouldnât be picking up pieces. So yeah, maybe Royâs an asshole, but heâs not wrong.â
You move to him before he can sink any further. He turns toward you under the covers, a matter-of-fact pull nagging at the side of his mouth.Â
You donât say anything at first. Just climb into bed and slide into his space. You cup his jaw in one hand and press your forehead to his, close, firm.Â
âDonât,â you say, voice steady. âDonât do that.â
His breath catches, almost startled by your tenacity.
You press your other hand to his chest, over his heart, the heel of your palm warm through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
âYou didnât deserve any of it,â you whisper. âTheyâre entitled to a little bit of upset given the circumstances, but what I just heard is absolute bullshit.â
He leans into your touch like itâs the only thing keeping him out of the mental boxing ring.
Your thumb drags gently over his cheekbone, and when you brush his hair back from his forehead, he closes his eyesâlike thatâs the part that guts him. The way you touch him like he isnât breakable, or like itâs okay if he is.
âI donât think I know how to stop blaming myself,â he admits. âIâve never really tried.â
You shift, pull him into your arms the way heâs pulled you into his so many times before. âI know.â
His head drops to your shoulder, and you run your fingers through his hair, slow and gentle.
Heâs quiet. His arms around your waist are tight, like maybe if he lets go, heâll float away.
âYouâre safe,â you murmur into his hair. âYouâre not alone. Youâre here with me.â
He breathes out against your collarbone, a shudder of air that ghosts across your collar.
You shift again and guide him down so heâs half curled into your chest, your hand tracing soothing patterns across the plane of his back. Itâs muscle memory, sure, but itâs also a promise.Â
No oneâs going to hurt you here.
âIâve got you,â you say. âIâll have your back tomorrow.â
His fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, his voice so quiet it barely disturbs the air.
âI know.â
You press a kiss to the crown of his head.
âIâm always gonna be there,â you murmur, voice low against his hair. âTo hold you up, to bail you out, to distract and deflect,â you continue with a wry smile, âand to keep you from decking your ex-father-in-law in front of our friends and family.â
Aaron makes a noise thatâs almost a laugh, half-asleep. âAppreciated.â
âBut,â you add, âI might need your help tomorrow.â
He lifts his head just enough to look at you, brow furrowed. âWhy?â
You raise an eyebrow. âBecause after everything you just said, if he so much as looks at you wrong, thereâs a very real chance Iâll do something that gets me cited in a professional conduct review. Or get the cops called. That would be bad press, probably.â
That gets a real, quiet laugh out of him. He leans up, presses his forehead to yours.
âDonât,â he says gently. âYouâre more important to Jack than my ego.â
You smirk. âFine. But if he tries anything, you better stand behind me.â
+++
The smell of garlic and something roasted hits you the second you step through the front door. Itâs comforting, over-the-top, and deeply Rossi. The man never hosts anything without attempting to feed twenty-five people with the energy of a Sicilian grandmother possessed.
You and Aaron are carrying bagsâcake boxes, favor bags, juice pouches for the kids, a bottle of red for Dave, because of course.
âRossi!â you sing.Â
Dave turns from the stove, flicking a towel over his shoulder, already smiling. âThere you are.â
You step up and kiss his cheek. âThank you for hosting. Again.â
He waves a hand like youâve said something ridiculous. âPlease. Any excuse to feed my beloved children carbs.â
You grin. âYou ready for an entire class of kindergartners to descend on your backyard like locusts?â
He lifts a hand to his temple, mock-solemn. âIâm sure Vietnam was quieter.â
Aaron sets the cake box down on the counter and raises an eyebrow. âYou know you donât have to go all in, right?â
Rossi shrugs, already pulling out a tray of tiny meatballs from the oven. âMaybe not. But whatâs the point of having a house this size if youâre not using it to make people feel at home?â
You glance around the kitchenâthe spread already forming, the balloons bobbing in the dining room, the open sliding doors framing the backyard.
âMission accomplished,â you say.
Dave shoots you a wink. âWait âtil you see what I did with the bounce house.â
Aaron groans softly behind you.
âWhere should I put these?â You do your best to hold up a finger with your gift bag hanging on it.
Dave points with his nose at a table in the corner of the dining room. âOver there. Spencer and Emily dropped theirs off yesterday.âÂ
That catches your attention. You pause, looking at Dave with a question in your eyebrows. He shakes you off, and you decide itâs not all that important, after all.
+++
You find Aaron standing just inside the door, straightening the cuff of his quarter zip like heâs preparing for court. His postureâs already gone stiff. Composed.
You ease up beside him, careful not to crowd.
âFirst group of parents are here,â you say gently.
He nods but doesnât look at you.
You watch him for a second, mindful of the merry, nosey band of profilers outside on the deck. âYou ready?â
He exhales through his nose. âAs much as I ever am.â
You fold your arms loosely. âYou donât have to perform for me, you know.â
âIâm not.â
You tilt your head.
Aaron smilesâtired, thin. âOkay. Maybe a little.â
You take a breath, watching the way his shoulders square like armor. âYou can be the grieving ex-husband today. You can be the Unit Chief. You can be whoever the hell you need to be out there. But underneath that, I want you to remember this: Youâre Jackâs dad. Jack is happy. Heâs thriving. And thatâs because of you.â
His mouth tics, just slightly. âBecause of you, too.â
You shake your head. âYouâve been his foundation since day one. Youâre his father. And a damn good one.â
Aaron looks at you then. Really looks at you.
You step closer. Lower your voice. âLet them say what they want. Youâre doing your job and he wants for nothing.â
His throat moves as he swallows. âThank you.â
You bump his elbow lightly. âWeâre gonna get through this.â
He nods. âTogether.â
You offer a smile. âNow letâs go celebrate that weird little kid.â
Aaron huffs a real laugh. He opens the door for you. âAfter you.â
+++
Youâre handing out paper plates when you catch sight of the sedan pulling into the driveway. The tires crunch across Rossiâs immaculate gravel. You glance over your shoulderâAaronâs by the grill with Dave, but the line of his spine has gone straight, tension humming off him like static.
Before you can move, Jess notices too. She sets down the plate of watermelon with a small, resigned sigh. Wipes her hands quickly on a dish towel.
âIâve got it,â she says under her breath, and you nod, letting her go.
She crosses the yard as Roy and Kathleen climb out of the car. Kathleen carries a gift bag. Roy looks like heâs bracing for a blow.
Jess meets them halfway down the walk, her face smoothing into something polite. Not warm exactlyâbut familiar.Â
A familiar mask for parentsâŚ
âHey,â she says, taking the gift bags, keeping it casual. âThanks for coming.â
Kathleen smiles firstâtentative, a little too careful. âWouldnât miss it.â
Royâs nod is short. Barely there.
Jess presses on, stepping in to give her mother a quick, perfunctory hug. âJackâs been counting down for weeks. Heâs gonna lose his mind when he sees you.â
Kathleen brightens. âHeâs such a sweet boy.â
Jess smiles. Itâs genuineâbut thereâs something guarded in it too.
You stay on the porch, watching, waiting, letting Jess do this on her terms.
She turns slightly, gesturing back toward the house. âCome on in. Everyoneâs out back. Cakeâs in about twenty minutes if we can get them out of the bounce house.â
Roy snorts quietly, almost like itâs beneath him to find that funny.
Kathleen murmurs something about how nice Daveâs house is as they pass through the gate to the backyard. Jess holds the latch for them, waits until theyâve made their way inside, then lingers a beat before following.
You catch Aaronâs eyes across the patio. He lifts his chin onceâsubtle. A question.
You nod back. Handled.
+++
Youâre still on the deck when a second car pulls into the drivewayâa practical, smart navy SUV. Aaron, beside you now, stiffens for half a second before letting out a breath.
You follow his gaze.
A woman steps out, pulling her purse over her shoulder. She's striking and tall-ishâin her late sixties or early seventies, thick, dark grey and brown hair pinned back neatly, familiar warm brown eyes sharp as a scalpel. There's grace in her movements, something careful but utterly unselfconscious and confident. She opens the back door of the car, moving and balancing a big, wrapped box.Â
Itâs odd, but her manner of approaching objects and interacting with the world is instantly recognizable.Â
You don't need to ask.
You can see itâthe unmistakable resemblance between her and Aaron. The jawline, the brow, the set of her shoulders, the brown in her eyes and hair.
You head down the steps before Aaron can move, meeting her halfway across the drive.
âYou must be the one I've heard so much about,â she says, voice conspiratorial and textured with humor. She offers a hand, still balancing her gift. âEvelyn West-Hotchner.â
You introduce yourself in kind.Â
Her handshake is firm, her smile small but not cold. There's weight behind it, like she's assessing you, but not in a cruel way, just... carefully. Even though his father was the lawyer, Evelyn clearly established some habits that bled into Aaronâs temperament.Â
Aaron steps forward, the faintest smile on his face.
âMom,â he says, and itâs softer than anything you've heard from him all day. Almost boyish. âThis isââ he hesitates, stumbling over your name, ââmy work partner.â
Evelyn glances between the two of you. Her gaze sharpensâand then softens, all in one breath. Thereâs something knowing in her look that makes heat crawl up the back of your neck.
âWork partner,â she says. âRight.â
She winks, lightning fast.Â
Suddenly you feel... exposed.Â
She pats Aaronâs cheek once, fondly, before reaching up to wrap him in a full-bodied hug that crumples the last of the tension in his posture. He leans into it like heâs wanted to for hours.
You look away, giving him the privacy of it, but not before catching the ghost of a smile on his faceâthe real kind.
When they part, Aaron clears his throat, straightens his jacket unnecessarily. Youâre half-tempted to elbow him in the ribs.
Evelyn chuckles and links her arm through Aaronâs like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
âAlright. Let me see my grandson.â
+++
The party is in full swing. Jack is somewhere in the yard wielding a foam sword. Derekâs helping tie balloons to the fence. Dave is doingâŚsomething youâll probably have to address later.Â
Youâre refilling your drink at the patio table when you catch itâa shift in the air thatâs almost imperceptible, unless youâre already looking for it.
And youâre looking for everything.Â
Kathleen steps onto the deck, cradling her glass of lemonade. You can see the resemblance between her and Jess in the thin autumn sunshine, the features the two women shared with Haley.Â
Evelyn stands by the railing, looking like a Chicoâs catalog model, her hand resting lightly on Aaronâs shoulder before he drifts off to check on Jack. She says something you donât catch, warm and encouraging.Â
The two women clock each other immediately.
You hover near the snack table with your plate, pretending to be very interested in an assortment of celery sticks and carrots.
âEvelyn,â Kathleen says, smiling just a little too hard. âItâs been so long.â
Evelyn turns slowly, her own smile sharp as a tack. âKathleen. How good to see you. Youâre looking... well.â
Thereâs a fractional pause before Kathleen replies, syrupy sweet, âWell, you know how it is. Itâs all smoke and mirrors after a certain age.â
Evelynâs eyes twinkle dangerously. âOf course. But some of us hold up better than others, donât we?â
You blink. Holy shit.
Kathleen tips her head like sheâs accepting a compliment. âWell, you know. Healthy habits and all that. I do my best to stay away from alcohol, you know. Good for the skin.âÂ
You tense. This is outright verbal warfare, couched in plausible deniability and pleasant tones.Â
Kathleen continues. âIâm sure itâs so good to see Jack after so long between visits.â She sips her lemonade like sheâs just mentioning the weather.
Evelyn doesnât miss a beat. âOf course! I try to get over here as often as heâll let me. Heâs such a good boy. And so resilient. You know, it really makes a differenceâhaving a stable, loving home.â
You almost choke on a baby carrot.
Kathleenâs smile freezes, cracks at the edges. âYes. I imagine it must.â
Thereâs so much verbal gunpowder in the air youâre amazed the grill hasnât spontaneously exploded.
You glance down at your plate. Stay quiet. Stay still.Â
Blend into the vegetables.
Evelyn tilts her head, voice dropping just enough to feel like velvet and a blade at the same time. Itâs weird hearing that tone leave her mouth, when youâve heard it from her son so often. âItâs good for children, I think. Having people around them who donât need to be reminded what love looks like.â
Kathleenâs grip tightens minutely around her glass. âThatâs certainly one way to look at it.â
Evelyn hums, noncommittal. âI suppose we all live with the choices we make.â
Kathleenâs lips flatten, but she recovers smoothly. âYes. Some of us more comfortably than others.â
Before anything else can detonate, Jack shrieks from across the yard, waving his foam sword, and Aaronâs laugh floats over the patio, pulling Evelynâs attention away.
You watch her glide toward Jack like she hadnât just verbally eviscerated another grown woman with the poise and grace of a state-trained assassin.
Kathleen retreats toward the drink table with a polite, brittle smile plastered across her face, the cracks in it visible if you know where to look.
Aaron materializes beside you after a moment, hands tucked into his pockets, face schooled into neutrality. Still, when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, you catch the glint of deep, private amusement.
You murmur, low enough that only he can hear, âThey are insanely good at that. Holy shit.â
Aaronâs mouth twitches like heâs trying very hard not to laugh.
âTold you,â he says under his breath. âYou canât teach it. You have to survive it. Southern women, and all that.â
You glance at him, wide-eyed. âAnd she raised you?â
He shrugs, the movement dry and unbothered. âShe did, yes. Does that surprise you?âÂ
âNo,â you say, laughter in it. âNot at all.âÂ
After a beat, he adds, voice even drier, âShe also raised Sean. So do with that what you will.â
You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing out loud. Aaronâs expression is almost smug. Youâre just happy heâs not outwardly anxious.
You bump his hip lightly with yours. âI like you both, so I guess Iâll take the favor.â
The moment between you and Aaron lingers for another heartbeat, then gently dissolves as Jack lets out another shriek, tearing across the lawn with Derek in hot pursuit, laughing.
Aaron steps down into the yard with Dave, both of them corralling kids toward the cake table.
You start to follow when Derek peels off from the chaos, falling into step beside you, hands stuffed into his pockets, posture almost relaxed.
 âGot a second?â
You glance at him, instantly suspicious of the tone. âDepends. Am I about to regret giving you one?â
He grins. âNah. Just curious.â
You tilt your head. âDangerous.â
He chuckles, but his gaze flickers toward the patioâtoward Evelyn standing coolly by the door, and Kathleen stiff by the drinks table, and Roy sitting with arms crossed and a face like heâs been sucking lemons for three days.
âAnything I should know about this very chilly HotchnerâBrooks weather system?â he asks, voice still casual, but his eyes sharp.
You exhale slowly, adjusting the plate of cupcakes in your hands. âShort version? Itâs not new.â
Derek nods. âFigured.â
âTheyâve never liked Aaron,â you say, voice lower now. âNot really. Not even before... everything.â
Derekâs mouth tightens a little. âGot that much.â
âThey think he ruined Haleyâs life and she didnât deserve him and his family is new money Catholic trash blah blah blah.â You wave your hand dismissively, adding with a lighthearted, âI mean sure, but donât be rude about it.â You sober up. âThen, when she died...â You shake your head. âThere wasnât a lot of grace left over.â
Derek hums under his breath, something low and dark. âMan never stood a chance.â
You smile tightly. âNot with them, no.â
He walks a few steps with you in silence, letting the weight of it settle.
Then, a little lighter, nudging you with his elbow, âYou doing okay?â
You glance at him. âYeah,â you say honestly. âItâs Jackâs day. Thatâs what matters.â
Derek grins, bright and conspiratorial. Something, though, is hidden behind it. âDamn right.â
You both pause for a second.Â
He continues, a little softer, sincere beneath the humor. âYouâre doing great with this. With the suspension and with Jack, you know. Really.â
You reach out, softly pushing your fist against his shoulder. âThanks, Derek.âÂ
He smiles. After a moment, he jogs off after Jack, and you follow a few steps behind, weaving through the thicket of kids and parents gathering around the cake table.
You catch up to him near the drinks cooler, nudging him lightly with your elbow. Youâre not done yet.
He glances at you, arching an eyebrow. âYeah?â
You lower your voice a little. âYou okay?â
Derek shrugs, casual. Too casual. âYeah. Iâm here, arenât I?â
You watch him for a second. The set of his jaw. The way his hand tightens briefly on the neck of his beer bottle.
He sighs. âLook. Iâm still not thrilled with some people right now.âÂ
He doesnât have to say it. Aaron. JJ.
âBut todayâs not about that,â he says. âItâs Jackâs birthday, and itâll be Henryâs in a month. And youâre here. So... Iâm here.â
You nod, the truth of it settling between you without needing a lot of words.
âAnd,â Derek adds, his voice softening a little, âearlier this week was good.â
You tilt your head. âYeah?â
He smilesâa real one this time. âYeah. Dinner. Talking. You... reminding me not everythingâs broken just âcause it feels like it.â
You bump his shoulder lightly. âWe do what we can.â
+++
âThis is lovely,â Kathleen says, glancing around the yard. âYouâve put so much care into it.â
You offer a small smile. âJack deserves a good birthday and a little fun treat for doing so well in his first month of school. And the decorating is all Dave. Heâs been a lovely host. Jack loves it here.â
Kathleen nods. âHe seems happy.â
âHe is,â you say simply. âHeâs surrounded by people who love him.â
A pause. Then, in a careful voice, she says, âThat matters a great deal. Especially now.â
You nod, taking notes from Evelyn to keep your face mindfully placid. âIt does.â
Kathleen lets her gaze linger on the yard. âI sometimes wonder what Haley would thinkâseeing all of this. How things have turned out.â
You study her expression for a moment. Itâs not exactly accusatory, but itâs loaded with somethingâgrief, maybe, or something a little less flattering.
You offer her something honest. Call it a show of good faith.Â
âI was lucky enough to be close to her after we met a few years ago.â You fold your hands in front of you, looking down at them. âWe talked a lot. I know the divorce was difficult for her, and I know Aaron wishes it had gone differently.â
You canât really help yourself. For better or worse, itâs always your instinct to defend and give him credit with people who donât like him all that much.Â
Derek comes to mindâŚ
Kathleenâs mouth tenses slightly. You donât press. You donât need to. The silence does the work for you.
After a beat, she murmurs, âShe didnât always open up easily.â
You nod once. âWhen she did, she wasâŚâ You search for a word. ââŚvery clear.â
Thereâs another beat of quiet. Kathleen doesnât ask what Haley said. Maybe she doesnât want to know.
She glances back toward the yard. âWell,â she says finally. âItâs a beautiful day. Youâve made Jackâs birthday very special.â
You smile gently. âThat was the goal.â
She nods, then drifts back toward the drink table, her expression unreadable.
+++
Evelyn takes a sip of her tea, delicately readjusting her barrette with her other hand. âDenial is unbecoming of you, Aaron.âÂ
He snorts. âWeâre well past that, thank you.âÂ
âYou are so welcome.âÂ
âMhm.â
âŚâSo whenâs the last time she spent a night at her place?â
âMom!âÂ
âWhat?â She looks convincingly shocked. âWeâre all adults here. We can have sex with other consenting adults.â She crosses herself. âItâs not like you had a white wedding the first time, God bless you.â
Aaron puts a hand over his eyes. âWe are not having this conversation.âÂ
âI think itâs remarkable,â she says, unbothered, âthat youâre treating this exactly as you did when you were seventeen. Thatâs something.â
Aaron huffs a sigh and ignores her. âThank you, Mother. Very insightful.â
âIâll leave you alone, now.âÂ
Aaron raises his eyebrows and tips his head, his mouth tight. âAll I ask.âÂ
As luck would have it, you approach with a smile and a laugh. âEvelyn, I really hope youâre getting your digs in.â
âOh, I always have some sage advice for my oldest, most beloved, responsible, and level-headed child.â She leans in as if to ruffle Aaronâs hair, and he ducks out of the way in a move thatâs more seventeen than forty-three.
âJesusâMom, please.â
âNot Jesus,â she says lightly, straightening her barrette again. âJust me.â
Aaron mutters something about the grill and heads off, a little too quickly to be casual. You watch him go, amused, while Evelyn takes another sip of her tea.
âI thought heâd grow out of the brooding silence thing,â she says, almost to herself. âGuess not.â
You smile. âYeah, Iâve picked up on that.â
Her eyes flick toward you, steady and kind. âYouâre good with it. Better than most.â
âSome days,â you admit. âOther days, I think about throwing something at him.â
That earns you a soft laugh. âGood. He needs that. Heâs not nearly as mysterious as he pretends to be.â
You glance toward the grill, where Aaronâs already leaning in like heâs debriefing Rossi instead of checking on burgers. âI figured,â you say.
Evelyn hums. âI know my son. Heâll withdraw, heâll sulk, heâll convince himself heâs a burden.â She waves her hand dismissively. âBut he listens to you. He told me so.â
Your throat tightens at that, though you cover it with a smile. âI try not to let him get away with too much.â
âKeep it that way,â she says simply, and thereâs a spark of approval in her eyes.
+++
Jack darts up, sword in hand. âGrandpa, did you see? Uncle Derek says Iâm the fastest knight in the yard!â
Roy chuckles, ruffles Jackâs hair, then glances past him to Aaron. âWell, you always did like playing soldier.â
âAnd such a brave knight you are, Jack,â Aaron says, a smile on his face.Â
Roy takes a slow sip, eyes sharp. âGets that from Haley. She was always quick on her feet. Knew how to take care of herself.â
Aaron hums, noncommittal.
âFunny thing,â Roy adds, like heâs reminiscing. âHaley always said she was raising two kids. One of them just happened to wear a suit to work.â
+++
You and Jess step out onto the deck.Â
ââŚHaley always said she was raising two kids. One of them just happened to wear a suit to work.â
Aaron doesnât move, doesnât blink. His shoulders sit tighter, his silence the only answer.
Roy tips the bottle toward him, almost like a toast. âGuess she didnât know how right she was until the end.â
Aaronâs face is neutral, but youâve been around him long enough to know how much force it takes to keep it that way.
Jess doesnât hesitate. âDad,â she says, bright and breezy, cutting across the tension like a knife through butter. She hooks her hand through his arm before he can press the point further. âCome meet the Holtsâtheyâve been dying to hear your take on Nationals' playoff roster.â
Roy blinks, caught off guard, but sheâs already steering him toward the crowd.
You move in the opposite direction, brushing your hand against Aaronâs elbow. Your voice is pitched casually, for him alone. âDave says the grillâs getting away from him. You should go check.â
Aaron exhales, long and quiet, then gives the faintest nod. His brown eyes are warm and full of gratitude when he looks back at you.Â
You wink at him, lightning fast.Â
+++
Aaron slips back to your side, past the chaos, to where youâre stacking paper plates at the buffet.
âHey,â he says, voice low.
You glance up. âHey.â
He lingers, posture half-relaxed, half-braced. âThanks. For earlier.â
You raise a brow. âFor what? Being functional and polite?â
He huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. âFor⌠running interference.â
âYeah, literally, actually zero problem,â you say, blunt as ever. âI donât know why it would be a problem.â
Something like relief tugs at his dimple. âMostly Iâm just happy you donât want to kill me anymore.â
You give him a flat look. âI donât want to kill you anymore⌠right now. Itâs still on the table, please donât misunderstand me.â
Aaron nods, the faint smile still threatening at the corner of his mouth. âGot it.â
From across the yard, Dave leans against the deck railing, arms crossed, sipping his wine like heâs watching a play. His eyes flick between you and Aaron, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
+++
The yard is a disasterâthe bounce house half-collapsed as it deflates, streamers and balloons wilting off the fence and deck railing, decorative lettuce looking similarly limp on the table.Â
Evelyn and Aaron work together, getting the gifts and leftover party favors into the trunk of Aaronâs SUV.Â
The view is only a little inspiring as you sit back with Jack in one of Daveâs Adirondack chairs, the birthday boy melted entirely to your chest, his head on your shoulder and breath sticky against your collar. His little hand rests on your bare upper arm, fingers twitching a little as he dreams (just like his dad).Â
You close your eyes against the waning sunshine for what feels like the briefest of moments before youâre startled by a shadow.Â
Evelyn Mae West-Hotchner. A formidable shadow, indeed.Â
She crouches beside you and youâre impressed by the lack of cracking in her knees. She has her son beat, there. Her hand rises, fingers gently raking through Jackâs hair.Â
âHe doesnât let just anyone touch his kid, you know.â
âHm?âÂ
âYou both think youâre very cool and subtle.â She tips her head in a startlingly familiar manner. âTrust me. I know.âÂ
You stare at her placidly, your eyebrows rising only a touch.Â
âMom.â Aaronâs flat, halfhearted chastizing doesnât make it very far.Â
Evelyn sighs, long-suffering, and stands, brushing her hands on her pants. âYes, darling?â
âStop harassing my friends, please.âÂ
She looks back at you with an eyeroll.. Get a load of this guy. âFriend. Right.âÂ
âMom.âÂ
Your head lolls to the side. âAaron, it really is incredible how you can sound 30 years younger with one single syllable.âÂ
You can almost hear him swallow something snarky.Â
âCan you get Jack in his car seat please?âÂ
âMhmm.â You straighten gingerly, supporting Jackâs head as you stand, Evelynâs hand at your elbow. You turn to her, briefly. âThank you.â
âPlease donât encourage her,â Aaron says.Â
You snort, passing him with the lightest of shoulder checks. âBe nice.âÂ
His response is hardly louder than a breath and dripping with sarcasm. âNo.â
Reaching the car, you pour Jack into his booster seat and get him buckled. He stirs a bit and you dip down into his eye line.
âDid you have a good birthday, bud?âÂ
He nods, sleepy. âThank you for the party.âÂ
You bite back a smile, opting for something crooked and small. âOf course.â
+++
âAlright, baby. Itâs just you and me,â Evelyn says as she watches you disappear behind the car. âWhat is the deal? Actually.âÂ
Aaron sighs.
âUh oh.âÂ
The sigh turns into an annoyed huff. âWeâre friends.â
âRight. And Iâm the Attorney General.âÂ
âDad got close, once.âÂ
âYeah. And so am I. So fess up.âÂ
Aaronâs mouth twists. âIâm being very patient,â he says, finally, clipped and precise.
â...About?â
âI⌠madeâŚ. several mistakes. So, Iâm being patient.â
She chews on that for a second. âThatâs good. It builds character.â
âIâve done plenty of character-building, thank you Mother.âÂ
âClearly not enough, if youâre making so many⌠meaningful mistakes.âÂ
Aaron bites his tongue. âFair.âÂ
She pats his arm and reaches up to kiss his cheek. He doesnât move.
âOkay, be good. Please keep me updated when your patience is rewarded or runs dry.âÂ
âGoodbye,â he replies, dry. âDrive safely.â
âYou too,â she says, sliding into her car. She rolls down her window as the door shuts. âBe good, okay?â
âYes, maâam.â
You join him as Evelyn backs out of the driveway, waving as she disappears around the hedge.Â
âYou good?âÂ
âMhm.âÂ
You peer at him. âYou lying?âÂ
âMhm.âÂ
âIâll see you at home.â
+++
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