#will writes!

He’d never lived with someone else outside of his family when he was a child. Sure, he shared rooms with other people on the team occasionally when there weren’t enough rooms at a hotel, but this was living with someone. He learned how you liked your coffee, and you learned his complicated way of organising his hundreds of books. He realised that you hated sleeping with the window closed, and you figured out that he couldn’t sleep in complete darkness. And most importantly, you noticed that Spencer could not cook. And you could.

It was late on a Thursday night, nearing midnight when Spencer finally arrived home, weary and sore from a complicated case that had the team away for a whole week. His clothes were a mess, hair greasy and there was a large graze on his chin, but he could care less as soon as he got into the apartment.

And you were awake, too wired to sleep from all the coffee you’d downed, secretly worried about your roommate and praying he’d get back safely. He was already half-asleep on the couch, collapsed into the cushions without even taking off his shoes. And when you heard his bag drop to the floor, it had you jumping out of bed, happy to finally have him home.

“Spencer? You alright?” You can just see him over the edge of the couch, and after he mutters out some words that you don’t quite catch and then lets out a loud groan, you know he’s still awake enough to talk.

“I thought you’d be asleep by now.” He looked at you through curls that hadn’t been cared for in ages, and for a moment, you could tell he was trying not to fall asleep right there.

“You know me, I’m not sleeping until it’s past midnight. Plus, there was no chance after all the coffee I had today at the cafe.” He moves his legs so you can sit next to him on the couch, and you can’t believe how warm he is. “How was the case? Did you find the guy you were looking for?”

“It was fine, nothing unusual honestly. You know how those men are, huge ego and an inability to…perform.” You shudder, knowing exactly what he meant but also knowing you didn’t want to hear about a man “performing” at nearly midnight. So you had an idea, and before Spencer knew it, you were grabbing his hand gently and pulling him up from the couch.

“Okay, okay. Too much information. C’mon, you look like you could use a decent meal, and I need some way to burn all this caffeine.” You didn’t hesitate to wander into the kitchen, knowing Spencer was following behind you as he rubbed his tired eyes. “You have any idea about what you want to eat, or do you want me to choose?”

“Do you…do you have the stuff to make that pasta? The one with bacon and broccoli?” You saw his eyes light up as you nodded your head and pulled some rashes of bacon and a head of broccoli from the fridge, and that look of joy sent your heart in a tailspin.

“Out of all the dishes you want at midnight, you chose my grandpa’s pasta? I mean, I’m not complaining, it’s easy and quick and I can cook it all in one pan, but why?” You busied yourself with cutting up the bacon and broccoli, collecting the pasta from the pantry and making sure you had eggs, seasonings and cheese. Spencer watched as you worked, not taking his eyes off you as you chopped methodically in a way he’d never been able to master.

“Do you remember the night we had the case where three minors were abducted? And I came home around sunrise?” You knew exactly which case Spencer was talking about, remembering him coming home and collapsing in tears at the door. Hell, you’d only known him for two weeks or so, but you didn’t even hesitate to call in sick that day and be with him after such an awful case. You made him dinner that night, the first time you cooked for the both of you, and even though the two of you sat in silence while you ate, you knew that Spencer was feeling a little better.

He’d stopped you before you headed to bed, told you that he’d clean up the kitchen and that you should sleep because you had an early shift, and then, he hugged you. Grabbed you tight and never wanted to let go. He nearly second-guessed himself, thought you’d push him away because he’d been some kind of nuisance all day, but you just hugged him back, ruffled his hair in a sweet way that made him feel all warm and fuzzy, and told him to sleep well. He fell in love with you that night, and if you look back on it, you were pretty sure you were falling for him as well.

“You uh, made this pasta. And, I dunno, I’m too tired to think of some statistic about home or feeling comforted by food in times of distress…but you knew exactly what I needed. You didn’t even know me that well, and you just sat me down, made me a mug of hot chocolate, and started making pasta…”

You could tell that Spencer wanted to say more, but he stopped himself before he did. You didn’t want to push him either, knowing that he’d say what he wanted to say when he was ready.

“My mum used to cook a lot before the schizophrenia got worse. She loved spending her whole day in the kitchen when she needed a break from her books.” Spencer spoke while you cooked, raising his voice slightly over the spitting noise of hot oil with garlic, bacon and onion in a pan. “She’d sit me down in my chair and give me all these things to read or let me play with a pack of cards by myself while she cooked. I remember one day she came home so happy, because the local butcher had given her a pack of lamb shanks for free because he didn’t want them to go to waste, and she spent half the day making her special orange lamb shanks with crusty bread and sweet potato mash. She always made it when something special happened, like when I won a local chess tournament at age six, or on her thirtieth birthday. It was her special dish.” He stopped then, sensing that you were watching him. But he expected a look of annoyance or boredom like he was ruining the silence that you liked to cook in. Instead, you were smiling, a soft smile he loved oh so much, and so he kept talking.

“I was twelve when I got into my first university, and mum was having a good week for once. The doctor had put her on some new meds, dad had sent more money than usual, and the university told me that I’d get a full ride. She was so excited, she made this huge meal that was way too big for just the two of us. She made mac and cheese and salads and everything that she thought I might want, and she was so happy that I enjoyed it…but I think I enjoyed her being around more than I enjoyed the food. I think I like the idea that food can bring people together.”

“My dad was the one who taught me how to cook. He used to make all the meals in our family while mum worked and I went to school. He told me, that cooking and making food that fuels your body and makes it happy, is not just an act of love and service towards yourself, but also to the others around you.” You’re serving the pasta by then, getting out mismatched bowls from the cupboard and grating up some cheese to put on top, and you talk as you work. Spencer takes it upon himself to get glasses of water and forks for the both of you, quietly setting the table as you spoke.

“I asked why he always cooked, and never just got take out or used one of the microwave pizzas that we kept in the fridge, and he said, that he always wants to cook, not only because he enjoys making things and experimenting with food, but also because he constantly wanted to show me and my mum that he loved us, even if he wasn’t overly affectionate. Sure, sometimes his meals didn’t always work out, and we did end up getting takeaway, but mum and I knew he was doing everything he could to show us he loved us.”

“Is…is that why you cook so much? To show others you love them?” Spencer asks the question abruptly as if it spills from his mouth and he’s too late to stop it. The two of you are sitting at the table by now, a bowl of pasta in front of each of you, but neither of you wanted to start eating yet.

“I…I don’t really know. To be honest, I haven’t cooked this much in years, probably since I lived at home. I never had anyone to eat with where I used to live, so it just seemed like more of a chore than something I took pleasure out of. But I like making things for the people I love, and I like doing it more regularly.” You went quiet and gestured for him to eat, and even though the both of you knew that you were dancing around three little words that meant so much, neither of you were ready to say them.

When Spencer had his first bite of the pasta, he couldn’t help but groan in delight. He would have been embarrassed except for the fact that you grinned back at him, joy radiating off you. The pasta was thick and creamy, with enough richness to make goosebumps rise on your skin in enjoyment. The bacon had just enough of that smokey flavour that it blended well with the sharp parmesan cheese you’d used, and the broccoli was perfect. Nothing was too sharp or salty or bitter or greasy. The pasta was just cooked enough, but it wasn’t too soft either where it felt like it would fall apart in your mouth. You knew Spencer hated that.

“I don’t understand, I can barely make toast without burning it…and you can make a whole damn feast! Not fair.” You laughed at the man across from you, knowing he was being ridiculous. But he didn’t care because he couldn’t stop eating the food that made his heart feel warm and his body feel safe.

It was later when he told you that he’d clean up, that you should make yourself that cup of tea you wanted and take yourself to bed, but you didn’t want to leave the kitchen just yet. He assured you that he wouldn’t use the wrong scrubber on your precious fry pan, but you didn’t care about any of that. At one point, he was trying to bargain with you, because he could tell you were feeling exhausted by that point, and he just wanted to do something nice for you after you cooked him a very late/very early dinner, and when that’s when you saw your chance.

“Fine, Spencer, I’ll go to bed. Can you just grab me a glass of water?” He nodded, walking back to the sink to fill up your glass from the tap, before coming back to you with it in his hand. “Thank you, now I just need to do one more thing before I go to bed.” He thought you were going to ask for something else, but then you were coming closer and closer until your hand was on his cheek and he was leaning into your touch.

“Do…do I have something on my cheek–” That’s when you kissed him, softly and shyly at first. Spencer nearly started celebrating right then and there, before he realised he actually needed to kiss you back first. And he kissed you back with so much love and enthusiasm that he pulled a little gasp from you, shocked but pleasantly surprised when he took hold of your waist to hold you firmly against him. It wasn’t a perfect kiss by society’s standards, but it was perfect for the two of you, even if his breath was smokey and cheesy from the bacon, and your’s smelt like garlic from the pasta. Neither of you minded, and he didn’t mind when you pulled him from the kitchen, telling him that the dishes could wait in exchange for more kisses, in your bed, tucked under your covers.

Your dad always said that food could bring people together. But you never knew that it could have you and Spencer falling in love.

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“Of course, I thought this could work, Aaron.” The wine the two of you were drinking earlier had been long forgotten, and so had the pasta that Aaron cooked. “You think I would have gotten into bed with you that first night in New York if I thought it wouldn’t?”

Aaron ducked his head down, trying to hide his gaze from you as you let your hands rest on your hips. He knew it could work. He knew you meant something to him, and he knew he deserved some slice of happiness and peace, especially the happiness he felt when he was with you.

But once again, ever the self-sacrificing man, Aaron denied his own feelings. And that killed you. It angered you and drove you insane and made you want to rip your heart out of your chest to show him just how much you loved him. Well, that might be a bit dramatic, but you were desperate on this cold Sunday night.

“Tell me then, Aaron, what you thought “this” was? What does all these dinners together, and mornings waking up beside each other and Saturdays spent with Jack mean to you?” With bated breath you waited, watching as the unit chief slumped down onto your couch and held his head in his hands.

“It…it was a nice dream. It was a nice unattainable dream, and I’m sorry I dragged you through it.” His words came out in a whisper, and for a moment, you wanted to take him in your arms and let him cry into your shoulder, something that he’d resist at first but then surrender himself into your hold.

“Why are you doing this? If you’re happy and I’m happy and everything is working between us, why are you acting as if this is the worst thing you could be a part of?”

“Because I can guarantee that you’ll get hurt. And I love you too much to let you get hurt in any way.” You go to argue, to open your mouth and let a flurry of words come out, but Aaron just shakes his head before turning to you. “I know how strong you are, and your bravery is unmatched to anyone I know. But I don’t think I would survive another person I love being hurt because of me or my job. I lost Haley to this job, I lost Beth, and…hell half the time I think I’m about to lose Jack.” Aaron gets up then, and heads towards the door, grabbing his suit jacket of the coat stand and patting his pockets to make sure he has his keys and wallet.

“You told me you loved me, this morning. And all last week at the end of every phone call…and an hour ago. How could you tell me you love me then break my heart?” He was halfway out the door when you spoke, but he stopped when he listened to your words. And that’s when you saw the shame kick in, when Aaron realised how much of a coward he was being. “You cooked me pasta after we spent the whole weekend together. We made plans for the Christmas holidays, and I booked us tickets to that exhibition at the museum for next week. We were making a future, Aaron. What the fuck were you doing by leading me on? How the fuck do you explain all of these things if suddenly I mean nothing to you? WE WERE MAKING A FUTURE!”

He pulls back when you yell at him, not ready for the anger that came from your voice. And he hates that he’s making you cry when suddenly he sees tears roll down your cheeks. It’s as if this wave of emotion that your showing shocks him out of his stupor, and he comes back into the room, shuts the front door quietly, and walks towards you.

“Darling, if I could spend the rest of my life with you, I would—.”

“But you’ve decided that you’re better off without me. I get it. You know what? I don’t think I care anymore.” The both of you knew that you were lying, right through your teeth, but you also knew that Aaron didn’t have the gall to call you out on it. “Look, sure, obviously I’m not good enough for you or Jack, and that’s fine. I just wish you didn’t make me believe in something that could never have been…you really are a selfish man, Aaron Hotchner.”

He feels like he’s been kicked in the gut then, because he knows he’s a selfish man. He put his job over his family constantly, told lies to protect himself and his life, let people suffer so that he could have what he wanted. But no one has ever told him that he is selfish. Haley never went that far, although Aaron knew that he deserved it. Instead, he’s standing in your living room, watching you cry as you try to piece together what went wrong, when the only answer is Aaron. Aaron made everything worse, he ruined something perfect once again.

And that’s when he leaves, walks just close enough to place a kiss to your forehead and squeeze your hand as you sob, a somewhat apology for what he’s done, and after collecting his things, and telling you he’ll message you when he can pick up the other bits and pieces that have made a home in your apartment, he opens the door.

“I do love you. And I’ll love you for the rest of my life and I’ll say sorry over and over again if that would make this any better. But I have to do this, darling. To protect you. I’m sorry.”

Aaron walks out of your apartment then, a look of sorrow clear in his eyes, and you wait until he’s gone to collapse onto your couch and sob into the pillows. He cries too, when he gets to his car. Because he knows he’s ruined the best thing in his life right now. And he can’t blame it on anyone but himself.

And so the both of you cry, alone and broken and in so much pain it feels like your heart is being crushed inside your chest. But you get up, and clear away everything that reminds you of him, and outside, Aaron drives away with streaks down his face.

He’s changed everything, and it’s too late to go back and fix it.

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And now it was five years later, and your children had accomplished every milestone that society had set for them. They could ride their bikes (with training wheels on), tell the time, read, write, climb the neighbour playground (with their dad's supervision), tie their shoelaces and clean their teeth. They were everything you had hoped for and more, and with curls that matched their fathers, and smiles that shone as bright as yours, you knew that they would beat everything in their paths.

Well, you thought that until the first day of school rolled around, and suddenly it was Monday morning and you were…scared. It was the 31st day of January, the first day of school for more primary students in Melbourne, Australia. It wasn’t originally in the cards to move to Australia, neither you nor Spencer had ever imagined packing up your lives into some suitcases and moving to the other side of the world. But when he decided to leave the BAU near the twins second birthday because he felt like he was missing too much, and the job offer from the University of Melbourne arrived in his email inbox, it just seemed like perfect timing. A fresh start, a new environment, a new house and neighbourhood for your family, a new job for Spencer, and a better future for your children.

And now here you were, staring at the matching school bags that hung on the hooks near the front door, with the small black lace-up shoes placed underneath. The school uniforms had been placed on their beds, with a matching navy blue bow for your daughter's hair. They both had their lunches already packed in their bags, and their sun hats ready on the kitchen table, and all you could do was fret, even though everything was going perfectly so far.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Spencer came up behind you then, wrapping his arms around your waist as you stared wistfully at your children, munching on vegemite toast. You sighed, not really knowing what you were worried about, but Spencer knew something was up. “Come on, sweetheart, I can tell you’re worried about something.”

“I just…they’ve grown up so fast. Too fast for my liking. And I don’t like the idea of them going out into that big world without us.” You leaned back into Spencer’s embrace and spoke soft enough that only he could hear you. “This is such a big step for them. What if they don’t like school? Or someone decides to bully them or they don’t make friends or…”

“Woah, okay, slow down, darling. Look, you are totally allowed to be scared. Hell, I’m terrified. But you can’t let the children know we feel that way. We both know they’re nervous. Flynn’s been talking about the number 3 tram that goes past my work, for the last couple of hours. And Ivy keeps trying to memorize her teacher’s names.” You smiled to yourself as Spencer spoke, knowing that he was right. Of course, your children were nervous, it’s not like you hadn’t noticed. You had just tried to focus on getting your nerves under control and hadn’t noticed your children doing the same thing.

“You know, Ivy gets that quirk off you.” Spencer laughs into your ear but nods his head in agreement.

“And Flynn gets his need to talk off of you.” You hum, letting Spencer hold you tighter again as you fall into a blissful silence between the two of you. “I know you want to protect them, baby, but we can’t keep them locked up inside all their lives. They need to be with children their own age, we both know that they need as much socialisation they can get at this young age.” You huff, but nod in understanding.

“I know, I know. I guess I just can’t get over how much everything is changing. Some day they won’t need us anymore. And that terrifies me. I know that our children are meant to become independent and that they shouldn’t have to rely on us for their whole lives but-.” Spencer turns you to face him, moving the two of you so that your children were out of sight for a moment, but you could still hear them munching their toast loudly.

“But nothing. Y/N, lovely, listen to me.” At that point, Spencer can tell you’re starting to panic as your voice rises in pitch and your breathing starts to speed up. “Just focus on the fun things about today. Remember how excited Flynn was when he put on his school bag for the first time? Or how happy Ivy was when you told her that she could wear her new sneakers today? Our kids are going to have fun, and they’re going to learn and play and make friends. And if that doesn’t happen today, it’s okay because tomorrow is a new day, and nothing has to be perfect the first time around. Now come on, I think Flynn’s got his head stuck in his jumper again, and from the sound of it Ivy might have spilled her juice over the table.” Spencer kisses you quickly then, short and sweet before he’s rushing off to clean up the split juice and placate your daughter with another cup of juice in her favourite cup, and you go to help Flynn get his arms in the jumper sleeves, giggles heard from under the woollen material.

Getting out the door is chaos. You forget your phone, Spencer forgets his satchel, Flynn leaves the house with one shoe on and Ivy still somehow has toothpaste all over her mouth. So you all go back in the house, clean her face, grab Flynn’s missing shoe, your phone and Spencer’s satchel, before you’re back out onto the quiet street and walking towards the school.

Ivy is gripping Spencer’s hand tightly with two hands, biting her lip nervously as she walks, and for a moment, you can’t help but see the similarity between the two of them. From brown messy curls that are a nightmare to tame on the best of days, to big brown eyes that make you want to give you everything, it’s easy to tell that Ivy is Spencer’s daughter. Flynn is a little bit ahead, skipping and hopping over the mismatched pavement pieces as you call out for him to slow down, and his slender frame and wiry glasses match that of Spencer’s when he was a child.

“Daddy, are you sure you can’t come to school with us?” The question from Ivy catches you and Spencer by surprise, but Spencer doesn’t even blink before he’s answering it and glancing over at you.

“Well, little lady, I can come into the building with you, make sure you find your desk and where to put your bag and your snack, and the teacher told us that parents can stay for the welcome talk, but once the second bell goes, your mada and I have to go.” Spencer lets Ivy hold onto the strap of his satchel as he talks, and Flynn comes back to grab onto the side of your jacket, rather choosing to hold onto a piece of your clothing rather than your hand like Spencer used to do when he was little. “And as soon as the end of day bell rings at 3.20 pm, we’ll both be out in the playground waiting to give you two the biggest hug and then take you home for celebratory icy poles.

“Do you promise?” Flynn looks up at the two of you, and you can’t help but grin and ruffle his hair as you lean down to fix his collar once you get to the school gate.

“We promise, my darling. Now, are you two ready for your first day of school?” The twins nod apprehensively, still clinging to you and Spencer with looks of trepidation on their faces, but Spencer just smiles, quickly readjusts Ivy’s blue bow in her hair, then ushers the two children forward.

“C’mon, everything is going to be okay, and if it’s okay, we can think of solutions together to make it okay. And when the day is done, and we’re back home, we can always call uncle Hotch and Aunty Penny to tell them all about your day. How does that sound.” Ivy is already pulling on your hand by then, tugging you onto the school grounds after her nervousness turned into excitement, and before you know it, Flynn is nodding his head in agreement to his father’s suggestion, and then running up to the school doors.

Spencer grabs your hand then, takes a deep breath and quickly covers up his own nervous look with a bright smile, and adjusts the strap of his bag.

“Are you ready for this?” He whispers the words into your ear, ruffling Flynn’s hair, and all you can do is nod, take your own breath, and press a kiss to both your children’s cheeks.

“Ready as I’ll ever be for the next seven years for school pick-ups and drop-offs.” Spencer laughs, and the four of you enter the building together. And that’s when Flynn and Ivy speak at the same time, gasps followed by shouts.

“WAIT, seven years?”

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It was a Saturday night, which would normally mean date night for the two of you, except instead you were alone on the couch, eating leftovers from the fridge and binging whatever tv series had taken your fancy that week. You planned to head to be early tonight, not in the mood to stay up like you normally would and for a moment, you realised it would be another night in an empty bed.

That’s when the phone rang, your landline blinking from the shelf near your front door, and with a groan drenched in reluctance, you got up to answer it. But before you could even get to the phone, the call went to the message bank, and suddenly Aaron’s voice was flooding your small lounge room.

“Hey sweetheart, I’m sorry if I’ve woken you up, but I just got back to Quantico, and I know it’s late but…uh…I think I need to see you. I’m on my way to your’s now and I’ve got my spare key so I’ll…damn…sorry I’ve gotta go, Strauss is calling. I’ll see you soon babe.”

The message machine clicked off, and all you could do was grin. Aaron was coming to see you, before anyone else. He wanted to see you, hell he said he “needed to see you.” You hurried around your apartment then, making sure everything was presentable and you had his favourite coffee in your cupboard and things for breakfast in the morning, in case he stayed the night. Last of all, you started to make some hot chocolate on the stove, knowing it would help Aaron unwind when he was ready.

You were standing near the stove when you heard the lock turn in the door, and slowly Aaron walked in, go-bag hoisted over his shoulder and briefcase in hand. Without a word, you moved towards him quietly, taking his bangs and placing them near the door, before turning to look back at him.

He was exhausted, the bags under his eyes deep and you could tell he hadn’t shaved in a number of days. His clothes were crumpled, his shoes dirty, and before you even muttered a greeting, he slumped against you, resting his head against your shoulder and letting out an utterly broken sigh. You didn’t say anything, just let him rest against you as you gathered him in your arms and held him tight until he was ready.

“I’m sorry for coming home so late.” His words came out in a grumble, and you nearly didn’t hear him properly. But you still smiled, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Shhh, don’t worry about it, I’d be happy you’re home even if you came stumbling in at three am. Now, I have some hot chocolate warming up, did you want to have some and then go to sleep, or just sleep now? Aaron had pulled away by then, slowly taking off his coat to hang it up on the rack by the door.

“Hot chocolate would be good, but can I have a shower first? I just need to freshen up before I sleep,” Aaron says, loosening his tie from around his neck and unbutton the sleeves of his button up shirt.

“You can do whatever you want to do, honey. I’ll bring the hot chocolate into the bedroom when you’re done. And remember, there are fresh pjayma’s for you in the wardrobe.” You lead him to the bathroom, ready to let him shower and get comfortable on his own, but his arm wraps around your waist quickly and he pulls you back to him.

“Hang on, I just need one more thing before I shower.” He’s holding you tightly, a grin filled with mischief and love covering his face, and before you know it, he’s ducking down slightly to press his lips to yours, warm and sweet and perfect. You smile into the kiss, feeling his nose against your cheek and his hands running over your back and waist.

Aaron pulls away slowly with a small smile on his face, a look of contentness taking over his features, and for a moment he doesn’t want to let you go. But you kiss him again gently on the tip of his nose, something that never fails to make him chuckle, and you push him softly towards the shower.

“Cheeky man, you. Go on, have your shower, I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom.” You step away, and leave the bathroom before your boyfriend can persuade you to shower with him, and head back out to the kitchen to pour the finished hot chocolate into the pair of mugs that Penelope got the two of you when you started dating.

It doesn’t take long for Hotch to shower, and after five minutes have passed, he’s halfway through getting dressed in your bedroom when you walk in with the drinks. You slide under the covers, already dressed for bed and as you patiently wait for Aaron to join you, you can’t help but watch him.

“You know, you’re not the quietest thinker”, Aaron jokes, turning back to look at you, fastening the tie of his sleep pants.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your brow furrows, and all Aaron wants to do is kiss the crease that forms on your forehead.

“It means, I can tell you’re worried about me, even when you don’t need to be.” You huff, the both of you knowing that he’s right. He always is, he’s a profiler for heaven's sake.

“I just…I guess I can’t help it. I like having you safe at home with me. And I know you never mean to put yourself in danger and you try to stay as safe as you can, but I still have this lingering feeling when you go away that you’re going to come back injured…or worse.” Hotch sighs, but tries to give you a soft smile as he gets into bed beside you. He takes the mug of hot chocolate that you offer him, and for a few seconds, he sits in silence, sipping his drink while he thinks.

“You know, when I’m away from you I have the same thoughts. I know you’re safe at home, or at work, and I know that you’ve got a very, very small chance of being in danger at both of those places, but I still worry. Hell, sometimes I worry about how lonely you must be when I’m away, or how sad you are when I can’t call or talk to you.” You try to start speaking, try to ease his worries that you weren’t really lonely or sad, but when he looked at you, you knew he’d see right through whatever mask you’d try and put on.

“It’s okay to be worried about each other, really it is. But, sweetheart, you have to tell me when you’re worried, or sad or feeling lonely, even when you may think it’s insignificant. Because I can’t have you feeling like that, even when you don’t want to worry me back. I’m allowed to worry about you, hell I should worry about you. You worry about the people you love.”

That final word stopped you in your tracks for a moment as you tried, because suddenly all you could think about was the fact that Aaron loved you. He loved you and cared about you and considered your home, his home.

“I…oh just come here.” You had no proper words for him, so all you could do was pull him to you and kiss him firmly, earning a gasp from him until he was grabbing your waist to steady himself so he didn’t collapse on top of you. You kissed for what seemed like an eternity, but you didn’t mind, because Aaron was with you and you weren’t lonely, and you knew that even though he’d leave again sooner than you wanted, the loneliness would hurt less because he loved you.

He had you in his lap then, your legs around his waist as he leaned his forehead against yours, drinks long forgotten about in favour of gentle touches and soft words.

“You just told me you loved me.” The words come out in a whisper, as if you were too scared to say them. Aaron looks at you, big brown eyes catching your gaze as he cups your face in his hands.

“I did, and I meant it. I’ve loved you since our second date at that bizarre seafood restaurant.” You chuckle at that, and you can’t help but smile at the sincerity of his words. “Now let me kiss you some more, I haven’t had my fill yet.” He pulls the covers over the two of you, and keeps pressing his lips to your skin until you can’t tell if it’s a dream or not. And as he holds you and loves you endlessly in your bed, you suddenly know that you won’t be so lonely anymore, and Aaron will make sure of that.

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