The Greenhouse

“Anything you want me to hand off to the chief, Pen?” You asked Garcia gently as you peeked into her office.

It was nearly midnight, but a late night at the Bureau was hardly unusual. Neither was your shyness to confront such a man like your boss.

The reason was the only thing that was slightly different.

Perhaps you were just trying to avoid the inevitable by asking Garcia (who pretty much did everything digitally anyways) if she needed anything done.

The blonde peeked up from her computer and smiled. “Nope,” she chirped, “Not yet at least. Just trying to finish up some loose ends.”

You nodded, almost disappointed. “Mhm. Got it. Have a good night then.”

“You, too, Hon!” She waved you off.

With a final goodbye, you clenched your Manila folders tightly and walked through the empty office where even Spencer had already gone home.

Only three people left.

You stood outside your boss’s door, unconsciously fixing your appearance. It was always nerve racking to be in front of such a handsome specimen - that man in particular.

Even since you first met him, you felt like a shy schoolgirl crushing on her teacher. Unfortunately, him being your boss and all, that wasn’t so far off from the truth.

But now you’re nervous for a whole other reason.

The team was working on a case, a serial killer, which was the usual. What was unusual was the suave, new district prosecutor who was ready to fight tooth and nail to help with the investigation.

You were pleasantly surprised at him being… actually oddly pleasant.

He was into the classics, funny yet also sweet. Not to mention he was rather handsome despite being several years older than you - Penelope gushed about that part. A true silver fox. (Meow~ as she added).

You liked him - but not the way he seemed to like you.

When you met him with the rest of the crew, he made sure to shake everyone’s hand. But when he got to you, he slowed down, staring at you in an almost surprised manner.

You offered up a tight lipped but sweet smile. He shook your hand, gaze and tone softening as he introduced himself to you.

It reminded you of when you first met Hotch. Only when your boss shook your hand, you almost collapsed on the spot.

When he held your hand for what seemed to be a bit too long, Hotch cleared his throat. “I believe there’s something you wanted to speak to us about,” he said firmly.

The prosecutor blinked and nodded, quickly leading the team into a meeting room with a cordial smile.

Throughout the case, this man and you shared a few nice conversations, even a few jokes. He was good company.

But out of the corner of your eye, you could almost always see your older boss watching you both like a hawk.

You’re a profiler - it’s literally your job to pick up on cues. But God forbid you be naïve so you wouldn’t even entertain the thought of him being jealous.

No, not the handsome, stoic, can simply roll up his sleeves and get any girl or far more experienced, confident, and put together woman than you.

(Seriously, those forearms of his are the equivalent to a medieval woman showing off her ankles).

Then the prosecutor asked you to dinner - a date.

At first you were unsure. After all, how could you be on a date without mourning the fact it wasn’t your boss across from you?

But he politely insisted, winking while saying he’d make your case the top priority in a light manner. Plus, he insisted on it being casual. So you took the bribe. Free food was free food and he promised to pay the check.

At least he was hot. (Daddy vibes as Penelope very helpfully added).

And admittedly… it was nice! You enjoyed it even - but more as a friend than a potential romantic partner.

But the life of a profiler is never smooth sailing and… well… Rossi happened to be meeting up with an old friend there as well - bringing Hotch as a plus one.

You’ll never forget meeting his eyes from across the dimly lit room. It was embarrassing, scandalous even.

You felt like a kid caught with their hand stuck in a cookie jar.

You desperately wanted to curl up and disappear. But apparently Hotch was a sadist as he approached the table in unfairly, cool, confident strides.

He looked almost angry, an idea confirmed to you when Rossi raised his whiskey glass in the air towards you with a smirk as if to say good luck.

“Y/N.”

“H-Hotch,” you nearly choked out.

Your date blinked but smiled. “What a surprise, chief. Hope you don’t mind me stealing one of your agents, do you?” He joked with a laugh, but when Hotch remained stoney faced, he quickly shut up.

“You’re having dinner… with the district prosecutor,” Hotch observed in an eerily calm manner.

His eyes were intense, staring right into your soul, particularly daring you to lie - but to also tell the truth as well.

Gulping a bit, you nodded slightly like an ashamed child. “Yeah. Uhm… y-yeah.” You mumbled awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

You watched as his jaw tensed, his eyes roaming your formal wear. “Right…” he said, “You look… nice,” he added.

“Oh. T-Thank you,” you smiled at him brightly. Your actual date had said the same thing, but frankly, Hotchner’s words meant so much more.

Hotch looked over at your date once more, a look of disdain in his eyes before turning back to you. “I apologize for interrupting,” your boss nodded towards you, “call me if you need me,” he forced out before walking back into the awaiting arms of Rossi.

Your date whistled. “Well that was a surprise. I didn’t know a person could be so intense,” he chuckled.

You forced out a tight lipped smile. “Yeah…” you mumbled, no longer that much hungry anymore.

“Actually, we’ve got a long day tomorrow and… you know, we should probably get some sleep,” you said, ignoring the guilt bubbling in your gut.

The prosecutor, albeit slightly disappointed, agreed and paid the check, him insisting on giving you a ride home.

You agreed. Unfortunately, as you walked out of the restaurant, your boss’s eyes followed with every step.

So that lead you to now, in front of your boss’s door, needing to simply give him a report but feeling like he was giving you a death sentence.

He was likely questioning your professionalism.

Sighing, you knocked on his door, only receiving a curt “come in” in reply.

You hesitantly opened the door, entering meekly as Aaron barely spared you a glance, not saying anything as he continued scanning the file in front of him.

“I finished the report you asked for,” you informed weakly. “Put it on my desk. Thanks,” he said.

Your eyes widened slightly. You knew him to be a no-nonsense man, but… he always seemed to treat you a bit more sensitively than the others. More gentle.

Perhaps that was because of your younger age but Reid wasn’t much younger than you and Hotch treated him like he was an annoying little orphan who clung to an older, grumpy man for a parental figure.

You did as he said, quickly putting the report on the edge of his desk and backing up. “Is there… anything else I can do for you, sir?” You mumbled unsurely.

This time, Hotch refused to even glance up. “No. Go home and get some rest,” he ordered blankly.

Once more, you blinked in surprise before furrowing eyebrows slightly.

It didn’t take a profiler, much less a genius, to tell something was bothering him - and you were almost 90% sure on what this was about.

“Is this about my date?” You asked bluntly, a burst of confidence taking even you by surprise.

Finally, Hotch looked up at you, taking a deep breath and leaning back against his chair with a blank look. “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve been… excuse me for saying this, petty since you saw me with that prosecutor. Why? Do you think it’s unprofessional or something?” You questioned, getting a bit riled up in the heat of the moment.

Hotch sighed. “It may not be the best look, but you’re a grown woman and you can make your own choices,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant but definitely sounding more irritated.

“…You sound angry.”

“Angry?” Hotch said, his put-together composure cracking. And frankly, good.

He stood up from his chair and let out a tired, almost pained sigh. “Angry? Yeah. Angry, stressed, annoyed, tired,” he paced the floor behind his desk, running his hand through his hair.

“You had dinner with a district prosecutor, so what?” He said more so to himself than you.

Hotch suddenly turned to you. “Are you dating him now? Was was it about him then?” He asked suddenly, making you feel like a victim of his brutal interrogations.

“W-What?” You shivered out. Hotch rubbed his temples, taking a deep breath before throwing his arms down at his side. “Damn it,” he cursed.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at your boss with wide, cautious eyes trying to remain calm. “I just think… you shouldn’t make a judgement before you know all the facts…”

Aaron Hotchner took yet another deep breath, slightly pacing back and forth once more. As he spoke, he seemed to only get angrier while taking a few steps closer to you.

“You’re right. I don’t know. I don’t know how we’re going to get this new unsub, I don’t know what I’m going to do about Strauss breathing down by neck, and I don’t know why you’re dating an older man in the criminal justice system who isn’t ME!”

…

The world seemed to pause for the both of you.

Your eyes were wide in shock as you stared in silence. Not only had the usually composed and stoic chief Hotchner just went low-key ballistic, but he also just confessed some kind of romantic feelings towards you.

Aaron huffed and brought himself back up to full height. He blinked at you, waiting for a response - expecting you to tell him off - when the door suddenly opened.

“Hey~!” Penelope greeted sweetly as she waltzed through the door with a smile. You and Aaron only had the brain capacity to spare her a glance.

The quirky woman got in between you, but not so to obscure your vision of each other. “Sorry to interrupt but I finished these papers and I really want to go home now. I mean, beauty sleep and all,” she laughed as she placed the stack of papers over Hotch’s desk.

Penelope backed up with a simple grin, looking between you and Hotch, waiting for a reply. He only murmured a stiff ‘thank you’ as both of you avoided eye contact.

The woman blinked before her own eyes went wide. “Oh… OH. Oh, I am so, so sorry,” Penelope babbled as she backed up to the door. “I-I’m just gonna… go. Pretend I wasn’t even here, okay?” She said as she reached the door, giving you a quick thumbs up before likely scurrying away.

You and Hotch continued to stand across from each other, unable to speak or even meet the other’s gaze.

Finally, Aaron spoke with a sigh. “So…” he mumbled, realizing the extensive HR visit he may soon be receiving.

“So…?” You echoed back, “what now?” You drew out slowly.

The man closed his eyes, messaging the bridge of his nose before finally, finally turning his gaze to you.

“Tell me you don’t want this - don’t want me - and… we can forget all this ever happened… mostly for my sake,” he muttered the last part.

You turned your eyes towards the floor for a minute. Perhaps it was his confession that a sudden burst of confidence erupted but eventually you managed to speak up.

“I can’t do that…” You whispered softly as Hotch peeked up at you from the hand covering his face. “Aaron, I… I want you but… is… this even allowed?” Probably not.

But hearing your own confirmation, Hotch stepped forwards. “Y/N. I don’t even care.”

With that, he practically rushed you (not that you were complaining) and fiercely, with only a fierceness of a man barely able to keep a lid on his desires, pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

Your bodies molded against each other perfectly, one of his large hands cradling the back of your head to assist in keeping your lips to his. His other arm wrapped around you to eliminate any dreaded, unnecessary and unwanted space between the two of you that had long outstayed its welcome.

One of your own arms came to wrap around his neck encouragingly as your opposite hand rested on the side of his face, his faint stubble brushing against your palm.

In a tangle of limbs, he moved you around and back against the desk until your bottom was atop of the dark wood.

In an almost cruel but necessary manner, Aaron pulled away from your lips for a moment. “Say you don’t want this and I’ll stop.”

“Please don’t,” you nearly begged him (but hey, why have shame when this absolute specimen of a man was caging you in?) “Aaron, I want you. I really do.”

Aaron huffed and desperately loosened his tie, throwing it uncaringly somewhere in the room. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that from you,” he said before locking lips once more to your delight.

~*~BOUNUS~*~

“The ship has sailed, I repeat, the ship has sailed!” Penelope squealed as she crouched ‘stealthily’ outside Hotch’s office.

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s sailed, babygirl?” Derek questioned worriedly over the phone, the grogginess of sleep leaving his voice.

“The USS (Y/N)ner! Oh my god, I can the desk moving…!” Penelope babbled in near manic delirium of joy.

Derek dragged a hand over his face. “No kidding… it happened?”

“It finally happened!” Penelope squealed once more, “My ship has left the port,” she said before going dead silent at a sudden noise of pleasure behind the wall she was crouched next to.

“Was that…?”

“Oh my God, they’re wasting no time whatsoever. Y/N, you go girl!”

“Damn,” Derek breathed out as those certain noises only got louder. Seems they forgot Garcia was there… again.

Penelope gasped. “It’s getting spicy~…” she said.

“Babygirl, get outta there.”

“I know, I know.”

“Penelope, now!”

“I’m going!”

“Guess we’re getting new HR buddies.”

~*~