#scenes from a diner | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bellshazes · 2 years

Note

Drabble about whatever Cleo and Joe are up to, or coffee shop shenanigans? 👀

Tell me how to reach you - Cleo and Joe open several lines of unconventional communication in Joe’s answering machine.

[Thursday, 8:17 PM]

Howdy, this is Joe Hills recording this message from Nashville, Tennessee. If you’re looking for a Joe Hills not in Tennessee, you have the wrong number. If you’re looking for Joe Hills from Nashville, Tennessee, or if you just don’t care which Joe Hills you’re calling, start talking after the beep.

Hi, Joe. I am, frankly, freaking out quite a lot right now so I’d appreciate a call. A serious call, and I know you’re going to think I’m kidding, but I want to have a serious call with you about dreams. And... possibly past lives. I know you’re thinking to yourself that this is clearly some kind of trick or joke, which is exactly why you should listen to how much I am trying not to panic right now and call me back, seriously. Not meaning to threaten you for once, I mean be serious when you call. Please and thank you.

[Thursday, 8:19 PM]

Hi, Joe, it’s me again. Do not call when I’m asleep or I will be very, very cross. I did mean to threaten you that time. Okay, talk soon.

[Friday, 11:58 PM]

Howdy, this is Joe Hills recording this message from Nashville, Tennessee. Currently I am requesting all correspondance be sent via dreams, as I will not be checking this voicemail during my astral communication experiment to prevent information contamination. If it's not time sensitive or you're trying to talk to someone who isn't me, go ahead and leave a message after the beep.

Hello, Joe, this is - this is not what I expected earlier when you told me you were going to try something out to help me. How am I supposed to explain what I learn to you if you won't - Joe. I wanted to tell you the dreams are definitely real, we are up to a whole three and a half confirmed dream-sharers, but that doesn't mean I have been gifted long distance telepathy. I hope I'm the boogeyman in your dream tonight, you hear me? Dream of that and call me about it. In great and gory detail, I can't wait to hear it.

[Saturday, 4:50 PM]

Howdy, this is Joe Hills recording this message from Nashville, Tennessee. If it's bad or urgent, leave me a message - otherwise, all good news is best transmitted by thinking really hard and sending it to my dreams. I am no longer accepting nightmares, bad omens, curses, or threats of bodily harm by that medium, but you can leave them after the beep if you really want.

Joe, I wouldn't have to leave you threats of bodily harm in your voicemail if you didn't keep talking to me only through your answering machine. I don’t know whether to be upset because you’re being stubborn about this, or delighted that maybe I do have long-rage telepathy that allows me to express my displeasure with you. I would be much happier if you would call me back, though.

[Monday, 9:21 AM]

Howdy, this is Joe Hills recording this message from Nashville, Tennessee and pleased to announce I’m now accepting correspondance about dreams in addition to correspondence by dreams, which is still the best way to reach me. If you don’t care about my preferences or who you’re reaching, feel free to leave a message after the beep.

Of course you’d be somehow already be asking for - Joe, listen. Last night I dreamt you owed me roundabouts six million and were trying to weasel your way out of it by making - what would you have called it, some kind of Rube Goldberg problem machine - you were creating inconveniences so I’d have to let you fix them for a credit. Which was incredibly, predictably obnoxious of you, but it was also incredibly predictable. It was exactly what I would’ve done if I were in your shoes and I dreamt I knew that for absolutely certain. You are always like this, every time, all of the times. Do you get it? You were almost charming, building me my - well, if you’re serious about this dream telepathy... thing... you can call me back and tell me what you made. I know you do listen to these eventually, despite what you said before. Don’t make me wait too long.

[Tuesday, 2:46 PM]

Howdy, this is Joe Hills recording this message from Nashville, Tennessee. Voicemails are places you leave messages for people, like, “Cleo,” you could start, if you were trying to call someone named Cleo and not Joe Hills, “I got your dream! I thought it was really sweet how you negotiated down instead of killing me like you wanted to. I’ll call you at the usual Wednesday time to compare notes.” As always, you’re welcome to leave your own contextless missive that may or may not be reaching the right ears at the wrong time since you so kindly just listened to mine. Just don’t start talking until after the beep - or do, I’m not the boss of you.

I can’t believe I’m confirming plans this way. You’re going to have to tell me about all the other voicemails you’ve gotten when we talk tomorrow, which you probably already know whether you listen to this or not. I was convinced we had a standing Monday arrangement... maybe I am going crazy after all, who knows? Or maybe it’s just because it’s you. You are just the worst, every single stupid version. I suppose I’ll have to keep putting up with this until tomorrow at least.

[Tuesday, 2:59 PM]

Howdy, Cleo. Of course I listen to you, especially all the stuff you’re not saying. You’re my friend, and I’ll listen tomorrow too. If you’re not Cleo, standard disclaimers and preferences still apply until otherwise stated. You know the drill.

You know what - nevermind an apology. I had a feeling. Talk tomorrow, Joe. Sweet dreams.

#peter writes #i've 'cleo calls joe freaking out as referenced in the diner scene' on my to do list anyway #and i think joe 'how big IS the moon getting let's measure it' hills would be funny and serious and weird about past-life dreaming.#which is not at all an excuse to not have to reveal my lack of confidence in writing his voice LMAO #do it again au #also title is from sea of love because 1. hey joe they say love is a virtue don't they #2. if i stay here trouble will find me #3. if i stay here i'll never leave #4. well. you know how it is with the natl

132 notes · View notes

ptersparkers · 2 years

Text

scenes from a diner (two)

summary: a small diner off of a freeway exit becomes a sacred meeting place for you and aaron hotchner.

notes: hi, all! here’s part two - thank you to those who took time the leave very sweet comments :’) means a lot to me! x

warnings: typical criminal minds violence and typos, probably.

link to part one until i create a masterlist for this

***

It’s Thursday night when you find yourself back in the diner.

It’s colder than the night before and you’re snuggled in a sweater, leggings, and a pair of sneakers. You always make a habit of bringing an extra set of clothes when you’re on campus to teach, and you’re grateful that you put the extra bag in your car the night before because you were running late earlier this morning.

The mystery man didn’t show up to the diner the night after you first saw him. It was silly of you to think the stranger would in the first place–he very well could be a transient, in D.C. for some political conference or whatever events were happening in the Capitol. But it didn’t stop you from thinking about his dark hair and his brown eyes. You’re an absolute sucker for brown eyes.

It surely didn’t stop you from thinking about him when you got in your car and when you were alone. You were painfully aware that he sat close by the entrance and you could make out his figure. Broad shoulders, constantly slouching over his work, still handsome from behind. It bothered you to no end.

It didn’t help that Patty was making faces at you whenever she’d come by to refill your coffee. Patty always knew how to get your attention and she looked between the both of you, mouthing ‘he’s good looking’ from time to time, but you shook her away under the guise of needing to work. You’d watch her stifle a laugh from the corner of your eye and oddly enough, proving to her that you were working made you focus on your studies instead of thinking about the stranger.

This man haunts your daydreams and you don’t even know his name. You think about him when you walk in between classes and when you’re supposed to be grading papers. You think about him when you’re alone in your apartment and you wonder if he can cook. You wonder what this taste in music is, his favorite TV show, and what he does for a living. But that’s all you can do: wonder.

Perhaps you read too many novels.

Eventually, the clock on your phone read one in the morning and you were already tired, and you needed to be on campus for your research project the same morning. If there was anything you detested, it was your schedule. Every other day was spent in the classroom–you taught two classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays–with underclassmen. Mondays and Wednesdays were reserved for research days. Friday’s supposed to be your day off, but you use it to grade work so you don’t have to do it on the weekend.

You suspect that you’re the top contender for favorite professor because you grade all of their work as fast as they submit it.

You packed your bag and said goodbye to Rudy and Patty, and passed the stranger on the way out. You looked at him, he looked at you, and you bit your lip before you could register what you were doing. The man watched you leave the diner without so much as a goodbye.

Betty (Elizabeth, but she prefers to be called Betty), your best friend since you moved to D.C., has heard plenty about your non-existent tryst with the stranger. You called her as soon as you got home and immediately began backtracking your interaction with him, from spilling your coffee to watching you leave. She’s a night owl like yourself. But unlike you, she has no trouble going to bed well after the sun sets and waking up before the daylight shines through her window.

She works as a bartender between campus and your apartment. You’re not sure how going out with your then-best friends led to a blossoming friendship with Betty, who was typically the bartender whenever you went out, but after a few free drinks and great conversations, Betty was already somebody who you’d be hanging out with if you weren’t studying.

It’s why she’s so invested in your love life. You remind her that nothing’s going to come out of it because you left and didn’t get his name or number. Betty jokingly chides you for being so shy, and you know she means well, but you can’t help but compare yourself to her outgoing personality. The amount of people she attracts astounds you because you can’t seem to find people who look at you the way they look at Betty.

You’re on the phone with her when you walk into the diner. You sit in the same spot two nights prior and you rationalize that it’s because it has a charging port, but you know it’s really because you hope this mystery man comes back and recognizes you from earlier in the week. You know you’re being delusional, but a part of you can’t seem to turn it off.

“Maybe this mystery man will show up tonight,” she muses. “If he does, you better ask for his number.”

“I’m not bold enough,” you chide.

“Okay, ask for his name,” she suggests. “The least you can do is ask for his name so you know what name to scream, if you know what I mean.”

“Elizabeth,” you scold. She laughs when you say her full name and backs away from the topic.

“Okay, okay. I won’t tease you anymore. Maybe I should come down there and see who you’ve been thirsting over for myself.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen,” you say. Rudy spots you from behind the kitchen and waves, making a move to wash his hands and greet you. “Besides, he’s probably not gonna come back in tonight. Nothing for you to see.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Betty dismisses. “I’m living vicariously through you. A handsome and mysterious man who’s infatuated with my best friend? Count me in.”

You roll your eyes and you know better than to stop Betty from wanting the best for you. It’s been like this for a few years now. She knows about your past and makes it a point to be there for your shining moments–graduation, banquet dinners, all of it. She’s a year older than you and sometimes you think she might be the sister you never had but always wanted.

“I gotta go. Just walked in,” you say.

“Who’re you talking to?” Rudy asks when he approaches you.

“Is that Rudy?” Betty asks. “Hi Rudy!”

You give the phone to Rudy. “It’s Betty. She says hi.”

“Heya, Pumpkin! My wife and I tried the bourbon you sent us. So good,” Rudy tells her. “Thanks for spoiling us.”

“Thanks for spoiling me,” Betty emphasizes. You can hear her through the phone and roll your eyes in amusement. Betty’s been coming to the diner with you for ages, visiting you on late night shifts and warding all the creeps who enter the diner. Rudy’s grown to like her almost as much as he likes you.

“Y/N’s telling me to hurry it up,” Rudy teases.

“Am not!” you exclaim, swatting his shoulder. “Jesus, you both are so dramatic.”

“Love you,” Betty muses from the phone as you hang up. Rudy looks at you fondly and beckons you over to the register.

“Just messing with you,” he says. “How’s the teaching gig? Patty told me you’re killing it.”

“Patty’s probably exaggerating,” you retort. You accept the coffee from Rudy and he offers you a slice of pie, but you decline, having eaten a small dinner before coming here. “But teaching’s great. I still don’t know if it’s what I want to do with my career, but my advisor says it’s good practice for when I defend my thesis.”

“Atta girl.” Rudy smiles at you and it sends warmth to your cheeks.

You love Rudy almost like you loved your father. You’ve been careful not to project these feelings onto him, but it’s hard when he knows who you are and where you came from. It’s hard when he takes care of you when you’re in the diner alone, looking after you as you hunch over the copious amounts of notes sprawled in front of you. You’ve been over to his house plenty of times for holiday celebrations when everyone on campus is off; he invites you over so that you don’t have to spend it alone. Mary, his wife, is almost like a second mother to you too.

It’s hard to not feel like an outsider when you’re at his family events because you know you aren’t really part of his family despite him saying otherwise. You’ve met his children and grandkids, offered to babysit during your free time, and got to know his family like they were your own. You knew you were welcomed by his family, yet you still felt like you had no place to call them yours.

The doorbell ringing brings you out of your thoughts.

You feel a presence behind you and Rudy emerges from the back when he hears the familiar chime. You instinctively step out of the way for the person behind you to place their order, but then you’re caught off guard.

It’s him. The stranger. Tall, handsome, and dashing as ever.

This time, he’s wearing a navy blue suit and a white dress shirt underneath. His tie looks pristine and his fingers flex on the strap of his work bag, and you force yourself to look away before he catches you staring at his hands.

“What can I get for ya?” Rudy asks the stranger.

But the stranger is preoccupied looking back at you. You’re still standing by the register with your book bag over your shoulder when he makes eye contact and you swear your knees buckle. He’s looking at you like he knows who you are, like he remembers you from two nights ago.

Rudy (having heard from Patty all about how handsome this man is and how he seemed to strike an interest in you), looks at him once over and backs off for a moment. You notice, and you don’t know whether you love or hate him for it. Neither of you speak out of shock to see one another again, but you don’t know that Patty told him you’d be here if he was looking for you.

“You,” you breathe. He lifts an eyebrow and you shake your head, trying to say something that’ll make this less awkward. “I-I mean I recognize you. From the other night.”

Nope. That made it more awkward.

But the man laughs. “I recognize you too. Sorry about your jacket, by the way. I hope the coffee stains came out.”

“Easy peasy,” you reply. “Can’t even tell that there was a stain in the first place.”

The man smiles. “I’m glad. Can I buy you a cup of coffee as an apology?

You motion at the mug in your hand and the man looks almost embarrassed. He huffs out a laugh and nods his head, almost as if he’s trying to find the words to say.

“I can buy you something else, if you’d like?” he offers.

Before you can refuse, Rudy places a mug on the counter in front of the stranger. He looks at it quizzically, but Rudy just smiles at him and walks away. You watch the man put a ten dollar bill in the tip jar and you nearly faint.

“That’s quite generous,” you remark. “I think you’re Rudy’s favorite customer.”

“I could say the same about you,” the stranger notes. “I don’t think you paid for your coffee the last time you were here.”

You laugh. “I used to work here a few years ago. He says it’s the best he can do for putting up with strange customers in the dead of night. That, and he doesn’t think he’d ever run out of money to buy coffee.” You lean in closer to him. “But between us two, I think he feels bad about my workload.”

The stranger takes a sip and savors the taste of the strong roast. It’s not the best, he will admit, but it tastes familiar and he needs familiarity.

“I think I’m gonna have to work my charm on Rudy,” says the stranger. “I’d never say no to free coffee.”

“Keep tipping like that and you might,” you tease.

You’re quite proud of yourself for that comment.

An awkward lull hangs in the air as you both sip your coffee and you’re unsure of what to do next. Logically, you know you have to start grading assignments before you get too tired to do it, but you want nothing more than to stare this man in the eyes until he tells you to stop.

So you do the next best thing you can think of before you can regret it.

“Would you like to join me?” you find yourself asking. “I’m gonna be working for a while and judging by your bag, I assume you are too.”

You watch the corners of his mouth lift into a small smile.

“I’d love to.”

His voice is like honey.

The man follows you to the booth and from the corner of your eye, you can see Patty whistle at you from behind the counter. You give her a look and it only prompts her to wink at you. You’re grateful the man in front of you has his back turned or else you think you’d explode on the spot.

“I’m Aaron, by the way,” the man introduces.

Aaron.

You don’t know what you expected his name to be, but Aaron wasn’t one of them.

It fits him beautifully.

You introduce yourself and pull out your laptop and a stack of papers to put beside it. It's his turn to look at you with wonder and you catch him when he takes off his jacket. You almost drop your jaw when you realize he’s rolling up his sleeves and that you can see his toned, muscled arms through his dress shirt. He loosens his tie and clears his throat as if it’s choking him, and you nearly faint.

“So, Y/N, what do you do on days I don’t see you at this diner?”

You force yourself back to reality.

“I’m a PhD candidate,” you explain. Aaron grins like he knows something you don’t. “I’m also a part time professor at George Washington University. I teach an introductory class about criminology and it’s what my entire dissertation is about.”

Aaron stares at the stack of papers and it looks like it might reach Heaven. He’s a bit concerned.

“That’s your dissertation?” he sputters in disbelief.

“Oh God, no,” you laugh. “These are midterm papers I’ve been grading. They turned it in last week and I’m plowing through it before they start to wonder if I’ve been keeping their grades hostage.”

You watch as he dramatically puts his hand to his heart and he sighs out of relief. It makes you laugh, which makes Aaron smile.

“I was about to call you an overachiever,” he says. “Still, I’m impressed.”

“I do my best,” you reply. “I don’t really know if teaching is going to be a career goal of mine, but it’s a requirement for my program.”

“What are you studying?” Aaron asks.

This brings a smile out of you and you start talking before you could register that your brain was traveling at a million miles an hour.

“I’m studying sociology but my area is specialized in criminology and the biological and environmental factors that contribute to behavior,” you say in one breath. Aaron looks at you with interest. “I want to learn if the discussion about nature versus nurture has any validity, and if it does, I want to know why it might make a person do what they do. I’m still trying to get the basic research done and I’m mapping out my paper, so it’s still in the early stages.”

Aaron looks at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“Aaron?” you ask after a moment of silence. “A-Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

His mouth breaks into a grin and he shakes his head. It’s almost like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

He sets aside the coffee mug and pulls out manila folders with the FBI’s insignia. Your eyes grow wide when you see it and you halt your movements.

“I didn’t realize I’m sitting with a fed,” you chide. “I should probably get rid of all the drugs in my bag.”

Aaron hears the tone in your voice and he laughs. God, you could listen to him laugh all night.

“I work with the Behavior Analysis Unit,” Aaron explains.

“Fancy words. I’m assuming you have a fancy job.”

“I’m the unit chief.”

Your eyes grow wide. “Wow. Fancy title too.”

“Your area of study is actually something we take into heavy consideration,” Aaron explains. “We try to use that to our advantage to catch killers.”

“You’re a profiler,” you say in amazement. “This surely is a huge coincidence.”

“A welcomed one,” Aaron replies. “I can see how passionate you are about your work.”

Your heart drops when your mind wanders to the sole reason why you’ve chosen this topic of all topics, but you don’t let Aaron see that.

“It’s been eye opening to research all that I have,” you say. “I think it’s incredibly fascinating and there’s nothing else I’d rather be studying. I didn’t even know the Behavioral Analysis Unit was a thing.”

“We tend to keep a low profile unless we need to host press conferences,” Aaron says. “Local law enforcement around the country invite us to help solve their cases. We work more efficiently like that.”

“You are so cool,” you blurt out. You almost want to take it back, but Aaron smiles at you.

“The workload is intense, but it’s fulfilling.”

He shifts in his seat and he’s about to open the folder but chooses not to. His hands grip the mug as he brings it to his lips and from the corner of your eye, you can see Rudy give you a thumbs up.

That can't be good.

“Are you from around here?” Aaron asks. He laughs once and shakes his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask an invasive question.”

“I’m from a small town in Southern California,” you reply instantly. “Went to school in New York before moving to D.C. You?”

“From Seattle, originally. Hated the constant rain and wanted a fresh start, so I moved to D.C. for this position. I also went to GWU.”

“No way!” you exclaim. “You’ve gotta let me shmooze at alumni events. There’s nothing I love more than networking while powerful people are drunk out of their minds.”

Something about Aaron’s laugh brings joy and comfort to your ears. Maybe it’s because you like that he laughs at your jokes.

“Can’t say I’ve had the time to attend many of those parties, but you’ll be the first person I call. The last thing I want to do is be stuck there, alone.”

“It feels like I’ve been in D.C. for most of my life,” you admit, looking out the window. You see the windows painted in rain, and you wonder how you hadn’t noticed it began raining sooner. “It’s been the only place that feels like home.”

“Do you still go home to visit your family often?” Aaron asks.

Your eyes bring themselves back to him and he watches as your shoulders deflate.

“Uh, no,” you stutter. “My parents passed away when I was young and as luck would have it, neither of them had particularly big families.”

Aaron doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

You wave him off. “Nothing to be sorry about. Rudy practically adopted me into his family. He takes being Italian very seriously and doesn’t take no for an answer.”

“I have a friend like that,” Aaron muses. “He’s into hosting parties and mingling with friends and family.”

“God, they could be the same person,” you say. “Rudy’s been taking care of me since I started working here and his family’s been a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

“Found family is everything,” Aaron contributes. “I couldn’t imagine being at work without my team.”

“I still think it’s hilarious that we managed to meet. I mean, what are the odds that I’m studying what you do for a living?”

“Don’t ask me,” Aaron replied. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

He’s looking at you with a smile that makes you feel like you’re melting. Neither of you want this conversation to end, but you both know you have work that needs to be done. Aaron opens his folders and makes it a point to hide crime scenes photos from you (both out of legal reasons and so he doesn’t disturb you) while you pull out a pen and begin to read your first paper.

An hour goes by when Patty approaches your table and refills your cups. She lingers for a while and makes small talk with Aaron. He welcomes the distraction after realizing he finished his first two cases fairly quickly and rewards himself with a pleasant conversation. Patty not-so-subtly brags about how intelligent she thinks you are and how you’re going to become the best forensic psychologist in your field. You don’t have the heart to correct her (and tell her you don’t know what you’re doing with your life).

“She’s friendly,” Aaron comments.

“Patty’s a real chit chatter,” you say. “A real chismosa. But she means well.”

“Are you close with her too?”

You nod. “She’s been very kind to me and helped me navigate my way around the city when I first moved.”

“I can see why you like working here,” Aaron says. “Between the free coffee and pleasant company.”

“I won’t complain about the free coffee.”

Another hour and a half goes by when Aaron hears you yawn. He doesn’t want you to leave yet, and neither do you, but your eyes are getting tired and Aaron knows he needs to get back home before his son wakes up. You both pack up your belongings and Rudy tells you to drive safely, asking if you wanted to take any leftover apple pie home. You decline politely and he hands it to Aaron, who already knows better than to argue with him.

Aaron walks you to your car, which you don’t expect him to do, but it feels nice. You anticipate his action fueling your daydreams for weeks.

“It was really nice to see you again,” Aaron says. The rain has stopped. You can see the wet pavement below and the smell of trees after a downpour. It’s welcoming and this moment nearly feels like a fairytale.

“Me too, Aaron,” you say, another yawn ripping right through you.

Embarrassed, you cover your mouth and try not to fumble your keys while Aaron laughs. He thinks it’s adorable. You unlock your car and Aaron, ever the gentleman, opens the front door for you.

“When can I see you again?”

You look up at him from your seat. You bit your lip, trying to focus on his question and not the sound of your heart beating inside of your chest. You’re surprised by his question because the entire time he’s been sitting in front of you, you try to rationalize why he took the liberty to sit with you instead of decline. It feels almost unreal that someone as handsome as Aaron would ask to see you again.

“I’ll be here tomorrow afternoon,” you offer. You’ve nearly gathered the courage to ask him for his phone number when you see him smile.

“Afternoon it is.” He pauses. “We can work together again. I think I’m more efficient when you’re around.”

You close the door and open your window when you see Aaron looking at you. You try not to smile at his words.

“Is three okay?” you ask.

“Three’s perfect.”

You feel like a teenage girl all over again and you fall asleep dreaming of Aaron.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner blurbs #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner oneshots #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds blurbs #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #aaron hotcher scenario #my writing #scenes from a diner

266 notes · View notes