@favchevse Citta Winter Ball, 2017
➳ |{ He still doesn’t know how Foyet managed to convince him to come as his plus one, but as they near the mansion Hotch suddenly finds himself unable to complain. The cold bites through his suit (bought for him by Foyet himself, a curious and possibly selfish act of altruism), making Foyet’s hand, pressed to the small of his back, the only source of warmth Hotch is currently afforded. He’s struck silent with wonder as they pass through the doors.
He remembers, suddenly, just how long it’s been since he’s been to a dance, let alone a ball. Everything is bright, and music and the wild hum of voices seep from the ballroom beyond. Hotch is half-breathless with the magic of it. It’s a bit ironic that he’s accompanying his own arch-enemy somewhere so undeniably romantic. Fate seems to have a sense of humor.
« ⌘ |[ Foyet keeps Aaron close, his hand at the small of Aaron’s back nearly gripping him. He’s excited––he’s nervous, even, if he thinks about it for a little too long. There are so many people here, so many possible victims, but his nemesis is right beside him, his plus-one to this event. He loves making things ironic and horrible. Tisiphonos toddles along at his side, chittering lightly in complaint about the cold.
“Here we are,” Foyet murmurs after flashing his invitation to a security guard and stepping inside with Aaron. “Doc and the rest of ‘em did a nice job with the decorating, I gotta say.” The palace itself, once they make their way into the main room, is absolutely gorgeous, fitting for such a glitzy kind of event.
He glances over at Aaron, sees his ever-so-slightly awestruck face, and chuckles. It’s kind of cute to see, Foyet has got to admit. “Come back down to earth, Hotchner. I got somethin’ for ya.” As soon as the man turns even a bit, he lays the present on him.
And that present was a warm kiss, right smack in the middle of the hallway––others entering be damned.
