Honeymoon - Aaron Hotchner
word count: 1351
summary: after a gruelling week-long case out of state, you and the BAU finally track down the unsub, leading to a vehicle pursuit and foot chase that leaves you with a few scrapes and Aaron Hotchner more shaken than he’d like to admit. As he patches you up on the hood of an SUV, your husband realises that life has been moving too fast since your wedding— and decides it’s time the two of you finally take a break and enjoy being newlyweds again.
Aaron Hotchner x Reader
authors note: I hope you enjoy reading. I think this is one of my longest pieces yet; your support, likes, comments etc are very much appreciated. Thank you 🥰💗💗
The week had been long.
Too long.
The kind of case that settled under your skin and refused to leave.
By Friday afternoon, everyone in the BAU looked exhausted. Morgan had stopped making jokes hours ago. Reid was surviving almost entirely on coffee. JJ kept checking the clock whenever she thought nobody was looking.
And Aaron?
Aaron Hotchner looked exactly the same as he had on Monday morning.
Calm. Focused. Controlled.
Which somehow made him even more attractive.
Not that you were distracted.
Mostly.
Okay, maybe a little.
You sat in the passenger seat of the SUV, trying very hard not to stare at your husband.
Aaron was driving, one hand steady on the wheel. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, exposing tanned skin and the expensive watch around his wrist. Over his white dress shirt sat his FBI tactical vest, the bold lettering stretched across his chest.
You hated how much you liked that vest.
Especially on him.
Behind you, Rossi noticed the direction of your gaze and smirked.
“You know,” he said casually, “you’ve been married for months now. You can stop looking at him like that.”
You nearly choked.
Aaron’s mouth twitched.
“You have absolutely no proof of that.”
Rossi laughed.
“Sweetheart,” Aaron said without taking his eyes off the road, “everyone has proof of that.”
Heat climbed into your face.
Traitor.
“You two are impossible.”
“We know.”
The response came from both men at once.
—
The unsub had finally made a mistake.
A witness had spotted a vehicle matching their description leaving the latest dump site, and after hours of tracking leads, the team had narrowed the search area.
Two SUVs sped down a dusty road somewhere in rural Nevada.
Aaron drove.
You rode shotgun.
Rossi sat in the back.
The rest of the team followed behind.
Nobody spoke.
The tension inside the vehicle was thick enough to cut.
Then Rossi’s phone rang.
A moment later his expression sharpened.
“We’ve got him.”
Aaron’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.
“Location?”
Rossi relayed the information.
The SUV accelerated immediately.
Your pulse followed.
This was it.
—
The chase started less than twenty minutes later.
The unsub spotted the approaching vehicles and bolted before either SUV had fully stopped.
“FBI!”
Aaron was already moving.
You jumped out alongside him.
The world became motion.
Dust.
Footsteps.
Shouting.
The suspect sprinted through an abandoned industrial yard.
Aaron was ahead of everyone.
You weren’t far behind.
The years of fieldwork had taught you how to keep up.
Unfortunately, the unsub apparently had the same idea.
He cut sharply between two rusted storage buildings.
You followed.
Bad decision.
Your boot caught on a piece of twisted metal hidden beneath the dirt.
The impact sent you crashing sideways.
Pain exploded across your hands and knees.
You hissed.
“Damn it.”
But there wasn’t time to stop.
You pushed yourself upright and kept running.
Blood trickled down your palm.
Aaron glanced back just long enough to see it.
His expression darkened immediately.
You knew that look.
You were going to hear about this later.
—
The unsub made it another hundred yards before Aaron tackled him.
The collision was brutal.
Both of them hit the ground in a tangle of limbs.
You arrived seconds later to help restrain him when the suspect decided one last fight was a good idea.
It wasn’t.
But he managed to land a glancing blow to your cheek before Rossi and Morgan arrived.
Eventually the cuffs clicked into place.
The chase was over.
Case closed.
Everyone could finally breathe again.
—
The adrenaline faded far too quickly.
Now everything hurt.
Your hands.
Your knees.
The scrape along your cheek.
A cut on your forearm.
Nothing serious.
Just enough to sting.
Aaron disagreed.
“You need to sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“Honey.”
“I’m fine.”
“Honey.”
You sighed.
Rossi immediately abandoned the area.
Smart man.
Morgan followed.
Even smarter.
Within seconds everyone had somehow found somewhere else to be.
Cowards.
Aaron guided you toward the SUV anyway.
Before you could protest, he lifted you onto the hood.
The metal was warm from the sun.
You crossed your arms.
He ignored your annoyance completely.
From the emergency kit he retrieved antiseptic wipes.
You groaned.
“Aaron.”
“Stay still.”
“Aaron.”
The look he gave you ended the argument instantly.
You stayed still.
His fingers were careful as he cleaned the cuts on your hands.
Far gentler than anyone would ever expect from Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner.
But this wasn’t Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner.
This was your husband.
The man who made your coffee every morning.
The man who stole your blankets.
The man who kissed your forehead whenever he thought you were asleep.
The man who worried.
A lot.
Especially where you were concerned.
You watched him work.
The concentration on his face.
The slight crease between his brows.
The rolled sleeves.
The tactical vest.
Honestly, it should have been illegal.
Aaron glanced up.
“You smiled.
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
You smiled wider.
His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“What’s funny?”
You shrugged.
“Nothing.”
“Honey.”
You laughed.
“I was just thinking you look good in that vest.”
For a second Aaron looked completely caught off guard.
Then Rossi’s laugh echoed from somewhere behind the vehicles.
Apparently he had heard that.
Wonderful.
Your husband sighed.
“You are unbelievable.”
“You married me.”
A fair point.
Aaron couldn’t argue with that.
—
The smile faded from his face as he cleaned another scrape.
His thumb brushed carefully against your wrist.
For a moment he was quiet.
Too quiet.
You recognized that look too.
“What?”
He continued working.
“Nothing.”
“Aaron.”
He finally met your eyes.
Seeing the concern there made your chest ache.
“When I saw you fall…” he began.
You softened immediately.
“Aaron—”
“It made me think.”
“About what?”
He leaned back slightly.
The afternoon sun painted warm gold across his features.
“About how we haven’t stopped.”
You frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Our honeymoon feels like a lifetime ago.”
You couldn’t help smiling at the memory.
A week away from paperwork.
Away from profiling.
Away from serial killers.
Just you and Aaron.
Beach walks.
Late mornings.
Quiet dinners.
No phones.
No emergencies.
No FBI.
Just the two of you.
Aaron looked down at your injured hands.
“I miss that.”
The admission was surprisingly vulnerable.
You reached for his wrist.
His gaze lifted.
“We could do it again.”
His eyebrow rose.
“Our honeymoon?”
“Why not?”
A small laugh escaped him.
“That’s not usually how honeymoons work.”
“It does if we’re us.”
That earned an actual smile.
A rare one.
The kind reserved only for people he loved.
Your heart did that annoying thing it always did whenever he looked at you like that.
“You want another vacation?”
“I want my husband.”
Aaron’s expression softened immediately.
The noise of the team faded into the background.
The world suddenly felt smaller.
Quieter.
Just the two of you.
“You have me, sweetheart.”
You squeezed his hand.
“Not enough.”
His thumb brushed over your knuckles.
The affection in his eyes was almost overwhelming.
“Then after this paperwork is finished,” he said quietly, “we’ll disappear for a week.”
Your grin was instant.
“A whole week?”
“A whole week.”
“No cases?”
“No cases.”
“No phones?”
His mouth twitched.
“Let’s not get unreasonable.”
You laughed.
Aaron finally finished cleaning the last scrape and stepped between your knees.
His hands settled gently at your hips.
“You scared me today.”
The confession was barely above a whisper.
You wrapped your arms around his neck.
“I’m okay.”
“I know.”
“But?”
Aaron rested his forehead against yours.
“But I love you.”
Simple.
Direct.
Entirely Aaron Hotchner.
Your chest tightened.
After all these months, hearing it still felt special.
Still felt rare.
Still felt like a gift.
“I love you too.”
Behind you, somebody made exaggerated gagging noises.
Morgan.
Obviously.
Neither of you moved.
Neither of you cared.
Because for the first time all week, the case was over.
The unsub was in custody.
The team was safe.
And your husband was standing right in front of you, looking at you like you were the only person in the world.
Honestly?
That was better than any honeymoon.