In Love With Aaron Hotchner

mission identities | Aaron Hotchner as Professor Edward Thomas Jameson. You as Isabella Evans (rarely used, other than 'Miss Evans')

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chapter seven: kitchen calls

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The sun shone through the kitchen windows.

You had woken up to find Hotch already awake, combing through files and folders at the kitchen table. A cup of freshly brewed coffee steaming in front of him.

Without greeting him, you poured yourself a cup and slumped down across from him. He only glanced up briefly, without lifting his head, as you grabbed a file from one of the neatly stacked piles.

Hotch fished out pictures of the victims from the folder in front of him and spread them out in a row. He pointed to the girl on the far right, "Annabeth Mason, 20, only child. The body was found inside the bookstore where she worked part-time."

"That's Annie, she was Sophie's friend." You looked up to find him already staring, and he motioned for you to continue with a nod of his head, curious to learn what you had found out. Yet, trying to recall what you learned at the bar proved difficult through the haze that was your memory, no doubt thanks to the alcohol you had consumed like it was water.

You scrunched your eyes against the pressing headache. The effort it took to think was painful. Excruciating. Never again.

"She was smart, got good grades, and according to Sophie, she was my level of funny. Which makes me really sad for some reason." You shrugged, taking another sip of your coffee. The man across the table hummed, disapprovingly or amusingly, you were not entirely sure. They sounded the same through the pounding in your head.

"Stabbed and cut?" You asked, picking up the picture to look at her. There were no crime scene photos — apparently, they had gotten lost in the transferring process — 'gone', the lot of them. Pictures of six women were in front of you, the last one had yet to be identified. Though you supposed you would not have gotten your hands on a photo of the latest victim anyway.

"So, the unsub is sexually impotent," You speculated, placing the picture back where it was a moment ago, "Stabbing can be considered a substitute for sex, can't it?" Hotch nodded his confirmation. He took a sip from his coffee, eyes fixed on you over the brim of his cup as you thought out loud. "And cutting their faces could be some sort of projecting—like disgust or jealousy?"

Hotch leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, "We're not supposed to make a profile." Right. Just as you were not supposed to do anything else. What a stupid assignment.

What was the point of sending three agents on an undercover mission if none of them were allowed to interfere with anything that had to do with the case? It was unsettling to think about, that they wanted you to essentially be put on the map, to endanger you, without a way for you to ensure you got out alive.

"Yeah, tell me your theory." You mirrored his movements, leaning back into your own chair and crossing your arms. He scowled, like he was about to go off about how he obviously 'had no theory because you were not supposed to make a profile', yet there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. You knew him well enough to know he did have one.

Hotch glanced to the watch on his wrist, before tilting his head to the side, mockingly, smirking, "Garcia will be calling soon." Before you could huff in annoyance at his exhibit of foul play, he pushed back his chair, got up and turned on his heel.

Instead, as the classy lady you were, you opted to call after him as he made it for the stairs, "Fucker." He only chuckled in response.

Penelope would be calling any minute now, like she had apparently done every day around 11 A.M. Perhaps you were a bit jealous, knowing Hotch was talking to her every day, while you had not been allowed contact with any of them. To 'make sure you made friends', or whatever the excuse that sounded way too similar to something your parents would say, was.

You sat on the counter, swinging your legs back and forth while you chewed on the slightly stale protein bar that served as your breakfast. The second helping of a cup of coffee in your other hand, serving as the other half of your breakfast. Balanced meal, some could say.

Hotch had left the kitchen to grab the laptop he had upstairs. In his home office. Because of course he had a home office. It made sense, you supposed, that he would, yet the difference in what the Bureau provided you and Spencer with, was not measurable. Not that it really mattered now that you were staying with him, in this two-story house that somehow only had one bedroom. Dang, that was unfortunate. Oh, well.

You had slept like a rock the few hours you got, despite the man being a snorer. And so, so warm. His arm had wrapped around your waist at some point during the night, his snoring face right by your ear, and still you managed to find it comforting. Like one of those machines with white noise or whale sounds, only real time, and without volume-control and off-buttons.

Your clothes were still at your dorm, which left little more than the clothes you were already wearing when you came. Hotch, ever the gentleman, had scratched the back of his neck and handed over one of his t-shirts after you got out of the bath he started, after… You shook your head to fight the blush creeping up on your cheeks. That seemed to happen a lot recently. Perhaps you needed to get a check-up, it could not be healthy to blush that much.

The shirt was so soft, kind of like those old college t-shirts you never throw away, purely because of how comfortable they were. Knowing him, it seemed likely that was the case. He did not seem like the type to go shopping for new clothes, especially when his old ones were still intact, or something like that. Oh, to have the mentality of a man in the current state of the economy. You would be rich.

"Have you eaten?" You asked him casually, as he walked back into the kitchen. He placed the laptop on the table and looked over his shoulder to where you sat on the counter. The simple question seemed to have confused him, based on the furrow of his brows and the slow blink. After a long moment, he shook his head, "Not yet, no."

It seemed like either he had forgotten you were there, or he simply did not expect you to ask him something so—domestic, despite it being a normal question. There was nothing more to it now than it would have been months ago. It was not like anything had changed between you, just two adults/coworkers/pretend professor and student who happened to have one night of really good sex. Wow, that had never been done before.

"Found some protein bars in the cupboards, want one?" You shrugged, finishing the last bite and swallowing it down with a mouthful of coffee. It was perhaps a little ironic to offer him his own food, but that was just another one of your many charms.

Hotch pointed to the wrapper you were very creatively folding into a square, "That's not food." How dare he. Snapping your head up to look at him, you crossed your arms over your chest and raised your chin in defiance, "I beg to differ."

He narrowed his eyes and stepped toward you, abandoning the project of setting up the laptop. The very project that would have been done minutes ago had it not been for the laptop making the executive decision to install an update.

It was obviously not caused by the man with the heavenly large, thick fingers pressing buttons accidentally. He certainly pushed your buttons accidentally.

"Go on. State your case. " He motioned with the very hand you were thinking about, as he slowly approached. Slow steps, like a predator closing in on a prey — and you were the perfect portrait of an easy target — a mesmerized prey, practically drooling at the sight of his hands. The way the sun cast its rays through the kitchen window made him look otherworldly.

"I would argue the amount of chewing I had to do to get through that bar is enough to warrant it as food." It really was stale, and it tasted like cardboard. However, the sad excuse for one singular dried berry on top, really sold it. Made it almost bearable. The cherry on top, if you would. If the cherry was raspberry and pulverized, to the point it should have been marked as a choking hazard if inhaled.

Hotch hummed, like he was pretending to consider your argument, though you knew better. He was still a few steps away from reaching you in his slow pace. It must have been his age catching up, or the physical activity of last night. Poor guy probably strained his hip, pounding into you at the pace he did. Whatever it was, the way he approached sent a shudder of adrenaline coursing through you.

"And I would argue that food is more than just chewing," He pointed to the wrapper you had dropped onto the counter again, right beside the half-empty cup of coffee you tired from holding, "That has not nearly enough nutrients and is not filling enough to act as a substitute for a full meal."

It was unfair how raspy his morning voice was, you did not have a chance. The court would vote in his favor from that alone. You huffed, pointing a finger to his chest as he stepped between your legs, "Objection, your honor. Hearsay. Opinion."

Despite sitting on the counter, he still towered over you. He grabbed your wrist from his chest and moved it to the counter as he leaned forward, caging you within his arms. "Objection overruled, darling."

Oh, no! How will you live?

"Where do I issue a complaint?" You grumbled, though a smile still manage to slip through. This was a serious case of abuse use of power and someone should know about it.

He hummed, his breath fanning across your lips. A reminder of where he had been, yet should not continue to be. The urge to reach out for him was getting increasingly hard to resist. It was a one time thing, and you were only here because of the mission.

There was nothing else going on between you, there was absolutely no reason to keep playing this game when you were alone. And, yet…

"You'll have to take it up with me." Hotch pursed his lips, to hide the smile threatening to make his face look ten years younger. Because god forbid.

The bags under his eyes had seemed to fade, despite the little sleep he had gotten. His shoulders were relaxed, not acting as ear protectors for the first time in years, probably. The man in front of you looked almost human, and a handsome one at that. It almost convinced you he was not a scowling robot with skin. Almost.

You rolled your eyes and sighed with feigned annoyance, "And let me guess, it needs to be double spaced, size 12, Times New Roman with footnotes?" Undoubtedly.

He smirked, his hand traveling up your arm, and landing on the side of your neck. His thumb trailed your jaw and dipped under your chin, pushing your face up closer to his. "Exactly, smart girl."

It was too early for this.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before straightening, "I'll make us breakfast after we talk to Garcia."

Forehead kisses? Was he in love with you, or what? Damn. One night and the man was down bad.

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When Penelope finally called, she was bombarding you with questions and demands for a good ten minutes, yet she talked so fast, there was no room to reply. Which was too bad for her, seeing as she would not calm down long enough for you to actually tell her, or for her to figure out the very thing she wished upon a star for.

Hotch sat next to you, with the intension of both fitting in the frame. His one hand was holding his third or fourth cup of coffee, while the other was firmly planted on your thigh. Despite your efforts to swat his hand away. Even if the efforts were half-assed squiggles in your seat, they were still efforts. You could not simply reach down, grab his hand and lift it away, like a crane on a construction site. Penelope would notice that.

Eventually she stopped chatting your ears off about how good you would look together. And eventually Hotch's hand left your thigh. So, eventually, you managed to breathe.

"Can we get a list of all the students the Wonder Island P.D interviewed?" You asked the magical lady on the screen, thankful the topic had moved to the case. It was possible that if the ones being interviewed were close friends with the victims, or even just classmates, it would be of help. Though, it was also likely the students who were interviewed had barely any connection at all, and simply wanted the attention. It happened a lot more than you would like. It made cases like this unnecessarily and annoyingly complicated.

Penelope shook her head, a sad smile on her screen-face, "I'm not allowed to send you anything related to the case. I'm so sorry, my loves." Of course. How could you forget? Not working the case, only assigned to work yourselves into the case, for no reason what so ever, it seemed.

"By who, the she-devil?" You grumbled. That lady could stick it—

Hotch raised an eyebrow at you, like he could hear your thoughts and did not approve of the direction you were going. He should have known better than to think you cared, especially when it came to Strauss. She could stick it far up her ass — actually, maybe that was exactly what she was already doing — sticking it so far up her ass it came out of her mouth. In the form of bullshit orders and assignments. It would explain why said orders and assignment were said bullshit.

The sunny day had you feeling poetic, apparently.

Turning to Penelope again, now with the newfound blessing of one of your many great ideas, you put on the sweetest smile you could manage, "If you send them over, I'll force him to watch Twilight." Finally, you had a way of getting him to watch it. He would undoubtedly refuse if you asked him, especially if he was sober. Hotch would probably despise the movies, but that was exactly what you hoped for.

"Blackmailing me?" Penelope narrowed her eyes onto her screen, to look at you, presumably, "My angel has grown dark wings, and I'm entirely enchanted by your sorcery. Faxing it over right this second."

You groaned, despite the victory of your very fair bargain, "Fax? Is that still a thing? Can't you just send it to my phone or something?" The world of technology had not come so far only for you to be faxed.

Only old men, like Aaron Scowls-a-lot Hotchner used fax machines. And, he probably still called it a 'telecopier'. God. To think you slept with the man.

"My gorgeous and oh-so-smart angel, you can't have case material on your little student girlfriend phone. What would your new friends think?" Penelope exclaimed with hand-movements, to really get the point across. You pursed your lips, straining to keep your mouth shut. It was hard to resist the urge to mutter a certain name and follow it by a string of very creative and original curses.

A giggle echoed from the laptop speakers, you looked back to find multiple pictures of colorful lanterns spread across the screen, along with some of a crowded bar, and a few more of an almost empty dance floor — except for two– Oh.

"This girl Lizzie is so cute by the way, you looked like you were having a lot of fun last night." Penelope zoomed in on the two girls dancing, tapped on her keyboard to enhance the blurry picture, and then slapped a bright pink sticker heart on top — of course.

"How do you– whatever." You gave up, knowing the magical powers of Penelope Garcia. She could find out anything, and the girl loved a night out. Obviously she would get her hands on pictures of you dancing at the bar.

"Anyway, my sweet loves, gotta get going. Miss you!" The call disconnected and Penelope's office disappeared from the screen. Well, that was one way to end a conversation. Abruptly.

Without another word, Hotch stood up and made for the stairs again — likely to grab the list from the fax machine — which was probably upstairs in his office. You took a wild guess.

A minute later, he walked back into the kitchen with a stack of paper in his hands. You furrowed your brows as you noticed the sheer amount. That was just the list of students? Raising from your chair, you stepped toward the man who stood still in the doorway, with his eyes focused on whatever it was he was holding.

He met your confused gaze with a soft smile — which might have confused you even further — as he handed the sheet of paper to you. Your mouth fell open as you took in the picture.

Penelope had faxed over a photo of the team, at the hospital, for JJ's birth. "Oh my god." You whispered. Awe and sadness competed for the look on your face, yet the mixed emotions manifested as a lump in your throat.

Hotch moved to stand beside you, to take another glance at the picture you were holding with shaky hands. "He's beautiful." He said quietly, carefully. Almost like it was a secret he did not want the whole world to learn. As if the words were heavy, and laced with a rawness of something he did not know of yet.

You lifted your head to meet his gaze and smiled softly, honestly. Your eyes shined with emotion as you whispered, "He is."

A moment of understanding, of sharing an unspoken weight, of nothing but you and him — you and him, along with something honest and real — something wholly particular and intimate, that only you shared.

Glancing back to the picture of JJ holding her baby boy, you noticed the team all around her. Rossi stood beside the hospital bed, kissing the top of her head. Emily was holding up two fingers and smiling brightly right beside them. And Derek — you sunk your teeth into your slightly trembling lip as you saw it — Derek was holding up pictures of you, Hotch and Spencer. So you could all be there.

Handing the photo back to the man next to you, you pointed to Derek, "Look, we were there." They had made sure you were. It filled your heart with a different emotion, longing, for the home the BAU had become. You missed them. Dearly.

Hotch smirked, the same way he did when he was about to say something out of character, or make a joke that targeted you. His favorite side-hobby, it seemed. "Good, I was afraid he would come into this world and know a moment of peace, of not seeing your face."

"Fucker, my face is nice. It's the nicest thing about me." You crossed your arms and glared up at him. He clicked his tongue and tilted his head to the side, with a cockiness you were seeing more and more. It sent shivers down your spine, landing right between your legs. A reminder of where he had been, and where he would be again if he did not stop looking at you like that.

"Yes to the first, not to the second." He licked his lips slowly as he looked you up and down. You were about to demand to know what he thought the nicest thing about you was, however the satisfied grin on his face told you enough. The blush on your cheeks made a reappearance, and you had come to terms with it. Around him, there was no use fighting it.

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It had been hours since talking to Penelope, yet you were still sitting on the kitchen table across from Hotch. Now, however, you had eaten. He had made you breakfast earlier, which was — to your very offense — delicious. It was almost good enough to make you wish it could be like this every day. Almost.

Your focus was interrupted by your phone, buzzing on the counter top behind you. Hotch lifted his head from the file he was reading, and watched as you got up to grab it. "It's Lizzie." You declared, reading the caller-ID lit on the screen. He nodded and motioned for you to take it.

Stepping out of the kitchen, you accepted the call.

"Lizzie?" You greeted, though it was more of a question than anything. The concern in your voice was clear as day. In the little time you had known her, you learned she was a texter. She hated calling and avoided it unless it was absolutely necessary. Naturally, you were concerned.

There was a quick rustle on the other end before you heard Lizzie's voice come through the phone. "Bell, they've sent half the campus home and canceled classes for a week. Where are you?" She sounded winded, like she had just ran up five flights of stairs. It certainly added to your concern.

The words echoed in your mind as she spoke, and you furrowed your brows, trying to make sense of it. "What? I'm with–," You stopped yourself from saying the name sitting on the tip of your tongue, "I'm visiting someone. What's going on? They sent half the campus home?"

You heard Lizzie take a few steps, followed by another rustling sound, as if she was sitting down on her bed. "Yeah, and they sent them checks, apparently. But, honestly I'm confused." You waited for her to go on, to elaborate. To help ease your own growing confusion.

A moment of silence passed as she collected her thoughts. "From what I've seen from my window," She quieted to a hushed whisper, "Only the boys have been sent home."

You turned on your heel, quickly walking back to the kitchen to grab a pen and write down what she said. Hotch got up from his seat and moved to stand beside you as he noticed the look on your face.

"What?" You asked, again. Scribbling down notes for the man next to you to read. "I don't understand. Why would they do that?"

Lizzie was quiet for another heartbeat, taking deep breaths on the other side, by the sound of it. "I don't know, but I saw that boy—Spencer, he was carrying his things out from the building as well. I thought you should know. You're friends, right?"

The mention of Spencer caught you off guard. Pen stopping mid-sentence.

Had he been sent home? What the fuck was going on?

You shook your head to clear your thoughts, if anyone would know about the situation, it would obviously be him. "Yeah, I'll call and ask him what's going on. Thanks, Lizzie, for telling me."

She sighed softly from the other end, "Stay safe, Bell. If Professor Jameson starts acting sus, promise me you get out. You can stay in my dorm instead."

"I prom– wait." The reply came out before you could register the words she had said. She knew you were with him? You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to come up with excuses. Anything at all that would logically explain your whereabouts. It seemed you were awful at your job, considering the very reason you were there — and the reason that she was to believe — were the same.

Lizzie chuckled, as if hearing your thoughts. "I'm not stupid. Just, be careful, okay?" She spoke, and you could practically hear her smile. Before you could promise, she ended the phone call.

"What's going on?" Hotch questioned as soon as you put the phone down. He searched your face for answers you did not have as you read over the half written notes in front of you.

You furrowed your brows and sighed, "I'm not really sure, but something is not right."

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sorry for the wait!! I've been feeling awful the past week, so please forgive me if this feels rushed

if you liked this, please consider liking and reblogging, it fuels my little ego!

let me know your thoughts and if you have anything you would like to see! your comments and messages are everything to me<3

love, millie<3

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“Have I done something? Please don’t leave, I’d worry myself to death if you left me now.” His voice is familiar and warm, slow, forever mellifluous. You’ll never get sick of the way he talks—it’s one of the reasons you fell in love with him, how he could make anything at all sound like a love note. “What’s making you feel unsure? Tell me what’s going on in there.”

You know that Aaron’s gentle, but he’s gone so sweet so suddenly it has emotion brewing in you that you haven’t earned. You swallow a silly lump and try to smile. “It’s nothing,” you say. 

Aaron slowly cards his hand behind your neck and encourages you into the curve of his neck, his second hand at the small of your back in a perfect fit. Warm and big, stretching over one of your most delicate parts. 

“I don’t know what to think about it, honey. I don’t ever want you to feel like you’d rather be at home than with me. If you need space, you can have it. Of course you can have it, but I’m getting the feeling that that’s not what this is about. Do you trust that you can talk to me?”

You want to cuss, but your throat burns, and all you can force out is a reprimanding, “Aaron.” 

“‘Cos I can fix anything.”

“I know that.”

“Yeah? So let me fix it for you, sweetheart.”

It is perhaps your greatest shame to be near tears in his arms as you plead with him to pretend you never said it. “I was just– I just wondered how you’d react, is all, there’s nothing wrong.” And Aaron doesn’t believe you, still soft as silk, so you tell him about the video you saw and he hums. You’re worried he’ll be rougher with you, then, because it’s not like you’ve earned his sympathy, but he rubs your back slowly and hums pensively, the smell of his skin under your nose. 

“Something still doesn’t feel right, does it?” he asks in a murmur, unaware of the molten heat in your throat and stomach simultaneously. You couldn’t explain it to him if he did notice it. “Did you– was it a surprise, that I wanted you to stay and work things out with me? I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear, that I’d fix anything for you.”

It’s just—it borders being too much, too kind. It’s the ache of biting into something sweet with a bad tooth, how he’s gone this tender, how he hasn’t once pushed you off of his chest. It hits you how willing he is to spend endless minutes reassuring you over nothing, a scenario that you created, and how easily he reads your smallest emotions. 

You’re downed by a video prank, and it’s all your fault. 

Luckily, Aaron doesn’t seem to mind at all. He tips your head back with your ear against his shoulder, looking up at him from his chest all wide-eyed and in love as he leans down for a slow kiss. “Do you want to go home?” he asks quietly. 

You shake your head, worried your voice will wobble and betray you if you speak, so Aaron leans down again to press another kiss to your mouth, this time very purposefully misaligned, so as to kiss right under your nose. 

“What can I do to make you feel better?” he asks, like you haven’t just deregulated yourself by accident. 

“I’m okay. Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry.” He gives your back a good rub, like he’s waving his hand into your spine. “How’s that? Is that helping?”

“Little more,” you tell him. You don’t mention going home again. 

The drive was quiet, you didn’t have to give him directions. It was comfortable, but part of you was still replaying everything that has happened since you came here. You didn’t know what to expect when joining the BAU, but you didn’t think it would push you back into Aaron’s arms. That was something you had given up hope on. It was something you didn’t think you even wanted anymore. At least until you’ve had to see him nearly every day again for months.

The streetlights pass overhead the entire commute. Aaron drives with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the center console. Eventually you reach over and your fingers intertwine automatically. It felt like muscle memory. You catch him looking down at your hands briefly while a small smile threatens the corners of his mouth. 

By the time the two of you reach your apartment building, the city has grown quiet for the night but the two of you are wide awake. You unlock your front door and toss your bag down on the couch. Aaron remains by the door, bag in hand like he’s unsure what to do with it. 

“Aaron?” 

His eyes meet yours. 

“Do you wanna take a shower?” You take a couple steps back toward your bedroom, “Together?”

He blinks. You can see it processing on his face before that rare smile makes an appearance. 

He huffs a small laugh, “Only a fool would say no to that.” 

He follows your lead, leaving his bag in your room. You reach into the shower to turn on the water, steam rising from it. The room starts to fill with heat, fogging the mirror and softening the edges of the room. 

You turn back to see Hotch leaning against the doorway, watching you with warm eyes. Desire written all over his face. He steps forward without hesitating, until the space between the two of you collapses. The heat from his chest brushes against yours, his hand reaches for your jaw tilting your head up toward him. 

He’s waiting. Asking without asking.

“Aaron.” You practically beg. 

His eyes darken and his hand finds the curve of your jaw. His mouth meets yours and it’s not soft. It’s deliberate and certain. His lips are warm and familiar, even after all these years. His palm slides to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair. He deepens the kiss like he’s finally getting a taste of what he’s needed for years. 

When he breaks it, his forehead rests against yours while you both catch your breath. His grip on your neck hasn’t loosened, you pull him against you again by the collar of his dress shirt. Your teeth catch his bottom lip and the sound he makes is low and dragged from somewhere deep in his chest. 

“Y/n.” He murmurs your name as his mouth finds your jaw, then your throat. The kisses are open mouthed and unhurried like he’s addicted to tasting your skin. His hands slide down your sides, his thumb tracing the curve of your ribs. His breath is hot against your collarbone. 

You reach forward to undo the buttons of his shirt and push it back off his shoulders so he can be free of it. Scars litter his chest that weren’t there ten years ago. 

His mouth reclaims yours, hungrier now. He isn’t as careful now, his hands find the hem of your shirt and he sneaks his hands under the material. You arch into his touch and the shirt comes off in one smooth motion, tossed somewhere behind him on the bathroom floor. 

His eyes travel all over you and his breath catches. It’s barely audible, but you hear it. He lowers to his knees and it’s almost ceremonial. His hands find your hips, his thumb hooking on the waistband of your pants. He pulls them down slowly, mouth trailing after the newly revealed skin. 

He pauses when his eyes catch on something. His thumb brushes over the ink on your hip. 

“This is new.” He looks up, his eyes meeting yours. You nod, biting back a smile. You’ve had it for years, but for him it’s new. His eyes visibly darken before he looks back to press a kiss over it. “I like it.” 

His mouth finds the soft inside of your thigh, continuing each kiss. His hands guide your legs apart and you brace a hand against the wall. Each kiss is slower than the last and building heat in their wake. You let your other hand reach down and find his hair, fingers threading through the short dark hair.

He looks up at you as he presses another open wet kiss to your thigh before finally reaching you. It’s soft at first, barely there. Then his tongue parts you, flat and warm. Aaron’s grip on your hip tightens and his eyes flutter shut. You can see it on his face, he’s savoring it. His tongue circles and finds a rhythm. Every couple of seconds his nose brushes against your clit, making your moans fill the bathroom. 

One hand leaves your hip to slide up your stomach before cupping your breast. His thumb brushes your nipple while his mouth continues to work on you. He hums and the vibration travels through your core, pulling a loud gasp from you. He doesn’t speed up, he draws it out like he never wants the moment to end. Your grip on his hair tightens and he knows you’re close. The pressure builds tight and hot until you can’t hang on anymore. 

“Okay,” You say a little breathless, “Now can we shower?” 

He stands and smiles proudly before nodding. The shower was still hot thankfully, you tilt your head back to let it wash over your face. When you open your eyes again Aaron’s joined you, his eyes openly drinking you in. You reach out to pull him under the stream with you and he pulls you in close. The water makes his hair even darker and plasters it to his forehead. He looks younger like this, before taking a hand to brush the damp hair away from his face. 

With a grin still plastered to his face, “I missed you.” 

You unsuccessfully fight off your own smile, “I missed you, too.” 

He pulls you in for a deep and all consuming kiss. Your back meets the cold tile and his hand braces beside your head. The water runs down the two of you but neither care to break away. You melt against him. 

“I think we should do this forever.” He mumbles against your lips, “But tonight you still have a concussion.” 

You laugh, pulling back enough to press your forehead against his. He’s right, the two of you probably shouldn’t take it further than this tonight. You reach around him for your soap and a wash cloth. You lather it up and bring it to his chest and he stills under your touch. He isn’t exactly tense, but you can tell it’s been a long time since anyone has done this for him. 

You spread the soap across his shoulders, over the broad planes of his chest. His eyes close and he lets you pass over his scars without flinching. You take your time, working down his arms as well. You turn him gently and he lets you. You drag the wash cloth down the stiff ridge of his spine. 

“Y/n.” He says your name quietly like a prayer he didn’t mean to say out loud. 

You continue, finishing at his hips and tracing the muscle that frames them. His head drops forward and he pulls you up to stand under the stream of water with him again. 

“Your turn.” He smiles again. 

He washes you like he’s done it a hundred times, and it would be a lie to say it was the first time. It was the first time in this decade at least. 

He works slowly, moving across your collarbone and down your arms. His hands are impossibly gentle and careful. These are the same hands that throw punches at unsubs, but you would never know that now. His lips brush your shoulder, you feel him exhale. 

“Thank you.” He says with another quiet exhale. He says it so quietly the water almost swallows it. You turn in his hold and lift a hand to touch his jaw. 

“For what?”

Your question is soft and curious. He doesn’t answer right away and his hands settle on your waist. His thumbs trace idle patterns and the shower spray drums against his back. 

“For trusting me again.” His voice is still low but he meets your eyes without a mask. He doesn’t try to hide anything anymore. He’s just a man standing under hot water holding you like he’s dreamed of this for years. 

It took effort on both ends, but you guys eventually wrap things up and get into bed. The apartment was quiet in a peaceful way that you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Hours of adrenaline, bombings, near misses, confessions, and years of unresolved feelings were finally catching up to the two of you. 

You toss the covers off quickly, stealing one of Aaron’s shirts right out from his open go bag. 

“Where are you going?” He leans back against the pillows, watching your every move with a smirk. 

“I need water.” You roll your eyes and walk out of the room. Aaron watches you disappear into the hallway and he hears the fridge open. A few more seconds pass and nothing. The silence returns and Aaron settles against the pillow. A minute passes. Then another. 

A strange feeling settles in his stomach. It wasn’t panic, it was instinct. The same instinct that had kept him alive through years of profiling. 

He sits up, “Y/n?”

Nothing. His heart rate accelerates and he’s up and out of bed before he consciously decides to move. He crosses the bedroom in a second and rounds the hall toward the living room. A thin strip of light spills into the apartment from the hallway outside, your front door left partially open. He glances toward the kitchen to see the door to the fridge wide open, an empty glass still on the counter next to it. 

Aaron’s stomach drops because he knows something is wrong. Very wrong. Years of profiling suddenly scream at him. No signs of struggle and no broken furniture. No yelling and no noise. This was fast and professional. 

He grabs his weapon from where he left it near the entry table when they got home. His pulse hammers and he’s moving out the door down the hallway before he can stop himself. Bare feet pound against the stairs, he takes them three at a time. He flies down the three floors and bursts out the door toward the parking lot. No one is out here at this hour, but at the far end of the parking lot there’s a van leaving. 

Aaron raises his gun but lowers it after a few seconds. It was too far and there were too many unknowns. It was too much risk and it cost him because the van accelerated away from him. He sprints to get a good look. White cargo van. Passenger side rear panel dent. North Carolina registration. Three letters and two numbers. He burns it into memory as he stops running in the middle of the street, breathing hard.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. 

His professional instinct eventually takes over, crushing the panic taking over him. The abduction was planned and executed with fast extraction. There was no ransom demand or communication of any kind left behind. This is not random. 

This is someone who knows exactly who you are and how to take you. Whoever they are, Aaron is confident they just made the biggest mistake of their life. He was going to find you no matter what it takes.

-

Five years ago. 

The case haunted the Los Angeles field office long before you ever touched it. When it finally landed on your desk, you had heard the horror stories already. Several agents had been given this case without success. 

Girls were disappearing. Mostly foster kids and runaways, but there was the occasional girl that caught the mainstream media attention. It sickened you that they were the only ones noticed, not the four dozen others in the file. 

They operated across state lines and over the border, moving victims between California, Arizona, Nevada, and Mexico. Every time the FBI got close, they would disappear and evidence would vanish. The case had been open for nearly ten years. 

“Do you understand what you’re asking?” Your SAC has asked you. 

You sat across from him calmly, “Yes.”

“This isn’t a two-day assignment, L/n.” He reminds, “You would be alone with them for months to get the information you’re looking for.” 

“I know.” You clear your throat, “Whatever it takes.”

It took eleven weeks to work your way into their circle. Eleven weeks of pretending to be desperate, vulnerable, and recruitable. 

You were young enough to be a good tool for them. The girls trusted you which was something that didn’t come along very often. Your job was caring for the girls, which was easier said than done. After weeks of working in their operation you discovered it was led by a married couple known simply as Hector and Susan.

They were monsters hiding behind smiles. 

The longer you stayed embedded in the group, the more evidence you collected against them. Names, routes, bank accounts, safe houses, and corrupt contacts. Every piece mattered, but it got harder and harder to stay. The victims were young and some hadn’t seen their families in years. 

You listened to them. Their names, birthdays, families, and dreams. You made it your mission to get every last one of them out of there unharmed. You couldn’t move too quickly, or else the entire network would disappear and rebuild after time. 

Hector and Susan had a son named Brendan. He was dangerously smart and knew to stay quiet. He was only seventeen, but he was integral to their operation at this point. He handled logistics for them and was a wealth of guarded information. 

Every time you were in the same room as him, you felt more unsettled than usual. The lack of innocence or sympathy in his emotions was obvious. 

The operation ended on a random Tuesday. You had gotten enough information for them to coordinate simultaneous raids across four states. There were forty-seven arrests and hundreds of victims recovered. One of the largest trafficking busts in FBI history. You would never forget the chaos of all the SWAT teams moving in while trying to get the girls to safety.

Hector. The leader. The architect. The man responsible for everything that happened here for years. They found him barricaded in one of the safe houses. Armed and cornered. One gunshot rang out before they could even breach the room. 

He chose death over prison, refusing to surrender and take accountability. A man like that refuses to face justice. 

The trials went on for months, you were called back to the stand constantly to testify against different people. Brendon took a reduced sentence, claiming abuse and parental control forced him into coercion. He was painted as another victim trapped by his parents’ crimes, and to an extent that was true, but you knew who he truly was. 

He received a significantly reduced sentence compared to the adults involved. You saw him in the courtroom that day, waiting for sentencing. His glare followed you rather than focusing on his future that was on the line. Hatred radiated from every inch of him. 

The marshals move him toward the exit, but he fights against them for a few seconds. 

“I’ll never forget this!” He shouts, still glaring at you and still furious. 

You watch him disappear through the courthouse doors and eventually walk away, leaving him and the case behind you. 

-

Your vision came back slowly, every part of your head throbbing again. Your neck feels stiff as you try to hold your head up, your eyes blinking to focus. The room smells concrete and mildew. Definitely not your apartment. 

Something restrains your wrists and you blink more forcefully so you can look down. Rope is tied tight, binding your arms together behind you, your legs tied to the chair legs. You force yourself to breathe, years of training taking over. You need to assess and survive. 

The room is dark, a single lightbulb poorly lighting the industrial space. A warehouse maybe? There’s a faint drip of water somewhere in the room. A voice calls out from the darkness. 

“There she is.” 

A chair scrapes somewhere in the dark. 

“I was starting to think we got the dosage wrong.” 

You turn your head to the sound and freeze. A man steps into the light, he’s older now. Older than the teenager you saw in that courtroom. His shoulders are broader and his features have grown sharper to match his fathers. His eyes still hold the same hatred. You know him instantly. 

“Brendan.” 

His smile widens. 

“Oh good,” He steps closer, “you remember me.” 

You stare at him, watching him circle you. 

“You should still be in prison.” 

He laughs. 

“And you should’ve stayed out of my family’s business.” 

There it was. The anger was untouched by time, unaffected by prison. 

You lean back against the chair, “Brendan-” 

“No.” His expression darkens. You stay quiet and he studies you for a long moment. 

“I spent five years in a cell because of you.” He spits, “My mother is still in a cell because of you. My father-my father is dead because of you.” 

“Your father chose a coward's way out.” 

His smile vanishes instantly. 

“There she is.” He swallows, “The same righteousness, it’s sickening.” 

You track every moment and try to take in the environment behind him. The doors, windows, and cameras, or even anything you could use as a weapon. He notices. 

“You always were smart.” He smiles again, “I knew it then, you were too smart to work with us. I tried to tell my dad, but I think he liked you too much to see the real you.”

He circles you again.

“My father thought he was a genius and my mother thought she was the strategist.” He lets out a bitter laugh, “But they never noticed who was actually keeping everything running.”

He stops directly in front of you and leans in closer, reaching out a hand to your hair. 

“But you noticed.” 

You feel your stomach drop. 

You keep your voice calm, “You rebuilt it.”

He’s picked up where his parents left off. You can see it in his eyes, the desire to prove himself. This is the moment he’s been waiting for. 

“Gold star for the golden agent!” He claps, pacing again, “I’ve done it better than they ever could’ve!” 

The room felt even colder because you actually believe him. Years ago he was the one handling all of the transportation, communication, money, and the infrastructure. He kept the machine moving and now he’s had experience, resources, and time.

“People are going to die.” You remind, trying to remain steady. 

He shrugs, “You know what prison teaches you?” 

He leans in closer when you don’t answer. 

“Patience.” 

He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and you turn your face away from his. He crouches and grabs your chin. 

“I’ve had five years to think about everything you took from me.” 

You stare him down, “You lost everything because of what your family did.” 

His smile disappears again and for a second you can see the seventeen year old boy again. The one screaming in a courtroom desperate to blame someone. 

He stands, “You still don’t get it.” 

“Get what?” You watch him carefully. 

The silence stretches and he smiles again which makes you feel worse. Worse because the anger is gone now, just certainty. 

“I always wanted you to understand what it feels like.” His eyes never leave yours, “To have someone decide your future.” 

The room goes quiet while the threat hangs in the air. Your chest rises a little faster, the rope biting at your wrists. Alarm bells are screaming in your head because now you understand something critical. This isn’t just revenge, he didn’t kidnap you just to kill you. 

No. 

If he wanted you dead, you would already be dead. He wants something else. He wants fear, power, and control over you. The same things his family had built an empire around. The same empire you took down. 

“You’re older than our ideal target, but with a face like that?” He reaches out to grip your cheeks, “You’ll do just fine.” 

This is his endgame. Kidnapping you and forcing you into a sex trafficking ring was what he had dreamt of for years while stuck in a cell. 

He lets go, pushing your face back harshly before walking back toward the door. He knocks twice and an armed man opens the door for him. 

“I almost forgot,” he turns back to look at you one last time, “Your team is looking for you. We’ll have to keep an eye on that.” 

-

AN// HOTCH ON HIS KNEES FINALLY!!! I have been WAITING for this moment!!! But can our girl just catch a break 😭 Also, I am so sorry for the delay in updating! Between graduating, moving, and a new job OMG life has been insane! But I will try to be more consistent again going forward, this should settle a bit now! Only one more part and an epilogue to go 🫣🥺

TAGLIST:

its been a year since you guys have started dating and you've gotten used to his schedule. his work taking him away for days on end. him hoarding you for himself after coming back because he missed you so much. but given he's away so often, he has you share your location with him so he can quickly check on you for his own peace of mind. you need his location, of course, because he's the one in random places and so if anyone needs to be tracked, its him. (but honestly you just wanted to add another sim (person) to your ever growing list of sims (family and friends) whose location you have hehe)

because of this, you've fallen victim to his random texts "just to check in" that you initially thought were innocent but later learned that it only happened when you were out late.

any time you weren't home and it was nearing midnight, you'd get a text from him that were along the lines of: "Miss you sweetheart :( <3"

which you would have to respond to immediately (duh) with an "ugh I miss you too baby </3 </3 </3" and because you have an inexplicable need to share EVERYTHING with him, you tell him your plans for the night. unsolicited. every. single. time.

and given that hes sneaky and conniving, he'd tell you, "Okay sweetheart. Have fun. Be safe. Call me when you get home. I want to hear your voice before I go to bed."

and being the amazing girlfriend that you are and that you don't want him to stay up waiting for you after your night out, you make your way home not too long after. only to get home and keep him on the phone for hours before either of you fall asleep.

now weeks into the semester, you feel as though you haven't had a real girls night out in forever. so for halloweekend, you host the pregame at your apt mentioning that you really need to be out with your girls this weekend as its been ages. and your best friend laughs cracking a joke, "yeah until grampa hotchner needs you to come home and tell him a bedtime story" you laugh at first because its just a silly joke. then you start recounting in your head all the previous nights out and you try to remember the last time you went out with your girls and didn't come home early to say goodnight to aaron. your smile falls revealing a horrified look instead because it turns out you've gone home early every week this semester. your bestie notices the change and tries to apologize for the joke but you don't let her because theres only one person in trouble. mr. aaron hotchner.

you catch on to his little game. he has been checking your location and then sending you his "just checking in" texts, because on a normal night at home, he'll just call you to say goodnight! now knowing his evil play, you know just how to get around his plan. like clockwork, you get his "Miss you" text around midnight when you and your girls are at your local college bar for their halloween theme night. you're not a monster so you of course respond (after making him wait like five minutes) but instead of the usual "i miss you too", you send him a video of you and your girls singing and dancing along to the music with a "halloweekend w the gals! i'll call u tmrw xoxo" and then mute his texts. (ahh honestly diabolical on your part. but you're determined to stay strong.)

you were able to a have successful night of bar hopping with everyone heading back to your bestie's apt for some pizza and a debrief sesh of the night. by the time it was 5am, everyone else had either headed home or crashed on a couch.

with the silence and the first light of dawn, a guilty feeling creeps over you. you never ended up saying goodnight to aaron. you finally open your messages with him to see that he hearted your video, responded with "Okay baby. Stay safe and text me when you're home!" and then an hour later (when, you assume, he went to bed) he sent, "Goodnight sweetheart! <3"

in utter anguish, you're unable to fall asleep. you text him, "is it too late to say goodnight???? </3" you're delirious from the combination of no sleep, leftover drunkedness, and your overwhelming love for aaron, you leave him a voice note rambling on about how you wised up to his scheme to get you to come home early on every night out and how you not responding him tonight was supposed to be a form of punishment for him but what ended up happening instead was now you're in a state of utter distress because you didn't get to say goodnight to the love of your life and how its excruciating for you to miss him when you should be fast asleep.

after watching videos of you and aaron that you have on your camera roll like its a montage of your relationship, you do eventually fall asleep. the next morning, you wake up to your friend's work alarm going off. with plans to link up again tonight for a house party, your friend starts to get ready for work while you head home.

you walk into your apartment, grateful that you had already taken your makeup off and changed into your friend's pjs, you throw your stuff onto a table and head straight to your bed. opening the door to your bedroom, you're surprised to find an aaron already asleep in your bed. climbing in under the sheets, you sneak your arms and legs around him as he shifts and adjusts to pull you into him. he mumbles a soft "Good morning" against you.

you tuck your head under his chin and ask, "when did you get in?" "Just after I got your little voice note," he grumbles. and then before you could respond he says, "And it's not a scheme because I never told you to head home early. I would've picked up your call, even at 3am." he waits a minute before adding softly, "Was disappointed to not find you at home. I wanted to fall asleep with you."

mission identities | Aaron Hotchner as Professor Edward Thomas Jameson. You as Isabella Evans (rarely used, other than 'Miss Evans')

──────────﹒★﹒﹒─

chapter six: truth or dare

─﹒﹒★﹒──────────

"Your choice, Professor." Your whisper fanned across his lips.

Hotch did not move, his breath mixed with yours, dancing across your lips as he whispered, "I didn't realize we had to keep pretending when we're alone."

The way he spoke — like he was trying to remind you that this was nothing more than pretend — yet it did not sound convincing. His eyes were depths of darkness with gleams of amusement, an alluring contrast. The heat of his breath across your face, and his devilish smirk as he waited for your response made it hard to think.

You wondered what he would do if you decided to press your lips against his. If you tilted your head forward to close the mere distance between you.

Trying to keep your voice steady as you spoke, you gestured between your bodies with a finger, "We only do this when we are alone." It seemed you found yourself almost pressed against his lips more often when you were alone, than in front of anyone else.

Hotch chuckled deeply, his eyes focused entirely on your lips as you licked them slowly. "If that's the case, we are extremely bad at our jobs." That was certainly the case. However, you found it increasingly difficult to care about your jobs. There was little more in your mind than him pressed against you, his body against yours. His hands on you.

It was torture. You were struggling to keep your hands to yourself. He was so close, you itched to reach out. To touch him. Run your hand down his chest, up the nape of his neck. Tug on his hair.

You whispered shakily, it took everything to keep yourself sane and not move to straddle him, "Well, technically Strauss said–"

"Do not mention Strauss when you're close enough I can taste the whiskey on your breath." He growled. The demanding tone of his voice vibrated down your spine, you shivered, a quiet whimper escaping your lips before you could stop it. Hotch cursed lowly to himself, watching as the color spread across your cheeks, "You are not making this easy."

He was struggling. There was not a single part of you touching him, or him touching you, yet it felt suffocating being so near you. It felt like the air was on fire.

"You know I like when things are hard for me, Sir." It was a weak attempt at gaining some fraction of control back. He just hummed. Was it hot in here?

It was unbearable. Feverish. Suffocating. You could not take it any longer. It was too much, and not enough at the same time. It was everything and nothing all at once. There was no air to breathe, nothing but him and you.

You lifted your head to look him in the eyes, to offer him your last piece of sanity and self-control. "Please, if you don't fucking kiss me alr–" The words were cut off, the air knocked out of you as his hand grabbed the side of your neck to pull you to him. He crashed his lips on yours. Pressing your face against his. It was desperate, frantic. Heated.

Your hands flew up to his shoulders, steadying yourself as you tilted your head deeper. His hands moved to your hips as he kissed you with such fierce determination your lungs burned, his grip was so deliciously bruising, you gasped into his mouth.

Hotch groaned, the sound you made was like gasoline to his fire. He would never be able to listen to you speak again without thinking about the sweet noises your mouth could make. You swung a leg over his, not letting his lips leave yours as you moved to sit on his lap.

With your hands tangled into his hair, his tongue pushed into your mouth to dance around yours. The kiss was consuming you. No thoughts formed in your mind, nothing but the desire for him to keep devouring your soul the way his lips did to yours. You wanted him closer. Needed him closer. It was making you greedy.

He pulled his face away from yours, your chests heaving as you gasped for air. "Fuck." He muttered, throwing his head back. A moment passed of you catching your breaths together, of his eyes on yours, of his hands gripping your hips and yours on the nape of his neck. If you kept still, perhaps the moment would never end.

The line he had tried to keep between his personal and work life thinned. All because of your red swollen lips and your thighs pressing against his. It would not matter how much this was… encouraged, when it came to the mission. This was not about the mission, not for him. Not anymore. Maybe it had never been.

"It's just us here." Hotch reminded you, as if it would change anything. As if you would climb off of his thick thighs in panic as soon as you realized it. Not happening. His thighs were made for you to sit on, you were not getting off unless he forced you.

You grinned, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, "I won't tell if you won't." It was more a hopeful promise than anything. You could not care less about the jobs you were here to do. The scowling man underneath you had been giving you a hard time for too long, with the way he folded up the arms of his shirt, crossed them over his chest and glared at you with disappointment. You would have crawled to him on your first day at the BAU had you not been the stubborn, revenge-seeking brat you were. It was easier to make him suffer the same way you did.

However, now you had tasted him. His scent tainted your lips and it was maddening.

Hotch stared at you, searching your face for any sign of doubt, of uncertainty. Too bad for him, you mused, when he found nothing of the sort. You were long gone, drowning in the sea of him like it was the only thing you had known, and would ever know. Perhaps it would not be so bad.

"You do not get to decide whether I want this or not," You leaned forward to barely graze your lips against his as you whispered, "Especially not when your hard cock is pressing against me. It's dizzying."

He ran a hand down his face when you sat back up on his lap, huffing out a sigh, "Fuck, you have a foul mouth." He liked to point it out, it seemed. Not that it bothered you in the slightest.

You grinned as you ran both your hands slowly down his chest, "Want to find out now, or later?" His jaw tightened, his pulse roaring in his ears.

Before he could claim your lips again — drink the very poison he was sure would kill him — the sound of knocking echoed through the first floor of the house. Both you and Hotch whipped your heads to look to the door, before he raised a hand to check the watch on his wrist. His brows furrowed as he noted the late hour.

"Later." He decided with a smug smirk. He gripped your hips and lifted you off him, placing you onto the couch next to where he sat like it was the most natural thing. You shivered. Fuck, it was perhaps the most attractive thing he had ever done.

He got up from beside you, glancing over to you one last time before he strode to open the door. You bent over the back of the couch to hopefully see who it was, ruining the best kiss of your life. Blocking what would undoubtedly be the best sex of your life, judging by the size of him pressed up against you, straining against his slacks.

Spencer stood panting on the other side of the door, his hands on his knees like he had run a marathon. With the way he ran, you supposed it was understandable he struggled to catch his breath. You struggled to catch yours as well, every time he ran. It was your favorite entertainment.

"What's wrong?" Hotch asked, raking a hand through his hair as the younger stepped beside him into the living room. He was trying to act normal, like he had not basically swallowed your face moments before. You could still see the outline in his slacks. It never occurred to you he was the type to get aroused from kissing for a minute or two. The stoic scowl and furrowed brows made him look a lot more professional — honorable — the very epitome of composed. It was poetic, when you viewed it like that.

"I tried to text you." Spencer said when he saw you.

He did? You had not gotten any texts— your phone. Looking around for your purse, for the phone you put in your purse, it hit you, you had left it behind when you were out drinking and dancing. With a sigh, you looked up at him, guilt shining in your eyes, "I forgot my phone in my purse back at the bar." How could you be so stupid? Sophie even scolded you for not answering your phone as soon as she stopped sobbing in your hair hours ago.

"I know," He admitted, opening the satchel hanging from his shoulder, "I was walking Lizzie back to her dorm, and I kept texting and calling you but it went straight to voicemail. Then Lizzie said she thought your phone was in your purse and that you had thrown it to a corner when you were dancing and probably forgot it. So, when she was safely at her dorm, I ran back to the bar to find your purse, but the bar had closed, and so I had to break–" Spencer paused and snapped his head to look at Hotch, then turning slowly back to you handing you the purse he had dug out.

He was never good at playing it cool when he messed up. You bit back a laugh and mouthed 'thank you' as you took it from his outstretched hands. It was so sweet Spencer followed Lizzie home and then ran his little quirky run to get your purse, he was just the purest angel.

Hotch cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest, back to the ever-so-strict scowling Unit Chief, "Had to break what, Reid?" He pressed. It was exhilarating, knowing that was the man groaning into your mouth not even three minutes ago. The poor boy in front of you had no idea how badly you wanted to kick his sweet angel ass out of here to climb his boss. Your boss. Whatever.

Spencer pursed his lips and straightened, preparing to lie his pretty little face off, "I knocked on the door so hard it almost basically broke, and the owner let me in." Yeah! Everybody nod in agreement, it's his first time.

"Johnson?" Hotch raised a serious eyebrow, though the gleam in his eyes and cunning smirk on his lips told on him. It was a rare sight, seeing Aaron Scowls-a-lot Hotchner mess with Spencer 'the Smart-ass' Reid.

Spencer nodded and snapped his fingers as if he just remembered, "Johnson, yes."

Scratch that. It was a rare sight: Aaron Scowls-a-lot Hotchner outsmarting Spencer 'the Smart-ass' Reid.

"My sweet little Spence," You laughed as you reached over the back of the couch to ruffle his hair, "I think you've been played." He looked like a sad puppy, looking back and forth between you and the man across the room like he was watching a tennis match. Hotch had almost smiled from where he stood, and Spencer pouted, his shoulder slumping slightly.

"Are you taking his side?" He pointed his thumb over his shoulder to where Hotch tried to hide his satisfaction with his arms crossed. You huffed a no, and Spencer narrowed his eyes on you. The same expression plastered on his face as that one time he decided to calculate the significance of various variables in Emily's life — trying to figure out if she was in a good mood because she got laid, or if she simply got a good night sleep. The two could absolutely not possibly correlate.

To everyone's annoyance, yet no one's surprise, he ended up being right. She had gotten laid, and it was the highlight of Derek's day when she walked back to her desk after lunch and Spencer had exclaimed it outright. Hotch had walked past right in that moment, and Emily seized the opportunity to grab his arm and ask to go home. She had apparently gotten instantly sick with something very contagious and needed to isolate, but Hotch did not give in to her. Instead, he ended you all by saying 'You got yesterday off, you're not leaving work early today just because he was good, Prentiss. We have a case'. Derek actually bowed down to the Unit Chief.

Spencer hummed, raising an eyebrow as he came to his conclusion, "So, you liked sharing his mouth-germs."

Why did he always do this? Jesus. Let a girl live.

"Reid." Hotch sighed, scratching the back of his neck. You turned around, debating on sinking so low into the couch you disappeared. Another idea hit you though, as the bottle of whiskey seemed to scream your name from where it stood, so lonely, on the small round table.

"I need a drink, want one?" You asked to no one in particular as you made for the flask of salvation.

"No," Spencer answered, picking up his satchel, "I'm going back to campus to see if I can find anything at the scene." Hotch nodded. The door closed as Spencer dashed out the house, leaving behind a deafening silence.

You filled two full glasses of whiskey, passing one to the man standing behind you without saying a word. The promises hung in the air, unfulfilled, unkept. The two of you emptied your glasses in silence.

──────────﹒★﹒﹒─

"Truth or dare?"

The bottle of whiskey was empty on the table, though thankfully the man was prepared. He had dug out some fancy Italian wine from somewhere in the kitchen, and you sent your eternal gratitude to one Agent David Rossi.

Hotch slouched on the far and of the couch, "Aren't we a little too old?" He was, probably. Who would turn down a classic round of a good game, such as truth or dare? In what world could truth or dare lead to anything but simple and innocent fun?

Hopefully in your world, if you played your cards right — wait, not cards — truth or dare? Anyway.

"I'm not, now pick one. Unless—you are too old." You waved a finger in his direction before taking a swig straight from the bottle in your hands. The buzz was like a delicious warmth in your body, spreading across your skin like wildfire.

It was ironic, how you insisted on playing this game but you hated to come up with things to say. You chewed on your bottom lip, conspiring on the best way to throw him off his own game. To make him lose it — and perhaps — make him finally touch you.

The tree of a sexy man sitting too far away was relaxing more and more, the deeper down the flask you got.

Hotch sighed, taking the bottle from your hands and drank. "In vino veritas, right?" He muttered with a slight rasp in his voice, and you almost fell to your knees. It was already difficult enough to keep your hands off him — if he said another word in Italian, in that deep tone — your hand would find a way into your underwear.

Truth, right.

You folded your legs under you as you turned to face him. It was one of your remaining functioning brain cells that decided to start easy with your question, "What's something you often think about doing but you've not done yet?"

He clenched his jaw, perhaps trying to come up with any answer different than the first he thought of. There had to be a lot of things he had not done yet, considering he spent all his time at work. "Spend a vacation on a boat." Hotch shrugged, taking another drink from the warm wine. He swallowed, and you watched his throat bob like it was the most fascinating thing you had witnessed.

"Boring," You said with a huff, reaching for the bottle that currently resided in his incredibly large hands, "My turn." He handed over the wine you secretly envied. A frown tilting the very lips you were desperate to taste again. He was probably offended you called his answer boring, and not 'the exhilarating, most adrenaline-inducing idea' he undoubtedly thought it was.

The wine tasted somewhat sour, you noted as you took a mouthful, although maybe that was the point.

Why was he quiet? Had he forgotten how to play or was he just that old? "You have to ask me." You pouted, reminding him of the way of the game.

"Right. Truth or dare?" He pursed his lips, studying your face as he tried to think of something.

You hummed to yourself, weighing your options.

Hotch would find a way to make it boring, no doubt, and you wanted something more — exciting. Saucy, like how your insides were feeling. Heated, like the way he kissed you earlier. So, the only obvious solution was to give the man some easy and kind instructions.

"Dare, but if you make it boring, I'm walking back to my dorm." You prayed he would come up with something. The walk back would be dark and scary — because you would walk back — you always followed through with your threats.

He scowled disapprovingly, and you grinned. You knew it had worked.

Hotch thought for a moment, a second longer and you would probably die from boredom. Or lack of attention. All you wanted was for him to touch you. Everywhere.

"Come sit on my lap."

Oh. Your breath hitched, the growl in his voice sent shivers down your spine. Hotch raised an eyebrow, watching you expectantly, with an amused, dark gleam in his eyes. He savored the blush painting your cheeks as you tried to compose yourself.

"What?" You tried, but it sounded weaker than you would have liked. It was impossible to breathe, to string together coherent thoughts. The air was suffocatingly thick as he waited for you to follow his command. Careful what you wish for, right?

"You heard me." He leaned back, one hand on the back of the couch as the other tapped on his thigh as he spread them. Invitingly. Like a throne.

He watched you, waited for you. It should not have been that difficult to move, but your legs had turned to jelly, your mind short-circuiting. The sight of his finger tapping on his thick thigh went straight between your own legs. You moved closer to him, to do exactly what he wanted you to. Despite the inability to control your own movements, you lifted yourself up to straddle him, the same way you had earlier. When he was plunging his tongue into your mouth.

"Good." He purred, his hands finding their way back to your hips, just as they had been earlier. The pulse roaring in your ears made it difficult to do anything other than stare at him. Waiting for whatever was to come. You could not think.

It was maddening, dizzying, having his body against yours.

Hotch tilted his head to the side, like he was expecting something.

"Aren't you going to ask me?" He raised his eyebrows, the smug expression on his face revealed just how much he was enjoying this. You chewed on your bottom lip, concentrating on figuring out what he meant, what he wanted you to ask. The only thing you could think of was that you needed his lips on yours again. Needed to feel his skin. Tangle your fingers in his hair again.

You squeezed your eyes shut as he tightened his grip on your hips. "Ask you what?" It came out a shaky whisper, whiny, almost. He had that effect on you, apparently. Hotch licked his lips, fully smirking, and it confused you. What was it, exactly, he was enjoying? Your flushed cheeks and whiny breaths? Oh. Fuck.

He hummed, narrowing his eyes as you struggled to hold on to the last thread of your composure. It was not even a thread, you simply had not realized yet, that you were whimpering on his lap. Starved for his touch. The wine had that effect on you, apparently.

"Don't you want to keep playing?" Hotch asked, his tone was slightly condescending and it sent your mind spiraling. He raised his eyebrows again, waiting for your reply, even if he was well aware it was not coming. You were a blushing mess on his lap, your lips parted and brows knitted like you were struggling to keep yourself upright, his cock was straining against his slacks at the sight of you.

"One round, is that all you can do?" He purred in your ear. Well aware of the insinuation. But wine had a tendency to make him not care. You shook your head, not trusting your ability to speak, to not beg for his–

Surely you could manage another round.

You took a shaky breath, speaking with as much coherence as you could manage, "Truth or dare?" Hotch tilted his head again, savoring the look of you on his lap. He licked his lips and bit back a smile as you squeezed your eyes shut. Why were you like this? You could not even manage seeing his smug face without clenching your thighs, it was starting to get embarrassing.

"Fuck, I don't care." He grumbled. Your eyes flew open in shock as his hand cupped your face, and a soft whimper escaped your lips before his mouth took its place. He kissed you with a need that rivaled your own, his tongue finding its way back to dance with yours. It was sparks of flames, of fireworks. His hands were everywhere on you, exploring every sliver of skin he could reach.

You unbuttoned the top of his shirt, desperate to touch him, feel him. His large hands dipped under your shirt, holding you firmly by the waist as he pressed your hips to grind against the hard outline of his cock. You gasped into his mouth, the delicious friction sent shivers down your spine.

It was minutes of heavy breaths, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you rolled your hips against him. Yet, you were greedy. It was not enough for the hunger, not enough to satisfy the pit of desire. Of need. You needed more.

"Just fuck me already, please." You managed, going for the classy, direct way of getting what you wanted.

You got up from him, quickly kicked off your lower garments, and climbed back onto his thighs. He followed, swiftly unbuttoning his slacks, and pushing them down enough for his cock to slap against his lower stomach. Hotch searched your face again for any sign of doubt, however your need for him seemed to be clear on your face.

"Are you sure?" The stupid, ethical man asked, like it was not the only thing you were sure of in your slightly, perhaps very drunken state. Hotch had no sympathy for a girl in need, apparently. You were soaked, dripping, and he wanted to make sure you wanted it. He was killing you. All with his cock out.

"Please," You whined, grinding against the length of his cock in hopes to easy some of the burning ache between your legs. "Please, Sir, fuck–" His hands tightened their grip on your hips firmly as he lowered you down slowly.

He threw his head back and groaned, your cunt swallowing the length of him. You bit down on the skin between his throat and shoulder as you adjusted to the size of him inside of you. Shit, he was big. He stretched you so well, your brain went numb. You were dizzy with the feeling of him, filling you perfectly.

Your hips rolled, bucking, creating the breathtaking pleasure of his cock sliding in and out of you, your clit rubbing against him every time he bottomed out. With his hands on your hips, he helped guide you as you bounced on his cock, his head thrown back, watching you through hooded eyelids. Sinful noises echoed in the air between you as he thrusted up to meet your moves. It was nothing like you had ever felt before. Addicting. Mouth watering. So good. You gasped, digging your nails into his shoulders as he pounded into you.

"Taking me so well, aren't you." He groaned in your ear, tightening his hold on your hips as he slammed you down on his cock. There were no words forming in your puddle of a mind, you barely managed a nod, your head falling forward to his shoulder.

Hotch kept you against him as he raised from the couch, still firmly pushed inside of you as he carried you through the living room.

Your back hit the wall at the bottom of the stairs. His lips crashed on to yours as he thrusted his cock in and out, your eyes rolling at the pace he set. The force of his pounds rattled the few frames on the wall somewhere next to you, though you could not care less as his cock drove into you, so deeply you could feel it in your lower stomach. Your head fell against the wall, eyes screwed shut, mouth falling open, though no sound could be heard — other than the wet noise of him sliding in and out of you — and the occasional low grunt as he kept you like that for another minute. Fucking you against the wall by the stairs.

He carried you up the stairs and turned right, to his bedroom. You nibbled marks on his neck, the skin turning an angry red, like a shade of lipstick you would never wear. Your mouth watered at the idea of him walking around, all serious and scowling, with your bite marks on his neck.

He dropped you onto the bed, and you whined a complaint at the loss of him no longer deep inside of you.

Propping up on your elbows, you watched as he unbuttoned his shirt fully, throwing it somewhere on the floor. You followed, pulling off your own shirt and unclasping your bra, dropping it to the floor.

The moment all your clothes were scattered somewhere you could not care less about, his lips found yours again. Slower, more intimately than the desperation and desire of earlier. He nibbled at your bottom lip, his hands raking up and down your body as he pushed you down to the mattress.

Hotch pressed open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, trailing down your neck, licking and biting the soft skin on his way down until his teeth grazed your peaked nipple. You moaned, arching off from the bed as he circled his tongue around it. His hand traveled from your waist to the other breast, cupping the flesh, you whimpered behind the back of your hand as he pinched your nipple between his fingers.

"Beautiful." He murmured, almost more as an observation to himself than anything else. His hands stayed on you as he pushed himself back. His calloused fingertips grazing your skin, from your breasts to the sides of your waist, across your hips and down to your thighs as he climbed backwards off the bed.

Hotch kneeled down to the floor and grabbed your legs, yanking you to the edge of the mattress. He lifted your legs over his shoulders, licking his lips at the view of you squirming on your back, spread out like a feast. And Aaron Hotchner was starving. There was no time for your mind to catch up before his mouth did.

He kissed your thighs, bit the skin softly, teasing all of one second before he could not withstand the torment of not tasting you any longer. You bit your lip, cursing as his warm mouth made contact with your heat. His tongue grazed your clit, flicking it, flattening against the entrance before dipping into you.

Your eyes rolled back and he groaned with his own satisfaction, repeating the combination of movements until you were tangling your hand in his hair to hold him in place. Straining against the hand on your lower stomach keeping you pressed against the mattress, seeking to buck your hips against his tongue. Chasing the pleasure building inside of you like it was the air you needed to breathe.

His other hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself as he devoured you. Like he could not stop himself. The sight of you squirming on his tongue, your thighs clenching around his head, your soft whimpers and whines — he was enchanted by you. And so painfully hard.

You breathed a string of curses, panting as he pushed you closer to the edge. With your back arched off the bed, your eyes screwed shut, his tongue flicked your clit one last time before stars filled your vision. Shockwaves gripped through your body. He groaned as you rode out your high on his tongue, watching as you completely surrendered to the magic of his mouth.

Hotch raised from the floor, his chin glistening in the dim light. The evidence of the trembling pleasure you still felt the aftermath of. Pushing yourself further up on the soft bed, you watched as he climbed on top of you, a smirk on his face as he licked his lips, intent to drink every single drop of you.

He spread your thighs and you shuddered, sensitive from the dizzying orgasm he had given you by using his mouth alone. He stilled, searching your face for any sign discomfort, anything that revealed you wanted him to stop — because he would stop — it would kill him, but he would stop.

"I can take it." You growled impatiently, pulling his lips to yours with the desperate need you felt reclaiming your entire being. He positioned himself as you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he pushed himself into you in one swift move. The position allowed his cock to hit deeper, your hips slightly angled up from the bed as he slammed his hips against yours. You screamed out, clawing marks down his back from the intensity of his pace.

"Yeah, you can." He purred in your ear. His voice was so soft and deep, like dark silk, but if it was wrapped around your throat. It was messing with your mind. It was nothing like the force of his cock hitting the very spot you were crying out for. Hotch tilted his head, watching you throw your head back and curse. You looked absolutely perfect under him. With his cock ramming into you, and your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts. Beautiful.

He would never be able to look at you the same. Not without seeing your dripping cunt swallow him entirely, not without tasting you on his tongue. He savored the image, the feeling. It would haunt him the rest of his life, but you were taking him so well it really did not matter. Though, he had no idea how he would be able to keep his hands to himself after this.

"A-Aaron–" Your eyes rolled back, his thumb pressing against your overly sensitive clit as he slammed himself into you. He cursed, the sound of his name on your sweet lips affected him more than he thought it would.

"Fuck," He groaned, grabbing your face to make you look at him, "Say it again." Your eyes fluttered open, your lips parting with the intention to say his name again but no sound came out. His pace was taking your breath away, his cock hitting the spot over and over like it was all it had ever done.

Hotch stilled. Stopped moving. Waiting.

You pouted, "Don't you dare fucking stop, Aaron. I will–" He had a talent for cutting of your words by doing exactly what you wanted. He slammed himself into you again, and kept his ruthless pace until you sobbed into the palm of your hand.

"Fuck, you feel so good taking my cock, so good." He murmured in your ear, his thumb pressing against your clit as your back arched, chest flush to his. You nodded in agreement, a whimpering mess from the feeling of him. Every thrust, every slamming of his hips, etched him into you. And you would not have it any other way. Not right now. Probably not ever. His cock was tattooed in your brain. There was no escape. The only way forward was over the edge.

Your nails scratched down his back, for anything to hold on to as the top neared. "Jus' for you." The words were barely audible, barely coherent through the collection of soft noises from your lips.

Hotch was smirking, hearing you mumble, well aware of the praise you were seeking. "Yeah—so good, just for me." He growled lowly, relishing the way you whined and squirmed as he continued to praise, "You look so pretty underneath me, so perfect, taking me so well." He was nearing his own climax, his hips stuttering slightly as he slammed his cock into you. Over and over. Until he was barreling for the edge.

You could not even nod for him, you were too far gone. The faint sound of curses falling from his mouth was the last thing you could hear before the edge claimed you. His cock twitched as his hips pressed into you. The warmth of his release spreading through your flushed body.

Your skin was feverish, your eyes had rolled so far back they would likely never find a way out of their sockets. There was nothing but him and you, in a sea of pleasure, of pure bliss. You were drowning in starlight together.

He rested his forehead against yours.

Sweat coated your skins, chests heaving towards each other as you gasped for air. The nerves in your body still buzzed. Your brain struggled to get enough oxygen to manage thinking. It was only the unbearably warm figure above you, caging you to the bed, that mattered. At the moment, of course.

You did not dare push him off you, despite your lungs screaming for air. Air could wait. It was his move, his choice on what to do next. His brows furrowed as he scanned your face, as if he was thinking the same thing. As if he was wrapping his mind around what exactly had just happened.

"I–" He whispered shakily and cleared his throat before trying again, "I'll get you a glass of water, maybe get a bath running?" Hotch was wincing, like it bothered him to think about. Yet, he did not move. He stayed on top of you. Frozen. As if he was reluctant, hesitating, to leave.

"I'll sleep on the couch, you take the bed." He added, like the gentleman he was.

"Fuck a girl and make her sleep alone?" You hummed, raising your eyebrows as the usual confidence returned to you, finally. His jaw clenched and he straightened his arms, pushing himself up. You reached out to his neck, stopping him. "I don't think so. Deal with it." Lifting yourself up, you pressed a kiss to his lips, just to seal the deal.

"So obnoxious." He hummed, tilting his head to stare down at you, "I liked you better whimpering on my cock."

You tried to fight the blush creeping up on your cheeks, to keep that satisfactory smirk off his lips, from knowing exactly how quickly you could fold from his stupid deep voice. However, it seemed you were too late, judging by the smug look on his face.

Hotch pushed himself off from the bed and raked his gaze down your naked body appreciatively. With a slightly shaky breath, you willed the confidence back to you and smiled sweetly up at him, "Well then, you're lucky it's the weekend."

"Thankfully." He chuckled darkly as he turned to what looked to be an en-suite bathroom, and strode toward it without offering you another glance.

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this was... long. filthy. I hope you enjoyed it !!!

if you did, please consider liking and reblogging, it fuels my little ego!

let me know your thoughts and if you have anything you would like to see! your comments and messages are everything to me<3

love, millie<3

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mission identities | Aaron Hotchner as Professor Edward Thomas Jameson. You as Isabella Evans (rarely used, other than 'Miss Evans')

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chapter four: hallways and promises

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The hallway was dimly lit, the stone walls reflecting next to nothing of the pale yellow ceiling lights. You were walking to your next lecture — the one you had signed up for without your unit chief as the professor — when someone tapped on your shoulder. You quickly glanced to the watch on your wrist as you spun around to face a trio of girls.

Twelve minutes until the lecture started, you noted to yourself, and two minutes until he usually crossed this hallway to get to his office. That particular piece of knowledge was just to make sure you ran into each other. As a precaution, in case anything happened. Also if you had any information or concerns, it created the opportunity to briefly converse or schedule a meeting. All the while it served as a way for other students and faculty to see you together. Feeding the whispers starting to circulate.

"Late for something?" The blonde girl in the middle said as she crossed her arms. You nodded slowly, your brows furrowing as you took in the three girls in front of you. "I've got a political science lecture in like 10 minutes, what's up?"

You remembered them from Hotch's lectures, they usually sat in the row behind you, next to some other girls with extreme drool-production issues. Either that or they were not capable of closing their mouths and swallowing. Though, a combination sounded more likely.

"We'll make it quick then." The blonde girl speaking was Sophie, you remembered from one of the early lectures. She was a few inches taller than you, with big, round blue doe-eyes. When she stepped closer — they seemed even bigger — like the vastness of an ocean ready to swallow you whole. Sophie seemed kind though, at least from what little you had gathered. She sort of reminded you of JJ.

On her right stood a girl with ashy brown hair and meadow green eyes. Lizzie, if you recalled correctly.

Of course you recalled correctly. She was probably the most beautiful girl you had ever seen. Not that it mattered. She had a handful of moles scattered on her face, like the brightest stars in the night sky. Her soft lips looked like they would taste of wild berries — again, not that it mattered.

Lizzie smiled shyly when your attention lingered and you smiled back, perhaps a little embarrassed.

The last girl had the same shade of bright blonde as Sophie, though the blue eyes were even more vibrant, and freckles peppered her sun-tanned face. The personification of her name, Summer radiated brightness. She flashed you a pearly white smile, two dimples appearing on her freckled cheeks. Like a younger version of Penelope, only not yet a witness to the brutality of the world.

Sophie stepped closer to you, drawing your attention back to her. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, glancing over her shoulder to the girls behind her. They seemed nervous, for whatever reason. "We were wondering if you didn't already have a group for the presentation in Professor Jameson's class, if you wanted to join ours?"

Hotch's class. The presentation and analysis of a news article. Right.

It was exactly what you and Spencer had planned, you reminded yourself. Join a group and hopefully learn something about the campus murders, and maybe make some new friends. It was perfect.

"Uh, yeah, sure!" A collective sigh of relief erupted from the three girls and you let out a laugh. Cute.

Summer squealed and wrapped you in a tight hug, so tight it the air was squeezed out of you. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She giggled when her grip finally loosened. You drew a shallow breath, grateful for the air back in your lungs, and smiled sweetly to her. Yet the words confused you.

"Why are you thanking me?" You asked her, a girl with the shockingly strong arms and bright beaming grin. Summer stepped back and shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Because you're like really smart!" Oh. Stop it. Not good for your ego, that girl.

You liked her.

She turned to Lizzie, whispering something before facing you again, "By the way, what's your name?"

"Oh, right. I'm Isabella, but please just Bell." It was an effort to keep your real name from rolling off your tongue, like it had done your entire life. You stretched out a hand, forgetting the golden retriever girl was a hugger. She pulled you in for another hug, and you wondered if she would start running in circles when she let go. Lizzie stepped forward, laying a hand on her shoulder and Summer released you for the second time within your first few minutes in her presence.

You found Lizzie's gaze on you. "If you don't have any plans tomorrow," She started as she picked at the threads of her shirt. "Do you want to join us for drinks?"

Her hopeful green eyes lifted to search your face and you smiled. "I would love to." Who were you to say no to drinks? It would be nice to finally get off the dark campus of Wonderland University, not to mention it would be nice to talk to someone other than Hotch and Spencer.

The squeals and smiles of the girls in front of you quieted as footsteps sounded behind you. You watched as the three of them turned their attention to the professor you knew would be stepping up next to you.

Hotch, who now stood a breath away, placed a firm hand on your shoulder and nodded a polite greeting to the gawking girls, "I'm sure you'll forgive me for stealing Miss Evans away for a moment?" His tone revealed little room for discussion. He turned to face you and tilted his head to the side, what looked like a calculating and conspiring smile played on his lips.

"I need to speak to you about your position as my–" He glanced up to your audience, then back to you with an unmistakable sly smirk, and you bit your lower lip to hide your own as you noticed the insinuation of his words, "–TA."

Your new friends had their jaws on the floor. It could have simply been the dim light in the hallway but their pupils seemed dilated, and lips parted as they stood there, stunned, watching you. You turned to look at Hotch, back to them, and to look at him again, as you tried to make sense of their reactions. Sure, he was a little handsome — with his height towering over you, the broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt, the way his large hand clenched and unclenched by his side while the other gripped your shoulder, heavy and warm — yeah, they were overreacting. Certainly.

The firm hand on your shoulder squeezed, reclaiming your wandering attention. The gleam in his eyes confirmed he had noticed your not-so-subtle act of checking him out and you debated telling him the reason was solely to see what the girls were gawking about. Obviously.

Sophie shook her head and offered you a polite smile. "We will leave you two–," She made to leave as the other shaking off whatever spell they were under, before finishing. "Alone."

"Wait!" You called after them and it was Lizzie who spun around, "I don't have your number." You said as you walked up to her and handed over your phone — the phone the Bureau had given you for the mission. She typed in her number and created her own contact, before she handed you the phone back, "I'll see you tomorrow?" You nodded in agreement. Lizzie smiled and turned to follow the other girls.

You turned back to the surprisingly-not-scowling man and shrugged, "What?" He stepped closer to you and tilted his head forward, forcing you to look up at him. God, you hated when he did that. It was like a display of power, of dominance, reminding you how small you were with him.

Hotch lowered his voice to a deep whisper, "Good little student girlfriend is flirting with someone else?" He raised an eyebrow and hummed, "I wonder what she would think of that." You stared at him. Dumbfounded and shocked by his words. Even more shocked they were coming from him. Was he referring to Penelope?

Desperately scraping up the puddle of thoughts your mind had become — and hoping to regain some resemblance of confidence to bite back — you straightened and raised to the tips of your toes to purr in his ear, "Haven't even gone on a date and you're calling me your girlfriend already, Professor?" You taunted as sweetly as you could, "Not my fault she beat you to it."

A quiet moment passed. "Would you mind joining me in my office?" His voice deepened, dripping with authority, like he was commanding you, rather than asking. As if he knew you would not go with him. Well, too bad for him, you guessed.

"Sorry, I've got a lecture in–," You lifted your wrist to check the time and cursed. "Right now, actually." Panic rose quickly in your throat. How had time passed so quickly? You turned on your heel, intent to run down the dark hallway and hope the other professor would offer you some leniency for being late. But when was luck ever on your side?

Right as you stepped away, Hotch managed to reach out for you. He had a firm hold around your wrist, pulling you backwards.

The sudden movement forced you off-balance. The adrenaline flowed through you like crashing waves as you lost your footing. You gasped as you spun around and prepared for impact.

Face first, you slammed into his chest.

As if it could not get any worse, Hotch held you firmly against his chest as you regained your balance.

He lowered his head to whisper in your ear, "I've already let Owen know you won't be in attendance. It won't affect your already perfect grades, so there really is nowhere to run, darling." Did he say perfect grades? He really was flirting with you—

Wait.

Hold on. Rewind.

You stilled — frozen in terror, horror — which ever was worst. No way you heard that right. Surely you had gotten a concussion from slamming into his rock hard chest head first.

Aaron Scowls-a-lot Hotchner just called you darling. And there was no way out. He had ensured you had to follow him.

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"I wanted to show you something." Hotch closed the door to his office, before he reached a hand to his pants. You followed the movement, gasped and slapped a hand over your eyes, "Here?"

Hotch stilled, confused by your reaction. The way you shielded your eyes, like you did not want to see something, he glanced down to his hand. Realization dawned on him.

He scoffed, "You thought I was pulling out my cock and your first instinct is to ask 'here'?"

Arguably not your brightest moment.

"Anyway." You prayed the floor would swallow you before he took notice of the underlying message one could perhaps find reading into your reaction.

Hotch cleared his throat, "We can talk about that later." If you had not already been blushing furiously, you would have by the sheer satisfaction on his face. It was infuriating, seeing him so smug.

You tried to shrug it off, to put on a mask of indifference. "What did you want to show me?" The effort it took to not imagine it, to not drown in the visual of him whipping it out right here, it should have been enough to earn you an Oscar. Actress of the year goes to…

"You're blushing." He pointed with a smile.

…Not you, apparently. This was not fun anymore.

You groaned and ran a hand down your face, "Fuck off, just show me." There had to be a reason he talked to your other professor before he forced you in here. Had something happened? Did he have any new intel regarding the case?

Hotch stepped forward and tilted his head in the same insufferable way he did earlier, "Show you what? My co–" You slapped a hand over his mouth. There was no way you could survive hearing him say it again. Even despite the reaction you could only imagine the team would have if they knew.

His eyes twinkled as you stood on the tips of your toes, the same way you did earlier to purr in his ears. "Did you not just say we would talk about it later? So, Professor, you can show it to me later." You dropped your hand and took a step back with a shit-eating grin on your face.

Before he could bite back, you hummed, pointing to the red tips of his ears, "You're blushing."

Silence stretched the thick air, and for a moment you only stood, staring at each other.

"It's a boy." He said softly and time stopped.

The world stopped spinning.

With your heart hammering in your chest and hands shaking, you whispered, "JJ?"

The small proud smile on his face as he nodded made you soften. It was rare seeing him like this, with emotions on his face. A tear slipped down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away, but he still noticed.

Hotch stepped closer, scanning your face, "What's wrong?" The concern in his voice was too much, you could not take it. You looked away. Down to the dark stone floor. Over to the deep red wooden desk only a step away. To the stacks of paper and books on top of it. Anything other than the pit opening inside you.

He lifted a hand, his fingers grazing your skin as he gently twisted your face, "Look at me." His fingers lingered on your jaw, his dark eyes searching yours. For a heartbeat that was all there was. Finally, Hotch smiled sadly, "I know."

The pad of his thumb brushed across your cheek, swiping a tear you had not noticed fall.

Of course he knew. It ate him up inside to know he missed the birth, to not be there for JJ. To be stuck here with barely any contact with your entire lives.

You weakly shook your head, hoping to shake off everything you could not deal with. Not now, at least.

"Don't do this," You bit your lip to stop the slight tremble. "Can we change the subject, please?" Pleading was your form of desperation, apparently. If you cried in front of him, you would never be able to face him again.

He watched you for a moment before he nodded.

"So, that girl — Lizzie, was it? You seem to like her." He took a small step back, hesitating to put more space between you. Still, despite the small movement cold air replaced the warmth of where his body stood. It was enough to shock you, to bring your attention back to the room you were standing in.

You took a deep breath, and managed to huff out a reply, "Jealous?"

Hotch crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against his desk, "You're supposed to look at me that way." He scowled, feigning the look of disapproval, yet you noticed how his shoulders relaxed.

You crossed your arms to mirror him, "Maybe I would have looked at you that way if you would just be nice and shut up sometimes. You're annoying." It was a lie, and a stretch, but you had to play along.

He narrowed his eyes on you, his lips twitching slightly, "You like it."

"Two things can be true at the same time, can't they, Professor?" You reminded him with a sweet smile.

A buzz came from your pocket.

Hotch furrowed his brows as you pulled out your phone to read the message.

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From: Lizzie <3

Hi, Bell <3 I'm so happy you're coming with us tomorrow (if you still want to)! We're going to meet at Sunshine, but I was wondering if you would want to get ready together? I've got drinks and music in my dorm? Sophie and Summer live off campus so they would meet us there… I think I've seen you at the dorms, but if not, sorry!!

Anyway, I hope I'll see you tomorrow <3<3<3

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"You're going out drinking with this girl?" You jumped, Hotch was suddenly standing behind you, reading over your shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at you, "Give me your new number."

The confusion must have been evident on your face as he sighed, taking your phone out of your hands. "Why?" You asked as he punched in his own phone number.

He looked up and deadpanned, "There's a murderer we have yet to catch and you're an undercover agent with a big mouth." Fair enough. He added his own contact by the looks of it, before he clicked it off and handed it back.

"If you're going out, you will let me know your whereabouts every half-hour and when you get back home safely. Understood?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, "That seems excessive." Geez. It was not like he was the boss of you — actually, never mind. Scratch that.

"It doesn't matter." He towered over you, his tone leaving no room for discussion, "Have I made myself clear?" His stare held you in place, daring you to defy him.

"Yes, Sir." You grumbled, hoping he would release you from the eternal torment of his stare. Hotch did no such thing. He kept his eyes pierced on you as he lowered his commanding voice, "Repeat it back to me."

You lifted your head to look at him. He stood so close, one wrong move and you would find his lips on yours.

"What?" The slight shake in your voice seemed to delight him.

He smirked, "You heard me." Fuck, he was insufferable. Honestly, what had gotten into him?

Fine. You could give in this once. "Let you know where I am every half-hour and when I get back home safely." It took everything to keep from rolling your eyes.

"But what if I don't go home?" You bit back a grin as his jaw tightened. His hand clenching by his sides before he shrugged.

"I guess there's no other option then, I'll just have to come with you," He lifted a hand to tilt your chin up, his breath dancing across your lips, "It can be the date you begged me for."

Fucker. Insufferable, intolerable fucker. You glanced to his lips as he licked them. Jesus.

"I, I'll–" You stuttered, the heat on your cheeks felt like fire, "I'll let you know when I get back to my own dorm safely."

"Good girl." He purred, his eyes falling on your lips.

It was like a bucket of ice pouring over you the second he stepped away, and you debated on cursing him out right there.

However, there were other ways to play, and you would find a way to get back at him. So, you spun on your heel and stepped out of his office.

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if you enjoyed this, please consider liking and reblogging, it fuels my little ego!

please let me know your thoughts!

love, millie<3

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You stretched with feline laziness, and rolled to face him.

“I just want a few more minutes,” you whined, giving him a pouty lip and sleepy eyes, “hold me?”

You saw the surprise flicker across his face, but it gave way to joy just as quickly as it appeared. He settled back down next to you, still just as naked as he’d been when he’d carried you in from the shower the night before.

“Okay, but just a few.” He smiled, leaning in until his lips were just centimeters from your own. “Gideon will have my ass if you’re late.”

“That’d be a tragedy…” You murmured, leaning in the rest of the way to brush your lips against his, “It’s such a nice ass.”

His laughter was a soft puff of breath against your lips, then he deepened the kiss, rolling over the top of you and pinning you to the bed. One hand on either side of your head.

A low moan rumbled in the back of his throat, and your body reacted instinctive, arching up into him. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him down so that his hips rested between your thighs. You paused, smiling against his lips when you felt it.

Hot and hard, nudging against you without regard for you time crunch.

“Sorry,” he murmured, “I can’t help it, it just does that for you.”

You giggled at his insinuation that his cock had a mind of its own. For all you knew, it very well might have, and if it did you certainly couldn’t fault it for its timing because you were feeling some type of way yourself.

Instead of answering, you spread your thighs a little wider and pressed up into him. His hardness putting pressure on your clit so perfectly, you couldn’t keep a moan from slipping out.

“Honey…” He groaned into your mouth between kisses, “Do you think we even remotely have time for this?”

“I don’t care.” You whispered back, pulling away from his lips and looking into his eyes. “I want this… I want to have this memory, I want this moment… just for you and me.”

“They’ll know.” He cautioned, picking up his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “They’ll take one look at us and they’ll know why we’re so late.”

“They already know.” You shrugged, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers into his hair. “I don’t think I could manage to care less what they think this morning.”

“Are you sure?” He searched your eyes, his own full of hope. Not hope that you were asking for sex… but hope that you meant what you said.

That you no longer cared who knew you were with him.

That you were his.

“I’m sure.” You nodded, meeting his gaze confidently. “Nothing else matters to me right now, nothing but letting myself be yours. I need it.”

He froze—for just a moment—and you could see his reaction to those words building as he absorbed them.

“You’re mine?” It was somewhere between a whisper and a sob, tears welling in his eyes even as he tried to fight them, and you felt your own wetting your cheeks as well.

“I’ve been yours since the day we met, I was just too stubborn to let it happen.” You admitted, and you knew that your eyes must’ve looked so regretful. “We could’ve had so much more time already if I had… and I’m so sorry for that, but I— I’m ready now. I’m ready to give you all the time you deserve.”

“I don’t know what to say…” He was trying so hard not to cry that his voice was barely audible, “I’ve been waiting for this for so long, I—”

He couldn’t seem to find any words.

“Am I too late?” You didn’t think that was the case, not after last night, but you felt terror rising anyway.

“Never.” He shook his head fiercely, and the terror dissipated.

“Then you don’t have to say anything,” you murmured, “just show me, right now, show me everything.”

“I’ll go slow.” He promised, and you nodded as he reached between you to line himself up. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” You had never felt so ready for anything in your life.

It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, as he entered you with a gentleness unlike anything else. It was patience, it was joy, victory, devotion, and it was love.

His lips met yours again, and you poured everything you’d not yet said into him. You hoped he could feel, in that moment, just how much you truly did love him because you could feel his love for you.

It was overwhelming and perfect.

Everything you’d dreamed about and more… He was everything.

You felt the words, bubbling up inside you, begging you to let them out into the universe. Your chest ached with them, the weight of them so heavy you thought you’d die if you didn’t say them.

As the pleasure mounted, higher and higher, and the love swelled to an unbearable pressure, you tried.

“Aaron, I– I–” but it was too much, and you couldn’t quite find the strength.

“Shh, baby I know…” he murmured, kissing your lips, your cheeks, your neck.

“I—”

It hit you with the force of a bullet, knocking the breath out of you with the heat and power of it. Radiating through your body so strongly that you could only sob.

“I’ve got you, honey…” he whispered, in your ear, “I’ve always got you.”

He held you all the way through it, bringing himself right up to the edge of his own release before he tried to stop.

“Wait,” you gasped, clinging to him, desperate to keep him close, afraid to let go, “I want you to.”

“Are you—”

“Sure. I’m sure.”

You held his eyes with yours as he spilled inside you, a groan ripping it’s way from his throat as he let his lips crash into yours.

When it was over, neither of you could speak. It was too surreal, too raw, the silence too thick, but there was a lightness to it too. No words were needed, you just knew, and from the way he was looking at you… he did too.

He was your forever.

The two of you were still beaming when you walked into the station, only five minutes late. The news crews weren’t even there yet, but Gideon and Jill whisked you away to prep you. They told you exactly what to say, word for word, and you weren’t to deviate from it in the slightest.

You couldn’t focus though, your thoughts were still with him, up in that hotel room where everything was perfect and life was precious.

When the cameras arrived, you made your way to the podium and found it hard to even read the words off the paper in front of you as you went over the statement you had to give. You were too happy…

Truly happy.

For the first time in as long as you could remember, you knew that someone loved you, not in spite of your flaws… but because of them. You couldn’t think of anything you’d ever wanted more.

Aaron smiled every time he caught you looking at him, and you couldn’t help but smile back. Biting your lip and hiding your face from the cameras each time, just in case some of them were already rolling.

“Someone sure is bubbly this morning…” Jill whispered in your ear, her hand squeezing your waist as she passed behind you to go stand with Gideon, Rossi, and Aaron. The grunts were already inside, ready to man the tip line. “Better bite back that smile before the cameras start rolling or Jason will never let you hear the end of it.”

“Sorry…” You sighed through another smile, giving her a look of mischief. “I’ll pull it together, promise.”

She eyed you for a moment, tilting her head to one side, then the other.

“We’ll talk later…” She winked, retreating to her place between Aaron and Jason.

You turned your back to the podium and tried to work the smile out by blowing bubbles into your cheeks, relaxing your lips to force air through them so they flapped like a horse, taking deep breaths in through your nose, making yourself frown exaggeratedly, and finally thinking of anything sad that you could come up with.

“The fuck is she doing?” You heard Gideon ask, a little too loudly.

“I believe,” Rossi answered him, and you could hear the smirk in his voice, “that she is trying to wipe that megawatt smile off of her face before the cameras start rolling.”

That, of course, didn’t help your situation at all.

“What’s she smiling for? Is she a nervous smiler or what?” Gideon, clueless as ever, asked again.

“I don’t know… Oh, Aaron?” Rossi cooed, and it took every ounce of self control you possessed not to look at your partner in crime as he suddenly found himself in the hot seat. Which meant you were no longer using any of it to stop smiling. “Do you know why your partner is smiling like a lunatic this morning?”

Aaron cleared his throat, and out of the corner of your eye you could see him shifting awkwardly on his feet, the tips of his ears blazing red in the morning sun.

You found, that you no longer cared. You didn’t care if they knew, you didn’t care if it was unprofessional… You were proud to love him, and you wanted your friends to know it. It was a shocking discovery, but one you were certain of nonetheless.

“Oh, he knows…” You threw him a smile and a wink that left the other four stunned, three of them by shock, but Aaron was all glee.

“I love you.” He mouthed across the space, and your heart soared.

“I lo—”

“Ma’am, you’re live in ten, nine, eight…” A man stepped between you and Aaron, cutting you off, but that was okay… you wanted him to hear you say it when you told him for the first time.

The man stepped away, holding up fingers to count down as you turned back to the podium. Fixing your hair you reminded yourself of your opening statement and suddenly it didn’t seem so hard to be serious.

The lights on the tops of the cameras all lit up red, the man reached one, and he pointed the last finger right at you.

“Good morning,” you introduced yourself, “I’m here with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. We’re consulting with the Jacksonville Police on a series of murders in the area, and today we’re asking for help from the public.”

“The person we’re looking for is a white male, mid twenties to early thirties, he is physically fit, and he lives in or around the Urban Core area.” You described, “This man is charming to strangers, and with romantic partners he may use a tactic we call ‘love bombing.’ Characterized by excessive flattery, grand romantic gestures, and overwhelming affection… However, when his advances are rejected or he feels disrespected, this individual will immediately become cold, angry, and in some instances violent.”

“This person, has no remorse, they show no guilt or regret, even if their actions have caused severe damage or serious harm. In fact, if confronted they will become even more aggressive.” You looked at every camera in turn as you made your next statement as clearly as you could. “Which is why we are urging the public not to engage with this individual. He is armed, and very dangerous. If you know, or think you might know this person, do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT, confront him. The best course of action is avoidance, and we ask that if you do know the person we’re describing that you call our tip line at 555-0138. Thank you.”

The cameras panned to their respective reporters, so you left the podium, heading for the others and went straight to Aaron. Standing in front of him, you straightened the lapels of his jacket and ran a hand down his tie anxiously.

“Was I okay out there? Did I remember everything?” You asked, staring at the print of his tie and trying to settle your nerves.

It wasn’t the press conference itself that was making you nervous, but the unsub it was about.

“You were perfect, honey, don’t worry.” Aaron murmured, tipping your head up with a finger under your chin so that you brought your eyes to him. “What’s the matter? You weren’t this nervous before the cameras rolled.”

“It’s—” You realized then that you had an audience, and they were watching the interaction with looks of pure glee. “Can we talk somewhere else?”

He followed the direction of your sidelong glance and scoffed.

“Yeah, come on.” He murmured, bringing a hand to the small of your back and leading you out to the parking lot. Stopping between two of the SUVs, he rested his hands on your waist pulling you in close so he could hear you over the traffic on the road. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just anxious, I don’t know…” You sighed, biting your bottom lip before you continued. “I think… this unsub’s profile reminds me a lot of my first ex.”

“I thought it might…” He murmured, stroking your cheek with the back of his knuckles tenderly, staring at the skin with furrowed brows as if he could still see the hand print your abuser had left behind. “Are you okay?”

“I will be as soon as we get this guy, I just hope that we catch him at home… and not with a victim.” You confided, nuzzling into his hand. “Things will get dicey if he has any way to control the situation, and he can’t be reasoned with. Please, remember that.”

“I will, sweetheart, don’t worry about me.” He assured you, leaning in to kiss your forehead, but you tipped your head up farther, making him catch your lips instead. “Mm!” He hummed in surprise, his hands gripping your waist a bit harder.

He melted quickly, his hands relaxing, before sliding down to your ass and hauling your body up against his. Every point of contact seemed to burn, like electricity running through your skin, and when he parted your lips with his tongue your head began to buzz.

Pushing you back against the SUV behind you, he pinned you to it, kissing you more frantically. It was like he’d been starved for this—for you—even though you’d just made love to him less than an hour ago. His hands gripped your thighs and lifted you so that your legs were around his waist, and then…

A pager beeped.

“That’ll be Gideon.” He sighed into your mouth.

“We should go then,” you murmured, “but promise me something first?”

“Anything.” He smiled against your lips, tugging on your bottom one playfully with his teeth.

“Promise we’ll continue this later?” You smiled back, running your fingers through his hair.

“I promise, we’ll pick back up exactly where we left off, and that we’ll do it again and again and again, every single day, until you’re so sick of kissing me that you can’t even stand the thought.” He upped the ante, giving you the goofiest grin you’d ever seen him wear.

“Impossible.” You giggled, and he gave your ass a playful squeeze as he put you back on the ground.

You turned to walk back to the building, but he caught you by the arm and pulled you back so that you stumbled into his chest. One arm went around your waist and the other hand cupped your cheek before he gave you one more slow, gentle kiss.

“One for the road.” He shrugged with an impish grin when he pulled away.

You simply smiled, and threaded your fingers through his to lead him inside. There was no shortage of smiles and shared glances when the two of you walked in together holding hands.

“Alright love birds, we need you monitoring the tips and deciding which ones are credible.” Rossi teased, pointing you to one group of officers manning phones, and Aaron to another.

Apparently the tip lines had been ringing off the hook since the moment you gave out the number, and most of it was useless. So far your group had only gotten calls like:

“My brother in-law is definitely the way you’re describing he’s so charming to everyone else but I just know he’s evil.”

“I’ve always thought the mayor was secretly evil… he smiles too much.”

And your personal favorite:

“Hey, can I get a large, deep dish, stuffed crust, supreme pizza, but hold the mushrooms? Oh this isn’t Dominoes? My bad dudes…”

That guy had called four times.

Through it all—though you remained focused—Aaron’s eyes kept finding yours and every time you found yourself beaming at him uncontrollably.

“It’s good to see you both so happy…” Jill murmured, as she rotated to check on your group. “Aaron’s practically levitating, and you… honey, you’re glowing.”

Your cheeks heated as you thought of the reason why.

“I’ve heard that happens when it’s real.” You whispered, casting a glance in his direction, unable to stop a contented sigh. “I’ve never… This is… He’s…” You were at a loss for words, a stuttering, stumbling, mess of a woman. Jill laughed softly, her hand landing on your arm gently. “Jill, I’ve never been this happy in my life, this is quite literally the happiest day of it, and I don’t even know how to cope with it. My heart feels like it’s gonna explode, but in the best way… I just… I love—”

“Everybody quiet!” Gideon called from across the room. “Quiet, now please.”

You and Jill quickly made your way across the room as the whole team gathered around one phone. Aaron came to stand behind you, a hand finding the small of your back and making your stomach flutter.

“Okay ma’am, can you please tell me what you were telling the officer?” Gideon asked the woman on the line, pushing the speaker phone button.

“Um, yeah, I uh… I think the guy you’re looking for is my ex. His name is Owen Campbell, he’s uh… he’s exactly what you described. He seems normal to people who only know him in passing, but when you really get to know him… He’s scary.” The woman said in a hushed tone, her voice trembling a bit. “When we first started seeing each other he’d do all this crazy sweet stuff… but then… I don’t know, he changed. He would get mad at me at the drop of a hat, and if I argued with him he’d blow up, hit the wall, throw things, flip furniture… that kinda thing. He, uh— He threatened me with a steak knife once because I gave him medium instead of medium rare…. Is that the kind of person you’re looking for?”

“That’s exactly the kind of person we’re looking for, you were right to call us.” Gideon said, “Ma’am could you give me your name and address? I’d like to send some of my agents out to talk with you a little more.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea… if he saw me talking to you I think he might hurt me.” She whispered, and everyone froze.

“What do you mean, ‘if he saw you?’” Gideon asked her, “Ma’am have you seen Owen recently.”

“I saw him outside my house an hour ago, I thought he’d moved away from the core… but it was him.” She murmured, the fear in her voice striking you in the heart.

Gideon hit the mute button on the call center controls, and turned around.

“It’s her, she’s the next target. Hotch, I want you two to go get her.” He said looking right at you both. “Bring her in.” Then he turned back to the phone. “Ma’am I need you to tell me your name and address, we think he may be intending to hurt you and I am sending some agents to come get you.”

“M-my name is Lindsey Buchanan…” She trailed off, then gave him her address.

Hotch only waited to hear the street name before he was pulling you to the door.

It was only about a five minute drive to Lindsey’s house, and Aaron made it in three.

“Send Jill a page, tell her ‘ETA fifteen minutes.’” Aaron said, as he pulled over to the curb. “We’ll have her throw clothes in a bag and then we’re leaving.”

“Got it.” You muttered, pulling your two way pager out of your pocket and typing it out quickly. “Done.”

Lindsey only opened the door when you held your badges up to the little glass panes at the top, and when you saw her your breath hitched in your chest. She looked so much like the other victims, and you knew that Gideon had made the right call. Owen was definitely the unsub.

“Have you seen Owen since you spoke to Agent Gideon?” Aaron asked her, ushering you both inside quickly as he looked over his shoulder.

Lindsey shook her head no, and you rubbed her arm soothingly when you noticed she was shaking.

“Lindsey, we need you to be as fast as you can, go to your room, grab a bag and throw some clothes in it.” You instructed her softly but urgently, “We can get you anything else you might need, but for now we need to get you somewhere safe. Do you understand? Just clothes.”

“Just clothes.” She repeated and ran to her room.

“The street was clear when we pulled up.” Aaron murmured, looking out the window.

“That doesn’t mean he’s not out there somewhere watching.” You pressed your lips together, slipping your hand into your pocket to fidget with the flip-up screen on your pager. “It’s only been a day since his last kill… What do you think he’ll do when we take his target?”

“I don’t know but–”

“I didn’t hear him come in…” Lindsey’s trembling voice came from the end of the hall she’d disappeared down. “I–”

“Shut up.” A man’s voice said, and when you both flinched toward your guns he shouted, “Don’t even think about it, I’ll blow her away!”

You both froze, but Aaron’s eyes met yours then flicked to your hand—still in your pocket—and you understood immediately. Moving as imperceptibly as possible, you hit the redial button on your pager and spammed 911, or at least you hoped that was what you’d done.

“Turn around, and put your hands on your heads.” Owen—because the man could only be him—demanded.

“Just do what he says Aaron…” You whispered, knowing that the second he felt threatened, Aaron—as the biggest threat—would be his first target.

Pulling your hands from your pockets you put them on the back of your head, and turned around to find Lindsey being used as a human shield. A gun jammed up under chin.

Aaron followed your lead, resting his hands atop his head and turning slowly toward the man.

“I’m so sorry, he was in my closet, I didn’t know I swear.” Lindsey sobbed, and he struck her.

“I said shut up!” He shouted at her, and Aaron flinched toward her.

Which drew the gun in his direction instead, he went still, but his eyes stayed locked on Owen defiantly.

“Lindsey, please do whatever he says.” You said sternly, your heart in your throat.

“Yeah Lindsey, listen to the smart one. Do what I say.” Owen chuckled, “You can start by going to get their guns, but if you even breathe wrong I’ll kill you. All of you.”

You nodded to Lindsey that it was okay, hoping she wouldn’t hesitate and piss him off further. She made her way slowly around the furniture. She went to you first and, with tears streaming down her face, she removed your gun from your holster.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You whispered, knowing that if she turned to hysterics it wouldn’t be.

“Shut up!” Owen screamed, “No fucking talking or I’ll kill you.” You swallowed hard, trying your hardest not to flinch at the threat, and watched Lindsey’s face crumble. “Hurry the fuck up, Lindsey!”

She whimpered, and moved on to Aaron. Getting his gun much quicker than she had yours, she stumbled back across the room to Owen.

“Put them over there on the table.” He demanded, gesturing with the gun.

Lindsey had just set the guns down when the sound of sirens became audible, getting closer with every second.

He whipped the gun back around toward the two of you.

“Who called for backup?” He asked, his voice cold as ice.

It was a tone you recognized.

It was the one your ex used before he drug you back into that grocery store and made them show him the footage. The look in Owen’s eyes was the same as his just before he’d slapped you.

“A neighbor probably saw—”

“I did.” You said, cutting Aaron off before he could tell the lie. “Our team pager is in my pocket… You can have it, but it was me. I did it, he didn’t know.”

“I appreciate your honesty… so I’ll let you live.” Owen smirked, and there was a spark in his eyes, like he felt powerful deciding to let you live for telling the truth. “New rules… you lie… you die.”

You glanced over at Aaron, and found him looking at you stone faced, but you could see the fear in his eyes.

“Got it.” You nodded.

“Good. Who’s coming? SWAT? The PD?” Owen asked.

“Seven FBI agents… half the PD… possibly SWAT.” You confirmed, but shrugged. “I don’t know for sure I hit the redial button and sent my supervisor a 911, or I tried to. I did it in my pocket so who knows what she got, but I can prove that’s all I did.”

“Give me the pager.” He instructed, holding up a hand like he wanted you to throw it. “Reach real slow.”

“You took my gun… I’m unarmed.” You reminded him, reaching slowly for your pocket and slipping the pager out.

You held it up so he could see that it was just a pager, and then tossed it in his direction. Owen fumbled the pager, and when he dropped it, it slid back into the hallway.

Everything that followed happened in seconds… but you saw it all.

Owen turned to pick up the pager, forgetting where Lindsey stood.

Lindsey grabbed a gun off the table, whether it was yours or Aaron’s you weren’t sure, but it didn’t matter. Both were loaded.

She approached the hall, gun shaking as she pointed it at Owen.

“Lindsey don’t!” Aaron warned her, just in time for Owen to turn around. His stern voice startled her and she looked back.

Owen grabbed the gun by the barrel, and they struggled.

You saw the direction it was pointed, and you thought of Eli… You couldn’t do that a second time…

So you stepped in front of Aaron.

You saw the look of shock on his face, you saw it turn to horror when both guns went off.

Something tore through your back with the force a freight train, knocking the breath out of you as you dropped to the floor.

Aaron followed you down and he moved so quickly that you didn’t even register the third gunshot… or maybe it was covered by the roaring in your ears. You only knew that one second his hands were empty, and the next there was a gun.

You vaguely recalled that he kept a back up in an ankle holster.

Searching for Lindsey, you found her on the floor across from you… her eyes open….

Lifeless.

Owen’s body was lying on top of hers, a bullet hole right in the center of his forehead.

Then Aaron came into view. His face was panic stricken, and he was saying something but you couldn’t hear him… so you squinted at his lips.

“Where are you hit, baby? Come on, talk to me! Where are you hit!” He was running his hands all over your body… and when he touched your back they came away bloody.

The realization that you’d been shot should have terrified you… but you only felt relief.

Aaron was safe, he was whole and unharmed.

You’d done for him what you couldn’t for Eli… You kept him alive.

You couldn’t feel your body anymore, but you could hear again, you could hear Aaron screaming.

“Call an ambulance! Somebody please, call an ambulance!” His cries were desperate, and you hated the sound of it, so you reached up and cupped his face.

When he looked down at you, he picked you up and carried you out of the house. The sky was so beautiful, it was the purest blue you’d ever seen, with the biggest puffy clouds.

He knelt in the grass with you, and over his shoulder you saw four familiar faces. Jill, Jason, and Dave all looked scared. Jill was sobbing and she buried her face in Jason’s shoulder… but then there was Eli.

“Hi, Angel.” He smiled at you, and you smiled back. “You should tell him you love him.” He suggested, nodding his head to Aaron. “And tell him I said thank you, for keeping an eye on you and making you happy again.”

“Am I going with you?” You asked him, and you weren’t sure how to feel about the possibility… but you weren’t scared.

“I don’t know Angel… that’s not up to me.” He murmured, “Tell him.”

“Oh… who’s it up to?” You asked instead… and he shook his head.

“Tell him, Angel. Do it fast, he needs to know.” Eli urged you, and you tried to nod, but your head felt so heavy.

Aaron was holding it up for you…

“Aaron?” You mumbled, it was hard because your chest felt so heavy, and breathing hurt, but he nodded.

“I’m here, Honey, I’m right here.” He cooed, “The ambulance is almost here baby, I can hear it. Just hold on for me, okay?”

“I- I need–” You gasped, gaining just enough air to force out a sentence. “I need to tell you something.”

“I’m listening, sweetheart, I’m listening.” There were tears streaming down his face even as he tried to smile for your sake.

That was how you knew it was bad.

“I Love– Love—” You gasped again, and you felt like you were drowning… which wasn’t a good sign. “You. I love you.”

“I know baby…” He assured you, a sob wracking his body through his watery smile. “I know, and I love you too, please just stay awake… Keep your eyes open for me.”

You realized then that there was a heaviness in your eyelids, and it was so hard to fight it.

“You can do it, Angel.” Eli encouraged you, his smile making you smile again.

“I’ll try.” You whispered, then looked back to Aaron again. “Eli says… Thank you. For making… me… happy.”

What little color there was in his face was drained as Aaron picked his head up and looked around wildly.

“You can’t have her back.” He said angrily, shaking his head. “Don’t you fucking take her from me Eli, it’s not her time! She has more happiness to feel, do you hear me?”

“Don’t be mad at him, Aaron…” You struggled, “It’s not up to him, it’s not up to us.”

“Please…” He sobbed, burying his head in your shoulder. “Please, don’t take her.”

“I love you.” You whispered, his ear was so close to your mouth that you knew he heard it. “You’re everything, and I love you.”

That was what you wanted him to remember, if whoever it was up to decided that it was time… and you were so tired.

There were new faces over you now, and you didn’t know who they were. Soon there was a light, a really bright light, and you thought that was it… but then there was Aaron again.

Aaron and Eli.

“We’re almost to the hospital, baby. Hang on.” Aaron pleaded, but all you could do was squeeze his hand.

“You’ve got a choice to make, Angel…” Eli whispered.

But you were too tired to choose…

You wanted to sleep.

As Aaron walked through your front door, and took in the boxes and sheet covered furniture he knew it was time. It’d been put off for weeks, there was no more procrastinating left to be done.

Some of the boxes had already been taken to the new place, and some had already gone to storage. That was the trouble of it… deciding what went where was difficult without your help. Today was the last day though, it all had to be done because your lease was up and his wasn’t far behind.

There was no time left.

The others had offered to help him, but he knew you were a private person, so he’d declined.

The first box he picked up was full of books, Jane Austen, and things of that sort. He’d never seen you touch them, so he put it in the U-haul trailer to go to storage. The next was full of your little trinkets, ones that he often fiddle with at your protest, and they made him smile. They’d go to the new place, he decided.

His process went on like that for sometime. Your favorite things went to the new place, things that were unfamiliar went to storage. At some point, the movers he’d hired had come for the furniture. They worked around him in silence until he looked up and found himself standing in an empty room, with only one box left at his feet. It was destined for storage, more books he’d never seen you read.

“Sir, what about the bedroom?” A mover asked quietly, “It’s not packed yet.”

The bedroom…

Aaron wasn’t sure what to say… what to do. You loved that bedroom… It was your sanctuary, and he didn’t know what to do with half the stuff inside it.

“Uh, just give me a minute… why don’t you, uh… take the rest to storage and come back for the bedroom furniture later.” He instructed them, to give himself some time to decide. “It’s all huge, so it won’t fit in the trailer with everything else anyway.”

The man nodded and Aaron heard his footsteps retreating into the hall of the apartment complex.

He approach your door with caution, stopping just outside, and reaching for the handle as though it might burn him…

He’d never been inside without you.

It seemed… wrong, somehow. As though he was invading your space, even though he knew someone had to do it, and you’d much rather it be him than anyone else. So he took a deep breath and stepped inside.

It still smelled like you.

You hadn’t been here in months and yet your scent was everywhere. It permeated the air, as though it had been permanently embedded into the molecules. Like you were permanently embedded in him.

The bed was unmade, just how you’d left it, and that seemed like a good place to start.

He stripped the sheets—the same ones you’d cried on that night all those months ago, he wasn’t even certain they’d been washed since—then packed them away into a box, topping it off with the pillows. You loved your pillows… there had always been mounds of them.

From there, he moved to the book shelves. Why you owned so many books when you hardly had the time to read, he would never understand, but he packed them for storage all the same. He packed away more nick knacks and then moved to your night stands.

He was scared of those, there was no telling what he might find.

There was a slightly less dusty space on the first one, where your gun had laid every night, the outline of it still visible in the silt. You weren’t much of one for dusting, and he’d once made fun of you for it, but he didn’t find it so funny anymore.

When he opened the drawer, he found a medium sized, blue notebook. It was bookmarked to a page near the back, but he opened it to the front instead. Your handwriting was scrawled across the page, and he almost closed it—not wanting to intrude on your private thoughts, even though you weren’t here to catch him—until he saw his name, he counted it five times on the page. It was dated three and a half years ago.

Eli,

I met a man today… His name is Aaron, he’s my new partner at my new job. He is arrogant, and insufferable. He already makes me want to punch him in the face, and yet… I think he’s going to be a problem. I think I could start to like him if I’m not careful. He reminds me of you.

Aaron’s heart leapt in his chest, and he flipped to the middle of the book. Needing to know what you’d said on a very specific date.

Eli,

I slept with him tonight… I know I said I wasn’t going to… but you and I both know that I’m selfish, and he’s become a weakness. I’m so scared Eli… what if I fall in love with him? Could you ever forgive me for that? What if… What if I wreck his life too? I don’t know how to stay away from him… I truly don’t think that’s a possibility anymore. I wish you could tell me what to do…

He felt as though he couldn’t breath, his chest hurt so bad it felt like torture, but he flipped to the book marked page anyway.

Eli,

I can’t run from him anymore, I can’t fake it, I can’t hide it… I’m in love with Aaron Hotchner. He is patient, and kind. He treats me with dignity, and respect… Most importantly, he loves me, and I have never once had to wonder where I stand with him. I think it’s about time I offered him the same.

He made love to me last night, for real this time, it wasn’t just sex… it wasn’t about pleasure… He wanted me to feel every single little drop of the love he was offering me…

And I did.

Then I cried. I cried so hard he was terrified he’d hurt me… but really I was tearing myself apart on the inside, because I can’t love him fairly if I can’t let go of you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Eli, I ruined you… and I’ll probably do the same to him. I deserve his love even less than I deserve your forgiveness… but I want it. All I know is that he chases me faster than I can run from him, and I’m so sick of running.

He’s relentless, and I think you’d like that about him.

I bought him something today… a surrender present of sorts. I don’t know what he’ll say when I give it to him, but I hope he’ll be happy about it. For now, it sits in my top dresser drawer, because I don’t know when would be the most appropriate time to give it to him.

He was moving before he’d finished the line, though there was more before he reached the bottom of the page, but he had to know. His body shook as he dug through the top drawer of your dresser, flinging clothes in every direction until he found it…

A little black box.

He stared at it in terror for several moments, already knowing what he’d find inside and wondering if he was strong enough to handle it. Deep down, he knew he wasn’t…

But he flipped the lid up anyway.

Nestled in black velvet, there laid a gold plated key with his name inscribed on the front. With shaky hands and watery eyes he reached in to pick it up, and when he flipped it over his knees hit the floor.

I love you too.

The words were inscribed on the back of the key, and they took his breath away.

He couldn’t stop crying as he drug himself to his feet, and stumbled to his car. Driving probably wasn’t advisable, but he had to talk to you… and there was only one way to do that now.

When he reached the cemetery, he hesitated at the gate. He hadn’t been here since the funeral a few weeks ago, since he’d laid a white rose on top of your casket and tossed a handful of dirt into the grave… But he had things to say now. Things he couldn’t bring himself to say before.

Your headstone had arrived in the weeks since he’d ordered it, your name in bold letters on the gray limestone took him to his knees again. He hadn’t been prepared for the finality of it.

The funeral had been hard, but he hadn’t been alone then, and it hadn’t yet felt real. Even though he’d known it was coming, as he’d watched that machine breathe for you over the three months he’d held out hope, his heart knew you weren’t going to wake up. Still, it hadn’t felt real when he’d signed those papers, when he watched them turn off the vent. Not even when the line went flat—a solid tone echoing through the room—had he felt like it was actually happening.

It felt real now.

“Why?” He whispered it to the wind, hoping that the question would carry to wherever you were now. “I don’t understand… We were supposed to have time. You promised me time.”

He didn’t know why he waited for a response, he knew he wouldn’t get one from the still bare mound of dirt in front of him. It felt right, he supposed, he’d had to work for every answer he’d gotten from you in life, and even in death you were leaving him with questions.

“I’m moving…” He whispered, taking a seat on the grass beside the grave. “I can’t sleep in my apartment… you’re everywhere. Everywhere and nowhere…”

He let the wind fill the silence for a minute, closing his eyes and pretending he could hear your sweet voice on it.

I love you. You’re everything, and I love you…

He heard it every time he closed his eyes.

“I just wish you hadn’t done it.” He murmured, resting his head against the cool limestone. “I know why you did… I knew why you did it as soon as you told me Eli said thanks… And I am still mad at him, by the way. I know you wouldn’t want me to be, but it wasn’t his fucking turn anymore… It was mine.” He sobbed then, not by choice… it just ripped its way free of him. “I loved you… I loved you so much, and I thought… I thought that day was going to be the happiest day of my life… and then you died!”

“It was the happiest day of her life.” A voice he knew all too well said softly from a few feet away from him. “She told me so that morning, before everything happened…”

He hadn’t even heard her walk up.

“What are you doing here, Jill?” He sighed, not bothering to pick his head up, or open his eyes.

“We thought you might have needed some support and were just pulling up to her building when you got in your car and took off. You looked upset, so we followed you to make sure you were safe.” She explained gently.

The word we made him look up.

Jill stood a few feet past the end of your grave, Gideon and Rossi on either side of her.

“I found this… in her room today.” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the key. “I wasn’t expecting— I didn’t even— I thought she made it up.”

He held it our to them, and Jill took a step forward to retrieve it.

“Oh, Aaron…” She whispered, tearing up when she realized what it was and passed it to Jason as if it were the most valuable, fragile, treasure in the world. “I’m so sorry…”

“I just don’t understand.” He sniffled, tears still falling, and he didn’t bother to dry them. “She was finally happy and she was… Mine. After three years of watching her hate herself… She was ready to let me love her, and learn to love herself. She was ready to live! For fuck sake!”

And she died… protecting him.

That was the part he couldn’t cope with, that was the part that wrecked him…

Wrecked… hadn't he sworn she would not wreck him? That she’d never wrecked anything?

He had never lied to her before… he wasn’t about to start now.

“I think I’m ready to come back to work…” he said, looking up at Gideon expectantly.

The three of them looked like he’d given them whiplash, but he knew what he was doing.

“Are you sure?” Gideon asked, looking like he thought it wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. “Do you really think you’re ready for that?”

“No.” Aaron said truthfully. “No, I don’t, but she’d be mad at me if lied to her.”

They didn’t ask what he meant, they knew it wasn’t any of their business, but they understood that it was important.

“You can come back on Monday.” Jason agreed. “Take the rest of the week and the weekend to be sure it’s what you want, but I’ll sign your paperwork in the morning. For desk duty only, I’m not putting you back in the field yet. Not until you complete your psych stuff.”

“Thanks.” He nodded, looking back down at the headstone, letting silence fall for a moment. “I have til the end of the day to get her place cleared out… then til the end of the week for mine.”

“Want some help?” Rossi offered again, and this time… this time he nodded.

You wouldn’t want him going it alone, like you’d had to do after Eli. You’d want him to have help. Support.

“That's be nice,” he admitted, “but I still feel like I should do her room alone, she was a private person.”

“We’ll stay in the living room,” Jill promised, “but at least you’ll know we’re there if you need us.”

He let Jason pull him to his feet then, but waved them on back to the car, because he had one thing left to say.

“I love you, sweetheart. I’ll love you until I’m laying here beside you.” He swore, “But I promise to live. I’ll live for both of us, and I’ll tell you ever single detail. Rest in love, honey. I’ll see you when I’m done.”

When he packed up the rest of her room Aaron kept that small blue notebook in his the pocket of his shirt. Right next to his heart.

When he moved into the new place, he put it on his night stand. He read one page every night, and it turned out that each entry about him. Some made him laugh, but most made him cry. He learned more about you from the letters you’d written to Eli than he’d ever expected to, and it took him three years to finish it.

When he did, he put it in his top dresser drawer, and took out the gold key with his name on one side and I love you too on the other. The next day he had a chain soldered to each end of it, with clasps on the ends of them. He wore the key around his wrist everyday and visited your grave every weekend to tell you everything. Just as he promised.

As time went on he still thought about you everyday, but he cried less and smiled more. He brought you fresh flowers, and sometimes he ran into Jill on her way to visit you, long after she and Jason split up and she left the bureau. He read Rossi’s books to you, especially the one that had been dedicated in your honor. Though even with all of that, he didn’t forget to live.

He went to movies, he got a dog and named it Gideon just to piss Jason off, he befriended new agents and when they asked if he wanted to go for drinks he said yes.

And he told you all of it.

One Saturday though, he went with Jason to the local theater to see a matinee performance of a play called The Pirates of Penzance.

And that evening, when he went to visit you, he found that he struggled to tell you about the experience. So he went home, he opened his top dresser drawer, and he flipped to the first blank page in your little blue notebook. Pen in hand.

Honey,

I met a woman today… Her name is Haley, and she’s an actress in the local theater troop. I spoke to her after the show. She is smart, and witty, and beautiful, and when she smiled at me I felt giddy in a way that I’ve never felt for anyone but you. She’s kind… just like you. I think you would like her.

I still love you, and you’re still everything, but she could be something too… I wish you could tell me what to do, but I think… I know what you’d say and I promised you that I’d live.

So I’m living.

End Notes: The number you've dialed is no longer in service... Return to sender, address unknown... The person you're looking for does not exist... Mal went that way -> (Picture me, whatever you think I look like, wearing a mustache and big nose glasses disguise) I promise only happy things from me for a while after this one! Don't hate me please... Love, Mal <3

It’d been the first time he’d truly made love to you, hoping that would finally be the thing that got you to drop your guard and let him in. The actual effect hadn’t been exactly what he’d been going for, but something was definitely different.

You’d been softer, gentler—in every part of the relationship, not just the bedroom—more reserved… Hell, you were almost shy, something he’d thought you were incapable of, but the evidence was right there in front of him.

At that very moment, in fact.

You’d not made it to his bed when you’d returned from the bar that night, and now he sat with his head thrown back on the couch. Watching your perfect breasts heave with your labored breaths as you slowly pulled yourself up and down the length of his cock.

Never once before tonight had he ever seen your cheeks flush at his praise, at his insistence to watch you ride him, you’d always seemed to bask in it. Tonight though, he’d had to coax you into his lap, convince you that you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and—once he’d gotten you settled into the rhythm he knew you liked best—you’d continued to seek reassurance in every single move you made. That was something he’d never witnessed from you in the year and a half he’d been sleeping with you.

As it seemed that you were finally letting yourself enjoy the moment, losing yourself in the pleasure…

The goddamn phone started ringing.

“Don’t stop.” He panted, shaking his head when your pace faltered, “They’ll leave a message if it’s important.”

You seemed unsure, so he gripped the back of your neck and pulled you down to meet his lips; kissing you senseless while his voice gave a standard voicemail greeting in the background. It only took moments for your lips to respond to his, hips finding their rhythm again…

Just as the fucking answering machine beeped.

“Hotch. It’s Gideon. Pick up the fucking phone, would ya? I’ve paged you four times, and I had to go through the goddamn yellow pages to get your number. We’ve got a case and I need you both at the office in twenty minutes. I’m assuming she’s with you, cause I can’t fucking find her either!”

The rant continued as you nearly launched yourself across the room and started gathering your clothes.

Aaron groaned, letting all his frustration out—dramatically—before flopping to the end of the couch and picking up the receiver; putting it on speaker so you could listen in silently.

“Gideon? Is that you?” He asked, giving you a mischievous grin as he pretended he’d only caught the end of it, then stood to grab his own pants. “Who can’t you find? Is someone missing, is it Jill? Is she alright?”

He was pleased when you bit your cheeks to keep from laughing as you hopped around trying to get your pants up over your hips. Which was making it so hard for him to focus because your boobs were bouncing with every hop and—

“What? No, Jill is fine, I was talking about your fucking partner. Neither one of you are answering your pagers and I can’t get her on the phone. Is she still with you? Who am I kidding, you’re not gonna answer that either way.” Gideon harangued, and Aaron took a glance at the clock as he pulled his t-shirt on.

It was after eleven pm and the team had gone out for drinks after work, but they’d called it a night around nine.

“No, I dropped her off at her place about nine thirty. She was pretty hammered so I bet she’s just asleep.” He winked at you, earning an eye roll of unmatched annoyance—as you, regretfully, hooked your bra back into place—but he knew you’d much rather him tell that story than admit you were still with him nearly two hours later. “That’s certainly what I was doing, but don’t worry, I’ll pick her up and fill her in on the way.”

“I didn’t remember her being that drunk… but sure that’s your story.” Gideon muttered, and Aaron could practically feel the sarcasm in his tone as it came through the phone.

“Do we need our go bags, or is this one close to home?” Aaron asked him, choosing to ignore the prior comment as he fastened his pants and buckled his belt.

“Pack your bags, and get her sobered up. We’re all going and it’s gonna take us all night to get there, so she’s gonna have to take a turn driving eventually.” Gideon responded, “We’re all waiting, and you’ve got fifteen minutes. Don’t fucking crash trying to get here.”

The line went dead then, though it sounded like he’d slammed the receiver down.

“He was pissed…” You whispered from the corner, as though Gideon might still be able to hear you, fully dressed now and looking absolutely mortified.

“He’ll be fine,” Aaron promised you, “especially if we make in under ten minutes… You still have a spare bag here?”

“In your hall closet.” You nodded, pointing to the closet in mention.

“Good, we don’t have to go by your place then. You ready?” He surveyed you from head to toe, pulling his button down on, but not bothering with the buttons.

“Yes, but Aaron…” You murmured hesitantly, your eyes straying to his neck.

He gave you a second to finish the thought but you really didn’t have all night.

“What is it, baby? We have to go.” He coaxed, trying to be as patient with you as always, while he slipped on his shoes, but if the whole team was going then this case was bad.

“I got lipstick on your collar.” You whispered, your eyes full of… fear?

But that couldn’t be right… could it? He knew he’d certainly never given you a reason to be afraid before…

“I don’t have time to change so I’ll just go in my tee.” He shrugged, not even bothering to look at the stain, as if it was that inconsequential. “Or… should I leave it on and see if any of them notice?” He teased, wiggling his brows at you in an attempt to get whatever the fuck you were afraid of as far out of your mind as he could chase it.

He saw the surprise flicker across your face, and he wasn’t sure what part you found surprising because almost immediately you scowled.

“No, because it’s my shade and Jill would notice.” You scolded him, “I’ll get it out for you when we get… wherever we’re going. Just throw it in your bag.”

Now it was his turn to be surprised.

You had never offered to do anything so… domestic? For lack of a better word. He didn’t know what to make of it.

“You don’t have to—”

“We don’t have time for you to argue with me. We’re down to nine minutes.” You warned him, heading for the closet. “Grab your bag and let’s go.”

“It’s in the trunk of my car, come on.” He met you at the door and took yours from you, shouldering it as he ushered you out and locked up.

In the car, Aaron made it five minutes down the road before you gasped, leaned over, and started scrubbing at his neck with your thumb.

“Lipstick?”

“Yeah.”

When you pulled in at the academy, the parking lot was empty save for one Chevy Suburban with the headlights on.

Aaron got both your bags and headed for the trunk of the suburban as you headed for the back passenger door. Rossi got out and slid the seat forward for you to climb into the back.

“Rough ride?” Aaron heard him ask, and knew by the tone that he hadn’t been referring to Aaron’s driving.

“Excuse me?” You asked, but your tone said that you knew exactly what he meant and were giving him a chance to take it back.

“You look anxious, I just assumed it was from Hotch’s driving.” Rossi feigned innocence, but Aaron hurried to put the bags away before you decided to light into him anyway.

“Yes, well, you would be too if someone barged into your house, dragged you out of bed, and deposited you into their vehicle without explanation. Then drove Mach five all the way to your destination.” You grumbled, making Aaron bite his lip to keep from laughing at how easily you sold his lie. “If I wasn’t sober then, I definitely am now.”

You were just settling into the middle seat of the back row when he slammed the trunk and headed around to the other side.

“Jesus Christ, Hotch, it’s barely been twelve minutes.” Gideon eyed him in the rear-view mirror as he put the car in drive, not waiting for Aaron to fasten his seat belt.

“Well, you only gave me fifteen, and all you said was I couldn’t crash.” Aaron shrugged, grinning impishly.

“How’d you get into her apartment?” Jill asked from the passenger seat, a knowing smile inching across her face.

“He has a key.” Your voice had him giving himself whiplash to meet your eyes, because he most certainly did not have a key. “For emergencies.” You clarified when the other three turned to stare at you too.

“Where was your gun? Seems like given the nature of our job you would react poorly to someone ‘barging in and dragging you out of bed.’” Rossi teased, giving you a raised brow before turning back around.

Aaron didn’t know why they seemed so keen on catching you in a lie tonight, when they’d been letting it go unspoken for over a year now, but if they wanted to play this game he was happy to participate. Especially if it made you feel more comfortable.

“On her nightstand, but I was yelling, ‘it’s Aaron, don’t shoot,’ and she was still too drunk to aim anyway.” He explained, holding up a finger gun and waving it around haphazardly to mimic what he had described.

“Yes, well, your driving took care of that.” You sneered, giving him a saccharine smile, but he could see the gratitude lurking just behind it. “Where are the others?” You asked, leaning forward to make sure Gideon heard you from the front. “Hotch told me we were all going.”

“We sent the grunts ahead nearly an hour ago,” Rossi answered instead, “we decided they couldn’t be trusted to deliver you both safely all the way to Jacksonville, Florida.”

With that, Gideon cut him off and started reciting the case details as he drove, while Jill pitched in here and there. Your head was between his and Rossi’s so you could hear Gideon over the rumbling of the interstate, but Aaron couldn’t help himself so he leaned over a little to get closer to your ear.

“We’re saying I have a key to your place now?” He whispered, just loud enough that you had to tilt your head to hear him.

“Technically, you do.” You murmured back, making his heart rate skyrocket as your breath tickled his ear. “I just haven’t found the right time to give it to you yet.”

He didn’t know how he was meant to act naturally after that little bombshell.

To go from refusing to let him keep a toothbrush and a drawer of clothes at your place, to giving him the key in a single bound…

He thought he really might have whiplash.

His questions—such as: what does this mean, what made you decide this, and are you sure—would have to wait for a more private moment. Which was good, because now that he thought about it, asking if you were sure sounded like a terrible idea.

If you revoked the key before he’d even gotten to use it he’d be crushed.

As Gideon rambled on in the front seat, Aaron couldn’t focus, he kept thinking about the about the goddamn theoretical key that he still wasn’t sure existed. Eventually Gideon stopped talking, Jill reclined her seat—into Rossi’s leg space causing him to unbuckle and scoot over toward Aaron—and fell asleep. A glance to the back seat told him that you had followed Jill’s lead, laying down across the entire back seat, where you were already snoring softly. Being so close in proximity, Rossi began to try and converse with him to make it a little less awkward.

“So…” He murmured, pulling—rescuing really—Aaron from his thoughts. “She gave you a key?”

Or maybe not.

“Hmm?” Aaron hummed, to give himself time to come up with a response that didn’t sound… forced. “Oh, the key thing… It’s really not a big deal, her power went out one night so she gave me a key because I couldn’t get her on the phone, and when I showed up I couldn’t wake her up by knocking.”

“That’s interesting…” Rossi murmured, his eyes flicking up to Gideon’s in the rear-view mirror, a slight smirk on both their faces. “Because when she said it, you looked like she’d shoved said key right up your ass so you’d be able to produce it.”

Gideon chuckled quietly so as to not wake Jill, and Rossi was pinning him with such a knowing look that Aaron didn’t know why he bothered to keep feigning innocence. He would try though, because that’s what you would expect of him.

“I don’t—”

“Cut the shit.” Rossi demanded, “She’s asleep, and neither of us are gonna tell her anything. That girl has been dragging you around by the balls for three goddamn years, and it’s getting painful for the rest of us to watch. So did she give you a key or not?”

Aaron sighed, dropping his head to the back of Gideon’s headrest and surrendering.

“I don’t physically have it, but she told me—right before she fell asleep—that I do have one, she just hasn’t given it to me yet.” He admitted in defeat, chancing a glance up at them only to find Jill looking right at him and smiling.

“It’s cute, the way you humor her and try to lie to us…” She murmured, “It really shows how much you care about her feelings.”

“Yeah, well it’s a good thing she can’t fake sleep like you can.” He snorted, shaking his head. “Otherwise, I’d be up shit creek.”

“There you go telling on yourself again.” Gideon chuckled, then explained when Aaron looked up at him in confusion, “I knew Jill was faking, because I know what she looks and sounds like when she’s really sleeping. Anyone can fake sleep as long as the person they’re faking for doesn’t know what the real thing looks like.”

“I only lie about it because she—” He shook his head, not knowing how to explain what it was like… Loving you when you couldn’t seem to love him back. “She is so… scared? I guess? Scared to let me in, scared to admit she has feelings for me—whatever those might be—scared to let me love her. Her whole outlook on whatever we are is so full of fear and caution, I don’t know what else to do to convince her that she’s… safe.” He glanced back at you to make sure you were still sleeping soundly, just in case. “Something happened before she met me, and I’ve never been able to coax it out of her. Which is so frustrating, because I can’t fight an invisible enemy! I can’t convince her that whatever was done to her will never happen again if she’s with me, that I would never cause her any harm, because she’s already certain that if she lets me in something terrible is going to happen!” Aaron ranted, and it felt good, it felt so fucking good to get it out, to tell someone who wasn’t going to run away from his emotions exactly how he felt. So he kept going. “God, I’m so fucking hopeless, aren’t I? I’ve never loved anyone the way I love her, and I can’t… I can’t stop. I tried. I really did, but she’s the one, and I am never going to get over her. I just have this feeling… this horrible, awful, terrifying feeling that she’ll never be able to love herself enough to love me too. It doesn’t change anything though, because I’m hers… I’m hers and there’s not a damn thing she could do to change that.”

He looked up then, and found six eyes staring right back at him in total shock. That was the most he’d ever said about it out loud, so he didn’t blame them for being surprised.

Jill reached out, cupping his cheek with one hand and swiping a tear—that he hadn’t even felt escape—off his cheek with her thumb.

“You’re not hopeless,” she murmured, and smiled at him fondly, “and neither is she… that girl… she just requires more patience than most. She’ll get there Aaron. She’s changed so much already in the year you two have been sneaking around. You’re good for her, and I know she sees it. Just hang in there.”

“I’m trying.” He whispered, if only because if he spoke any louder he might start to sob. Just then, Gideon hit a pothole bigger than Texas, and he felt something thump against the back of his seat. “Damn it, I think she’s in the floor now.” He sniffed, wiping at his eyes, as he tried to glance over his shoulder to check.

“Surely that would’ve woken her up…” Rossi muttered, trying to do the same, but failing because he had even less room than Aaron with Jill’s seat in the way.

“You don’t understand how hard she can sleep sometimes.” Aaron chuckled, shaking his head. “Like the dead, I swear.” He unbuckled his seat belt and got to his knees, looking into the floor of the back seat. “Yeah, she’s nearly under our seat, Dave, you’re gonna have to pull over so I can get her out, Jason.”

“My ankle is starting to fall asleep anyway. We’ll stop at this gas station up here on the next exit. We can all stretch, get a snack, and find more comfortable seating arrangements.” Gideon gave Jill a meaningful look, and she scowled at him, but put her seat back in the upright position anyway.

Rossi took the opportunity to scoot back to the passenger side and that gave Aaron room to climb over the middle bench and into the back.

“Hotch what the hell are you doing?” Gideon asked, sounding exasperated, “I said I was gonna pull over.”

“I know, but she’s not in a good crash position, and I just can’t leave her like that.” He explained, settling in on the back row and gently maneuvering you out from under the middle bench. Guarding your head with his hand as you started to stir so you wouldn’t bump it on the seat bottom. “It’s just me,” he soothed, “easy, don’t hurt yourself.”

“Aaron, why am I under the seats?” You groaned, a hint of annoyance in and confusion in your tone.

“Jason hit a pothole that looked more like a moon crater and threw you into the floor.” He explained loud enough to be heard from the front, smiling at the scowl on your face as you climbed up—with his assistance—back into the seat.

“Hey, it covered most of the fucking road!” Gideon defended himself, glaring into the rear-view mirror. “What was I supposed to do, drive into the ditch?”

“I think he’s still mad about having to look us up in the yellow pages.” Aaron whispered in your ear, earning the giggle he’d been searching for as you looked up at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

“Whoa.” You gasped, your face falling into a worried expression as you studied his own. “Your eyes are red… are you alright?”

“Oh…” He muttered, forcing a chuckle as he rubbed at them, which probably only made them worse. “Rossi and I were talking when Jason hit the crater, and his forehead slammed into my nose. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“Hmm, well, I’d ask if Rossi’s head was okay, but his is harder than yours.” You teased, “You’re lucky your nose isn’t broken, that’d be such a shame… it’s one of your best features.”

“Hey… I heard that.” Rossi grumbled, shooting you an affronted glance.

“I think she meant for you to.” Aaron shrugged, grinning at you as he egged Rossi on.

“Probably…” He joked, giving you nearly as fond a smile as Aaron, but you’d always been Rossi’s favorite. “Mean as a snake, that one.”

He was only joking, but Aaron saw the dart hit a mark Rossi hadn’t intended. Your eyes shuttered, the light in them winking out, and though your smile stayed in place… It wasn’t real anymore.

“Where are we?” You asked, all the playfulness gone from your expression, even though you tried to keep pretending.

“Nearly to Richmond, we’re stopping at the gas station just off the exit if you need anything.” Jason called, as the turn signal started to click.

“Feeling better?” Jill asked, turning around in her seat to talk to you.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” You smiled hesitantly, “Nap took the edge off.”

When Jason pulled into the gas station parking lot and Rossi stepped out to slide the seat forward—letting the two of you out—Aaron offered you a hand to help you down. He immediately cringed at the short sightedness of that choice, because usually you were insistent that in public he shouldn’t do chivalrous things for you. It was too intimate, you often reminded him.

So he prepared for the scathing look, the refusal to take his hand, possibly even for you to bat it away and give him the cold shoulder— but you didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, you took his hand and offered him a sweet smile.

“Thank you.” You murmured, and then jogged to catch up with Jill, linking arms with the slightly older woman as you both walked into the convenience store.

He stood there staring after you with his mouth agape, his heart racing to the point of pain, while flexing the hand you’d so easily accepted.

“Okay, lover boy. Are you gonna go in and get a snack or are you just gonna stand there staring at her through the window?” Jason asked, over the hood of the car as he started pumping gas into it. “If you’re not going in, come stand with this so I can go take a leak.”

“Uh, sure…” Aaron muttered, still staring after you as he shuffled around to the driver’s side. “Did– was that– This is gonna sound stupid, but did she just… accept my help in front of you guys?”

“Yeah, I guess she did… Is that a weird thing?” Gideon was giving him the same careful gaze he used to study lunatics, which made Aaron feel even dumber.

“Never mind, I should have waited for Jill or Dave.” He sighed, knowing it was his fault for expecting Jason to notice something that small with members of the team. “Seriously, how do you see so much and yet so little?”

Aaron knew that Gideon was well aware of what was going on between you, obviously, he was even pretty sure that they all had a bet going on it… Gideon simply didn’t give a fuck one way or the other unless it was effecting the way you did your jobs.

“Because, unlike the rest of you, I’ve learned not to profile my teammates. It never does anything but cause problems.” Gideon shrugged, leaning back against the side of the SUV. “If you wanna know what’s going on in her head, you’re gonna have to ask her. However, if you’re looking for advice… take Jill’s. You know Dave is somewhere between wives number two and three.”

“That’s a good point.” Aaron chuckled, then nodded toward the building. “Go on, I’ll sit with this.”

“Thanks, and uh… by the way, you missed a spot.” Gideon smirked, pointing to the side of his own neck and Aaron knew immediately that there was a stray lipstick stain that had been missed in your inspection.

He started rubbing at it, checking the side view mirror to be sure he got it this time, knowing you’d die if you saw it.

Gideon clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing once, before he took off across the parking lot.

The tank didn’t take more than a minute to fill up, it had only needed a top off apparently, but Jason being Jason probably didn’t intend to stop again until he had no choice. So Aaron locked the car and jogged to the building to take a leak himself.

When he returned to the store lobby, he found you waiting for him—the others already crossing the parking lot—with a coffee in each hand and two bags of chips tucked under your arms. He could see his favorite flavor under your left—something he wasn’t aware you’d noticed—and yours under your right.

“That for me?” He asked with a cautious smile, pointing to the left coffee and chips.

“Yeah, and so are the chips. I thought you might need it.” You smiled softly, a faint flush spreading across your cheeks as he gently took the coffee, being careful not to spill it on you.

“Oh?” He asked, before taking a careful sip, looking at you over the rim of the cup.

“I’m pretty sure Gideon’s gonna make you drive.” You scrunched your nose up at him in the most adorably apologetic way. “He started complaining about his bad back and how he doesn’t see as well at night as he used to.”

“He’s thirty nine!?” Aaron exclaimed in amusement, shaking his head at Jason’s antics. “We should start acting like he needs help crossing the street and climbing stairs, but it has to be publicly or he’ll just think we’re being weird.”

“He’ll think we’re nuts either way!” You giggled, the light that had disappeared earlier making a glorious return to your beautiful eyes.

“Probably…” He agreed, raising his brows and tilting his head in the silly way that you found so funny, earning an outright laugh.

He found himself staring into your eyes, soaking in the brief moment of pure joy between you, as he often tried to do because he knew that any one of them could be the last he’d ever have. Not because he was expecting death or something, but because he knew that there was a chance—which was more than slight—that you’d spook and run for good. As fast and far as you could go.

“Want me to sit up front and navigate for you?” You asked, when your laughter had quieted, and he saw the little flicker of anticipation in your eyes.

You wanted him to say yes, even though you both knew it was as simple as hopping on I-95 and following it all the way to Jacksonville.

“Sure, I’d appreciate that.” He smiled, then took the bag of chips from under your arm and—in light of the way you’d reacted to him all night—risked tucking you under his.

He held his breath as he started toward the door; waiting for you to reject the affection.

You simply wrapped your free arm around his waist and rested your head against him as he pushed out into the parking lot.

He wouldn’t hold onto hope just yet… He wouldn’t let himself get comfortable, because he knew deep down that it probably wouldn’t last… but he knew, he knew in that moment that something had changed.

He only prayed that it lasted long enough to make a difference.

“He’s getting bolder…” You told Aaron, as he came back into the little room at the back of the precinct bearing two cups of coffee.

It was nearly midnight, and you were both exhausted.

“I know.” He nodded, handing one cup to you and pressing a kiss to the side of your head before retreating to the other side of the table.

Speaking of getting bolder…

Granted, you were the only ones in the small conference room at the back of the station, but a few days ago he never would’ve dared do something like that while on duty.

Normally you would’ve scolded him, but you’d given up. You’d stopped trying to keep him and arm’s length because you simply couldn't resist him anymore, you didn’t have the energy.

Or the self control.

So you said nothing, offering him a soft smile instead and taking a slow sip of the coffee he’d brought you from the little twenty four hour café down the street. The precinct’s coffee was swill, so you were more than grateful that he’d made the short trek up the block.

“I mean it Aaron… this is getting—” you hesitated to say the word, “unpredictable.”

If you couldn’t predict the unsub’s next move, then you were as good as useless. To the locals, to the bureau, to the team… and right now to him.

This was your area of expertise. You should be more useful.

The unsub was a narcissistic sociopath who preyed on underprivileged young women. It had started slowly. After the first victim he’d taken a three month break, but it wasn’t a cooling down period. He’d hunted for a second victim almost immediately and when he’d found her the grooming began. When she stopped being what he wanted after a couple months, he killed her in a fit of rage. The third victim had turned up dead two months after that. Number four a month after, and number five—the girl who’d gotten them called in—had been brutally murdered in broad daylight and left where he’d killed her. In the middle of an alley, just off a busy street. Only two weeks after the girl before her.

That had been the kill that changed everything. He was spiraling, devolving at a dangerous pace, and the only way to stop him was to catch him.

There had been another body by end of business on your first day in Jacksonville, and another two days later. That’d lit a fire under everyone and even ‘the grunts’ as Gideon and Rossi called them—a group you and Aaron had been part of until you’d been promoted to SSA—were getting frustrated.

His movements just didn’t make sense anymore…

“I know, honey, but we’ll get him.” Aaron was certain, the set of his jaw and the way his eyes were locked on the evidence board in front of him told you everything you needed to know. “He’s impatient, and his urgency is making him sloppy. He’s gonna slip up, and when he does we’ll be there.”

This case was gonna haunt you all long after it was over.

There was a burst of sudden noise in the station, it had been quiet with all the on duty officers out patrolling—hoping to catch him in the act of dumping a body—and when three familiar voices filled the silence it startled you. They were fighting about something, which was par for the course with them.

“No, Jason, I didn’t mean it that way—”

“Yes you did, Jill, you literally said, ‘Well maybe if you just listened to David when he suggested—’”

“Stop putting words in my mouth!”

“That’s not what she said, Jason… She only meant that—”

“David just don’t, you’re only gonna make it worse.”

Aaron made eye contact with you over the table, seeming annoyed with them already as he rolled his eyes. You fought a giggle and struggled to put on a straight face—burying your nose in a file—before they came into the room.

“Here we go again…” Aaron whispered, hold up his fingers to count down the seconds until your little haven of peace and quiet was invaded. “Three, two, one…”

He pointed to the door just as it opened, but quickly dropped it and pretended he was so focused on the board that he didn’t hear them come in. Which left you fighting for your life not to laugh.

“You two are always ganging up on me! It’s almost like you’re his wife not mi— Oh. Hello…” Gideon trailed off, realizing that he had an audience he hadn’t counted on. “I thought we sent you two back to the hotel to get some rest?”

“No sir.” You murmured, not making eye contact for fear of losing it. “Not us, we’re right where you left us.”

“For once…” Rossi muttered, earning a sharp jab to his ribs by Jill’s elbow.

“Well, go get some rest, you two have been at it since four this morning.” She said, and neither Jason or Dave dared to argue with her.

She wasn’t wrong either. The last body had been left on the steps of a homeless shelter at four am, and you had been the ones to go check it out. The other girls had all been beaten to death, brutal slow deaths that made your stomach turn. This one had been shot. It was a deviation from his MO but you all agreed it was him and speculated that he was gearing up for a spree, or maybe he was finally going to go after the true target.

“Yes ma’am.” Aaron nodded, setting down the file he’d held and coming to your side to pull you to your feet, eager to escape.

“I’ll need you back by nine in the morning, dressed nice.” Gideon said, his eyes falling on you specifically. “I’m gonna put you in front of the cameras, have you give a press conference.”

“Why me?” You asked, that was something Dave often did.

“Cause you’re prettier than me.” Rossi joked, then got serious. “People will pay more attention to you, especially the young girls he’s targeting.”

“Got it…” You murmured, you didn’t mind doing it, it wasn’t a big deal, you just didn’t appreciate the insinuation that it was only because you were pretty.

Aaron ushered you out of the room before anything else could be said, leaving your five dollar coffees behind on the table. Not that you really needed them now that you were going to rest.

He held your hand on the short walk to the hotel, the kind of affection you usually shied away from. Kissing and touching was a precursor to sex in your eyes, and that was fine with you, but holding hands…

That was connection simply for the purpose of connecting. It was more intimate to you that anything else, and you felt like your palm was on fire the whole time, but you didn’t pull away.

When you reached your floor of the hotel—with his room right across from yours—you tilted your head up for a kiss, expecting it because he always at least tried to give you one. This time though, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you, as he tucked your head under his chin and held you.

No kiss.

And at first… you thought he was pulling away. Putting a little distance between you to make the inevitable a little easier.

Part of you—the damaged, acid soaked, sour part—was relieved at the idea that he might’ve been coming to his senses.

The other part—the part you kept hidden away, buried deep, and inaccessible—recoiled into itself, withering like a flower that had been denied sunlight for too long.

“Stay with me tonight.” He murmured into your hair, throwing you completely off balance. “I’ve barely slept a wink the whole time we’ve been here, and I think having you beside me would help.”

The flower unfurled again…

Somewhere deep inside your chest, it was reaching for that small ray of hopeful sun. Even as the acid rose around it, threatening to drown it out—poison it, burn it up, and destroy it—to protect your heart…

And his.

“I’m tired, Aaron…” You whispered, tears welling in your eyes.

The acid might have won… In fact, you knew it would have if he’d done anything other than what he did.

“I don’t want sex, it’s not your body I’m after right now.” He murmured, pulling back to look at your face, pushing your hair back away from it. “I just want you, your presence, your company… It’s soothing, and I would be very grateful for it tonight.”

You couldn’t deny him, not when he seemed so hopeful, so desperate— so ridiculously tired. If you could help him sleep, you wouldn’t be so cruel as to refuse.

So the flower bloomed.

You nodded before you could second guess yourself, your head cupped in his hands so that they tousled your hair a bit with your movement.

“Thank you.” He murmured as a smile split his lips, and he offered you one chaste—but lingering and emotional—kiss. “Your room or mine?”

You needed to shower and get the grime of the day off, you wanted your pajamas, you wanted to feel in control….

“Mine.” You sighed, letting the acid gain a little ground.

He kept his hands on your waist as you unlocked the door, not groping… just holding. As though he needed the connection.

It wasn’t until you were both inside with the door locked that he released you, shrugging off his suit jacket, and reaching for his buttons. You watched him for a moment noticing that he seemed anxious, his eyes flicking up to you every few seconds, like he needed to reassure himself you were still there.

You had done that to him… You’d made him so unsure of himself, unsure of everything… He’d never been that way before you.

“I’m gonna shower.” You murmured, starting toward the bathroom, needing a moment to compose yourself without his eyes searching you for any sign of panic.

He caught your arm as you passed him.

“Can I join you?” He asked, his voice careful and soft, like he might frighten you away if he wasn’t careful, and you couldn’t blame him for it.

You’d left him reeling too many times to expect him to trust you. You didn’t even trust you. No one should.

The acid tasted of bile in your throat.

“You said you didn’t—”

“I don’t, sweetheart, I really don’t.” He promised, and he was always steadfast, truthful in his emotions, never wavering in his convictions, so you believed him.

“Then what?” You asked anyway, unable to understand how showering with you could possibly benefit him at all if wasn’t to initiate sex.

“I just want to be close to you.” He answered, and it was truthful, but there was that anxiousness you’d noted. It was coursing through him and keeping his body taught like a rubber band stretched thin.

“Why?” You narrowed your eyes on him, unmoving until he answered, even though you knew you were going to say yes regardless.

“I–” He paused, his tongue flicking out to wet his slightly chapped lips—he’d been gnawing at them all day and you were still wondering why—then he took a breath. “I’m feeling very anxious, and being able to see and touch you… it’s helping.”

“Okay.” You relented, pulling your arm from him, only to take his hand and lead him to the shower.

You didn’t understand how proximity to you would help him, not when you were certain that you were the cause of his discomfort to begin with. That was as clear to you as the nose on his face, the way he watched you so carefully…

You were doing it already… You’d given in less than a month ago, he didn’t even know you had, and already—

You were destroying him. Like the cruel, wicked, bitch you knew yourself to be.

His hands stayed on your waist as you adjusted the water, then he helped you undress with a tenderness that even he had never shown you before. He was so careful, so gentle, nearly reverent, but he never touched any part of you with anything resembling lustful intent. You returned the favor, simply unbuttoning buttons in silent numbness.

The water was what he usually referred to as molten lava, but this time he didn’t say anything to complain about it. Instead, he dealt with the pain just to be near you, and that was what broke your resolve.

“Why do you want this?” You whispered, barely audible over the stream, unable to meet his eyes.

“A shower?” He asked, and you knew he wasn’t that dense… he just wanted you to say the dark thoughts out loud.

“Me.”

“Because I love you.” He said it with zero hesitation.

That always baffled you. It was like he had nothing to lose in offering those words to you, and there had been no sign from you that there was anything to gain. Still, he said them loud and often, even though you never said them back.

“And what have you gotten for it?” You scoffed, shaking your head as you turned to let the water hit your chest, your back to him so he couldn’t see the tears you were trying not to shed. “Nothing but trouble.”

“I don’t know what you mean…” He murmured, and you felt a warm cloth—slick with soap—gently scrubbing at your back. “If you’re trouble, then you’re the sweetest trouble I’ve ever been in.”

“Aaron…” You sighed, letting your head fall forward so that the water hit you right on the crown, streaming down your face into your eyes, nose, and mouth.

You couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Where is this coming from, honey?” He asked, and you heard it clear as day.

There was fear in his voice.

“Look at you…” you muttered, turning to face him, “just listen to your voice,” you reached up and cupped his cheeks, “look at what I’ve done to you.”

“What do you think you’ve done to me?” He reached up for the towels—draped over the curtain rod—and pulled a corner over to dry your face around your eyes.

“I’m wrecking you.” Your voice trembled, as you laid it out for him. “You’re always so nervous, so anxious and careful… You were never that way before me. You look at me with fear in your eyes. Like you’re absolutely terrified of what I might say or do next.” Every little observation you’d made, every card you had to play, you were laying it all out for him. “Why do you stay?” His eyes flickered with pain, as though you’d slapped him. “I mean it Aaron? Why are you putting yourself through this? I’m— I’m not… I am not worth—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” His eyes flashed with anger now, and it startled you into silence. “Don’t you dare try to tell me what you are or are not worth, because you’re worth something to me! Fuck, sweetheart! You’re worth everything to me! How do you still not see that?”

Everything. You couldn’t be worth everything… Being his everything would only make him hate you in the end.

“You don’t mean the that…” You whispered, your bottom lip trembling. “You’ll hate me… Before the end… You’ll hate me, because I— I’m just… I’m—”

“You’re what?” He asked, his tone stern, as though he hadn’t an ounce of patience left. “Tell me, get it out! Whatever horrible thing you think you are, tell me. Right now, because I can’t keep guessing how bad it’s gonna be when you implode.”

The acid won, bubbling up and burning your throat as all the words you’d kept buried rose like a tidal wave, bursting free and blazing a trail of ruin.

“I’m rotten!” You sobbed, the anger in him finally enough to make you explode, and it felt good to warn him, even as it was agony to tell him what you really were. “I am hateful and selfish and mean. I am manipulative. I break everything and everyone I touch, and I don’t deserve to lick the bottom of your shoes. You’ll see…” Your voice cracked on a sob. “One day you’ll look back and you’ll hate me just as much as I do, because I am poison. I will suck the life right out of you, because you’re pouring all your goodness into a goddamn black hole. I have nothing to offer you. I am nothing… Nothing, but a narcissistic piece of shit, and I will ruin you.”

“Who told you that?” He asked, and though the anger in his tone was still there, his eyes were what scared you the most, because they were broken. “Who told you that you were poison, who said you were a narcissist, who—”

“Me.”

“Why?” He breathed, tears mixing with the water on his face.

“Because it’s true, and I have to keep reminding myself. I have to. I have—” you couldn’t focus… not while he was in tears. “Aaron, I’m sorry, please don’t cry…”

“Don’t apologize to me, this isn’t your fault.” He murmured, reaching behind you to turn off the water, then pulling a towel down and wrapping you up snugly. “Tell me why you think those things. Why do you have to?”

“So that I don’t wreck your life too.”

Aaron pulled down his own towel, drying off and wrapping it around his waist. Then he pulled the curtain back and stepped out. Turning to you, he swept you off your feet and carried you back to the bed in the other room.

He didn’t bother with clothes, he just made sure you were dry before he placed you between the sheets and slipped in beside you. Wrapping himself around you, and pulling the covers up tight.

“Talk.” He murmured, his voice much gentler now, but no less firm.

You didn’t know where to start, or if you even wanted to… But if he couldn’t be scared off, he at least deserved to know what you were trying to protect him from.

“I wasn’t always such a monster…” You whispered, settling in close to him because you knew there was no sense in trying to pull away.

“You’re not a monster.” You could feel his scowl against your forehead.

“We’ll see how you feel about that later…” You muttered, and that caused him to scoot down and rest his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes.

“It won’t change.” He promised. “Nothing could convince me of that.”

“I had to be a monster to survive the monsters that made me.” You closed your eyes, and let yourself drift through your memories to the girl you’d been once upon a time. “My parents weren’t bad people… They didn’t beat me—not really—they didn’t starve me, or molest me… but they didn’t know how to love me either. They kept me fed, kept me clothed, took me to the doctor, but they didn’t know how to nurture me. They saw my tears as manipulative, they saw anger as disrespect, they saw individualism as rebellion.” You explained, mourning that little girl. “So I learned to do the opposite. I kept my tears in check, instead manipulating them with smiles and perfect grades. I bottled up my emotions, learned how to stay serene even as they found fault in everything I did. I was perfect and respectful, even as I hated them with every breath. I conformed to their idea of a well rounded person. I dressed how they thought I should dress, I ate how they thought I should eat, I went where they said I should go… I didn’t express myself until they weren’t looking… and God, did I over compensate when they finally looked away.”

You paused to take a deep breath, and he must’ve thought that was the end, because he leaned forward and kissed your nose with such sweetness, murmuring, “Honey, none of that makes you a–”

“That’s only the start.” You cut him off, sighing softly and closing your eyes.

“Okay.” He whispered, and waited patiently for you to continue.

“I was so naive and attention starved…” you muttered, “that when I got to college I was willing to take whatever kind of love I could get my hands on. That’s when I met him.”

Aaron stiffened slightly, but didn’t interrupt.

“He was so good to me at first, and I know now that he was love bombing me… but at the time it felt so good.” You explained, opening your eyes to see if you could decipher his thoughts from his expression.

His face was blank, simply patient, maybe a little expectant.

“As it turned out, he was a narcissist… A world class manipulator. He made me feel like everything was always my fault and nothing I did was ever good enough, among other worse things… I had enough of a goddamn brain to get out the first time he put hands on me…” You saw anger fill his eyes again, pure burning rage, and it made you pause. “I had learned to use all his tactics against him just to survive— and that day I tried to gaslight him into thinking it wasn’t me who out a dent in his car door… I hadn’t done it on purpose, and he was right there when I did it, but he'd been looking the other way. I accidentally knocked into the car next to us when I opened the door.”

You blinked back tears at the memory, and Aaron held you closer. You rushed on so he wouldn't come to his own conclusions.

“I didn’t think he’d go ask the store for their camera footage… but he did, and then he slapped me so hard I passed out.” You whispered, not daring to look at him. “The store manager called the cops, and they pressed charges on him because there were other witnesses, not just me. I went straight to our apartment while he was in custody and grabbed everything that mattered to me, then I got the hell out. I was a psychology major… I knew what he was by that point and I’d just been waiting for an opportunity to run. It was too late to save my mind… my soul… but my life was still mine and that was all that mattered to me at the time. I’d turned myself into a mirror image of him to survive without realizing it, so when I thought I’d healed I moved on.”

This… this was the hard part. This was the part that made you a villain, a monster…

“Hey…” he murmured, running his fingers through your wet hair, gently even though they got caught in tangles. “I am not going to think any less of you for… whatever comes next—”

“Don’t make any promises…” You covered his lips with a finger. “It’s bad Aaron, and I wouldn’t blame you if you never spoke to me again.”

“Honey, that’s not—”

“I killed him, Aaron.” You said, just to shut him up and it worked, he stopped talking and his face went white. “He’s dead, and it’s my fault.”

“What do you mean… you killed him?” He whispered, “There’s a huge difference between that and ‘he’s dead and it’s my fault—’”

“I didn’t… physically kill him, Aaron, it’s… complicated, but ultimately it was my fault.” You explained, in a round about sort of way. “His name was Eli… and he was a good man. He didn’t know that I was— damaged, and I didn’t know how damaged I was. I love bombed him, exactly how the man before him had done me. He thought I was an angel—that was what he called me, Angel—and I didn’t even realize what I was doing. I knew… of course. I had a psychology degree, so I knew… I just didn’t… notice.”

“Notice what, baby?” He murmured, still trying to treat you with the same tender affection he always had, even though he had to realize you didn’t deserve it.

“That I was manipulating him. Apparently, it can become your default setting if you do it enough that it feels natural.” You admitted, shame flooding your body. “At first it was simple things, like convincing him to go to this restaurant I loved. It was so expensive and he tried to tell me he didn’t think he’d like it, but I begged him to take me cause I was sure that he would if he tried it. The next week, I went to his apartment and I got hungry so I went to see what he had in the refrigerator. It was empty. He had only eaten at my place since the night at the restaurant because he had to choose between his bills and groceries.”

Something flickered in Aaron’s eyes then, and you weren’t sure what it was, so you kept talking.

“A couple months later, he was frustrated because his mother—who still hates me, by the way—wanted him to go into dentistry, to take over the family practice when his father retired. He hated it though, he couldn’t stand how disgusting the insides of peoples mouths were, and he’d never wanted to do that. So I convinced him that it didn’t matter what his parents wanted him to do because it was his life.” You explained, thinking back on how much Eli had hated the thought of being a dentist for the rest of his life. “He rescinded his applications to all the dental schools—for which he would’ve had a full ride—and instead, he chose to go to law school. For which he took out thousands in student loans, you know how expensive it is… His mother called me that night and told me I was ‘a manipulative little bitch who was going to ruin her son’s life.’ She wasn’t wrong… I called him crying, and he cut her off that night. Just stopped talking to her, with no hesitation. Which meant that he lost out on a relationship with his father, and even his grandparents.”

He was looking at you with so much sympathy and you knew that somehow, he still didn’t see how any of that was your fault.

“It sounds like he loved you very much…” Aaron murmured, dropping a kiss to your nose again.

“He did.”

That was the problem. Eli loved you, he was the only person who ever truly had, and loving you had killed him.

“He never saw his family again… he chose me over them. He chose to love me…” You whispered, barely able to say the next part aloud. “He’d made it into law school, and he was doing so well a couple years in that he got invited to this fancy dinner party. If he hit it off with some of the lawyers there, then he’d have a shot at landing an internship. I knew how important it was, but when my friends called and asked me to go out with them that night I didn’t see the harm.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, and Aaron kissed them away.

“We got so drunk… all of us, and the girl who was supposed to DD was the worst of all. We were in a completely different city, and we were all going to have to take cabs, but I didn’t have enough money left over to cover a fair that big…” You hid your face in your hands, unable to look at him as you finished the tale. “So I called him. He only had an hour before that dinner party, and so he raced to get me… but he— He— There was a crash and he—”

“He died.” Aaron finished it for you, his voice so gentle you barely recognized it. “And you think it’s your fault.”

You nodded, sobs wracking your body because this was the first time you’d ever admitted to anyone else what you’d done.

“His family took the body.” You cried, “They buried him without me, and told me if I came to the funeral they’d sue me for emotional distress. So that day, I went through our apartment instead… to see what needed to be returned to them, and what I wanted to keep.”

“That was wrong of them… you deserved to be there.” Aaron seethed, he was nearly shaking with anger again. “They couldn’t have actually sued you for that either, that’s bull shit. As a matter of fact, you probably could’ve counter sued and won.”

You knew all that now, and you’d already had your moments of rage over it, so you let him have his for a moment before you told him the worst part.

“I found a ring.” You whispered. “A beautiful diamond ring, set in gold… with our initials and a date carved into the band. The date was our upcoming anniversary… he– he was gonna propose, but I killed him.”

“You didn’t.”

“Yes–”

“No.” He refused to let you argue with him.

“I ruined his entire life.” You glared at him, tears streaming down your face. “I was poison from the beginning, costing him more money than he had, wrecking his future and his financial stability, then his relationship with his family, and finally… causing his death with my selfishness. If I had never been in the picture, none of those things ever would have happened!”

“Answer me this,” Aaron demanded, “if he were laying here with us right now, listening to all of this, would he agree with you?”

“What?” unsure that you were understanding him.

“If Eli knew that you thought you had ruined his life, would he agree with you?” Aaron asked you again.

“It doesn’t matter, because Eli is dead.” You hissed, pulling free from him… or trying to, but he kept an iron grip on you. “He doesn’t know and he never will.”

“It does matter, and you know it.” He growled back at you, “If he loved you enough to buy a ring, then I promise he’d have a hell of a lot to say about this, and the very first thing out of his mouth would be that you did not ruin anything!”

“You don’t know that! You didn’t know him!” You shouted, struggling to get out his hold.

“I don’t have to know him to know how he felt.” Aaron declared, “I don’t have to know him to know that he knew loving you was the most import thing he’d ever do! I don’t have to know Eli, to know that he would give anything to see you happy again… To see you forgive yourself! I don’t have to know Eli… because I know you, and I know what loving you feels like.” You froze, staring at him in shock, as he moved his hands to your cheeks with such tenderness. “I wouldn’t trade a second of the time I’ve had with you for anything… even my next breath.” He swore, “So trust me… If Eli bought you a ring… you did not ruin a single moment of his life. You were the highlight of it.”

You couldn’t say anything, not for a long time… and the moment you tried you dissolved into tears.

“Aaron…” You gasped, reaching for him in pure desperation for something to anchor you here, so that you wouldn’t get lost in the sea of your grief.

A sea of absolution.

“I’m here.” He grabbed you, pulling your body closer to his. “I’m not going anywhere, because you could never wreck my life… you could only complete it.”

For the first time… you believed him, and you let him love you without guilt.

Now you only had to work on loving him in return, without fear.