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criminalskies · 10 months

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Drunk Aaron (REPOSTING ON NEW ACCOUNT)

I have a thought!! What about drunk Aaron? Like I’ve had this thought before but I’m so obsessed with the idea of helping Aaron up the stairs after a really good night with the team and then trying to get his clothes off to get him dressed in his pjs. Then he swats at your hands and is like “No, n—no, I’m in a relationship! Stop tryin t’ undress me😣.” And then messing with him and going “you are? what are they like?” And he looks up with sparkles in his eyes and he’s like “s’ pretty 🤭🥰” and that’s when you laugh and you’re like “sweetheart, it’s me. You’re in a relationship with me, now let me get you dressed okay?” And he gets so confused at first but then starts blushing when you take his jacket and tie off and is like “you’re so pretty 🥰” while you get him dressed 😭❤️❤️ - request from @ssamorganhotchner <33333

i don't think you get it IM OBSESSED!

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You knew it was a bad idea the moment the team was able to convince Aaron to grab the mic and croon in karaoke. He was only four drinks in but the only way on was upwards. He very rarely cut loose like this, particularly in front of his employees, but he was having the most fun you'd seen him have in months. You stood by as Penelope and Prentiss bought him wet pussy shot after wet pussy shot until their usually very measured, very nuanced, well behaved boss became a party animal.

He had long since shed his tie and rolled up his sleeves, his hair was cascading over his face as he sweat from the exertion of ruling the dance floor for the last hour. You had no idea your Aaron could do the splitz until he dropped to the floor of the bar, pointing his hands directly in the air and howling as his legs splayed out completely.

You can't lie about how much his confidence and freedom was affecting you, but given that the two of you hadn't announced your relationship to the team yet, you were trying your hardest to keep your arousal at bay, or at least to pretend the drool on your face was from the alcohol you'd had, not from the way your boss had undone his top buttons, and his dress shirt was showing off his broad chest.

Speaking of your alcohol, you tried to keep your drinks to a minimum, wanting to be able to take Aaron home and make sure the two of you make it to bed in one piece.

Aaron came back to the table, dropping down into the sticky booth, he was panting with exhaustion from his dancefloor efforts. He reached for your lime & soda you'd been nursing, chugging the ice cold beverage down before you could muster an 'excuse me?' as you watched his chest heave and the vessels in his neck and arms pulsate with his heartbeat.

"You know, Hotchner I had no idea you were hiding moves like that from us." You tried keeping every bone in your body from wrapping yourself around him like you wanted to, as half your team was watching from across the booth.

"Well, I have a few more moves but those are reserved for very special people." Hotch smirked at you.

"Oh, yeah?" You couldn't resist his bait, knowing you were putty in his drunken hands.

"Yeah, I think my partner would kill me if I showed you my finer moves." He looked more at Dave and at Spencer than he did at you, and you realised he was too wasted to recognise said partner right in front of him. "How about another drink, Morgan? Spencerrrrrr." Aaron asked, narrowly avoiding putting the pretty boy in a headlock as he questioned the table, swinging off the post in the outer corner of the booth. The team turned him down, and he trudged off to the bar to get himself another something to cool down.

"Sheesh, I didn't know Hotch was seeing somebody. Sounds awfully mysterious, huh?" Morgan opened the conversation to pry into Hotch's love life.

"I don't know," Emily chimed in, "seems just like him to be scared to tell us about them. He's got a lot of walls up, I'm just glad he let somebody in. Even if he's not ready to share them with us yet."

The team all seemed to hum in agreement, deciding to leave it be as their boss came back to the table with a beer and a rum and coke in either hand.

He sat down beside you once more, pushing you the rum and coke as he seemed to have remembered who you are to him, and your go-to drink. You figured in the state he's in you probably have a maximum of one hour before he gives away your whole relationship in a spill of word vomit (hopefully not actual vomit, at least) so you decided to take control of the situation, and put your arm around him as he takes his seat. It seems to go mostly unnoticed by the team as Reid has delved into a tangent on the difference between binge-drinking and regular drinking with their respective effects on the brain.

"How you feeling there, cowboy?" You whispered to Aaron, trying to gauge how long he wanted to stay at the bar.

"Pretty great." Aaron replies, with that wide, toothy grin and eyes like he's been stargazing into your own. He rests his head on the palm of his hand, elbow to the table, still giving you a puppy-eyed stare as Reid's tangent comes to a close. The team turns back towards you two, seeing you giggle at Hotch's loving gaze. You love seeing him this loose, free of all his masks and personas he usually has to wear to keep himself and the team, his family, safe.

You catch Morgan in the corner of your eye as he elbows Prentiss, whispering in her ear, feeling all four of their eyes on you and your suddenly lovestruck boyfriend.

"You know, I think the jig is up." you inform Aaron. You see a concentrated look overtake his face at the word jig, and he begins pushing himself up off the table and over to the dance floor. He stops, reaching out his hand to you, first.

"Let's show them the real jig, then." He suggests. You take his hand cautiously and let him lead you out onto the dancefloor, where the two of you continue to bust a move even under the patronising stares of six criminal profilers. You let Aaron pull you around by your hands, your hips, letting the music carry you both through the night knowing you can deal with the questions later.

The music cuts out and one of Aaron's FAAAAVOURITE songs comes on (as he so eloquently shouted in your ear), prompting him to become the bounciest FBI agent you've ever laid eyes on, and he's jumping around like a box-spring until suddenly, he stills. He clutches his stomach, drops your hand and runs for the nearest bathroom stall. Poor thing, he really only drinks like this a few times a calendar year, and since losing weight in his triathlon training he's particularly prone to all the side-effects of excessive drinking, much more than he used to be.

You throw Rossi a pitiful look as he follows after his friend, muttering something about being too old for this. It's almost half an hour later when the two of them emerge, Aaron looking far worse for wear, draped over Rossi's presumably very expensive jacket. Morgan and Dave load Aaron into your car, with your promise that you'll answer all the team's burning questions about your newly revealed relationship in the morning. That is if you can get the unit chief out of bed by 12.

Aaron doesn't say a word on the drive home, clearly enjoying the sensation of the cool passenger window of your car against his burning cheek, and you think he's fallen asleep. Perfect. You get to unload your 200 pounds of boyfriend into your sixth floor apartment and his body is as limp as a raw hotdog.

You manage to open the car door without his body spilling out, which you count as a small success.

"Aaron, Aaron sweetheart, we're home." You stroke his cheek, feeling him nuzzle against your hand, before his eyes snap open and he bats your hand away.

"I'm n't your sweeth'rt I don't even know you." He looks at you through squinted eyes, clearly straining to stay awake.

"Alright, well, I'm gonna help you get home, if that's okay. Can you walk?" You fight every fibre in your body to not tack a 'sugarbear' on the end of that question, given how adorable he looks when he's this sleepy.

"I c'n run! Course I c'n walk." Perfect. Despite being about as structurally sound as a wet tortilla chip, he's still got his confidence, however misguided it may be.

"OK. Walk with me?" You pull his arm around your shoulders, trying to help lever him up out of the car. He trips every few steps and will definitely scowl at the horrid scuffed state of his favourite work shoes in the morning, but at least he's not faceplanting. Yet.

You manage to maneuvre him into the elevator, basically holding his body up against the wall of the small space. Once you arrive at the sixth floor, he has a few near-trips with the neighbours welcome mats getting caught beneath his shoes, but you finally arrive at your door.

"Stay here, okay, just one moment, baby just stay right there while I get our keys." You prop him up to the left side of your door, dropping your workbag on the table to the right so you can rummage for your keys when you hear a loud THUD.

The poor thing is in a ball on the floor, having slid down the wall and become just a pile of limbs and coat tails somewhere along the way.

"Shit." You find your keys, unlocking the door and throwing your bag onto the couch down the entryway before you even attempt to pick up your pile of boyfriend.

"Aaron, stay with me, please wake up I just need you to go inside, you can't sleep out here." You plead with him, hoping that just one lobe of his brain is functioning enough to hear you.

"Hrmmph." He replies in a sort of grunt. Wonderful, your pile of boyfriend has attitude. Luckily, you know just who could get him to stand at attention right now.

You clear your throat, aiming to make it sound older and croakier than your own. "SSA Hotchner, Attention!" You make one last-ditch appeal to the scared little boy inside of him who lived from army bootcamp to army bootcamp.

To your surprise, he starts rolling around trying to ascertain which was is up, and with your hands under his arms, he is able to stand back up. You walk him inside without a word, pushing him straight through to your bedroom before he can collapse and reoccupy his liquid form on the floor once more.

You grab his pyjamas, neatly folded atop his pillow as always, bringing them over with some socks for him to wear to bed.

He's managed to remain sitting up at the foot of the bed where you left him, and you decide now you definitely need to be his partner, not his tenth grade drill sergeant to achieve this.

"Aaron, sweetheart, put your arms up for me."

"No, I'm taken. I d'nt want any funny business w'you." He puts on an excellent pout, and you're proud of his resistance to someone's advances deep within your chest, but right now you really just need him to get over it until you can tuck him neatly into bed.

"Aaron, I know you're taken because it's me, Y/N. See?" You give a dramatic twirl, letting him look up at you through his lashes, but his eyes look emptier than usual. The lights are on, but almost nobody is home, nobody helpful anyway.

"Prove it." He challenges you.

"Well, would anybody but Y/N know that you still have your caterpillar stuffie from when you were three? Mister Tickles?" You hope he's in a conscious enough state to recall that Mister Tickles is in your shared wardrobe, nestled in between Aaron's winter coats.

"Okay, weirdo. No need t'get pers'nal" You laugh at Aaron trying to keep his cool although you clearly know even the things about him he hides from himself.

He reluctantly raises his arms, letting you remove his undershirt, replacing it with your favourite college tee that just fits him so much nicer than it fits you, and he lays down and lifts his hips, letting you remove his belt and slacks. He wolf whistles when you first start undoing his belt but you know you can't take advantage of him when he can't even recognise who you are without guidance. You slide on his Air-bud puppy pyjama pants Jack got him for his birthday, knowing he loved the movie as a boy. You then manage to slip socks on his feet and open up the blankets, pushing him into the open bed and tucking him in tightly. You leave to putter about the bedroom, doing your own nighttime routine before you come back to Aaron, placing blobs of his favourite moisturiser on his face, rubbing it in ever so gently, although he's practically snoring. You know how much he hates feeling like 'the life drains from his face' after a night out and how he will inevitably wake up with cold feet and dry eyes.

You admire his sleeping form, his long lashes shifting as his eyes peacefully drift in his sleep. You plant a kiss on his forehead before heading out to the kitchen to get him painkillers and a glass of water, knowing he'll need them. You also leave the toilet light on, letting it glow under the door so when he does inevitably get up for one last heave into the bowl, he'll be able to find his way in the dark.

You get into bed, worrying about what is to come from the team tomorrow, now knowing the two of you are together, and how you'll have to explain yourselves to Strauss and inevitably an internal review board or three. But as you look once more at Aaron's peaceful face, you notice that even after three hours of karaoke and dancing his heart out, he looks more rested and relaxed than he has in the years you'd known him. His frown lines making way for smile lines, and all of his walls he built around himself making room for one more. You know the two of you will be able to face whatever may be thrown your way.

As you look at the toilet light cascading under the door, illuminating the fibres of your plush carpeted room, you realise Aaron is your guiding light as well. That you wouldn't know home without him.

#i'm sorry guys i might be reposting a lot of old stuff like this that you've seen before but im just making it more accessible #please bear with me #rome’s wonderful moots! <3 #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #hotch x gn!reader #hotch x gender neutral reader #drunk!hotch #the amazing morgan!

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