Tell Me Some Things Last | s3
pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader
summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.
word count: 23.1k
warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 3x01, 3x02, 3x03, 3x06, 3x08, 3x09, 3x14, 3x16, 3x17, 3x19, and 3x20
a/n: season 3! The slow burn continues:) This was really fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it! (and I promise the chapters won't keep getting longer, this one just got out of hand LMAO) Title is from Heal by Tom Odell
series masterlist
"Excuse me?"
Section Chief Strauss doesn't falter. "You can't expect me to believe you think Agent Hotchner has done an effective job leading this unit."
"You can't expect me to believe that you think I'd willing spy on my unit chief for you."
She sighs and you want to throttle her. "Agent L/N, I know you two share a history, but this is bigger than that. People have died on his watch."
You have been trying to remain neutral since you were called into her office, but every word that comes out of her mouth makes you see red. Yes, this past year has been tough, but none of it was in his control.
"I think you know my answer," you say coldly, straightening your back in her chair. "I have to go, we have a case in Arizona."
She holds your gaze for a second, before nodding and turning back to her computer. You stand up and leave her office without another word, hastening your pace to a light jog the moment you're out of her line of sight.
You want to talk to Hotch as soon as possible, but by the time you get back to the bullpen, the whole team and their go-bags are gone. Grabbing your own bag, you rush over to the airstrip where everyone is settled inside the jet.
He glances up with a thin smile when you take a seat across from him, and you return it, not wanting to raise his concern when everyone is around.
The Flagstaff police meet you at the airport when you land, and everyone jumps into the awaiting SUVs to get to the crime scene as soon as possible.
The victim is another brunette woman on the college campus, but luckily her body was found after curfew, so students aren't milling around.
You step closer to examine the woman's body as JJ glances down at her hand. "She had her Mace out, but she didn't use it?"
Morgan nods, looking around. "And it's well-lit. He's not afraid of being seen."
A bus stop sign catches your attention and you turn to Detective Griffith. "How often do the shuttles run?"
He answers immediately. "Every 10 minutes."
"Were all the other victims posed like this?" Reid asks, bending over to get a better look. "With their arms crossed."
Griffith frowns. "Yeah. Why?"
"It's a classic sign of remorse," Morgan responds, stepping in to take over the explanation. "The unsub kills the victim then immediately feels bad about it, so he poses them like this, so they'll rest in peace."
"You can tell that just by the arms?"
"It's why you called us here. To build a psychological profile of your killer."
After inspecting the crime scene, Gideon and Morgan leave to talk to the dean of the school, and JJ and Reid go to meet with the students living in the victim's dorm. Hotch is still back at the station, and you haven't gotten a chance to talk to him since meeting with Strauss, but you push it out of your mind as you accompany Emily to the coroner's office.
You're so lost in thought that the drive over is entirely silent, and it's not until you've parked that you realize she didn't say a word either.
When the coroner leads you to the victim's body, you notice how much clearer each of the markings and cuts are. Hotch doesn't assign you to speak with the coroners very often, usually sending Prentiss, because of her incredible attention to detail, but not that you're here, you appreciate the second chance to examine the victim.
"Did the other victims have this much overkill?" she asks, pulling out her camera as you flip open your notebook.
"Death was caused by a single, very forceful stab wound to the heart," the coroner confirms.
You lean in closer to see the insertion point and notice the lumpy discoloring on the victim's chest. "Yeah, it looks like he broke through the breastbone."
"And after that he just lashed out at random," he adds.
Emily hums in agreement before snapping a couple of photos. "Well, no defensive wounds. She didn't even hold her hands up to fight him off."
"The first two victims were the same."
A shudder runs through you as the two of you leave the cold room and emerge into the warm sunlight. "Why is it almost harder to look at the victims when they're cleaned up and no longer covered in blood?"
Emily considers your question for a moment. "Maybe it's because they look less human that way."
You remember Jeff's funeral, how lifeless he seemed in his casket, and how you could barely look at him during the proceedings. It was somehow worse than seeing him at the crime scene, blood everywhere. At least then, you could still see the warmth in his skin. Later, he just looked cold.
"I think you're right," you tell her just as her phone chirps with a call.
She stiffens imperceptibly when she sees the number, but you only notice because of how hyper-vigilant you have been about your own tells since speaking with Strauss. "I need to take this. Give me a second."
She walks away from you and answers the call, her tone hushed so that you can't hear her. You know it could easily just be a personal call about something private in her life, but there's something almost familiar about the look in her eyes when she saw the number.
"Everything okay?" you ask her when she returns, but she just sighs and starts walking to the SUV. "It's nothing."
You haven't known her for as long as the other members of the team, but it's not hard to tell that she's hiding something. She looks distracted as she avoids making eye contact, and when you remember how you did the same with Hotch on the plane, the pieces fall into place.
If Strauss gave her the same assignment she tried to give you, then you need to keep an eye on her. You don't believe that she would sell out the team, but you also know how terrifying you thought Strauss was when you first joined the bureau.
***
The profile leads you to take Nathan Tubbs, one of the campus security guards, into custody, and while Gideon interrogates him, you walk with Reid, JJ, and Emily through the quad to get back to the station.
"Everyone is so much younger than I remember being," JJ says, as you all pass through a crowded part of campus. Word must have spread that the team arrested someone, because you can't imagine why else there would be so many students hanging outside after dark.
"Yeah, it's a weird age," Emily chuckles. "You want to be treated like an adult, but you're still used to someone else solving your problems for you."
"All I remember is trying to figure out who I was."
That makes you laugh. "I had no idea what I wanted to do when I was in college."
"Didn't you go to college with Hotch?" JJ asks, her eyes twinkling. You expect she's hoping for an embarrassing, or at least interesting, story from those years, but your past with him feels almost like sacred territory: something you can't breach when he's not around.
"Not college," you correct, "just everything else before and after."
"What was he like then?" Emily asks, genuine curiosity in her tone. You still can't believe that she would spy for Strauss, but you also can't help your suspicions.
"He was completely different, but also the same." You smile as you think back to the early years of your friendship. "He was kind of a cool kid in high school, but he was just as focused and determined as he is now."
"Hotch was popular?" Reid asks in disbelief.
JJ snorts. "Why can't I imagine that at all."
"He was trustworthy," you shrug, "and kind. Even when people weren't kind to him."
The three of them go silent, and you suddenly feel extremely self-conscious, but you're saved when your phone rings with a call from Derek. "Hey."
"There's been another murder."
***
The case ends in a murder-suicide that a part of you believes Gideon should've seen coming. JJ calls the jet to take off at first light, and everyone looks exhausted when you arrive at the airport. You sleep most of the flight back, but when you step into the field office again, you know you can't ignore the talk you've been avoiding all day.
You go to his office in the hopes of having this conversation privately, but he isn't inside when you look through the open door. You turn back with a frown and are about to head down the stairs again when you see him leaving Strauss's office across the hall.
He spots you immediately, and before you can say anything, he says, "I just got suspended."
Your mouth falls open. "What?"
"Two weeks."
You blanche as you follow him into his office, where he immediately starts packing up his essentials into his briefcase. "Hotch...I have to tell you something. Something I should have mentioned yesterday."
"What is it?" he asks, his voice slightly distracted.
"StraussaskedmetospyonyouandIthinkshealsoaskedEmily!"
He blinks. "Can you say that again?"
You press your lips together, before trying again, slower this time. "Strauss asked me to spy on you, and I think she also asked Emily."
He closes his eyes for a beat, but it feels like years. You can feel the disappointment wafting off of him, but he doesn't say anything, giving you the time to explain in more detail.
"She asked me right before we flew to Arizona," you tell him, your chest aching at the defeated look on his face. "I told her I wouldn't do it, of course, and that you are the perfect leader for this team. But I was watching Emily the whole time we were there, and I think Strauss might have threatened her or made her some kind of offer."
His hands pause their packing and for a moment, you're worried that he's going to be angry you didn't come to him sooner, but then he just sighs, a deeply dejected sound. "I figured she would. It's basically in the FBI playbook."
"You knew?" you say, your voice almost like a gasp.
"I didn't know for sure," he amends, "but I believed so. And I'm usually right about these kinds of things. Anyway, it doesn't matter now. You guys will be fine without me."
You want to shake him; to reach forward and rattle his shoulders until he realizes that this is it. This is exactly why he makes such a great unit chief.
He doesn't get angry, even when he may have cause to be. He trusts his team so wholeheartedly that even under the suspicion of spying to the higher-ups, he still treats everyone the same. He puts the team above himself in almost every aspect, and the intermittent calls you get from Haley when you're in the middle of a long case prove that it may be to his own detriment, but he still does it. Because he cares so deeply, about each of you, and about each victim, and about catching each killer.
"We need you," you say, emphasizing your words as though that will make him understand you better.
"Morgan and Prentiss will be fine," he says pointedly, as though trying to prove a point. "I'm sure they'll even be better off. And Reid and JJ can look to you for guidance. It's practically what they do already."
"Fine," you sigh, throwing your hands up in exasperation. "They'll be okay. But what if I need you?"
He looks at you then, and there's a sadness behind the stern set of his eyes. "You'll be okay."
***
You have to drag yourself out of the house the next morning. The knowledge that Hotch (and most likely Gideon) won't be at the office sucks the motivation out of you, especially because you have no idea what will happen once the team is given another case. Will they assign you a new unit chief? Will they temporarily promote someone on the team?
You push your questions out of your mind as you mindlessly get through security and flop down at your desk. There's a palpable difference with half the team gone, especially since Emily doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight either, and the emptiness of the office somehow feels more claustrophobic.
You finished all of your paperwork the night before, because you couldn't sleep after hearing of Hotch's suspension, so sitting at your desk now, you have nothing to do until a new case arrives.
Reid and Morgan dive into their own paperwork the minute they sit down, and they don't look up except to grab a new pen or refill their mugs.
You can see the tension lining everyone's shoulders, the stress about the future of this team, with its two senior-most members gone.
When you can't take the lack of work anymore, you head over to JJ's office, where she is poring over a stack of case files so tall that you can't see her face until you step in front of her desk. "Hey, JJ."
"Oh, hey," she says, looking up at you. "It's been really quiet out there."
You nod, dropping onto the sofa across from her. "Half the team's gone. It doesn't feel the same."
"I wish I could come out there and sit with you guys, but I have so many new case files to look over."
"Need any help?"
She looks up in surprise. "Actually, that would be great. Can I leave you with a few of them? There's a checklist for what I need you to note down at the top of that stack."
"Of course," you say before she hands you a thick stack of files. "I'll get them back to you soon."
"Take your time," she says, waving you away. "I have like a billion more to go through anyway."
When you're back at your desk, you set down the stack with a small thud and open the first file. You're bombarded with gory images of men who have been brutally stabbed to death, and you read over the case history quickly before opening the next one. This time, the images are of live women, all of whom share a skin tone and hair color, and have been kidnapped in the last week.
You slam the file shut and close your eyes in an effort to keep your head from spinning. You don't understand how anyone could classify these cases. How they could decide that one of these unsubs is worse than another. But there aren't enough teams like yours to cover every case that comes through the door, so someone has to.
You glance up at Hotch's office again, a force of habit, and the darkness in his doorway reminds you of the emptiness in the office. It's the same with Gideon's office, and Emily's desk.
You miss them all.
***
The first week of Hotch's suspension is hell. Gideon still hasn't turned up, and you can see his absence clawing at Spencer, who hasn't gone more than an hour without glancing at his office since he left. Derek doesn't admit it, but you can tell he misses Hotch's leadership over the team.
Strauss has come by periodically to "check in" on your team's work, but with the other units available to take on any new cases, she hasn't assigned you anything. You know she doesn't trust your team, but you're surprised that even with Hotch gone, she's still treating all of you like extensions of him. Not that she's wrong about that.
Without getting called in, you stay at home for the first few days, and even get some use out of your Peloton for once. You've been missing him all week, but it's not until the following Monday that you decide to actually do something about it.
Grabbing the files JJ gave you to look over, you stuff them in your bag and drive up to his house. Both cars are in the driveway when you arrive, and you belatedly realize that you should have called first.
You knock on the door hesitantly, and are surprised to see Jack in Haley's arms when she opens the door. She looks excited to see you, but you still feel bad about just showing up. "I'm sorry, I should have called."
"Not at all," she says, opening the door wider for you to enter. "You know I love seeing you."
"Y/N's here," Haley announces as she leads you into the kitchen and sets Jack back into his high chair. She shoots you a pointed look. "And she's not here to talk about work."
"Of course not," you say with a laugh. "I just wanted to see how the suspension was going. The team really misses you."
He acknowledges you with a small nod, and you take a seat opposite him at the table, where he is feeding Jack his cereal.
"I miss everyone, too," he says, "but it's also been nice to have some extra time at home."
"This suspension has been a blessing in disguise," Haley jumps in, ruffling Jack's hair. You don't miss the way Hotch's jaw twitches.
You aren't sure what to say to that, but Haley just pulls Jack out of his chair and turns to the doorway. "I'm gonna put him down for his nap. It was nice seeing you, Y/N."
"You too, Hales," you say earnestly, before smiling at Jack. "Bye, buddy."
When she's out of the room, you shoot Hotch a look that makes him lean back with a frown. "What?"
"You miss work, don't you."
He huffs, and you take that as an admission. "I've loved being home," he says, his words slightly more emphasized than necessary.
You can hear the candor in his voice. You don't doubt that he loves spending time with his family, you just also know the pull of the job. The fulfillment of saving people from unimaginable horrors, and the desolate ache that comes when you know you aren't doing everything you can.
"You can feel both things," you whisper as he exasperatedly runs his hand through his hair. He got a haircut.
The thought pops into your head against your will, and you glance up at his hair as you realize this is the shortest it's been in a long time. It suits him, but it also emphasizes the hard furrow of his brow.
"Haley doesn't understand that," he says simply, no ill intention in his tone, "but I can't expect her to. I barely understand it, and it's what I'm feeling."
To the outside listener, his words could be construed as complaints, but there's nothing but deep empathy in his voice. He loves her so much, and even though they're having differences about his work life, she loves him too.
You spend the next half hour talking him through each of the cases that JJ left you with, and when Haley returns to the kitchen after putting Jack down for his nap, you pull out a chair for her and tuck the files away.
"We need to have you over for dinner sometime soon," she says as soon as she takes a seat. "I can't believe we haven't done it yet." She looks to Hotch with an earnest sigh. "I guess Jack has been kind of a handful, but I can't believe this is your first time coming to the house since he was born."
"It's been too long," he agrees, draping an arm over the back of her chair. The sight of their casual intimacy is a reminder of what you once had, but the usual mistiness doesn't come when you think about Jeff. Your chest just fills with a liquid-y warmth that feels like melted chocolate and syrup.
"Likewise," you smile, patting Haley's hand. "I don't know if I can handle another night out, even with the mid-evening interruption."
She laughs heartily, and you see Hotch's lips curve up involuntarily. "I think I'm partied out for the year."
His arm slips down to rest against her waist, but she doesn't lean into him like she usually does. You avert your eyes, glancing up at their kitchen wall clock and faking a gasp. "I've taken up too much of your family time. I should go."
"It's okay," Hotch assuages at the same time that Haley says, "I'll walk you out."
They share a small glance, and you suddenly feel intrusive in their home. "I'll see you in a week."
He nods and you follow Haley to the door, where she gives you a quick squeeze and another promise to have you over for dinner soon. The sun starts to set as you drive home, and before you can second guess yourself, you're turning into a local farmer's market that is about to shut down for the night.
You rush through the stalls and stop in front of the flower shop, where you buy a dozen pink carnations. The vendor ties the bouquet with a silky ribbon and you hold the flowers close to your heart as you walk back to your car and start driving.
This time, you're more aware of the direction you're headed. You don't stop your car until you're in the parking lot and you don't stop moving until you're past the front gates and up the grassy hill where Jeff's headstone sits stoically under the waning sunlight.
You take a deep breath as you sink down to your knees, blissfully unaware of the grass stains coloring your slacks. You set the flowers down in front of his headstone, which you haven't seen in months.
Jeff Adler
Beloved Son, Husband, Brother
Until we meet again
The carnations look bright against the gray stone, and you arrange them neatly so that they don't get blown away.
He loved flowers. He knew they were impermanent and likely a waste of money, but he still loved all of the different emotions they symbolized, and how beautiful they could be for as long as they lasted.
He brought you a bouquet of heliotrope almost every week after you got married, and when you asked him what it meant, he insisted that it was something you had to find out in your own time. That time came a quick Google search later, and when the words 'eternal love' flashed on your screen, you knew you had picked the right man.
You brush your finger against the petals of the pink carnations you brought, remembering the rest of what the search yielded. Angelica for inspiration, calla lily for beauty, and pink carnation for gratitude.
You're so grateful you met him. So grateful he loved you as much as you loved him.
"I love you," you whisper, suddenly needing to say the words out loud. There's no one around, and the sun has set far enough that there's barely enough light to see, but your words feel strong as they come out of your mouth. "Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for giving me 10 beautiful years."
You wipe away the tear that falls from the corner of your eye. "Goodbye."
***
He takes his time as he walks through the halls of the Virginia field office on Monday morning. He hasn't been inside in two weeks, and after he and Haley agreed that he should request a transfer, he likely won't be back again for a very long time.
When he walks past the glass doors of the bullpen, he spots you at your desk, pointing out something to Morgan in a case file. He hastens his pace so you don't see him. He still doesn't know how to tell you that he isn't coming back.
"Good morning, ma'am," he says when Strauss beckons him into her office.
"I was hoping you'd do the right thing," she says, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Have you given any thought to what department you'll request?"
He shakes his head. "I was under the impression that if I left the BAU, I'd have my choice of posts."
"Well, I'll consider it after I fully complete my investigation."
She pauses before looking at him again. "You were a prosecutor. What about heading up a white-collar crime task force? That'll get you home at night at a reasonable hour."
That sounds like exactly what Haley wants for them. They spent hours over the last week discussing what the best path forward would be post-suspension, and after countless late-night arguments, they finally agreed on a transfer. It would be best for the team, and best for his family. So why does he feel so guilty?
"Sorry to interrupt."
Prentiss barges into the office, as though she had an appointment. She glances over at him, and he can't read her expression. "Sir, I've decided to resign from the FBI, effective immediately."
"I don't understand," he frowns, taking in her rigid posture. He remembers your suspicions, as well as his own, but this can't be where it ends.
"I'm taking the foreign service exam. With my connections, I'd stand a good chance of landing in the State Department."
"Prentiss," he urges, trying to convey his understanding in his tone. "I think that's a mistake."
She shakes her head with a sigh. "Well, don't try to talk me out of it. Garcia saw my name on the list, and she already tried."
That makes him pause. "If she can't talk someone out of doing something, no one can."
"Sorry for the interruption, but, sir, it's good to see you back." She turns her gaze to Strauss, even as she continues speaking to him. "The team needs you."
She stalks out of the room after a quick "Ma'am", leaving him alone with Strauss, who looks like she's up to her last nerve. "I'll be overseeing this next case until I can assign your replacement."
"You don't have any field experience, do you?" He doesn't mean for the words to come out so critically, but his emotions are a jumbled mess that he can't decipher well enough to fix his mood right now.
"My job is to protect the Bureau. If I have to hold the team's hand
for one case, so be it."
Hold the team's hand. He can't imagine that Strauss will be of much help in the field, but he keeps his mouth shut. He's been around enough authority figures to know when to keep his criticisms to himself.
"Ma'am," he says gently, hoping he can turn his thoughts into useful advice. "In order to function effectively, this team needs stability."
She clasps her hands together on her desk, and he knows it's done. There's nothing he can do to fix this for the team, at least not on this case. "The BAU has some very talented people, and they're Bureau assets, and I believe it's time that they were out from underneath the leadership of you and Jason Gideon."
***
Hotch was supposed to come back today. It's not until you're on the plane that Derek informs the team that he's requesting a transfer.
"What?" you burst out, unable to keep your composure even with Strauss seated a few rows behind you.
"He didn't tell you?"
You shake your head with a forlorn frown, and Derek jumps back in quickly to remediate the situation. "I only found out because I ran into him on the way to the jet. He didn't seem like he was in the mood for talking."
But he tells you everything. At least you thought he did.
"It's okay," you say, forcing your face into a neutral expression. "This isn't about me. I just can't believe he's leaving."
"Yeah," JJ grimaces, "and I can't believe we're stuck with her now. You know, from this angle, she looks almost human."
You all glance behind you, but thankfully, her face is still buried in the case file.
"Emily didn't come in today, either," you point out, turning to the empty seat next to you. "We're down two agents, and Gideon's MIA."
Reid blinks, and you curse yourself for being so cavalier. You know how hard Gideon's absence has been on him.
He recovers quickly and leans in to the center console with a raised eyebrow. "Has Strauss ever even been out of the-"
A chorus of shushes come from Derek and JJ and he shuts up as Strauss walks down the aisle and sits across from you all. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe it's protocol to brief everyone before we arrive at the crime scene?"
JJ turns red and she nods hastily, opening her file. "Yes, ma'am."
Strauss has only been here for ten minutes and you already want to strangle her. JJ explains the case details succinctly, and when the plane lands, you all head over to the crime scene to find Detective Wolynski, who called your team in when the murders got out of hand.
Within minutes of meeting them, Strauss manages to ruin your relationship with the local police by questioning their decision to wait so long to call in the BAU. JJ immediately takes matters into her own hands as she explains that we have to work with them if we want to be included in the investigation at all, but she doesn't seem to care.
You get a call from Penelope as you're heading back to the SUVs, and you step aside to get out of Strauss's earshot. "What's up, Pen?"
"I tried everything I could," she wails. You can hear the distinct clicking of her keyboard in the background. "I tried to convince him to stay, but he's so stubborn."
You sigh, glancing over at the scene, where Strauss looks positively nauseous. You can empathize with her emotions, because you know how hard it was for you to see your first crime scene in person, but this just further proves how unfit she is to understand what being on this team really means. "If he made up his mind, there's gonna be no changing it, unless he changes it himself."
She huffs, before audibly perking up. "I gave him the Milwaukee case file before he went home, and I also, uh, saw that his transfer hasn't passed through the system yet."
You're almost certain she had something to do with that, but your mind immediately starts going through the possibilities of what this could mean. If his transfer isn't in the system, then that means he technically still works on this team...which means him not being here is in dereliction of duty. If there's anything that can convince Hotch to show up, it's duty.
"You've been more help than you know," you tell her, before hanging up and hopping into the SUV.
***
When he arrived at his house with the case file Garcia gave him, he immediately stuffed it in his bag and tossed it onto the floor. He definitely didn't think about reading it the entire time he was changing out of his suit, and making a quick lunch for Haley and himself. When she went upstairs to put Jack down for his nap, he couldn't help himself any longer.
Reaching into his bag, he pulls out the file and flips it open slowly, being careful to angle the gruesome photos away from the stairs in case Haley came down without him noticing. Women taken in the afternoons and killed. Bodies dumped in the morning. Hearts cut out of their chests. The words pop out at him as he skims the page, and he's so engrossed in the material that he doesn't hear her until she's standing over him. "I thought this was over."
"It is," he sighs, closing the file. "I'm just curious." He doesn't know when he started lying to his wife, but he doesn't like it. The bitter taste of it in his mouth.
He can see her gearing up for a fight when their home phone rings. He picks it up and clicks the button to answer, but even after saying 'hello' a couple of times, no one responds. For a split second, his mind flashes back a year to the Fisher King and the secret message left on his home phone, but he pushes the thought away.
He clicks the phone off, looking up at Haley again, but then a shrill ringing sound starts again, this time from her purse across the living room.
An unfamiliar queasiness fills his stomach, and he maintains eye contact with her as her eyes flicker back and forth a couple of times. He promised himself he would never profile his family, but the analyses come before he can shut off that part of his brain. Shifting eyes. Rigid posture. All indications of lying and shame.
"What did the Section Chief say?" she asks, her hands going to her hips. Stance of power to overcompensate for-
He shakes the line of thinking from his head. "She suggested that I transfer to a white-collar-crime task force."
"Would you have to travel?"
"No, I'd have a nine-to-five life."
She nods, and he can see the finality in her stance. "Then, it's a no-brainer."
***
You haven't been able to focus as well as you'd like to with the knowledge that Hotch isn't coming back hanging over your head. When you get a spare moment at the station, you step out of the conference room where all of the evidence has been scattered around and press the first number on your speed dial.
"Hello?" It's Haley.
You stumble over your words as you say 'hello' back. You weren't expecting it to be her who answered. She clearly wasn't expecting you either, because she sighs dramatically when she hears your voice and you hear a quiet "It's Y/N" before the phone is handed over.
You can understand where she's coming from. When Jeff was about to start his undercover assignment, you were so angry at him for choosing to be away from you for so long. But then rationality won over, and you remembered why he was doing it...for the same reason you are.
"Hey."
He sounds guilty. You can imagine.
"Hey," you say simply, waiting for him to fill in the gaps. He owes you at least that much.
"I'm sorry," he says after a long pause, "but you knew this was coming. You know Haley hates what this job turns me into, and you know sometimes I hate it too."
That wasn't really the explanation you were expecting. Not willing to let him off the hook, you turn your face away from the conference room windows to hide your expression and lower your voice. "You should have told me, and you know it. That's why you're hiding behind this false justification...but I guess you know that too."
There's a small rustling sound over the receiver and you can imagine him running his hands through his newly cropped hair. "This doesn't change the fact that I'm leaving."
Sometimes you forget that he was once a young boy with an alarmingly developed moral compass that didn't always point in your direction. It's times like this that remind you.
"Fine." You feel like an irritable teenager again, but you can't contain yourself around him. Even when you want to hide a part of yourself, you can't.
"How's the case going?" he asks finally. His voice has gotten softer and you know he feels bad about how this call has been going, but with neither of you willing to concede, you decide to ignore it for now.
"Well, Strauss just offended the lead detective 45 seconds into her first crime scene."
He chuckles softly. "I'm not surprised."
"This isn't about to get any better, is it?" you ask, huffing out a forlorn sigh.
"I doubt it," he agrees. "I'll keep looking at the file from my end. Any idea how he's getting control of these women? Is he blitzing them or coercing them?"
"So far, we're coming up blank," you admit, glancing back at Morgan and Reid, who appear to be in a productive debate.
"All right. Keep me posted."
***
Another victim turns up and you're not any closer to figuring out who the unsub is. Derek steps away from the group a few minutes after you and you see him pacing the halls of the precinct, his phone pressed to his ear.
A break in the case comes when Garcia identifies school records of children who exhibit signs of perfectionism and co-dependence, leading you to a profile for the unsub. You're all listening to Garcia as she reads off the records when the door opens, with two figures standing in the entrance.
"Look who's here," Morgan grins, shaking Hotch's hand. Emily looks sheepish as she glances over at Strauss, who is downright fuming.
"How fast can you get us up to speed?" Hotch asks without another greeting.
Morgan scoffs. "How fast can you sit down?"
Strauss opens her mouth to say something, but Hotch beats her to it as he takes a seat next to you. You ignore the gesture. "We're only here to help."
She sighs. "We'll deal with this later."
With two more members back on the team, at least for the time being, the SUVs are split more evenly, and you join Emily, JJ, and Strauss in the first one as you head to the crime scene. Strauss is the first one to walk up to the scene, but the moment she sees the mangled body, she breaks down, her face contorting into a sob that she tries and fails to hold in.
You make a move to go and help her, but you're surprised when Hotch is the first to step in. "If you need a second, take a second. This is what it is. Just don't let the public see you break down."
He's so kind to her, even though she's the reason for all of his professional stress. You suppose she's not the only reason, but that isn't something you get to have an opinion on.
The devolution of the dump sites leads to an update of the profile, which gets you an address for a young boy who left school early with the nurse on duty. It doesn't take long to get to the house, and Derek and JJ coordinate some of the local police and SWAT as you strap on your kevlar vests.
After an initial argument about the probable cause of entering a house you don't know is dangerous, Emily pipes up with an idea. "Let me go in alone."
"Wait..." you start but she steamrolls over you, clearly needing to compensate for not being here before. "The boy's in the family room. He's looking for female authority figures. If he lets me in, I can signal as soon as I see anything that gives us cause."
"Technically, you're not even in the FBI," Reid points out.
She nods. "All the better."
Strauss steps in with a frown, to no one's surprise. "She's interfering
with a federal investigation."
"Well, if I'm no longer in the FBI, then you have no authority over me." Emily shrugs and turns to Hotch for the approval she actually wants. "I'm just a civilian knocking on a little boy's door."
He nods and she pulls her hair back into a ponytail. Derek hands her his gun, and you suddenly remember that Hotch doesn't have his gun either. Reaching into your other side holster, you pull out your second firearm and hand it to him without a word. He doesn't lift his hand at first, but then he nods at you and takes the gun, his eyes filled with an earnest gratitude, and you know you've forgiven him.
Once she goes inside, you all wait in silence for the signal to breach the home. It takes almost too long, but eventually your earpieces fill with a loud beeping, and Derek yells "Go!"
You find her in a back room, where she's on the floor, her forehead bleeding from a thick gash. You enter just in time to see Hotch leap forward and take Emily's weapon from the little boy, before lifting him up and carrying him out of the house.
"I can't officially approve of how that transpired," Strauss says when you all come outside. You sit next to Emily and squeeze her hand as the paramedics patch up her forehead.
Hotch shakes his head, clearly done with the bureau politics. "The arrest was clean. It would be a mistake to break up this team."
She looks at him pointedly. "None of you will ever move up the chain of command, you know that."
"Why would I ever want to leave the BAU?"
You almost believe him. It's not that you don't think he wants to stay. You know he does. You just also know how much his family means to him, and how thin Haley's patience has worn.
Morgan asks if he means it, and he gives a vague answer that you expect, before turning to look at you.
"Here." He reaches into his waistband and pulls out your gun. "Thanks, I appreciate it."
His hand brushes yours when you take it back, and the warmth of his skin makes you shiver against the slight breeze. "You're welcome."
***
When he gets home, the lights are off.
"Haley?" he calls out into the empty silence. He tries to convince himself that he didn't see this coming, but after her last words to him before he left, it's a futile exercise.
"Make sure to give your son a kiss before you leave."
He left, even when she begged him not to. Now his wife has left, and she took their son with her, and once again, he is utterly alone.
***
Gideon's resignation comes through and you find yourself missing him more than you thought you would. If Hotch is the backbone of the team, he was the stoic foundation. He formed the roots of the BAU as a unit altogether, and you owe your life's work to his intelligence and foresight. But more than that, you can't help but remember the fact that out of all the members on the team, Gideon knew Jeff the best.
He attended countless lectures about past unsubs that Gideon put on at the academy, because he believed understanding why people do things was just as important as knowing how or what they were doing. He even went to Gideon's home for the occasional dinner, and he brought you along once after you got married.
You're not sure what the team will look like without his guiding hand, but you don't have to wait long to find out when JJ calls you with the notice that you're going to Portland.
Spencer is reading a piece of paper over and over again when you get to the office, and when you peek over his shoulder, you see the familiar scrawl of Gideon's handwriting.
Taking a deep breath, you reach forward to put your hand on his shoulder for a moment of comfort, but think better of it and pull back at the last second. Derek sees your indecision and cocks his head towards him.
You walk over to his desk and perch on its edge with a sigh. "I can't believe he would leave just like that."
"I can," Morgan shrugs, his eyes hard with contempt. When you shoot him a look, he softens. "I just mean that he's been showing signs of withdrawal for a while now. It still sucks for the kid, though."
You both look up at Reid across the aisle, where he is still scanning the letter. "At least he got a letter." You try to bring humor into your tone, but it doesn't work.
"It's not about us," Derek says gently, in a show of empathy for the older agent that is unfamiliar coming from him. "He did what he had to do to keep himself sane. We just have to let him."
You nod, just as JJ emerges from the hallway with Hotch on her heels. "We're starting the briefing."
***
"You must be the BAU."
A handsome man with a thick East Coast accent comes forward to introduce himself when you all enter the Portland field office. "Special Agent Bill Calvert."
"Hi, Jennifer Jareau," JJ smiles, extending her hand. "This is SSA Aaron Hotchner. This is Dr. Reid and Agents Morgan, Prentiss and L/N."
He smiles at each of you but his eyes linger on yours for a moment before he takes JJ's hand. "I appreciate your help on this case."
"You're from Boston?" you ask, trying to place his accent after having heard nothing like it since you landed.
"The accent's kind of hard to miss in Oregon, right?" he grins, before reaching his hand out to you. "Agent L/N, was it?"
You shake his hand, shooting him a thin smile. You can already see Emily and JJ's smirks behind your back.
"We'd like to take a look around Jenny Wittman's apartment," Hotch steps in, moving forward to stand beside you.
Calvert nods. "I'd take you myself, but I'm waiting to meet her family, so I'll have another agent drive you."
"Thank you." Hotch rushes off with Reid and Morgan, and you stay back with JJ and Prentiss to work the victimology.
"Can we set up in here?" you ask Calvert as you start moving the boxes of case files and evidence onto the conference room table.
"Of course," he says, before leaving the three of you alone.
The first ten minutes of looking through the evidence is silent, and for a second, you nearly let yourself believe the other women won't bring up the elephant in the room, but then JJ lets out an involuntary giggle and they pounce.
"He's definitely into you," she says, making no effort to hide her gaze as she unabashedly stares at Calvert through the window. You want to retort immediately, but after seeing her check her phone about a dozen more times a day than she usually does, you suspect she may actually know what she's talking about when it comes to love these days.
Emily nods, biting her lip. "He couldn't stop looking at you."
"You're profilers," you argue, tossing the file in your hand onto the table. "You notice all kinds of insignificant stuff."
"So are you," JJ points out. "What do you think, then?"
They have you boxed in, and you can't think of any answer that would sufficiently appease them so you just groan.
"She's into it, too," JJ grins at Emily, who replies with, "I can't believe Y/N's gonna date someone from Portland."
Without thinking, you huff. "He's from Boston." All three pairs of eyes widen as you realize your slip in not denying her statement.
Emily laughs. "Ohh, it's so happening!"
***
When the men return from Jenny Wittman's apartment, Hotch instructs JJ to televise a statement warning possible future victims who fit the unsub's victimology. When Emily and Derek later find an ad hung up in a local laundromat that suggests he's been killing for longer than you'd previously thought, you decide to head back to the trail where the first bodies were found.
When you arrive on the scene, a dozen new bodies have been found further down the trail and near the water.
"How did we miss this before?" you think out loud, not realizing that Calvert has come up behind you.
"The trail's 40 miles long."
You jump when you hear his voice, and he apologizes after a small chuckle. "Didn't mean to scare you."
"Special Agent Calvert," you say, your voice slightly airy as you catch your breath. "No need to apologize."
"Okay," he smiles, turning to stand in front of you, "and you can call me Bill."
He's a good looking man, and you don't dislike the feeling of someone showing interest in you, especially as clearly intelligent and qualified as him.
"Sure," you say, returning the smile. "I'm Y/N, btw."
"That's a pretty name," he says, his eyes glinting with mischievousness, before he turns back to the scene before you. "They dug up eight new graves before you got here."
You frown. "So the unsub didn't stick to the pattern."
"Guy had a busy year."
You nod, pondering what this change in M.O. could mean, when Bill interrupts your thoughts. "I'm interested to hear more about how this profiling thing goes."
You give him a quizzical smile, and his lips quirk up. "I took a class in criminal psychology in college, but I don't remember enough to be useful in this area."
"We observe human behavior," you explain, ignoring the subtle smirk Emily is flashing you from behind his back. "Profiling is about making connections and predicting future actions based on history, victimology, and behavior."
He takes a moment to digest your words before huffing out a laugh. "Sounds to me like we called in the right team."
When another agent comes by to ask him about the crime scene procedure, you take your leave and walk up the hill of mulch by the open graves. You are nearly to the SUV when you spot Morgan beelining towards you.
"Not you too," you sigh, rolling your eyes dramatically as you stalk away from him.
He catches up to you easily and throws an arm over your shoulders with a grin. "I'm not gonna give you the giggly girl talk that JJ and Prentiss clearly have covered. I just wanted to say one thing."
You look at him expectantly and he brings you both to a stop by the cars. "You're a catch, L/N." You start to roll your eyes again, but he shakes his head. "You are, so if you want to have a little no-strings-fun, then I'll have your back through and through."
You have no idea what no-strings-fun would look like, but you glance back at Bill, who is speaking animatedly with another agent about the change in digging patterns of the graves.
"I don't know what I want," you admit as Derek drops his arm and turns to face you.
"That's okay," he says, before the corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk. "But figuring that out can be just as much fun too."
***
He would be lying if he said he hasn't noticed you talking to the Special Agent on the case. Calvert, he remembers as he thinks back to the capture and subsequent suicide of the unsub from the roof of his old therapist office.
They were able to find the final victim before she died, so even with the unsub's death, the case feels like a victory, and the whole team looks light on the way back to the jet.
He has been trying to keep himself light too, but every time he gets a moment to himself, his mind reverts back to the silent darkness of his home after he returned from the last case. The reminder that he hasn't seen Haley or Jack in days.
When he reaches the tarmac, he spots you talking to Calvert again, but the conversation looks different than before. The special agent looks nervous, and he tries to gauge whether you seem comfortable, before realizing how relaxed you look.
When he gets closer, he catches the end of a question that likely started with "Can I have your number?" You smile at the man, and he turns away, trying not to eavesdrop.
He can't tell what he wants you to say. He knows it's been enough time since Jeff's death that real dating isn't out of the question, but he can't reconcile the protective instinct flickering in his gut.
Regardless of the distance he tried putting between you and himself, your voice carries over the tarmac, and he hears you say, "I'm sorry." before the rest of the sentence gets jumbled in the breeze. Something that feels alarmingly like relief settles in his chest and he frowns at the foreign feeling of it coursing through his veins.
He boards the plane and purposefully chooses a seat with an empty spot next to it, knowing you'll choose to sit beside him after he practically ignored you all day. He really wasn't trying to shut you out, he just doesn't know how to broach the topic of separation with anyone, let alone someone who had as stable a marriage as you did.
When you board the jet and take your seat next to him, he glances over at you sheepishly and murmurs, "I overheard the end."
He's surprised when you laugh lightly. "It's okay. Everyone was going to find out soon enough, especially with how excited Prentiss and JJ were about it."
He nods, glad that you aren't angry about his invasion of your privacy. Then, before he can stop himself, he looks at you and asks, "You didn't want to see him again?"
"I don't think I'm looking to just date for dating's sake anymore," you explain, your eyes flitting around the cabin at the sleeping forms of the rest of the team. "I had a true love...I don't want to settle down again for anything less."
He understands that completely, but he can tell there's something else bothering you, and not just because of the rhythmic bouncing of your knee that you don't seemed to have noticed. "What else?"
You shrug, not meeting his eye. "I used to have my usual excuse, but I can't really say it's too soon anymore, can I?"
He frowns as he notices the visible strain on you that this burden has caused. "You get to decide that for yourself."
"I know," you sigh, rubbing your eye with a loose fist. "I just worry sometimes that I use Jeff as an excuse to keep myself closed off." Your knee stills, and Hotch scoots closer, even with the armrest in the way.
"You don't seem closed off to me."
Your eyes crinkle with laughter. "I'm not sure if that means much coming from you. You're not exactly the picture of openness, Hotch."
He knows you're mostly joking, but your read punches him in the gut in a way he doesn't expect. You must see the shock on his face, because you immediately lean in closer. "What is it?"
He shakes his head, trying to delay for as long as he can. If he doesn't say it out loud, maybe he can pretend that he's still a happily married man. That he didn't fail his wife and son by being as absent as he had wished his father had been, early in his life.
"It's not about Gideon leaving, is it?" You scrutinize him for a moment before shaking your head. "No. Hotch, what's the matter?"
"We agreed not to profile each other," he sighs, gritting his teeth against the pain of having to vocalize one of the lowest moments in his life.
"Aaron," you whisper. Your voice is soft and gentle, and he breaks.
"Haley left."
Your mouth parts in surprise, and he looks down at his lap, taking a deep breath. "And I don't know if she's coming back."
***
You've been waiting in the arrivals lot of the airport for almost an hour. You're assuming his flight got delayed, and you're grateful for the time to get yourself ready to see him, but the wait hasn't made your jitters any better.
You haven't seen Hotch since you left for college last year, and with his pre-law internship that he somehow snagged as a first year, it was a lonely summer.
When he called you last week with profuse apologies for not staying more in touch and a somber tone that had to be about more than his regrettable phone habits, you had told him that you would love to see him, but your winter break doesn't start for another month. After a few hushed breaths and a second of thinking, he told you that he had bought a plane ticket out to California for the following weekend.
That's why it's Friday afternoon, and you're still waiting for his familiar mop of dark hair to appear through the exit doors. A boy walks out right then, with the same raven hair and fit stature, and your heart rate hastens for a split second, before you realize it's not him.
You look down at your car's radio and twist the dial to change the station. It's been playing the same Madonna song nonstop, and you shut off the volume when the other stations are no different. Your shift in focus takes your attention away from the airport exit, so you jump in your seat when a quiet knock sounds at your passenger side window.
He's here. Your lips curve up into a bright smile and you unlock the door, letting him get in.
"Hi," you say, your voice weaker than you'd like.
"Hey, Y//N," he replies, pushing his long hair back from his face. The simple motion sets off butterflies in your stomach and you turn back to your steering wheel to keep your emotions off your face. He could always read you so easily. "It's good to see you."
He grins at you and leans forward to give you a quick, awkward hug over the center console. You involuntarily inhale as he pulls back, and the scent of his natural musk mixed with whatever new cologne he's been wearing smells dreamy on him.
You said you were over it, you tell yourself in your head. He has a girlfriend who he's going to marry, and you are his best friend. At least you were.
You don't really know where things stand between you two now. A year is a long time to go without seeing someone, and you're sure college has changed him in similar ways that it has changed you.
"I have one more class today," you say quickly as you pull your car out of the lot. "It's criminal psychology, so I figured you wouldn't mind coming to the lecture with me."
"Sounds fun," he says, before leaning his cheek against the window to watch the scenery that zips by. "God, the weather here is crazy."
"It's definitely warmer than I'm used to," you agree, struggling not to glance over at him. "We never had 70 degree winters growing up."
"Which do you prefer?"
You grin. "Home, of course."
"Of course."
You look at him then, and his expression is one you don't understand. It's the same look he gets when he's in the library and he finds a book he's been looking for.
The drive doesn't take long, and you bring him to your lecture, where he proceeds to pay more attention to the information being presented than you do. The class usually feels too short for you, but today, the time ticks by, because you can't focus.
It's been so long since you've sat next to him in a class, and the sight of him jotting down notes on a scrap piece of paper takes you back to high school, when he was still the more attentive one.
After the lecture, you both grab a quick dinner in the dining hall and settle back into your double dorm room, which you painstakingly cleaned up before he arrived.
"So, how long have you guys been friends?" your roommate, Katy, asks him as he drops into your desk chair. You've been watching her ogle him since he arrived, and if he's still as perceptive as he was in high school, it hasn't escaped his notice either.
"Forever," he says, looking at you with a grin. "We met when we were eight. When she judged my taste in The Beatles, it was over for me."
You can't help the heat that flames in your cheeks, even though you know this story by heart. Katy keeps glancing over at you as he explains how you guys met, and eventually she gets up and flops down onto your bed next to you. "You're bringing him to the party tonight, right?"
Your eyes widen as you remember that was today. "Oh, I don't know. We might just stay in."
"You have to come!" she squeals, shaking your arm. She turns to him with a pointed look. "We already have outfits picked out."
"I guess we gotta go, then," he smiles at her, before looking at me with a small raise of his eyebrow. You okay with that?
You dip your chin into a nod, and he stands up. "I'll head out for a walk as you guys get ready."
"Sounds good!" Katy says, grabbing your hand and sliding off the bed. "We'll see you in an hour."
Once the door closes behind him, Katy turns to you, her mouth agape. "You never told me how cute he is."
"What?" you sputter, your cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.
"You also didn't tell me you're, like, in love with him."
You scoff involuntarily, your usual diversion technique when someone brings up a topic you want to evade. "What are you talking about?"
"Okay," she shrugs, reaching into your closet and tossing you the dress you were planning to wear. "If that's how you want to play it."
You go into your attached bathroom to change into your outfit, but after seeing Hotch, the mini sundress you picked out feels like too much. You hate how much you're overthinking something as stupid as an outfit for a party.
You turn away from the mirror and go back into your dorm, where Katy is applying her signature shade of red lipstick in her little mirror stand.
"He has a serious girlfriend," you whisper, almost too quiet for her to hear you. But she is more perceptive than you give her credit for. "Like eventual marriage-serious."
"Oh, honey," she coos, patting the bench seat next to her. You scoot in until you're side by side and she wraps an arm around your shoulders. "I'm sorry I brought it up."
"It's okay," you shake your head, leaning on her shoulder. "I just need to get over it. It's a stupid crush that I've had since high school, but it's time. Maybe this party will help."
"Yes, exactly!" she grins, turning her head to look at you. "Nothing that a little music and a few shots can't fix."
"A few shots?" you laugh.
She nods. "Each."
~
You down another shot of whiskey before tossing your cup onto the table and following Katy onto the dance floor. She grinds against her boyfriend as you dance beside them, moving your hips side to side with the rhythm of the music.
Being in Los Angeles, the temperature outside is already warmer than it should be in November, but inside the house, your dress is sticking to your skin from the sweat and body heat surrounding you.
You're feeling the alcohol enough to have a good time even in the sweaty throng of bodies around you, and you throw your head back as you close your eyes and feel the thump of the music vibrating the floor boards.
Meanwhile, Hotch can't find you anywhere. He's drunk enough already that he knows he won't be able to find you himself, but he doesn't know anyone else here, so he grabs a half empty bottle from the drinks table and makes his way to the dance floor, where the life of the party seems to be centered.
He's usually a lot more fun at parties, but lately he hasn't felt like himself. Ever since you left for school across the country, it has felt like something in his life was wrong, like he was missing a limb. Then, things started looking up with Haley, and he pushed you away in the hopes that he would forget about any of the doubts he had, but it didn't work. The more he missed you, the worse things got in his relationship, and suddenly he wasn't sure what his life was supposed to look like anymore.
He takes another swig from the bottle and leans back against the counter as he watches people dance against each other in the dim light of the house. His eyes flicker over the mess of bodies until they catch on someone he almost doesn't recognize.
Your eyes are closed and your hands are in the air as you move to the beat. It's not exactly graceful music, but you have managed to find some semblance of a rhythm as you slide your hands down your thin dress, which is sticking to your body in a way he can't take his eyes off of.
He doesn't realize he has lifted the bottle to his lips again until the liquid is burning his throat, and he tears his eyes away from you as his head starts to spin. Maybe he's had enough for tonight. He puts the bottle down just as your roommate spots him. Katy, he thinks, or is it Sadie?
"Aaron!" she calls, stumbling over to him as a man holds her up with an arm around her waist. "Where's Y/N?"
"Not sure," he lies easily, barely conscious of the way his words have started to slur together. "I may head out soon."
"Don't leave without her," she instructs, her voice suddenly getting serious. "I'm staying with him tonight." She pats the man's arm. "So I won't be going back with her."
He nods with a resigned sigh, and slumps down on a couch in the next room, leaning his head back to stop the room from spinning.
~
When you tire of dancing, you push to the back of the crowd and look around to find any familiar face. You can't see Katy or her boyfriend anywhere, but after exiting the room, you spot Hotch asleep on the couch.
You walk forward with a slanted smile and put your hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. "Hotch, get up."
He groans, peeling his eyes open slowly. "I'm awake. Just resting my eyes."
"Yeah, yeah," you tease, looping your arm through his to help him up. "How much did you drink?"
He shrugs and you wrap your arm around his waist to hold him upright as he stumbles forward. "Whoa there. Okay, let's get you back."
You manage to get him out of the house, and once the fresh air hits, he can almost stand up straight on his own. You keep your arm around him just in case, trying to ignore the way his tee shirt is slowly riding up around his waistband.
You make the walk back in silence, and he falls back onto your bed as you lock the door behind you.
"I'm sorry," he whispers when you perch on the edge of the bed next to him.
"It's okay," you say, huffing out a laugh. He looks so young with his hair falling onto his face, and you resist the urge to push it back off his forehead. "Happens to the best of us."
"No, not that." He rolls over with a groan, flopping onto his back and scooting back so he can lay on your pillow. "I'm sorry I stopped calling."
Your heart skips a beat and you tuck your hair behind your ear, needing to occupy your hands somehow as your mind races with a million questions. "It's my fault too."
"No, it's not."
He isn't slurring his words anymore, but you can still hear the earnestness that only comes when one's filter is completely shattered. He was never one to hide things from you, but you also know how truthful people can get when alcohol takes their mask away.
"Haley and I have been having problems for a while," he mutters, making you sigh. So that's why he flew here in the middle of the school year. "We haven't been seeing eye to eye on a lot of things, and we decided to take a break, but I haven't told anyone, because the only person I wanted to tell was you."
You can't look at him. His gaze is too much, his eyes too full of truth and intensity. "Hotch-"
"I miss you so much," he says, cutting you off. "You're the only person I've ever really been able to talk to, but you know that, don't you? It's the same for you, it has to be."
You don't say anything. The air feels thick with tension, and you're afraid that if you say something, the room will explode.
"She's the perfect girlfriend," he says wistfully, his voice tight with an emotion you can't decipher. "I know it's me who's fucking it up, and I hate myself for it, because she's trying so hard to make this work. But every time it feels perfect, and I think I've finally gotten what I wanted, I just remember-"
"Aaron."
You look at him and his eyes are already staring into yours. You have wanted him to love you the way you loved him for years, but not like this. Never like this.
"You can't fuck this up," you whisper, your voice stronger than you expect it to be. "Call Haley tomorrow morning. Tell her you're sorry, and that you love her, because you do. You know you do."
"I love her," he nods as sleep pulls his eyelids down. "Tomorrow..I'll call her."
You watch him as his limbs relax and his breathing evens out, but you don't fall asleep until the sun starts to rise and you physically can't keep your eyes open anymore.
***
"Happy All Hallow's Eve, folks."
Reid pulls his mask off as Derek looks at him with a frightened frown.
"Are you scared of Halloween?" you ask him, trying to keep the grin off your face.
"I didn't say I was scared," he corrects, glancing over at Reid, who drops his mask on his desk and pushes his hair back from his face, "I said I was creeped out."
"What creeps you out about it?" Emily asks, before grinning at you.
"I bet it's the candy," you joke. "Those muscles probably cower at the sight of anything that isn't meat or protein powder."
Emily snorts and Derek frowns at both of you. "It's the masks. I don't like people in disguises."
"That's the best thing about Halloween," Reid chimes in. "You can be anyone you want to be."
Derek grins. "No, I'm pretty good just being me."
You and Emily share a look. "Yeah, why is it that neither of those points of view surprise me?"
"Guys," Reid suddenly calls out, his voice hushed. "He's here."
You turn around to see Hotch walking down the stairs, accompanied by Agent David Rossi, who you've heard a lot about in your years at the bureau. He was one of the founding members of the BAU, and you can't help but wonder what made him want to come back.
JJ introduces him to everyone, before Reid starts spouting off a list of facts from one of the old cases he solved when he was the chief of the unit.
"Reid, slow down," Hotch says with an uncharacteristic smile. "He'll be here for a while. Catch up with him later."
He nods. "Right, sorry."
Agent Rossi doesn't seem fazed. "No problem, Doctor."
This pleasantly surprises you. It's all too often that new people who meet Spencer don't immediately treat him with the respect he deserves.
"Let's start the briefing."
***
The flight back from Texas is hushed. The case went about as well as you could hope, with them catching the unsub and saving the final victim, but the way Rossi went rogue over and over again has rubbed you the wrong way.
You watch him across the cabin as he pores over his little notebook, and you wish you could peek inside his head. You know that the team aspect of the BAU is a newer addition to the unit, but you don't understand how he can keep all of his thoughts to himself.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Gah," you fright, jumping in your seat. "When did you sit next to me?"
Hotch shrugs, his lip quirking up. "A few minutes ago."
"Well, you should really wear a bell or something, god."
"Y/N," he says, giving you a pointed look. He doesn't let you use your evasion tactics anymore. Given your penchant for aimless talking, you suppose that's a good thing.
"I was just thinking about Rossi," you sigh, glancing up at him again. "Lying to the press to get a reaction from the unsub? Taking over that phone call? I don't like how he works, Hotch."
"He's from a different time," he says, even though you can hear the agreement in his voice, "but he worked with Gideon, and if you remember, it took you a while to warm up to him too."
You heave out a breath but it's the only concession you're willing to give in this moment.
"He's used to an older way of doing things, but he's a great agent."
"He clearly has good ideas," you whisper, "but I just worry that you'll have to work over time to keep him under control."
Hotch ponders this, and you think that maybe he knows you're right. Your eyes shift up and you realize his hair has been shorter for a while now, but you're still not used to seeing so much of his forehead. Not that there's anything wrong with his forehead. It's a fine forehead.
"He was the team leader before he retired," Hotch says suddenly. "He may be tough as a subordinate now, but I'm still glad he's back. We needed someone to fill Gideon's spot, we were low on hands."
"Speaking of, why do you think he's back."
He looks at you with a quizzical frown. "Is it really so hard to believe that he may just want to help us out?"
You think for a second, before shrugging. He laughs.
"I don't know," you concede, with a small chuckle. "I think I'm just expecting things from him that aren't fair."
He turns his body to face you. "Like what?"
You press your lips together, trying to formulate your words properly, so you can clearly articulate the tornado of thoughts in your brain. "I know Gideon wasn't a father figure exactly, but he was someone that Reid and Elle latched onto."
Hotch exhales. "I don't know if Gideon is someone I'd want as a father."
You let out a surprised laugh. "Fair enough."
"How is your father doing, by the way?"
You blink in surprise. It's not that he doesn't talk about your family, it's just that the timing is uncanny. You haven't spoken to him in months. After your mom died, you two were almost inseparable, but then you left for school, and you realized how much bigger the world could be when you weren't always bogged down by your grief. "I haven't called him in a while."
"What did he say after Golconda?" he asks, his voice gentle. After Frank, he means.
You close your eyes, guilt flooding your body. "I never told him."
"What?" You don't look at him, but you can see the shock in the stiff line of his posture. "Did something happen between you two?"
You shake your head, your protectiveness over your family flaring up at the concern in his eyes. "Nothing happened. I just didn't want to worry him."
"That's his job," Hotch stresses, scooting his leg over so his knee bumps yours. "If something like that had happened to Jack, I wouldn't know what to do with myself."
"That's what I'm scared of," you tell him, your eyes flitting over to the window, where the clouds are dancing across the horizon. Sometimes, when you're on the jet, you like to pretend that the time up here isn't real. That as long as the world looks like a series of splotches and blinking lights, nothing can really hurt you. "My mom's death nearly killed him. I learned to cook when I was ten, because he couldn't leave his room for a month." Hotch knows all of this already, but he lets you vocalize your thoughts, obviously knowing how badly you need reassurance for the guilt you're feeling. "Then, when Jeff died, I stayed with him for a few weeks to have some company, but...but.. I was so glad when I left, because then I could finally let myself fall apart."
He reaches under the armrest and clasps your hand in his, extending the comfort you didn't know you needed.
"I've never told anyone that," you whisper, feeling your voice tighten with tears. "I love my dad, I love him so much, but I just needed the chance to recover on my own."
"He loves you too," Hotch says, finally breaking his silence. "You know he loves you. I still remember the themed sandwich baggies that he packed your lunch with all through middle school."
You choke out a laugh. "You would always steal the Spiderman ones."
He smiles, squeezing your hand once. "Maybe you just need to give him another chance to be who you want him to be. He might just surprise you."
You know he's right. Somehow, he's always right.
You nod, flashing him a small smile, and lean your head on his shoulder as the clouds float past your window.
***
He glances at his watch for the tenth time since he sat down in his office. The plane landed just over an hour ago, and he sent you home immediately with the instruction to get some rest. He probably should have gone home too, but ever since he got his new apartment, home hasn't felt the same.
He used to be able to look around any corner and see a memory: the couch where he and Haley made love on their first night at home, the soft carpet where Jack took his first steps, the doorframe where he measured his height on his first birthday as Haley held him up by the arms. He also remembers that he wasn't there to see Jack's first steps; he was in Pittsburgh, working a case and thanking his lucky stars that Haley had had the foresight to take a photo as his son stood upright all by himself.
He lifts the picture frame from the edge of his desk, running his fingers over the cool glass and looking at the blue drawing underneath. Jack had drawn his favorite cartoon character and left it for him on the kitchen table, a few nights before his suspension went into effect.
Putting it back down, he looks at the photograph of him holding onto Haley as she clutches newborn Jack to her chest in the hospital. He still has the photo of just him and her on their wedding, but he pushed it to the back, behind the pictures of Jack, and the one of you and him at law school graduation.
A knock sounds at his door and he looks up to see Dave standing in his doorway. "Can I come in?"
"Of course," he says, waving him in. He doesn't sit down, so Hotch stands up too, unsure of how he feels about the power imbalance in the room. "What can I do for you?"
"You said out there, 'The team shares everything.'"
He nods. "That's right."
"There is no 'I'?"
He nods again, not liking where this may be going.
Dave glances down at his desk, where his phone sits next to the picture frame of his family. "Seems a big thing to withhold. Separating from your wife, your child."
He freezes, unconsciously looking at the door to see if anyone heard. "What are you talking about?"
"You used to call Haley 10 times a day," Dave says, his voice not unkind. "We've been together 48 hours and I haven't seen you call her once. You haven't mentioned her, and you're not going home now."
He frowns, feeling his brow settle into place like it's a uniform he wears whenever he's at the office. "What's your point?"
"I guess you're just not used to sharing."
He doesn't say anything, but Rossi seems to interpret this the wrong way. "Or maybe it's something else." He looks out the window at the empty bullpen, but the implication is still clear. "Was it because of...?"
"What?" He doesn't know where this is coming from, but he can't stop the anger that rumbles through him at the connotation. Unable to help it, he looks down at your desk, and Dave tuts.
"I won't say anything."
"Dave," he shakes his head, trying to remain calm. "You have it all wrong. She's my best friend...since we were children. It isn't like that. It was never-"
It was never like that. That's what he's about to say, but that wouldn't be true. Rossi is a good enough profiler that he would be able to spot a lie from a mile away, so he shuts his mouth and shakes his head again. "It's not like that."
"Okay," he accepts, lifting his hands in surrender. "My mistake."
Hotch nods, and Dave leaves his office, but he can't get their conversation out of his head until later that night when his head hits his pillow and his eyes finally fall shut.
***
"Hey, Dad."
You called him when you got home from work that night, and he answered on the second ring. "Hi, sweetheart."
"How are you?" you ask, clutching the phone to your ear as you sink down onto the couch in your living room.
He doesn't answer for a moment, and you can hear him taking a breath. "I'm good, Y/N, how are you? Is work going well?"
"It's good," you tell him. "Really good. We were able to save a woman today, before the unsub could kill her."
"Unsub?"
"Unknown subject," you explain, quickly realizing just how long it's been since you've spoken to him. "It's what we call the bad guy before we know who he is."
"Right," he says, and you can practically see him rubbing a hand over his face, his nervous tic. "I knew that. Anyway, how is everything in your life? Do you still work with Aaron?"
"Yeah, I do," you say with a laugh. "He was actually asking about you earlier today."
"That's nice of him," your dad says, his voice brightening slightly. "He was always a good friend to you."
You tell him about your most recent case, and about Gideon and Elle leaving the team, but eventually you can't evade the topic you've been trying to avoid all night.
You're okay, you think to yourself. Frank can't hurt you anymore.
"Dad," you whisper, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath. In 1, 2, 3. Out 1, 2, 3. "I have something to tell you."
Then you tell him everything, and he just listens, exactly like you hoped he would.
***
"I met this guy." You didn't even see Penelope approach you, but here she is, looking at you like she's about to say something dirty.
"Hell yeah," you grin, trying to match her energy. "Where?"
"A coffee shop," she smirks. "He was having trouble with his computer, so I fixed it for him, and then he asked for my number."
"Look at you," you joke, giving her a side squeeze, "putting your technical analyst skills to good use."
"Thank you," she huffs, throwing an annoyed glance over her shoulder. "That's more of the response I was looking for."
"What do you mean?"
"Derek," she says simply, and you nod, already knowing where she's going with this. You know they have an uncommon relationship, so you're not surprised that he didn't react exactly how she hoped he would.
"He's an idiot," you tell her, patting her arm.
She laughs. "You don't even know what he did."
"Uh, yeah," you say, turning around to face the bullpen, "I definitely do."
***
The case takes the team to Florida, where an unsub has been feeding women their fingers, killing them, and then carving pentagrams in their skin.
The pentagrams suggest a religious element, so you go with JJ, Morgan, and Rossi to the local church to meet with the priest.
"Rossi, do me a favor," Morgan says just before you walk inside. "You talk to the priest, all right?"
You remember his agitation on the jet when Reid prodded him about his beliefs, and given the cruelty of his childhood, a crisis of faith wouldn't surprise you.
"Hi, Father Marks," JJ greets the priest when you enter the church. She introduces all of you to him, before shaking his hand. "We're sorry we have to be here under these circumstances."
"It's good of you to come," he says, greeting all of you. "Abbey's parents are upstairs in my office."
"We'll go up," Rossi says with a nod, "but Agent Morgan actually has some questions for you."
Your eyes flash to Rossi, but he doesn't return your gaze.
"I have some questions too," you offer, and Derek nods gratefully.
The priest answers the few questions Derek spits out at him, and you watch as his eyes wander around the hall, his shoulders raised with tension. You insert a few of your own questions before heading outside with him to wait for JJ and Rossi to finish up with the victim's parents.
"What happened in there?" you ask when he doesn't meet your eye. "Being rude to Father Marks? That wasn't like you."
"You know what happened to me, L/N," he says angrily, kicking his foot out at a loose stone on the pavement. "I went to church everyday, and I prayed for it to stop, but you know what God did? Nothing."
"I know what a crisis of faith looks like, Derek." You stand in front of him, forcing him to look at you. "But Father Marks doesn't know your story. He's not judging you, he's just showing his faith how he knows best."
His shoulders are still tense as his jaw twitches. "Who does Rossi think he is, throwing me under the bus like that?"
"He's an instigator," you shrug, letting the topic slide for the time being. You'll talk to him again later if he still needs it.
"I didn't love the way Gideon did things either," Derek says, his posture going from agitation to annoyance, "but Rossi might just take the cake. Even if he is better with the victim's families."
"I can't help you there," you almost laugh. "I had the same conversation with Hotch after the case in Texas, and he managed to convince me to give the guy a chance. So...if you can't bring yourself to trust him, just think of it as putting your trust in Hotch."
Derek hums, bumping your shoulder with his. "I guess I can do that."
***
The search party for Tracey Lambert only leads to the unsub taking another woman, and suddenly the ticking clock gets a lot louder. By the time you find his lair and the bodies he has been cannibalizing for years, you're already struggling to keep down even the water you've been drinking. When he reveals where Tracey actually is, you feel so sick, you can't breathe.
When the jet lands back in Virginia, you go home immediately, desperately needing some peace and quiet away from the team for the first time in a while. But that doesn't last long.
You're awoken by the shrill ringing of your home phone. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you check the number and answer the phone. "Is this payback for the last time I called you past midnight?"
"Y/N...it's Garcia."
You shoot up into a sitting position as Hotch explains what happened. "How bad is it?"
"I don't know."
"I'm on my way."
You change into a sweater and a pair of loose jeans before grabbing your keys and flying out the door.
"She's in surgery," JJ tells you when you find them in the waiting room. She pulls you into a hug before returning to her hunched position in an uncomfortable vinyl chair.
"There's no other word," Hotch adds, giving you a quick hug as well. With his cheek pressed against your temple, he whispers, "Police think it may have been a botched robbery."
"Where's Morgan?" Emily asks, standing up from her chair.
"He's not answering his cell."
Reid nods, stepping away. "I'll call him again."
He squeezes your hand before he exits the waiting area, and you glance down at JJ again. Her eyes are red from crying, and her chin is pressed into her palm as she stares at the floor. You watch as Emily sits next to her and pats her hand, before clasping it in hers.
You don't realize you've been staring at the same spot on the floor until Hotch stands next to you and nudges your shoulder. You okay?
"I will be," you say out loud, barely registering that he didn't actually ask you anything. "As soon as she's out of surgery." When you got the call that Penelope was shot, you had been hit by an intense feeling of deja vu. Only this time, the call didn't come from bureau leadership, because she wasn't killed at the scene. Because she's going to make it.
He doesn't seem fazed as he checks his watch again, his frown lines deepening. "It shouldn't take this long to get an update."
"Where have you been?" Reid asks suddenly. You look up to see Derek walking into the waiting room, his eyes wide with panic.
"I was in church. My phone was off."
"There's nothing you could have been doing here," Rossi assures him, before nodding at Hotch and pulling him aside to discuss something with the deputies outside. You use the momentary lull to approach Derek, putting your hand on his arm as an initial test. When he doesn't jerk back, you pull him into a hug that he returns gratefully.
The doctor walks in a few minutes later and explains that Penelope will be fine, but she needs to rest until the morning.
"David and I will go to the scene," Hotch informs, his eyes fixing each of you with an empathetic look. "I think the rest of you should be here when she wakes up. I don't care about protocol. I don't care whether we're working this officially, or not. We don't touch any new cases until we find out who did this."
When they leave, you pull Derek down into the chair next to you and lean your head onto his shoulder. After a beat, he relaxes in his seat, and lets out a long sigh. "She's okay."
***
Early the next morning, the doctor shakes you all awake with the notice that Penelope's up, so you rush into her room, trying not to crowd her as she blinks awake.
"Hi," she says softly, her voice small. She looks so innocent, laying in her hospital bed with her blonde hair a halo around her head. You can't imagine how anyone would want to hurt someone like her.
"No tears," she smiles as you swallow down your anger. "I'm afraid if I start crying, I'll come unstapled."
JJ presses a kiss to her cheek, before Derek and Emily start gently plying her with the usual questions. When it comes out that the man who shot her was the same man who asked her out at the coffee shop, your anger turns to anguish, and you reach forward to squeeze Penelope's hand in an effort to comfort her.
"I just thought he liked me," she whispers, the pain in her voice breaking your heart.
"We need a name," Emily asks abruptly. You can see her mentally kicking herself at how serious her words came out, but you know Penelope understands the gravity of this situation.
"James Colby Baylor."
She asks you and JJ to stay back for a second as the rest of the team leaves to investigate Baylor.
"What's up, honey?" you ask, smiling at her sweetly as she uses her other hand to take JJ's.
"I feel so stupid," she sighs, her breath turning into a gasp as tears fill her eyes. "Maybe Derek was right about all of it."
"No," JJ says sternly, reaching forward to brush some of her hair behind her ear. "None of this is on you."
"What she said," you echo, nodding at JJ, "and don't listen to Morgan. He loves you, and he's very protective over you, but he's also a man."
She sniffles out a laugh, before pressing her lips together. "One last thing."
JJ blinks. "Anything."
"Please don't talk about me like I'm a victim."
***
The case wraps up back at the office, where Baylor, whose real name is Deputy Battle, was shot in the head by JJ, who doesn't seem as plussed by the situation as you would expect. You tried to talk to her afterwards, but after telling you she was fine, she put all of her attention on Penelope, who has spent the last week recovering at home.
Now, you're sitting in the break room stirring your black coffee, just for something to do. Hotch finds you in there and walks inside, shutting the door behind him.
"It's been a long week," he grumbles, looking longingly at the spot next to you on the worn couch.
You lift your cup and nod your head at the full coffee pot. "That's what caffeine's for."
"We really should sleep at some point," he says, filling up a paper cup and carefully dropping into the spot beside you. The couch you chose is small enough that his thigh presses against yours when he spreads his legs even the slightest bit.
You snort. "Sleep's overrated."
You both sip your steaming coffees in silence as you watch the other agents shuffle back and forth across the bullpen, unaware of your watchful eyes. The break room is the one place in the office to go for a little bit of privacy, but the unobstructed view of everyone's desks isn't unpleasant either. You imagine this is how Hotch feels when he looks out his office window.
Your eye catches on the stapled wood planks that are currently replacing the broken glass door that leads into the bullpen. He must be looking at the same thing, because he breaks the silence and says, "I think we may need to get JJ out into the field more."
His tone catches you off guard and you crack a small smile. "She does seem remarkably well-adjusted, given that it was her first time."
He nods, turning his head to look at you. "Do you remember your first time?" Killing someone, is the part he doesn't say out loud.
"Of course." You take a deep breath and gulp back more coffee. "He was a serial rapist in Texas. One shot to the heart. I wasn't trying to kill him, he just ran at the last second."
"Serial killer in Florida," he responds simply. "Headshot. He died instantly."
"That was your first year at the BAU, right?" He nods and you sink back into the cushions. "I wasn't even in the field then."
He hums, a low sound that you feel as vibrations on your skin. "I worry that I brought you in here too early. Jeff had just died, and I assumed that getting you out of the house and in the field would take your mind off of things, but I wonder sometimes if I made the wrong call."
"You didn't," you assure him, turning your body to face his, even as he doesn't meet your eye. "First of all, you brought me in six months after he died, and by then, I definitely needed an excuse to leave my bedroom."
He sighs, a small concession, and you continue. "The first case I went into the field for after he died, I could barely hold my gun. Every time I pulled it on someone, I would imagine his body...with all of those bullet holes...and I would just freeze up. It took me months to pass my firearm certification again, but I still don't regret it."
"You sure?" he asks, his voice almost timid.
"Positive," you smile, nudging your thigh against his. "Besides, I didn't realize it until later, but it wasn't getting out into the field that helped me through my grief...it was meeting the team. These people became my family in the moment that I needed one most."
You turn back to your coffee and sip it again, though it's no longer as hot as you'd like it to be.
"How are you doing, by the way?" he asks suddenly. "With Garcia, I mean."
An involuntary shudder runs through you as you remember her pale face in her hospital bed last week, but the warmth of the coffee cup in your hands makes it pass quickly. "I'll never get used to it. But she's okay now, so hopefully it'll be easier this time."
***
You're jotting down notes in the margins of a new case file JJ asked you to look over when your cell phone rings. Hotch and Reid are at a nearby prison, interviewing a serial killer on death row for the Criminal Personality Research Project, so you're not expecting a call from either of them. The rest of the team, except for Rossi, is scattered around the bullpen, but you don't expect him to call you either.
After finishing the line you were writing, you check your phone and see a name you haven't spoken to in weeks.
"Haley," you answer after clicking open your cell. "Is everything okay?"
"I know you're busy," she sighs, her voice tight with what you can only decipher as irritation, "but I didn't know who else to call. Aaron hasn't been answering my phone calls."
You get up from your desk and step out into the hallway to get some privacy. "He and Dr. Reid are at a prison right now, interviewing a criminal for this research project. There likely isn't any cell service out there."
"It's not just today, Y/N," she says, her tone getting colder as she inadvertently directs her anger towards the only person she can get ahold of. "He hasn't been taking my calls for days."
"I can talk to him," you suggest, trying to keep your tone light in an effort to keep this conversation from derailing. "I'll tell him to give you a call."
"I appreciate that," she sighs, losing her steam. "I'm sorry for involving you, I just really need to speak with him about something."
"Is everything alright with you and Jack?" you ask her quickly, wanting to make sure that you aren't making the wrong assumptions about why she's calling.
"Oh!" she inhales sharply. "Yes, of course, we're doing great. Well, great maybe isn't the right word, I didn't mean- I just-" She sighs. "You know what I mean."
"I do," you assure her as your heart twists at the sound of her shallow breathing. You know how hard the separation has been on Hotch, but you know Haley too, and she has always been better at hiding her pain that she seems. "Where have you been staying?"
"With Jess," she says, her voice brightening considerably at the mention of her sister. "She's been a godsend. I feel terrible taking up so much of her space, but she doesn't seem to mind."
You smile, remembering the few times you met Jessica Brooks while Haley and Hotch were together. "She definitely doesn't mind. She always loved children. I bet she's already scheming on how to steal Jack from you."
Haley laughs, and the sound is like wind chimes twinkling in your ear. "She totally is."
Her laughter slowly fades, and you both stay on the line for a few moments in comfortable silence.
"I'll tell him to call you," you promise.
"I know," she sighs. "Thank you."
***
The prison was a bust, but Reid got a chance to use his intelligence to get them out of a tough spot without anyone getting hurt, so the day wasn't a total loss.
He is sitting in his office, drafting an email to the project coordinator, when you walk inside and take a seat in front of his desk.
"Thanks for knocking," he says sarcastically before finishing up the sentence he was working on. Once it's done, he saves the draft and turns off his computer. "How was Indianapolis?"
"Good," you say, leaning back in the chair. "Great, actually. Rossi got to close up the case that's been haunting him for a decade, and the three kids are finally safe."
"I'm surprised he wasn't more excited when he got back," he notes, watching your body language. You look wired, but not about this. Something else is bothering you.
"The unsub wasn't exactly the most gratifying arrest," you sigh, rubbing a hand over your temple. "We don't even think he committed the murders intentionally."
He frowns, shaking his head. "Those are the worst kind."
You're silent for a moment before you sit up straighter and look at him. "Haley called me this morning. While you were at the prison."
"Oh?" Something that feels like ice slithers down his spine even though he can probably guess exactly how the conversation went.
All week, he has felt an enormous weight on his chest in the form of a stack of divorce papers that Haley served him with. She had called him right after, with the explanation that they both should have seen this coming, but he really hadn't. He was a profiler, whose entire job was to notice and analyze human behavior, and he truly hadn't been able to let himself believe that this could be a possibility. That his marriage could actually be over.
"She said you've been ignoring her calls."
He had been ignoring them. He knew she would just tell him to sign the papers, and he couldn't bear to hear her say it again. Once was enough.
He reaches into his desk and pulls out the manila folder that he hasn't opened since his initial read-through. He suspects you already know what he's about to tell you, but he also knows that it won't feel real until he says it out loud. And it's about time he came to terms with what his life would be from now on. "Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers, uncontested."
"She doesn't want to involve a lawyer?" you ask, your voice delicate as you walk him through the explanation with clarifying questions. It's the technique they use when interviewing the families of victims, to help them feel comfortable as they talk about the hardest thing they've ever gone through. He's surprised at how reassuring it feels coming from you.
He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. It has grown out a bit since he last cut it, but he doesn't think he minds. Haley wanted him to cut it short when Jack was in his grabbing and teething phase, but now, he likes how he can push it back when he wants. "I don't want to sign, of course, but she's adamant that we get this done soon."
"You'll be okay," you say, and he looks up in surprise. "You're a good man, Aaron."
"I'm not," he whispers, heaving out a sigh. "I'm not doing anything right. At home, I was an awful husband and an absent father, and at work, Strauss would replace me if she had even the slightest bit more ammunition. I can't focus in either place. Maybe Haley's right, maybe I'm just selfish."
You lean forward and grab his hand, even as he doesn't look at you. "You're not selfish. You're the farthest thing from selfish. You don't want to sign, but you will. You're giving her what she wants, even though it's the last thing you want."
He nods, but his heart isn't in it. He glances down at the folder again and takes a deep breath as you give him a small smile and stand up.
"I'll see you tomorrow, boss?"
He nods again. "See you tomorrow."
When the door shuts behind you, he flips open the folder, faster than he meant to, but he's afraid if he doesn't do this quickly he'll lose his nerve. Grabbing a random pen from the mug on his desk, he uncaps it and scrawls out his initials on all of the earmarked lines throughout the stack.
When he finishes the last page, he shuts the folder and leans back in his chair, letting out a long exhale. He did it. He supposes he should feel some sort of severing away of his old life, maybe an audible snap as the ties to his marriage get cut, but there's just silence.
His office suddenly feels stifling, and he loosens his tie before reaching forward and lifting the picture frame with him and Haley on their wedding day. Her smile still looks beautiful to him, and his content expression as he gazes at her doesn't make him feel anything different. Their marriage may be over, but he still loved her.
He runs his thumb over the smooth edge of the frame, and then opens his desk drawer, before sticking it inside and pushing it closed.
***
"Thank you for watching him," Hotch says, his voice slightly muffled over the phone.
"Of course," you smile, sitting down on your couch with the pasta you made for dinner. "It was my pleasure. Jack's a total sweetheart."
Jess was out of town for a couple of days, so he had asked you to watch Jack while he and Haley met up to finalize the divorce in front of an attorney. She had been adamant about finishing the process over the phone, but he wanted to ensure that she and Jack would be taken care of after the papers went through.
"Did he eat lunch?"
"Kind of," you say, quickly swallowing the bite you took. "He didn't want a full meal, but I got him to eat some fruit and bread with cheese."
"I'll make him a snack soon," he says quietly, but you can tell he's just thinking out loud. "Alright, I'll see you at the office. Thanks again."
"Always," you tell him, genuinely. "See you."
The phone clicks off and you scarf down the rest of your pasta before doing your dirty dishes and cleaning up your kitchen. You're considering whether to change into your workout clothes so you can crank out a few miles on your Peloton, but then you hear a knock on your door.
You're not expecting anyone, and with Hotch watching Jack, it can't be him. You peek around the corner into your foyer to see who's at the door, and relax when you spot a familiar mop of brown hair.
"I'm sorry I didn't call first," Spencer says when you open the door, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his book bag. "I just didn't know how to ask you this over the phone."
"Spence, what is it?" you ask, opening the door further to let him in. He doesn't step forward, and a pinprick of anxiety enters your system.
"If I come inside, I won't be able to do this," he says vaguely, before reaching into his bag and pulling out a flyer. He hands it to you and you read the title, the tension seeping from your body as the words sink in: Narcotics Anonymous for Law Enforcement.
"I know it's a lot to ask," he whispers, "but would you drive me to the meeting tonight?"
Your heart feels like it's about to crack open. Only a boy who was never looked after, never given the love and care he deserved, would think that something like this was too much to ask.
"It's not too much," you tell him, glancing down at the address. "I'll get my keys."
When he's settled in your passenger seat, you pull out of the driveway, not commenting on the fact that his car is parked on the street beside your sidewalk. You understand the need for company more than most people.
The drive to the rec center where the meeting is being held is mostly silent, but you don't press him. He stares down at his hands for most of the ride, and when you stop in front of the entrance, he unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to you. "Thank you."
"Of course," you smile. "I can wait, if you'd like."
He gives you a thin-lipped smile. "It's okay."
"You sure?"
He presses his lips together and looks at you, his eyes reflecting the question in yours.
"Go on," you say, patting his arm. "I'll be here."
He nods and steps out of your car, and you pull into a parking space to wait in while he's in the meeting. You turn on the radio and it's the same song they've been playing for the last week, so you turn the volume down low and close your eyes for a few peaceful moments.
You must have fallen asleep, because you're jarred awake by the chirping sound of your cell phone ringing. It's a bureau number, so you clear your throat and answer the call. "L/N."
"Hey, Y/N." It's JJ, and she sounds tired. "We have a case. It's urgent, so we're flying to Texas tonight."
You sigh louder than you meant to. "I can be there in 20."
"See you soon."
The line clicks off and you rub the sleep from your eyes. A quick check of your watch tells you that you were only asleep for about a half hour, but that's just half of the meeting time. You know Spencer will come back when he gets the call, so you turn the radio off and sit up in your seat.
A few minutes later, he returns to the car. You saw him just over 30 minutes ago, but he already looks lighter than he did when he got to your house.
"I'm proud of you, Spence," you tell him as you start the car.
He nods, a quick thanks. "This federal agent gave me his one year medallion after I left the meeting. I've only been clean for 10 months, but he still gave it to me."
"He believes in you," you say simply, glancing over at his confused expression.
"He doesn't even know me."
You shrug. "You don't have to really know someone to care about them, Spencer. You just have to see something of yourself in them."
"Is that what you see in me?" he asks, finally looking at you.
You consider this for a moment. Is that why you feel so protective over him?
"I don't know," you say eventually, not wanting to lie, even by accident. "I definitely wasn't as smart as you were, or as focused. I wasn't all that driven in high school at all, to be honest. I was lucky to have Hotch. He gave me the push I needed to get out there and focus on school."
He's silent for a minute and you worry you may have said something wrong. Then: "I didn't have anyone in school." He pauses for a beat, before speaking again, his voice quieter this time. "I was in the library one day, and this girl comes up to me, and she tells me that Alexa Isben wants to meet me behind the field house. Alexa Isben was, like...easily the prettiest girl in school."
You frown, already not liking where this story is going. "Did she not show up?"
"No, she was there." His voice sounds almost resigned, but there's a note of something darker underneath. Something raw and painful, that likely still hurts after all these years. "But so was the entire football team. They stripped me naked and tied me to a goal post. So many kids were there, you know, just watching."
"No one stopped them?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.
"I begged them to, but they just...they just watched. Then finally they got bored and they left." He clears his throat, and the sound is small, like a little boy's. "It was like midnight when I finally got home. And my mom didn't...Mom was having one of her episodes, so she didn't even realize I was late."
"You never told her what happened?"
He shakes his head. "I never told anybody. I thought it was one of those things that I thought if I didn't talk about it, I'd just forget. But I remember it like it was yesterday."
"You don't need an eidetic memory for that, Spence," you whisper, trying to stay focused on the road even as his words swirl into your memories and create an agonizing hurricane of emotions. "I was only ten years old when my mom was killed, but I can still remember every moment of her funeral."
The field office comes into view and you push forward as you scan your badge and slide into a parking spot below the upper garage. When the car is in park, you undo your seatbelt and turn to him. "I know how hard it can be to push away the painful memories, but there's something more important that I need you to remember."
"Remember what?"
He looks at you then, and you reach forward to squeeze his hand. "You're not alone anymore."
***
"Is it always this hot?" You look up at the beating sun through your shaded sunglasses and fan your face with both of your hands.
"Every day, all day," Emily huffs, running her fingers through her bangs to unstick them from her forehead.
Everyone is sweltering in the Miami heat, but then Derek gets off the plane with a wide grin, his skin glistening in the sun, and you resist the urge to throw your bag at him. "South Beach, baby."
He immediately shuts up when he spots the stunning Miami PD detective who called your team in for the recent string of murders. JJ shoots you a smirk before introducing her to the team. "Detective Lopez. We spoke on the phone."
"Tina," she corrects, before shaking her hand. "Thank you for coming down so quickly."
"Hey," Emily says from beside you, making you turn to see what she's looking at. "Isn't that..."
You spot the person she's referring to, and your face splits into a big smile. "Detective LaMontagne!"
"He's here to ID the cop they pulled from the bay last night," Tina explains.
You don't miss the flush in JJ's cheeks as she shakes his hand. "Detective, good to see you."
"How are you?" you ask, giving him a quick hug that he returns.
"Yeah, Charlie Luvet and I worked together for seven years."
Derek frowns. "Sorry for your loss, man."
Tina looks confused, and you don't blame her. "So, you all know each other?"
"Professionally," JJ is quick to add. Will whips around to look at her, and you turn to Emily with an eyebrow raise, feeling like you're intruding on a private moment. You aren't sure why she won't just admit that they've been together since New Orleans, but that's her business.
***
You join JJ and Will at the IDing of Officer Luvet, and you keep your distance as he glances down at the body and affirms the report.
"Yeah, that's him."
JJ looks like she wants to comfort him, but instead she sticks to the professional approach. "If you need help making arrangements, liaising with families is part of what I do."
Will nods, his voice choking up slightly. "I might just take you up on that. Excuse me, I'll be outside."
When he steps outside of the coroner's office, you can't help but notice the longing look on JJ's face as she watches him go.
"Let's go," she says to you softly, her eyes still on the door. You follow her outside, but by then Will is nowhere to be found.
"It's okay, you know," you blurt out. You weren't really planning on talking to her about this, but sometimes your mouth takes over before your brain can catch up. "I know you worry that being around a band of profilers all the time makes you vulnerable."
"I'm not sure what you're talking about," she says simply, not quite meeting your eye.
"JJ," you say seriously, trying to convey your pure intentions. "If you keep trying to hide it, you'll lose him."
She purses her lips, and you squeeze her forearm, hoping you aren't pushing past her boundaries. The whole team is sparing with details about their personal lives, but you like to think that you're someone people feel comfortable sharing things with.
"I know you, hon." You flash her a knowing smile, feeling a shot of satisfaction as her lip twitches. "I know that it's enough for you to know that you care about something, but it's not enough for everyone."
She exhales, tucking her hair behind her ears. "He's upset with me, but I don't know what to do. I'm still scared."
You sigh, understanding her predicament, but still wanting her to push past it. "You can let yourself be happy, JJ. You won't always get hurt."
She nods before glancing around the room again, searching for Will even though he's long gone. It's an instinct you recognize.
Later, when JJ finally acknowledges their relationship by pulling him in for a kiss at the police station, you can't help but take it as a win.
***
Your house feels emptier than usual when you get back from Miami. Seeing JJ and Will find each other again reminded you of how much you miss having someone to share your life with.
Deciding to take a night to yourself, you pop open a bottle of red, and pour yourself a glass, which you swirl around before taking a sip. It's drier than you tend to go for, and when you check the label, you realize that's because you didn't buy it.
How can you drink this stuff?
It makes me feel sophisticated.
Jeff would break out the fancy glassware every chance he got, because he didn't believe in special occasions. He used to say that people waste precious moments of their life waiting for the right occasion to come around.
The memory feels warm in the back of your mind, and you take another sip of wine before walking over to your cupboard and grabbing the fanciest wine glass you can find. You pour the rest of your wine into the new glass and place the other in the sink, before swirling it around again. No time like the present.
You bring the glass to the couch with you, where you turn on the television and skip through the first few channels. As the wine in your glass depletes, the loneliness sets back in. You're about to pour yourself another pity glass when your phone buzzes with a call from Hotch.
"Do your television channels suck as much as mine do?"
You smile, muting the television and pressing the phone to your ear. "Definitely not."
He chuffs. "I guess I'm not used to the new tv controls."
Right, his new apartment. After the papers were finalized, he gave the house to Haley and moved into a new place ten minutes away.
"We can share mine," you say, listening to the sounds of his breath over the receiver. "I also have wine."
That gets a laugh. "I'll be there in 15."
You hear a knock on your door exactly 14 minutes later. When you open it, you're greeted with the sight of Hotch in a tee shirt and jeans. "A little underdressed, aren't we?"
He snorts, taking the wine glasses from your hands and following you into the family room. "What are we watching?"
"You're the one with the broken tv," you grin, flopping down on the couch and taking your glass from him. "What do you want to watch?"
He thinks for a minute, before his eyes sparkle with an idea. You cut him off before he can suggest what you already know he will. "We are not watching Top Gun again, Hotch!"
"You asked," he shrugs, hiding his smile behind a sip of wine. "What do you want to watch, then?"
You can see him watching you over the rim of his glass, so you blurt out the first name that comes to your mind. "Footloose."
He looks at you blankly for a moment, before his brow twitches, and your jaw drops. "You haven't seen Footloose?!"
"It came out when we were in high school," he groans, taking one of the throw pillows off the couch and stuffing it behind his back. "Terminator and Dune came out that same year. I remember because you tried to get me to watch it then too."
"It's an amazing movie!" you exclaim, standing up to go dig through your movie cabinet. "We're watching it right now."
He groans and sinks back into the pillows as you find the DVD and start the movie. You've seen it at least a dozen times, mostly because it makes you nostalgic for your teenage years, but the opening still gets you excited.
As the movie plays, you keep glancing over at Hotch, trying to see if he's enjoying the scenes just as much as you did on your first watch. To his credit, he watches the movie faithfully, without checking his phone or straying from the television screen.
"Enough," he grumbles suddenly, startling you.
"What?" you question, whipping your head around to face the screen.
"I'm watching the movie," he huffs, fixing you with a pointed look. "You don't have to keep checking."
You frown, hugging a pillow to your chest. "I wasn't checking, I just like seeing people's reactions to my favorite movies."
"Either way."
You groan, reaching out to thwack his arm.
"Eyes on the screen," he berates you, pointing at the TV. "The dance scene is starting."
You sip your wine bitterly as you try to resist the urge to glance over at him. Eventually, the movie takes over your attention and soon it's the final town council scene where Kevin Bacon gives a speech to the whole town.
"'There was a time for this law'," you quote along with the movie, "'but not anymore.'"
The movie comes to an end, and you click the remote to turn off the television. When you turn to Hotch with an excited grin, you're surprised to see that he has fallen asleep.
His head has fallen to the side, resting on the armrest, and he looks so peaceful with his expression completely neutral. His characteristic frown is nowhere to be seen as he snores quietly through his nose.
Your lips curve into a smile as you stand up and grab a blanket from a basket beside the couch. You drape it over his body, being careful not to wake him, and take the wine glasses to the sink before heading up for bed.
***
"That's because you pick horses the same way you practice law."
You hold your breath as he glances into the crowd for a brief second.
"...by always taking the long shot."
Emily snickers under her breath, and you see even Reid crack a smile as the lawyer starts floundering. The rest of the day in court goes by quickly and you all wait for Hotch in the hallway of the courthouse as he finishes up inside.
"That was impressive," you grin, nudging his shoulder as he walks alongside you. "I can't believe that was my first time seeing you in full prosecutor mode."
"Hardly," he says, rolling his eyes lightly. "I was called to give testimony, it's very different."
"I'm just surprised that prosecutor is still walking after how hard you hit him." He shoots you a look and you raise your hands in surrender. "Metaphorically, of course."
"That was a straight knock out." Derek comes up behind you and throws an arm around your shoulder as he spins you both to face Hotch. "The crowd practically cheered when you cleaned the floor with him."
"Thank you," he concedes, flashing his eyes at you. "Now let's get back to work. We still have to get more evidence for the rest of the trial."
And just like that, everyone switches back into work mode. Derek drops his arm and jogs forward to catch up to Rossi and Spencer, while Emily calls Garcia to get the latest update.
Using the moment of solitude, you bump his shoulder again. "Do you ever wish you were still a prosecutor? Your life would certainly be a lot simpler."
He shakes his head, the answer coming quickly and firmly. "I couldn't do it then, and I still couldn't now. Seeing the murderers come in after they've finished killing...I needed to know I could stop them before they were done."
His sentiment sounds familiar. Your mind flashes back to the little boy who took matters into his own hands, because no one could stop the pain for him.
You blink and it's present day again. You loved your best friend who fought his own battles without asking for help, and, even though he's vastly different, you love your best friend as he is now.
***
"Five shootings in two weeks."
"It's about time we got the call."
The whole team, plus Garcia, flies up to New York, where an unsub has been shooting people around the city, seemingly at random.
"Kate Joyner heads up the New York field office," Hotch explains, glancing down at his cell phone. "She's running point on the case and called me directly."
You have heard of her, which isn't too surprising, but all you know is that she's British and seems to be very good at her job.
"You know her?" Morgan asks him, echoing your thoughts.
Hotch nods. "We liaised when she was still at Scotland Yard."
They liaised. You don't know what that implies, but you also know that he and Haley didn't take a single break during their relationship after graduating college, so it can't be anything too personal.
JJ and Emily share a look, but you don't engage with them, instead looking back at the case file and trying to focus on any of the words that aren't 'Kate Joyner'.
***
"Kate."
A pretty blonde woman approaches you all with a smile only for Hotch. "Aaron. How have you been?"
He nods. "Well, thank you. This is my team." He introduces each of you to her, but you don't miss how her eyes linger on you when he mentions your name.
"Thanks for being here," she says, before walking you all through the background of the case. Shootings in different precincts, seemingly random, FBI only brought in after the fourth murder.
After explaining the details and introducing you to the local detectives on the case, she pulls Hotch aside for a private word in her office. You turn back to the team, trying not to let your gaze linger on them as they walk away.
The NYPD doesn't seem happy that SSA Joyner has taken over their case, but even though she comes off as a bit brusque, you can tell she cares about catching this unsub just as much as they do.
"What's your partner's problem?" Reid asks Detective Cooper, the only local officer who has made an effort to meet any of you.
"We're glad the FBI was brought in," he explains with a heavy sigh, "but all of a sudden Joyner's taking meetings with the mayor and calling in you all without us knowing anything about it."
You can understand his hesitation, but you also need his cooperation if you're going to get anything done here.
"We're only here to help," Emily tells him as you turn around to find JJ.
"Has Garcia gotten settled in with the New York tech analyst?" you ask once you find her staring at a map of the various boroughs. She doesn't answer immediately, so you nudge her shoulder. "JJ?"
"Huh?" she startles. "Oh, sorry, yeah. She called a few minutes ago, she's all good."
JJ is usually the focused one who brings you back on track, so you're surprised by how distracted she seems. You nod in acknowledgement, scrutinizing her expression for another second, before heading back to the team. Your eyes involuntarily dart over to Kate's office, and you notice how close together she and Hotch are. You're about to avert your eyes when their body language becomes a bit clearer: each time she leans in to say something, he subtly pulls back.
The dynamic of their relationship is suddenly apparent, and you mentally kick yourself for daring to assume the worst when he first mentioned her. You can't say the same for your opinion of her, though. He's still wearing his ring, for God's sake. Based on how little you've heard about her from him (nothing, you mean), you doubt she even knows about the divorce yet.
Derek and JJ head out with the detectives to check out the last crime scene, while you stay back with Emily and Spencer to build the anti-geographical profile. When another victim is shot, you head to the new scene to see if you can build a working profile.
"It's a different borough again," you sigh after getting out of the SUV and joining Hotch, Kate, Derek, and JJ in front of the body. "Prentiss and Reid are back at the office still working the profile from a geographical angle. We're starting to think maybe we should get officers out onto the high-traffic intersections, and maybe even get some of us out there too."
"Uniforms are rounding up witnesses," Kate jumps in, ignoring you. "It doesn't seem like anyone got a clean look."
You see Derek glance at you out of the corner of your eye, but you don't entertain the look. If she has some issue with you that you aren't aware of, you won't give her the satisfaction of letting her get to you. "The unsub's probably gone before anyone even realizes it's happening,"
Hotch nods, turning to face Kate. "Is this what it felt like during the Son of Sam."
She returns his gaze. "First we realized that if the violence was truly random, there was almost no way of stopping it. Seems like these people have figured that out."
You look up, trying to see if there's anything in the vicinity you can use to ID the unsub. Your eyes catch on a security camera outside one of the delis directly behind you. "From the placement of that camera, odds are the only view they're going to get is the back of his head."
She frowns. "Let's not be too quick to decide what we do or don't have."
This time it's both Derek and JJ that glance at you, but you turn to Hotch, who is avoiding meeting your eyes. Kate steps away to speak with the detectives at the scene, so you grab his arm and pull him aside. "What is her problem?"
He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. "FBI brass has made it clear to her that if she doesn't bring this case home, she's going to be reassigned. And you are at the top of the list to replace her."
"Replace her?" you echo, trying to process what he's saying. "I haven't even been in the BAU that long."
"It's not about field experience," he says, angling his body so that you're separated from the others. "You've been with the bureau longer than I have, and your work speaks for itself. It's not a surprise that they'd want to promote you."
You still can't wrap your head around the fact that you could be leading a unit yourself, or that you may have to leave the team you love, so you focus on what you do know. "I thought the bureau was proud of the fact that they stole her from Scotland Yard."
"I don't know," he shrugs, glancing back at her. "Politics here are different."
***
After finishing up at the crime scene, the whole team heads to the hotel to get some rest for the night. You feel more alert than you usually do after a long day of building a profile, and you adjust your bag strap on your shoulder as you dig around the side pockets for your room key. You don't plan on going to bed for at least a few more hours, and you might as well use the time to work on the case, but you need your key if you're going to get any sleep at all.
When your fingers finally catch on the thin plastic card, you look up to see a familiar face that you've been seeing more often than not, as of late. "Wait, isn't that..."
JJ looks up with a start, and she doesn't look distracted for the first time all day. "Will."
He gets up from the lobby chair he was lounging in and approaches her. "Hey, I took a shot and flew to D.C., but when it didn't work, I figured a train ride to New York was only a few more hours."
"Detective." Hotch reaches out and shakes his hand, before glancing at you with a frown that says, Did you know he was coming?
You shake your head imperceptibly and turn back to Will as he looks longingly at JJ. "Look, I'm sorry for showing up like this. I know you're working, but I can't stand you being on this case and me not being near." He pauses for a beat. "Not with what's going on."
That makes you frown too.
Hotch echoes your thoughts. "Is there a problem?"
JJ takes a deep breath and turns around to face all of you. "I'm pregnant."
Oh my God.
"Oh, my God," Emily exclaims, pulling her into a hug, the first of you to regain her bearings after hearing the news. "JJ, congratulations."
"That's amazing, JJ," you grin, hugging her next.
You don't miss how stiff Hotch is as Will shakes his hand. "I've asked JJ to marry me."
"Will," JJ says tightly, a warning in her voice.
He chuckles. "Well, we're working out some kinks."
"We'll give you both some privacy." Hotch turns away from them, his face falling the moment she can't see him anymore. You know he's hurt that she didn't trust him with this information, but you're surprised by just how downtrodden he seems.
JJ rushes after him. "Hotch-"
"JJ, you could have told me," he says softly, his voice both confused and stung.
She looks down. "I know."
"Because I understand if you need to take some time."
"No," she shakes her head, without a look back. "I want to be here."
"Okay," he nods, not looking at any of you. "7:00 AM."
You try to catch his arm as he walks off, but he either ignores it, or he doesn't feel you reaching for him. You choose to believe it's the latter.
***
You all deliver the working profile to the police officers first thing the next morning. While you're explaining an alternate possibility, Garcia calls with an update that a possible unsub was caught on camera shooting someone on a subway platform at one of the intersections you suggested that your team patrol yesterday.
"We could have had that guy," you say, your voice fuming with anger as you turn to Kate with a glare you haven't used in ages.
She doesn't falter. "Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved onto someone isolated."
"Maybe, but it was worth taking a shot."
She fixes you with a stare. "I had every available man on the street."
"And I suggested to you that you use this team." You can't believe that her decision to ignore your advice yesterday might have just cost someone else their life. You can see the rest of the team looking at you with some blend of concern or indignation on your behalf, but you don't care. You just need Hotch to back you up.
Instead he just looks at you. "L/N, second-guessing doesn't do us any good right now."
You're so angry, you can barely see straight. Emily reaches for your arm, but you shake her off. "Hotch, how are we supposed to look these cops in the eye and tell them that we're actually here to help them, if she won't let us do our job?"
"We're here to present a profile," he says simply, not quite meeting your eye. "That's what we need to do."
You gape at him, your back straightening as you get ready to stand your ground. You don't disagree on things like this often, but when you do, it's usually a civil conversation that gets resolved quickly. You've never felt this angry about his handling of a case before, but then again, he's never not had your back before. "We've got seven bodies, Hotch."
He looks at you then, and you can't discern anything from his expression. It's a blank slate that sends a shiver down your spine. "It's not your place to have this discussion."
"Screw you."
You spin around, shoving away Derek and Emily as they try to talk you down. You stalk past them and out of the field office, where the cool evening air fills your sinuses and clears your head for a moment of silence. You stand on the sidewalk for a few seconds, waiting, and when he doesn't follow you out, you just manage to convince yourself that you're not disappointed, but relieved.
***
You're sitting at the hotel bar when Rossi finally finds you. You only ordered a lemon water, still feeling like you're on the clock, even if there's a good chance Hotch won't let you back into the investigation.
"I know," you huff when he takes a seat beside you. "I was out of line."
"You got too emotionally involved," he says, turning to face you. "I know you and Hotch are friends, but that doesn't mean you get to be unprofessional."
You sigh, your body deflating as all the fight leaves you. "I just felt like he was taking her side. Like he didn't have my back."
"There are no sides here."
You nod. "I know."
"And he does have your back." You look at him then, and he flashes you a small smile. "That man will always have your back. Right now, he's just worried about how Kate is holding up, with the word on the street."
That surprises you. "You know about the promotion?"
He nods. "People talk. But if she were to get fired, it would be because we didn't solve this case."
You frown, lifting your hand in defense. "Rossi, I hope you're not saying you think I want her to fail."
"Of course not," he shakes his head. "I just hope you know what you're doing."
"I lost my head for a second," you acknowledge, taking a sip of water. "I think I just needed a minute."
"And you got it," he says simply. "But right now, I see someone
who wants to get back on the job. Or is there another reason why
you ordered a glass of water at a bar?"
You set your glass down, letting out a surprised chuckle. "Where is everyone now?"
You both stand up, and he leads you out of the lobby. "Joyner took your advice. We're spreading out across the city."
***
"Emily, what happened?"
You rush forward to where she is standing over the dead body of a young man. Detective Cooper was taken in an ambulance to a nearby hospital after getting shot, and you only just arrived on the scene.
"He was strangely calm," she whispers as Derek and JJ come up behind her. "It's almost like suicide by cop."
"Why?" JJ thinks out loud. "Why would he do that?"
Derek looks at you. "We need to walk back through this profile."
Hundreds of thoughts are swirling through your brain, but based on the look on everyone's faces, you can tell they're thinking the same thing you are: terrorism.
After the crime scene officials arrive, you head over to your SUV to get back to the field office. Derek heads out to brief Homeland Security, and Reid leaves to talk to the Port Authority police, while Hotch and Kate call with the update that they will be going to speak with the mayor's office.
You start your SUV and pull out into the street when a loud explosion goes off a few streets behind you, the plume of smoke and fire large enough that you catch the high end of it in your rearview mirror.
You screech to a stop, just as your phone starts to ring.
TAGLIST: @citrusiove, @sanayikes, @yiiiikesmish, @mdanon027, @alice-w0rld, @beata1108, @bakugocanstompme, @raely-study, @himboelover, @hermionegalathynius, @rousethemouse, @calif0rniadreamin, @tolerateit13, @delusional-13s-blog
(message me to be added!)
431 notes
·
View notes
Hard to Get
Prewar!Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader
Warnings: ****This is a COMPLETE fic. This post is LONG!! Unprotected sex, oral, lying, slight fluff ending, Idk what else.
Summary: It's been a new experience being cast in the lead of the latest Hollywood movie. What's even more nerve-wracking is your far-more-famous-than-you co-star. After you can't seem to sell the chemistry between you to the director, you're pushed to spend more quality time with your cohort.
Notes: Barb doesn't exist. Cooper has never been married. I know she's the "bad guy" but I love and support Barb just bc she's a beautiful woman. Thank you.
"Quiet on the set!" A stout, demanding man's voice cuts through the dull rumble of idle conversation across the set of the movie you're starring in. It's your first lead role in a Hollywood blockbuster. You're nearly a month into filming, much more comfortable than you were in those early days. The veteran actors used to give you the hardest time. Some in jest, others in spite or envy. That's just showbiz.
Not a day goes by that nearly every man on the set makes at least two inappropriate remarks to a woman co-star or doe-eyed extra. Nearly, because one man, the other lead, has yet to make your stomach churn with unsafe discomfort. Cooper Howard. He's a world-renowned actor, known best for his westerns, but just as popular in other genres. Of course, he did ask you out for drinks in your first two weeks on set. He said it was to get to know each other, seeing as the two of you will be spending so much time together while filming, but your 10-foot-high walls wouldn't waver. You turned him down. Since then, he's been nothing but a gentleman.
The movie you're making is about a burnt-out detective on his last case. Cooper plays Detective John Silvers and you play the villainous minx, Monae Lark. The plot is that Monae will give John the run around of his life, accumulating mutual respect for each other's skills and eventually, accumulating romantic tension. The only issue with that storyline is... You are seemingly terrible at faking chemistry. SO much so, in fact, that they canceled all your scenes for the day and sent you back to your trailer. You are horrified as you step through the door, having held a perfectly calm face until then.
"Whoa, what's wrong with you?" Your agent, a short, frail, older woman with silver hair and a smoker's voice perks up on your couch when she sees your distressed face. Her name is Verna, and she's represented you throughout your entire career.
"They've canceled my scenes for today..." You slump in the seat nearest to you.
"What? Why?"
"Apparently, Cooper Howard and I don't have any chemistry." You make a mocking gesture with your hands. "The director is pissed."
"Well, duh. That's people's livelihoods we're wasting with every reshoot." Her bluntness hits you like a kick in the gut. "How do you two not have chemistry? You've been spending time together, right?"
"Of course! We read lines for almost two hours every day!"
"No, honey. That's working. Do you two spend time together? Like, get dinner and get to know each other?" The nonchalant nature of your agent's question perplexes you.
"Well, no," you admit.
"So you've just been coming in here and greeting him like a fuckin' grocery clerk before barking prewritten lines at him for a few hours?"
"I- Well... Yeah. He asked to get drinks back when filming first started, but I didn't want to look like the woman who got one big break and started fucking any man in Hollywood I could get my hands on!" The desperation in your voice is becoming more and more apparent.
"Relax, babe. The PR training we're gonna put you through to promote this film is gonna kill you if you can't have a little dinner and survive a few baseless rumors. I'm about to call his agent right now." The silver-haired woman reaches for the mint telephone and dials a number into the rotary.
"He still has scenes to shoot today, he's gonna be busy-" Your sentence is cut off when Verna holds a finger up, signaling you to give her a moment of silence. As she chats away on the phone, talking as if she's known the guy for years, you step over to the window of your trailer. Hesitantly, you peek outside, and there he is. Your intimidatingly famous and peculiarly handsome co-star.
"Fabulous! Talk soon, darling," your agent chimes from across the trailer. Just then, you see a man in a suit approach Cooper and tell him something. Context clues tell you all you need to know about their conversation. He's merely alerting his client of a scheduled meeting with his horrifically embarrassed cohort. You nearly squeeze your eyes shut to avoid the humiliation of any sigh or eye-roll he expresses in response, but that's not the case. You can hear him through the thin walls of your tin sanctuary.
"Tonight? Perfect. Send her something nice from me." He gives his agent a friendly pat on the back, sending him off. You can't help but notice Cooper's lingering smile, a new pep in his step. You can't help but chuckle at the display, it's monumentally relieving.
Filming wraps up for the day and even though your workday was cut short, you remained on set for various screen tests and voice-over work. A sudden knock on your trailer door causes you to jump. You pull your robe over your silk slip dress and open the door to an intern holding a luxurious flower arrangement in a crystal vase. Coincidentally, your favorite flowers.
"Oh! Thank you." You take the gift with a smile and the young man announces that it's from Cooper Howard, though you'd already gathered that much. "I'll be sure to thank him properly, then." You smile as the intern nods and takes off to his next task. You can't help but grin as you proudly place your new bouquet front and center on the counter. The large studio lights finally cut on and you step onto the large, open floor. It's much busier and louder now that the director has left.
"Glad to hear you changed your mind," a smooth, deep voice captures your attention. You turn to see Cooper approaching you, adjusting the buttons of his sleeves.
"You must forgive my ignorance, Mr. Howard. I'm a Broadway girl. I didn't realize how different our worlds are until I got here," you laugh. "Being seen out with a costar on that side of the circuit will get you dubbed something tasteless if you're not careful."
"Ah, well. Seems like the tabloids should spend less time worrying about what women do with their free time. I promise not to give them anything to talk about." He smiles a bright, friendly smile, winking.
"I appreciate that," you say, walking beside him as you head toward the exit. If you were leaving the theatre with your co-star in this way, all eyes would be prying into you with jealousy and hoping for the opportunity to knock you off your pedestal once and for all.
"You do have to do me one little favor though." He stops walking as if his request will be heavy. A lump grows in your chest as you assume this is it, this is where he proves he's just like the others.
"You've gotta knock that 'Mr. Howard' shit out," he chuckles. "Cooper." He extends a hand as if to redo your meeting all those weeks ago.
"Y/N," you grin, shaking his hand firmly. He repeats you as if your name tastes sweet on his tongue. With that, the two of you make your way to his car. He opens the door for you and you can't help but chuckle at his chivalrous actions. Cooper takes you to the nicest restaurant in town. Pricey, even for your recently fattened wallet.
"So, what should I know about classy, mysterious Y/N?" The refined, older man grins at you from across the fine wood table.
"Classy and mysterious? You give me far too much credit." You make a dismissive motion with your hand. "I'm an open book once you get to know me."
"And how easy of a feat is that, exactly?" He intentionally tilts his chin up, looking down at you through his eyelashes. You're taken aback by the effect it has on you. Unwilling to be an easily swooned newbie on the scene, you regain control of your train of thought.
"Not at all." You smile wickedly. "I hope you're patient."
"Of course I am, I've hardly noticed it's taken 20 minutes for our wine to get here." The two of you share a quiet laugh in the dimly lit restaurant.
"What about you, Cooper Howard? What should I know about you that the tabloids haven't already covered?"
"I'm an open book, no effort necessary." He shrugs. You burst into a hard-to-stifle laugh.
"I hardly believe that. What do you do in your free time?" You ask, staring off small.
"I drink inside a big, empty home and I reminisce." He sighs.
"What on Earth are you on about?"
"Before I was The Cooper Howard, I was just a man with a farm in the middle of sunshine and fresh air: nowhere."
"I never would've guessed," you shrug, taking in the new information. The waiter continuously fills your glasses and you take small sips as you listen.
"What about you, Broadway? What were your early days like?"
"I've been training and performing since I can remember. But I know I used to love drawing when I was a kid. I still do it sometimes, when I have time."
"Are you any good?" He asks bluntly.
"I'll have you know I was better than kids three and four grades above me in the arts program," you brag unseriously.
"You'll have to draw me something someday."
"I'd love to," you grin. The two of you continue talking, sharing funny stories from your childhoods and early days in your careers. After a while, this man whose status and essence alone used to intimidate you somehow feels like a peer.
"What brings a star of the stage over here to the film industry?" Cooper asks smoothly.
"They sought me out, actually. Must've been my look or the way I sound like honey with a transatlantic accent," you wink. Cooper chuckles, enchanted by you. He reaches a sly hand across the table and watches you notice it. You glance at his awaiting palm, but you don't meet his touch. He raises an eyebrow as he slowly closes his hand, drawing his arm back in.
"This place is nice, but-"
"I'm not going to your place, Mr. Howard."
"I was going to say we should order another bottle of this wine." He laughs, drawing you in with his brilliant smile.
"Forgive me, Cooper. One of these days I'll let my guard down," you jest. The evening rolls on smoothly. Your table is a quiet haven of laughter and camaraderie. For the first time in your career, onstage or in front of the camera, you feel a genuine sense of friendship with your co-star. When you performed Chicago as Roxy Hart, your male cohorts made the air thick with discomfort, while the women did everything in their power to drag you down. It's not their fault, of course. The industry forced them to be that way.
As the hours pass like minutes, the night comes to an end. Cooper pays the bill and tips the waiter a generous amount, not unnoticed by you. He walks you to the car, opening the door for you to slip inside.
"And they say 'Chivalry is dead,'" you wink as Cooper closes the door. In the few seconds it takes for him to round the vehicle and open the driver's door, he lowers his guard. Truly taken aback by your suave nature compared to the nervous mess he's known you as. It must be the wine, though neither of you is drunk.
Undecided whether or not he's met his match, Cooper finally opens his door and takes his position in the driver's seat. He seems almost nervous, not moving as gracefully or speaking as cool as he's known for.
"Just right around this corner, here," you say, pointing to the turn that leads to the road you live on. Cooper can't help but steal curious glances at the enigma next to him. What was meant to be a business dinner/ PR move has turned into a challenge to him, and doesn't every cowboy love a challenge? Of course, he had no plans of overstepping any of your many firm boundaries, but he planned to melt you the same way he melts for you right now.
You arrive at your home and he unfastens his buckle as well, leaving the car on. You glance at him, assessing his intentions. He's quick to notice your ocular pat-down and volunteers to put your mind at ease.
"I'm walking you to your door, sweetheart."
"That's very kind of you, Cooper. Thank you," you smirk, entertained by his ability to read you so keenly. He escorts you safely to the large oak door of your humble, yet still high-end abode. The two of you stand in silence for a moment until you speak. "If you try to come inside, I'll have to sic my very large dog on you."
"A very large dog?" Cooper asks, feigning mild fear.
"She doesn't like men," you smile warmly, bantering playfully.
"Maybe one day, she can try warming up to me."
"Until then, Cooper Howard," you nod, disappearing inside your house. He's nearly shocked, but mostly he's giddy.
What a woman, he internally monologues. His walk back to the car packs that same pep as when he found out about their dinner in the first place. Maybe even more.
After just a couple weeks of running lines together and the occasional after-work bar hop, your days on set become a comfortable routine, rather than a journey into the lion's den. You can't help but feel like you have Cooper to thank for that. The scenes between you two are now known to make the interns blush.
"Action!" The director's firm voice slices through the air. You and Cooper are positioned at opposite sides of the "room," a set made to look like Detective Silvers's office. It's dark, and a dim street lamp's glow reaches through the barely opened blinds. You run a delicate finger along the windowpane before speaking your first line.
"You've impressed me, Detective Silvers. That's not an easy feat." You take two steps to the left, placing your foot perfectly on your mark.
"You're not so easy to fool, Ms. Lark. Not like they said, anyway." The tone in Cooper's voice when he plays this character sends a wave of involuntary goosebumps down your flesh.
"You can call me Monae, honey. Don't we know each other well enough by now?" You strut gracefully across the room, leaning teasingly over his desk, where he sits. "They always say I'm a fool, because I play it so well, don't I?" Slowly, Cooper straightens up in his seat, bringing his face closer to yours as you drape across the desk.
"You keep a hell of a poker face, darling," he whispers. Something in his eyes tells you it's Cooper speaking, not Detective Silvers.
"Cut! That's a wrap!" The director dismisses the crew. Everyone's shoulders relax in unison. It's undoubtedly been smooth sailing ever since you and Cooper started spending more time together.
"Hey, Y/N," Cooper calls out to you as you head back to wardrobe. You turn and meet his gaze with a smile. "You're not busy tonight, are you?"
"Of course not. I'm waiting for my coworker to tell me what our plans are," you chuckle.
"Coworker? Ice cold. We're friends." His grin is diabolically attractive. You thank the stars above for the layers and layers of makeup concealing the darkening blush on your cheeks.
"Of course we're friends, Cooper. What are we getting into tonight?" You ask with an excited grin.
"There's a new lounge opening downtown. I know the owner pretty well. And not to brag or anything, but it's a pretty nice place to get a table on opening night." He smiles, holding his arms out as if he's waiting for a yes or no from you.
"Your friend's club is opening?"
"Well, don't make it sound too exciting now," his sarcastic tone draws a laugh from your lips.
"I'm pulling your leg, Cooper. I'd love to go." The two of you split off to get out of costume and makeup. Once you're back in your own attire, you begin to feel a sense of panic.
"You gotta stop making that face, babe. You're gonna get a worry line." Verna appears in the common area of your dressing room.
"Verna, what do you know about the new lounge opening downtown?" You turn to her with narrow eyes.
"It's a pretty big deal. Bonnie Lewis was complaining about not getting a table until next weekend," Verna laughs. You begin to wonder what kind of strings Cooper had to pull or if his story about knowing the owner was true. Not that you think him a liar, it just seemed like banter at the time.
"I need to go home." You snatch your keys from the hook next to the trailer door and bolt to your car. Verna stands in confusion, hair blowing in the breeze of your speedy exit.
"No, no, no!" You groan as you tear through your closet. Nothing seems to fit the idea you've made up in your head of what a woman should wear to something like this. You can't decide which would be more horrifying, being overdressed or underdressed. You start thinking up excuses to give Cooper why you can't come out tonight when suddenly, there's a knock at the door.
"Delivery for a Ms. Y/L/N?" The bright-eyed delivery girl hands you a large, flatter box. You thank her and nod goodbye, taking the package inside to your room. You scan the outside for any indication of what it could be or who it's from. You get fan mail all the time, so it's nothing new.
You take a blade to the taped seams and uncover a note atop a few layers of tissue paper.
"For tonight, if you want. -C.H."
You furrow your brow as you reread the note a few more times. Curiously, you place the note aside and reach for the tissue paper, unfolding it to reveal a stunning mass of glistening fabric. With widened eyes, you reach into the box and lift the garment to see it's a long, crystal-stoned dress with a high slit up the side. It reminds you of something your character, Monae Lark, would wear. It's gorgeous and looks like it costs as much as your Hollywood home.
You hold the dress up to your body in the mirror next to your bed and it's perfect. You certainly didn't own anything of this caliber until now. You get dressed and ready, hoping your finest jewelry does the dress its due justice. For just a moment, you stare at yourself in the mirror. You take in this heavenly view, you can hardly believe it's you staring back at all.
A ring of the doorbell snaps you from your thoughts and you make your way to the door. Standing on the other side is Cooper. The moment his eyes meet yours, his face becomes illuminated with a big, marveling smile. He glances at you, up and down, taking in the way the dress drapes over you like water down a stream.
"You look magnificent," he speaks in awe.
"Thank you for the dress, Cooper. It's beautiful." Your eyes sparkle as you thank him for your gift.
"You're discrediting yourself. It just looked like a sparkly piece of fabric before I saw it like-" he places his hands daringly on your hips. "This." You gasp at his invasive action, taken aback by his boldness.
"Shall we get going, then?" You smirk, undeniably excited by his touch. He leads you to the car and opens the door for you like a gentleman. His chivalrous displays only make you yearn more and more. He's always like that, even on set. He prioritizes your comfort, especially in the sex scenes, which you've been reshooting a lot lately.
Cooper escorts you inside the lounge. They don't even check the list, everyone knows who you two are. Eyes and camera flashes all focus on you as any and every media outlet tries to get their hands on the latest spot to be seen in downtown Hollywood. You feel glamorous on his arm as he leads you to the table. Cocktails are promptly ordered and arrive at your table in impressive time.
You take in your foreign surroundings. It all looks so high above you, yet you're here. It's humbling. The ceilings are tall and dark while the rest of the room is dimly lit. A band plays smooth music to a crowd busy with multiple conversations. You're both sat in a large booth with seating that wraps all the way around. The low light bouncing off the crystals on your dress draws any and all attention to your table. To you. To Cooper sitting with you.
The night is fun and exciting, you nearly lose track of your drinks, but as always, you manage to remain only slightly buzzed. Careful not to sully your own name with drunken hijinks. And while you're not drunk per se, you are feeling much bolder than usual. You can't seem to pry your eyes off of your arm candy. Cooper is quick to notice, playing into your flirtatious behavior.
"Do I have something on my face?" He chuckles, brushing his hand against his cheek, tracing his jawline. You know right then that you've been caught gawking and your face turns bright red, hidden thankfully under the dim lighting.
"No, Cooper. I just happen to like what I'm looking at, is all." You bite your lip, surprised by your own words. You even think you can see him blushing.
"If I'm being honest, I really like what I'm lookin' at as well." His eyes burn into yours.
"Everyone's looking at us," you whisper, drawing closer and closer to him in the round booth.
"Let them watch," he mumbles, closing the gap between you two and drawing you into a passionate kiss. Your heart begins to race as his hands roughly grip onto you, pulling you closer to him in the booth. "Can we get out of here, darlin'?"
"Take me home, Cooper," you sigh as your eyes travel back and forth between his eyes and his lips. You don't know if it's the drinks or the rush of being the main attraction in this swanky club, but it's taking you over and you have no objections.
"Whatever you say," Cooper says with a sly smile, extending a hand to you to guide you out of the booth. The walk to the door seems endless, as you find yourself ravenous to get him alone again. It's no secret for either of you that tensions have only been growing ever since your first dinner together. He clings to you, not so much possessively, but protectively. Almost as if he doesn't keep you latched to his side as you make your exit, you might fall away and break like the delicate crystals adorning your flowing dress.
The brisk night air coats your flesh in a cloak of goosebumps. Anticipation accelerates your pulse to an unknowable pace. When you reach his car, you pull his collar to your chest, cueing him to pin your hips against his vehicle and kiss you deeply, ignoring the paparazzi flash. But only for a second, as the second blazing flash snaps you back into reality and you hastily make your way into the car, giggling. Cooper shoots a knowing look at the flashing cameras, smirking with pride as he struts to the driver-side door.
When he gets inside the car, you're both laughing at the prying cameras. A part of you feels worried about how the tabloids will make you look, and Cooper can see that fear on your face. He furrows his brow.
"Hey, you know it's all..." He trails off, staring at you intently. You can nearly see his gears turning behind his eyes.
"Are you okay?" You ask, confused by his mid-sentence shutdown.
"Forget about it, I gotta get you somewhere a little more private." He winks, pulling out of the lot and past the ever-flashing journalists. You've fantasized plenty of time about this moment, how it'd play out. It's your current favorite dream to have, no doubt. His hand on your thigh lightly digs his fingers into your flesh, growing more and more desperate the closer you two get to your home in the hills.
You emerge from the car after he parks haphazardly in your driveway. The two of you are apart for mere seconds before he's upon you, locking your lips with his, wrapping the full lengths of his arms around you. You're nearly, quite literally swept off your feet. You lead him to the door and he follows your every step, beguiled. You open the door and spring inside.
"Surely I get to come inside just this once?" Cooper leans in your doorway as the distance between you grows. You stare at him, scanning your eyes up and down teasingly. He looks like he's ready to fall on his knees and beg.
"You're quite the gentleman, Cooper Howard." You shift your weight to your hip.
"My mama didn't raise me to barge into a lady's home uninvited."
"What part of our trip to the door makes you think you're uninvited?" You tilt your head. The conversation seems almost reminiscent of the characters you both play.
"The part where you didn't invite me in," he grins.
"My God, are you a Vampire?" You jest. "Please come inside. Make yourself at home," you say sarcastically. "Do I need to tell you what I expect you to do next?" Your words are rushed, as he speeds toward you once he's received his invite. He wraps you in another firm embrace and plants kisses and light bites along the slope of your neck.
"I think I can take it from here, darlin'." He plants another kiss. "Unless you're feeling like bossing someone around." He winks, allowing his hands to wander freely up and down your body, grasping at your breasts and thighs.
"Keep kissing me," you demand, to your own surprise more than his. He does as he's told, only hesitant for a second to register what you said. You break the kiss momentarily to make another demand. "Take my dress off, carefully." You instruct. Cooper happily obliges, doing exactly as you ask, carefully. Once your dress is carefully placed aside, he takes in the breathtaking sight of you, nearly bare before him, just a room's length away.
Your undergarments suggest you had this plan in mind long before getting in the car this evening. Lace and silk with garters and corsetry. You're unreal, even to a Hollywood Star like Cooper. His mouth hangs agape as he drinks in the image laid out in front of him.
"Well?" He awaits his next instruction.
"Oh, please," you scoff. "Lose the jacket, loosen the tie." He does as he's told, taking your commands and unfastening a few of the top buttons of his shirt. As he draws closer to you, crossing the room from where he'd sat your dress out of harm's way, he rolls his unbuttoned sleeves up his arms. There's something primal and animalistic about him as he towers over you where you lie on the bed.
"Now, you tell me what to do." Your voice is almost shaking as you say this, excited and anxious to shift the power dynamic. Cooper's face spreads into a soft smile. It's almost eerie.
"Come here." He snaps his fingers softly, pointing to the edge of the bed in front of him. You giddily comply, taking your seat with a pretty posture. You're perfectly positioned at his waist. "Belt."
You waste no time, wrapping your hands delicately around the buckle of his belt, unfastening it and moving on to the button and zipper. Cooper's erection strains against his underwear, hard and throbbing against your palm. He sighs at your touch, eyes rolling back in his head as you toy with him through his boxers.
"Touch yourself," he commands with a quiet rumble of a voice. You do as you're told, locking eyes with him as you slip a hand past your panties. You moan under your own knowing hand, pouting your lips in an 'o' shape. Truly putting on a show for someone so deadset on maintaining a "pure" reputation.
"Cooper," you moan his name, earning a surprised smirk from him. He shakes his head in disbelief.
"So careful, so reserved, so... Mysterious," he chuckles, caressing your cheek in his palm as you continue to play with yourself. "I knew you must've had secrets, but my God, you filthy little thing." His words are like sugar and honey as he showers you with praise. "I'm going to make you feel so good, babydoll."
Cooper gently tugs your arm away from your drenched panties and replaces your hand with his own. He carefully pumps his middle finger in and out of you, earning sensual moans from deep in your chest.
"Oh, my God!" You chant to the heavens, riding an indescribable high. Cooper is far more skilled with his hands than you could've anticipated. After a few moments, you realize he was paying attention to the way you touch yourself, and is now attempting to mirror that. And he's doing well. The attention to detail is enough to bring you ecstasy all on its own.
He tugs his undergarments down, freeing his tumescent cock from its restraints, still fingering you all the while. His large size is jarring, but you've never been the type to turn away from a challenge. You take his shaft in your hand and pump up and down as you wrap your lips around his tip. His hand is quick to find the back of your head, carefully working you further and further down his length with each bob of your head.
"Jesus Christ, baby. Look at you," he groans, tugging your hair to make you go faster. You keep at it as long as possible, long after your neck is good and sore. Finally, he takes a sharp inhale and pulls your face away from his waist.
"Lay back on the bed, darlin'. I can't wait for this anymore." Cooper withdraws his hand and slides your panties down your legs, careful to leave the rest of your scandalous outfit in place. You're certain he's going to place himself in front of you and fuck the daylights out of you, but instead, he lowers his head to your dripping cunt and begins licking broad stripes up and down your slit.
You melt into his technique as his tongue explores every corner of you. The knot in your stomach tightens as you arch your back, desperate for more contact. A daring hand makes its way to his pushed-back hair, encouraging him. You can feel his lips curl into a grin against your delicate skin. In your pleasure-induced haze, you begin to wonder how you found yourself in your own bed, getting eaten out by Cooper Howard.
Suddenly, he pulls away. His actions are rushed now, almost desperate as he reaches for his waist, taking the base of his cock in his hand and positioning himself over you. You're anxious but excited. There's a fire in your blood as he slips inside of you. Both of you emit guttural moans, filling the room with the vulgar sounds of huffing breaths and wetness as he thrusts in and out.
"You look so pretty when you're getting fucked," he whispers in your ear before jerking you up from where you lie. He positions you on your hands and knees and you take it upon yourself to arch your back like a cat, dipping as far down as you can. The sight of it is enough to make Cooper faint. You're the prettiest putty he's ever had in his hands. He trails his soft, open palms down your sides, resting his hands on your ass.
Cooper gropes and smacks the supple flesh, earning coos of approval from you with each strike. He basks in your beauty for a while, taking the moment in. He bites down on his index knuckle, looking away from you for a moment. You glance over your shoulder to investigate the sudden hold-up, and he looks preoccupied.
"Cooper," you gain his attention back to you. "Now is a terrible time to have second thoughts..."
"I'm afraid all I'm thinking about right this second is this." Abruptly, you feel him slip back into you. A gasp invades your lungs as you push yourself backward, allowing him deeper inside. His pace is quick and steady, guiding you like an expert to your orgasm. He's at it for so long, your arms threaten to buckle. When he notices the slightest waver in your elbows, he shoves your face into the mattress. Your arms are instantly relieved and he picks up his vigorous pace.
"Oh, god!" Your wails echo off the walls of your large bedroom, stroking his ego with every moan.
"Come on, baby... Cum for me..." He huffs, talking you through the growing knot in your stomach. He withdraws for mere seconds to shift your positions. He plants his feet on the floor and returns you to your back, tossing one of your legs over his shoulder as he picks up where he left off. His thrusts become sloppy, though they still maintain that toe-curling speed.
"Oh, wait!" You cry out, but his hips refuse to relent. He shushes you sweetly, fucking you until your climax renders you breathless. You moan loudly and sensually, it's like music to Cooper's ears. You're well and fucked out as he continues chasing his own high. After only a few more moments of overstimulation, he pulls out and pumps his cock until he finishes on your lace-clad chest. You watch him through fluttering eyelashes as he throws his head back in ecstasy.
"You're... Something else," he huffs between heavy breaths. You create room for him to collapse next to you on the bed and he happily obliges. The two of you, sweaty and breathless, lie in comfortable silence for a short while. "Hey, when do I get to meet your big, dangerous dog? She's awfully quiet."
"I don't have a dog." You state flatly, admitting your lie.
"I had a feeling that threat wasn't so serious."
"Oh, it's plenty serious. It's just not true. You can stay the night if you want," you offer with a smile as you rise from the bed and make your way to the bathroom to shower.
"Stay the night, huh?" He repeats you.
"Yes. I'd like it if you did," you wink, disappearing to clean yourself up before bed. Just as you're about to reach for the handle to turn the water off, you're joined in the shower.
Cooper buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you close to his naked body from behind. You share a passionate kiss under the warm running water before you step out and let him take over. The two of you sleep in each other's arms, completely naked, bundled in your expensive bedclothes.
In the following days, news breaks of your visit to the lounge with Cooper. The photo of the kiss by the car is plastered on every magazine faster than you can blink. At first, you're terrified of what this could mean for your stage career, should you never get another role in film, but Cooper continuously reassures you. Weeks go by and you can't remember the last time you left the set without him by your side. He makes you feel safe and beautiful. You trust him in ways you didn't think you could trust men in the industry. You don't care if the two of you never label what you have, you're just happy to have it.
It all seems to be a little too perfect until the day the film debuts. You and Cooper are a sight to behold on the red carpet at the premiere. The cameras can't seem to keep their blinding flashes off the two of you. Cooper seems in high spirits, wrapping you in tight hugs and kissing your forehead sweetly. You're a sap for his PDA ways.
The movie receives a standing ovation and you've never felt more pride in your life. For yourself, your co-stars, and the crew. Riding a high so strong it feels like glitter in your blood, you can't wait to get your man back home and show him how proud you really are.
"Cooper, hey!" You call out to him at the exclusive after-party. When he turns to face you, he smiles wide, pulling you in for a kiss while damn near dipping you like a dance partner. "Whoa, I need to call your name more often."
"Screaming it works for me too," he winks, eliciting a red-faced chuckle from you.
"Are you coming back to my place, or do I have to beg?" You ask, staring up at him with large, sparkling eyes.
"Well," he looks at you and then glances around the room, seemingly lost in thought for only a moment once again. "Of course, darlin'."
After arriving at your home and promptly tearing each other's clothes off, you lie leisurely on the bed next to Cooper. All of a sudden, he's sitting up and getting out of your bed. You're hardly aware of what he's doing until you realize he's getting dressed.
"Where are you off to?" You sit up, perplexed by his out-of-character quickness to leave.
"Unfortunately, I'm a busy man after a film premieres." He's staring at his cuffs, fastening the button as he talks to you.
"Of course, of course. It's just... So late."
"You're telling me, honey," he quips, planting a quick kiss on your lips and disappearing out the door. You hear him exit out the front and start up his car, pulling off into the night. You sit in silent shock. Surely that didn't just happen. Cooper Howard didn't just come over, fuck you, and leave after your film premiere after weeks and weeks of an ongoing intensely sexual relationship.
You decide to remain calm, after all, what else can you do? He's not yours to worry about, but worry, you do. You climb out of bed and shower as usual after a night with the beautiful man you thought you trusted until moments ago. What reason did he have to lie to you? To leave? You're a white-hot ball of smoke and fire when you emerge from the bathroom.
A lot of things can be used to describe you, most of them, very good. One thing, for you, stands out. Anger. You're slow to anger in nearly any situation, but when it happens, it happens. You're someone else entirely when you're angry. You get dressed, somewhat casual, somewhat flashy. Something to blend in wherever you may find him because that's where you're going.
After perfecting your hair and makeup- not one to get caught slacking- you slip into your car and make your way to the first few places you can assume he'd be. You check the restaurant where you had your first outing, in case he'd already romanced another co-star on another set. Not there. You check the lounge his friend owns. Not there.
"Hey there, handsome. The owner in?" You ask the bouncer.
"He's in the back, you're welcome to come in, Ms. Y/L/N."
"Thank you, darling. You're my favorite part of this place, you know that?" Your praise causes him to blush slightly and you make your way to the back office.
"Whoa! You can't just waltz in here!" A man wails angrily behind a shabby desk.
"I can. I definitely can. Where is Cooper tonight?" You tilt your head, scanning the man's face for any inconsistencies in his expression.
"Oh, shit! Y/N, we don't really get a lot of customers before we open," the man jokes, hoping to avoid the question. Not because he knows anything, but simply because he's not a snitch. You respect him for it... or not.
"Where is Cooper?" You repeat.
"I don't know. Wouldn't tell ya if I did." The man shrugs shamelessly.
"I'll be seeing you, Vince." You smile warmly and depart. From behind you, you can hear him yelling after you, asking how you know his real name. You're a different person when you're angry, an observant person.
You leave the lounge and check a few more places with no success. Finally, you drive toward his house. The car is completely silent save for the sound of your angry, shuddered breaths. What it all comes down to is you never expected Cooper to owe you anything, but he was going to call it quits to your face like a man or you'll do it for him. When you pull down the long, private driveway, you're shocked and appalled by what you see.
There's a party going on. A real classy rager, it would seem. Your perfectly lined and lipsticked upper lip is pulled into a disgusted sneer as you exit the vehicle and calmly strut toward the door. You don't bother knocking, who'd hear it? You walk right in the door and resume the endless search for Cooper. You circle like a vulture to a carrion, eyes narrow with anticipation.
"My God, Y/N, is that you?" A familiar voice booms behind you. Sebastian. He plays a part in the movie that just dropped.
"Sebastian, you look stunning in yellow," you gush, latching onto his arm. This outgoing, charismatic behavior is foreign on you, but he's too drunk to notice your near-blind rage.
"Does Cooper know you're here? Come with me, darling." Sebastian guides you to the backdoor down several sets of porch and deck stairs. You can already see Cooper before he sees you. He looks drained.
"Sebastian, is he okay?"
"You ought to know, shouldn't you?" He winks, nudging you with the arm you're clinging to.
"What does that-" your question is cut off.
"Cooper! You won't believe who I've found," Sebastian announces, stepping out of the way to reveal you. Cooper's eyes widen.
"Ohh... Sea Bass, you gotta get out of here..." Cooper whispers, not breaking eye contact with you.
"What? Why? I thought you-"
"Go inside, Sebastian." You intrude, staring tangible daggers into Cooper. Sebastian finally vacates the premises and you wait for Cooper to start talking. The two of you share a long moment of staring before he finally stands from the patio chair.
"Y/N, I can-"
"Explain? You can explain. This is incredibly hurtful and confusing, but thank God you can explain." You hiss. He's taken aback by your venomous tone, but he knows he has it coming. "You don't owe me anything, I get that. But I was so clear that I didn't want to be treated like this." Your words sound heartbroken, but your tone is steady and harsh.
"I would've told you- I wanted to tell you, but your agent-"
"About the party? I don't care about the party, Cooper! I'm talking about all this fucking time we've spent together. You really put on a show for those paps, I remember that. Why go public when we won't even put a name on it?"
"Y/N, are you talking about the PR stunt? By the car? I thought that you..." He motions vaguely with his hands to symbolize his confusion.
"A- A PR stunt?" You repeat, mouth hanging open.
"Wasn't that why you kissed me?" Cooper asks, clearly as confused as you are.
"No, Cooper." You nearly laugh in disbelief. "That's not why. Why did you come to my house and do all that in front of no cameras? Huh? Was that a PR stunt? Did that feel like I knew it was a PR stunt?"
"I hesitated! I was wondering the same when you-"
"Well, thank God you hesitated. Hallelujah, amen, I'm going home. Sorry if I messed up your ruse. I hope I didn't ruin the illusion of nothing." You grit your teeth to stop you from speaking anymore. The walk back up all those steps and past everyone inside feels a thousand miles long. Cooper just stands there, silent, watching you walk away. Your emphasis on your last word holds all the hurt you were trying to hold back.
"What just happened?" Sebastian appears behind you like the busybody he is.
"Exactly what everyone thought: nothing." Your words are meant to sound hateful and angry, but they just sound sad now. You speed out the front door, away from the party and everything it entails. Once you're in the car, tears pour down your face. Your worst fear comes true. Humiliation, heartbreak, hubris. You begin to understand what they mean when they say "too good to be true."
At your agent's request, you're staying at home for now. Minimizing going out unless it's for press. And God, there is so much press. So many large rooms that feel hopelessly cramped as you find yourself shoved into Cooper at every turn. You maintain perfect composure for the cameras, even Verna is impressed as she watches from the sidelines. She's heard your woes time and time again, but even she sympathizes with you this time. You worked so hard to avoid this situation for so long in your career.
"Do you think we could talk later?" He mumbles in your ear with a big, fake smile and you giggle as if he's whispered sweet nothings.
"Fuck you." You reply with a playful faux grin. He sighs, but neither of you let up from the act.
"You really are Monae Lark, huh?" Cooper chuckles nervously.
"Please let me just get through this in peace." Your voice carries hurt. So much so, that he can feel it in his chest when you speak.
"Alright, I'm sorry." It's the last words shared between you two for the entire rest of the evening. You're ice cold, surrounding yourself with walls much, much higher than before. Cooper notices, but no one else, save for Verna and maybe even Sebastian, can tell a difference. Your ability to mask this pain only adds to his endless guilt.
You're being interviewed with another actress, finally tied up in a conversation you want to be in. You're glowing in comparison to your moments next to Cooper. Meanwhile, he and Sebastian sit off to the side, having just finished their interview with the same host.
"I think you should just accept your loss. Maybe you two can rekindle something in ten years," Sebastian shrugs. Cooper looks at him in disbelief of what he's just suggested.
"I don't want to 'rekindle something in ten years,' I want her now. I want her back." He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, stressed.
"I thought you weren't putting a label on it," Sebastian chuckles.
"That was before I found out that she had no idea we were doing PR, fucker."
"Oh, calm down. It was a misunderstanding," he looks at Cooper. "So make it understood."
In the days following that event, Cooper tries his hardest to take Sebastian's advice, but you won't let him speak when you answer your house phone and realize it's him. Weeks go by and you demand Verna find a way to schedule you and Cooper at opposing time windows for every press event here on out. You appease the crowd with a lot of "We just missed each other, but I'll see him at home," with a stupid wink. Everything feels so fake. It feels like you're constantly acting now, it's exhausting.
"Look doll, I can't help you out of seeing him at the award show in a few weeks," Verna warns. It's now been a month since you and Cooper last saw each other, longer than that since you've spoken. You're both so busy, your minds haven't had time to ruminate on each other like when you had to see each other all the time. The pain has softened and even the paps stopped asking about where the other one is when you go out.
"It's fine, Verna. But I want you to hire the stylist from my press tour in Italy last year. When I was in Aida."
"On it, boss," she salutes, already holding a phone to her ear.
Verna gets you some face time with the stylist and you discuss what you're looking for in the look. You describe something sparkling and demanding attention, something Monae Lark would wear. As you watch the designer sketch, you realize you've described the dress Cooper gifted you. You're just now piecing together that it was meant to look like your character, it wasn't meant to be a sentimental gesture. You become furious all over again, demanding that the woman scrap that sketch.
"I want it form-fitting, black, silk." You begin listing adjectives that feel right.
"Tulle gloves? Fingerless?" The designer introjects.
"Yes, I love it. Not fingerless. Past the elbow. I want villainess, I want revenge."
"A revenge dress on the red carpet? I love my job." The artist begins sketching like mad and you watch your vision come to life on paper. It's perfect.
"You have two and a half weeks to get me fitted for this dress, is that okay? I'm sorry for the short notice." Your kindness goes a long way with this woman. She ensures you'll see your dress long before the deadline and you do, having a fitting only a few days over one and a half weeks later. The dress is everything you could've hoped for and after the alterations you're dressed to kill.
The night of the award show, your dress is perfectly fitted and your hair is styled intricately to match. A makeup artist finishes off your look and you stand to check yourself in the mirror. You look like your character stepped right out of the screen. A cold, heartless, murderous vixen, scorned too many times.
"Have you decided who you're walking with?" Your agent asks, concerned.
"I can't show up alone?"
"I'm afraid only the men can get away with that one unless you want prying eyes," she shrugs. You opt for calling Sebastian. You don't want to look like you're attempting to make Cooper jealous or hurt his feelings and you know all your actress co-stars already have dates and escorts. He graciously agrees, happy to know his two pals have opted for the high road.
"Well, let's get you on that carpet," Verna escorts you to your limo where Sebastian waits. The ride to the event makes you nauseous with anxiety, but you're not sure why. It's not like this is new to you anymore.
You make a grand entrance, on your co-star's arm, causing you to be bombarded with inaudible questions and blinding camera flashes. Sebastian separates from you for his own photo op. You give them various sultry poses, looking over your shoulder, and placing your hands on your hips. Your face remains stone, emotionless. Your sharp makeup and flat expression make you look like a piece of art. You're melting into your character for the cameras when you hear someone yell that Cooper Howard just walked in.
A decent amount of the cameras that were shoved in your face migrate over to him. Time seems to slow down for one whole minute as the two of you lock eyes. Every emotion neither of you had any time to feel has come rushing back. You reach out to Sebastian for some sort of grounding. Cooper notices that you're on his best friend's arm and he knows it's to show no malice. He sees it for what it is, an olive branch.
"Wow, you really mastered that empty, yearning, hopeless, doomed-love expression!" A man behind a camera shouts at you. You'd thank him, only you weren't trying to make that expression, regardless of how on theme it is for Monae.
"Let's see Cooper and Y/N together again!" Another pap yells, prompting Cooper to join you where you stand against the backdrop. Sebastian reminds you that the show must go on, leaving your side so your ex-fling can replace him. Cooper pulls you into his embrace, keeping his eyes on the audience. After several flashes, they demand to "see the love." You pull Cooper into a tight hug, smooching him on the cheek, leaving a large lipstick mark. He's smart enough to know that while you didn't show up with intentional arm candy, this isn't his real welcome. It's all for the cameras.
Without much thought, Cooper, to keep up the charade, catches you off guard by planting an unsuspecting kiss on your lips. It shouldn't have affected you the way it did, but the moment he pulls away, you two finally get a look at each other. Sebastian and Verna seem to be locked into the slow motion of the moment as well as their eyes bulge out of their heads while they watch your face shift through emotions.
"You're the meanest man I know," you whisper, heartbroken, before running off the red carpet and into the nearest empty area. You do your best to find privacy before you let your tears ruin your makeup.
Back in the carpet, Cooper and Sebastian stare at each other in horror before Sebas finally speaks up.
"Oh, no! A wardrobe malfunction at an event like this is dreadful. I'm glad she was able to catch that," he announces, patting Cooper on the back. That story seems to sell just fine as the cameras move on to the next arriving star.
"What the fuck were you thinking, kid?" Verna appears before Cooper the second he gets inside the building.
"I wasn't! I thought a kiss would shut them up, I was trying to speed this whole thing up for her," he sighs.
"Where did she go?" Sebastian asks the raspy old woman.
"We don't know. She took off so quickly, I couldn't see where she went." The old woman mumbles something angry under her breath and returns to looking for you.
You're in a room not intended to be accessed during this event, but it wasn't locked, so who cares? You find the nearest seat and allow yourself to cry quietly into your gloves.
"What did I do to deserve this? My career is so fucked when this gets out, and what is he?" You rant aloud to no one.
"He's looking for you," Cooper answers your rhetorical question.
"No, he's fine. His career is fine. Everything for him is fine."
"What makes you think that? That I'm fine?" He sounds offended, frustrated.
"Well it was all just an act to you, wasn't it? I fell hard and it was just overtime for you."
"You have no idea what you're talking about," he makes a sharp motion with his hand, angry and precise.
"I thought you felt the same and I'm utterly embarrassed now. I'm so embarrassed, I can only be angry. And I'm so heartbroken, I can only cry. It's unproductive." You pull a compact mirror from your clutch purse and begin fixing your makeup to the best of your ability. "I didn't want to be your on-set floozy."
"I didn't mean to embarrass you, Y/N. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't communicate what that night at the lounge was. I'm sorry I let you invite me inside your house. I swear, I thought you knew what we were doing. I thought the self-preservation thing was a shtick you were just really good at." Cooper takes a few steps closer to you. "I thought it was just fooling around, so I didn't want to get attached, but-"
"But what? Because this is all just kind of hurting my feelings again."
"But I did get attached. I did catch feelings. The night of that party, I was outside spilling my guts to Sebastian because he was the only person who would hear it."
"Cooper..."
"I'm not done." He puts a hand up. "I miss you. I've been pissed off every single day just because I can't talk to you. The minute I forget about you, it's like the wind blows a different way and I'm reminded of the way your hair catches in the breeze when you're in my car with the windows down."
"Cooper."
"I think about you every single day and I'm fucking livid with you for making me wait this long to get to say this to you." He inhales deeply. "I think I- I'm in love with you."
"That's... A little sappy, Cooper."
"Oh, come on." He drops his shoulders, defeated until he hears you start to chuckle.
"I guess I'm in love with you too," you admit.
"You guess?" He raises a brow, feigning offense.
"Would it have hurt this bad if I wasn't?" By now, Cooper's crossed the room. He answers your question by closing the gap between you and locking his lips with yours. It feels like breathing for the first time in months. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. You both missed this.
When you both finally rejoin the party, you're inseparable. Nothing in the world can knock the cheesy grins off your faces. Sebastian looks on proudly, standing next to Verna.
"Well, looks like I've lost my date," Sebastian laughs. "Shall we?" He offers Verna his arm and she laughs loudly before accepting.
You and Cooper quickly find yourselves in the position of Hollywood's favorite couple. It not only skyrockets your career, but his as well, seeing as your fan base from the theatre followed you over to film, and eventually, they found and adored Cooper. The next time either of you comes to a misunderstanding, you take Sebastian's advice. Make it understood.
127 notes
·
View notes