Summary: You spent a large part of your life taking care of people. Between a test to grade, a phone call to calm Spencer down, and the problems of everyday life, there was never any time left. And honestly? You never cared about investing in your own love life. Love (in the intimate sense, between two people) was something for other people.
But it seems that destiny had other plans.
Warnings: sorry for the delay my loves, I was out of ideas on how to continue, so if you have any idea for the next part, I would be happy to receive it. I wrote this part in the free time of my internship so I apologize if there are any spelling or translation mistakes.
WC: 1753
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“Shit,” you muttered, opening the bag wider to get a better look inside. You could have sworn you’d seen it before leaving the office, but now you weren't so sure.
You were digging so deep your hand was practically pushing through the leather lining.
Where is that damn key?
Aaron frowned, adjusting the strap of his travel bag. “What is the Wicked Witch of the West doing lost out here?” You looked up, meeting his look of arrogant amusement.
Handsome son of a bitch. “Excuse me?”
He stifled a laugh. “What are you wearing?”
You crossed your arms.
“What? The man whose suits range from black to navy blue is going to give me fashion advice?” you scoffed. He shrugged. “They’re good suits.”
You snorted, turning your attention back to your bag. “Familiarity really sucks,” you muttered to yourself, accidentally bumping your coat pocket and hearing the familiar jingle of keys. "Sorry, I'm just not having a good day."
He sighed, turning to look for his own key. "No need to apologize; I'm not at my best either." Aaron checked his trouser and jacket pockets, then glanced inside the small travel bag he was carrying. "And apparently, to top off the night, I've got a homeless person here."
You smiled at his attempt at a joke. "I think I know what we need," you said with amusement, opening the door wider and nodding toward your apartment.
He slowly looked up, eyeing the interior warily. "It’s nothing illegal, right? Because, you know, then I’d have to arrest you."
You raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across your face as you looked him up and down. “Aaron Hotchner, I didn't know you had other uses for handcuffs off the clock.”
He kept his expression neutral, but you knew him too well not to notice the tops of his ears turning red. "I don't know what you mean."
You rolled your eyes. "Oh, please, or what? Do you think I have drugs hidden under the floorboards?"
Aaron stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. "I didn't say that."
It was a lie. He’d spent enough time around you to know you wouldn’t have a stash of cocaine hidden in the walls. On the other hand, he wouldn’t mind if you wanted handcuffs and—
Shit.
Why did his mind keep going there? You would be his undoing; after years of dealing with the worst kind of people, it would be you—a strangely charismatic woman—who drove him mad.
"Are you coming in or not?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Aaron had obviously caught glimpses of your apartment before, but actually being inside and taking it all in was a different experience. He couldn't help but discreetly observe the room. It was just as organized as he’d imagined, of course, but he definitely hadn't expected a living room decorated with such detail—a potted plant in every corner and a sofa piled high with cushions.
The living room was a curious contrast to what he was used to seeing in the hallway; yet, the decor was so… you.
Aaron had never been the prying type, but he found himself wanting to explore the other rooms.
Was every room decorated to reflect a different facet of your personality? Like a fragmented whole?
Or did you simply not bother decorating the rest, leaving it all a uniform icy white? Did you paint the pictures on the wall yourself, or buy them at a store?
It was striking; no matter how much insight he gained into who you were, it was never enough.
"So…" Aaron began in a low voice. "If it wasn't drugs, what were you offering?"
"Breakfast," you replied simply, setting your bag on the table and gently slipping off your tulle poncho.
It took his brain a few seconds to process that, as he took in how good black looked on you. "Sorry, did you say breakfast?"
"Yes," you said, walking past him to grab a package from the freezer and turning to switch on the oven. "When I was a kid and had a bad day, my mom would tell me to start the day over, so dinner would be breakfast."
Aaron pondered for a moment, watching you line up the rolls in the pan. “Interesting method.”
You gave him a small smile as you put them in the oven. “It’s odd, but it works.”
Aaron let his gaze wander around the room as you finished preparing the rolls. There were small paintings hanging next to the front door, they were smaller than the ones you had in the room.
The frames held children's drawings.
He glanced your way. You were too focused on spreading the cream over the cupcakes to notice. Aaron approached, observing discreetly.
In the first, three stick figures smiled in front of a crooked house, small hearts decorated the grass, as if they were flowers. In the next, a park occupied almost the entire page, with lots of trees in different shades of green. Three dolls appeared again, but they were different from the first. Two tall dolls and one smaller, with a blue shirt, spiky hair and a bicycle at their side.
Jack.
You looked up over your shoulder, following the direction of his gaze. “Where is Jack, by the way?”
Aaron turned his attention away from the drawings and walked to the bench, stopping next to him. “He went with Jessica to visit his grandfather.” He rested one hand on the back of a chair, watching you pick up the plates. “Let’s say we don’t have a good relationship, it’s… complicated.”
You handed him the plates, before pulling two glasses from the cupboard. “Relax, I understand complicated family dynamics.”
He took them, arching an eyebrow as he looked at his hand. “Wine for breakfast?
“It’s a hypothetical breakfast,” you reminded him. “Besides, somewhere in the world it’s already midnight.”
Aaron laughed through his nose, “That’s what some alcoholic would say.”
“I would be a wise alcoholic.”
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“Favorite band.”
Aaron didn’t answer right away. Back in college, he used to like going to the record store when he had time—sometimes he’d even catch a few shows—but now? When was the last time he’d actually stopped to listen to music?
“I’m not sure I have one.”
“Nah,” you scoffed, pouring a little more wine into your own glass. “Liar.”
He held his glass out toward you. “I really don’t.”
“Aaron…”
“I listen to whatever’s playing in the car.”
“Ouch,” you winced as you topped off his glass. “What a sad life.”
Aaron let out a low laugh. “Right, I guess it’s the Beatles.”
“Good choice,” you murmured. “Besides running, what else do you do to relax?”
“I read,” he took a sip, wondering when the last time was that he’d had time to read a whole book. “Sometimes I go fishing.”
You nodded. “Quiet hobbies.”
He grabbed another bite-sized snack, setting his glass aside to lean back against the sofa. “And you?”
“I like reading too; sometimes I like to cook.”
Aaron nodded, finishing his bite. “You’re good at it.”
You looked up, resting your head against the back of the sofa so you could see him better. “Thanks.”
For a moment, silence settled between you. It wasn’t awkward; it was… comfortable.
Aaron absentmindedly twirled his glass between his fingers before setting it on the coffee table. Then he mimicked you, leaning his head back against the sofa and staring at the ceiling. “You know…”
You murmured a questioning “hm?” to encourage him to go on, all while keeping your eyes on him.
“It’s nice to have a conversation that doesn’t involve suspects or a race against the clock.” He let out a soft sigh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.”
Aaron turned just enough to meet your gaze.
“Thank you.” You held his gaze in silence for a few seconds before giving him a small smile. “I think we both needed this.”
The corner of his mouth curled into a small smile.
Silence returned; there was no urgency to fill it.
Beep, beep, beep.
You jumped up from the sofa.
"Shit," you muttered, setting your glass on the table before sinking back down with a hand over your heart.
Oh, crap.
You’d forgotten to turn off the oven timer.
The comfortable silence between you lasted less than a second before Aaron started laughing.
Not his usual understated half-smile, but a genuine laugh—the kind that makes his shoulders shake.
You glanced at him sideways, torn between indignation and surprise. "Stop laughing!" you murmured, amused, before tossing a cushion his way; it hit his chest before landing in his lap.
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Aaron grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and put it on while you searched for your apartment keys for the second time that morning.
“Do you always lose your keys, or is it just me?” he asked with amusement, finishing his cup of coffee.
You scoffed, setting your bag on the table before patting down your coat and trouser pockets. “Look who’s talking—until last night, you were homeless.”
“Touché.”
He fell silent for a moment, waiting for you to finish locking the door. “So… are you busy tonight?”
You called the elevator, glancing over at him. “No, why?”
“I was thinking…” Aaron paused briefly. “I was thinking maybe we could go out for dinner tonight.”
You gave a half-smile. “Aaron, if this is about yesterday, you really don’t have to. I enjoyed the company. I wasn’t expecting a thank-you.”
“It’s not a thank-you.” He gestured for you to step into the elevator first before turning to face you. “I’m asking you out because I want to. Don’t take this as a thank-you; it’s a date.”
Oh my god
“A date?” you asked, slightly confused, hoping your ears had deceived you.
“Yes,” he replied promptly, without hesitation. “Is seven o’clock good for you?”
A date?
Oh God, a date.
It was a simple word, but it seemed strangely huge now that it was coming from his lips.
You have a date with Aaron.
“Seven o’clock is great,” you managed to say after a moment.
A smile—surprisingly big compared to the ones you were used to getting—spread across his face. It was almost… relieved. As if he hadn’t been sure what your answer would be until that very moment.
“I’ll come pick you up.”
You simply nodded, unable to hide the small smile that kept tugging at your lips. It still felt strange to think about it. A date. With Aaron.
He took a step back, as if he were about to say something else, but changed his mind at the last second.
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