#e's asks

The first time it happens is an accident.

You’d been staying late–or, later than you usually do to finish paperwork that you’d been putting off so that you didn’t have to bring it home with you. You thought that even Aaron had left by now to be with Jack. 

“Y/N, do you know where the files from the recent Boise case are?” Your boss’s voice sounds a few feet to your left. He’s overloading himself again.

“Uh, yeah. They’re right here.” You point to the stack to the left of you. He turns toward the sound of your voice, and his eyes find the stack of files he’s looking for.

“Okay, great.” He walks to your desk and reaches his hand out to take them under his arm. You pick up the stack to hand them over to him, and his fingers graze the back of your hand. The skin where he’s touching you tingles with the tiniest zaps of electricity. You both just stand there for a moment, not saying a word to each other, until Aaron clears his throat, thanks you for the files, and goes back to his office.

And once you’re left alone with your thoughts again, you file that interaction away for later.

–

The second time it happens is not an accident. Not in the slightest.

It was another slow morning for the Bureau, so you were using that time to catch up on your case reports. With the file you need in your hand, you make your way back to your desk. That’s when you spot Aaron and Derek deep in conversation at the latter’s desk. The desk that happens to be directly behind yours.

Time to test my theory, you think to yourself.

Passing by Aaron on the way to your desk, your hand comes up to the middle of his back as you go by. “Sorry, boys,” you tell them as you squeeze past them. “Don’t mind me.” 

Derek gives you an easy smile. “You’re fine, pretty girl.”

Aaron, for the first time in the many years that you’ve known him, is speechless. He says nothing to you as you pass by him and Derek. Turning to sneak a glance over your shoulder at him, you could've sworn that his ears were pink. 

–

“You’re doing it on purpose,” is the first thing Aaron says to you when he sees you later that afternoon as you take your lunch bag out of the break room fridge.

You throw a glance at him over your shoulder. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Touching me,” he clarifies. “You’re touching me on purpose.” There’s something in his voice, but you don’t know what to call it. Not yet, anyway.

You set your lunch bag on the table in front of you and feign a sheepish smile. “I suppose I’ve been caught.”

He tilts his head in bewilderment. “Why?”