Chapter 8: From the Dining Table
Summary: Spencer gets a visit from a concerned friend following his scary close call in Texas, but the night is cut short by an urgent text message.
Word Count: 5.8k
Warnings 18+: Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, explicit language, potentially triggering recollections of past assault/non-con elements, sexual tension, psychological profiling
Read it on Ao3.
Spencer felt cold. No matter how many sweaters he wore, no matter how much he turned up the heat in his apartment, no matter how many cups of tea he drank, he couldn’t seem to get warm. If he sat idly long enough, Spencer's mind would wander back to the freezer. He could see in perfect detail every vein on the butchered pigs' corpses as they hung from the frosted ceiling. It wasn't a large leap for his brain to picture his own body hanging there among them, a rusted meat hook slung through his shoulder.
Sleep had been evasive for him the past few nights, but that wasn't uncommon. These were just the most recent in a long series of nightmarish images that stained the walls of his mind. They would pass. They always did. It was a sickening comfort that no matter what the worst thing he'd ever seen was, he was still going to see worse one day or another. Besides, he almost died. He could work through the trauma of an abduction. He had no choice but to come out the other side, he owed it to the three other victims.
He sat on his couch, thumbing through a first edition of the Narrative of John Smith, relishing in the way the vintage paper snagged at the pads of his index finger as he quickly drew it down the page. He had a large knit blanket in his lap, one that his mother had made for him before he left for college. The world dealt his mother an unfair hand, but her skill and craftsmanship lived on in both the blanket and Spencer.
Beside him on the dark wood side table, the mug he stole from the breakroom steamed with the fresh chamomile tea he brewed himself. There were rings all around the dark wood despite the lopsided pile of bamboo coasters at the edge of the table. His coffee table was made from the same wood, not that anyone could see it. It was constantly covered by books, journals and steno pads. That was true for most of his apartment. Anywhere he turned there were piles of books within arms reach. He liked it that way, it felt cozy, almost like a shield.
Dim yellowish light filtered over his shoulder, it was easier on his eyes than the fluorescent lights at work. He drew his book back from his face and settled it in his lap, resetting his eyes as they began to strain.
There was a soft knock at the door and Spencer ignored it at first. His neighbors ordered food often and because the entrance to their apartment was slightly hidden due to the unconventional layout of the historic building, delivery drivers would almost always knock on Spencer’s door first. He found that if he ignored it long enough, eventually after a few minutes, they would realize the mistake and find the correct apartment.
But the knocking was consistent and getting louder. With narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, Spencer put his book on top of the others on the coffee table and piled his blanket haphazardly next to him on the couch. He wasn’t expecting any visitors, so he grabbed his gun from the counter and crossed slowly towards the door. He glanced through the peephole and almost jumped out of his skin.
“Jasmine!” Reid exclaimed, opening the door quickly.
“Were you… expecting someone else?” Jas questioned, eyeing the gun in his hand.
“No, I wasn’t expecting anyone actually,” Reid countered with a shy smile, flipping the safety back on, motioning for her to come in.
“I tried calling you like six times.”
“My phone is on silent,” Reid admitted bashfully.
“Oh don’t tell Hotch,” Jas warned playfully, taking a seat on the couch. Reid watched her look around his apartment and felt anxiety start to bubble in his stomach. He was suddenly extremely aware of the copious piles scattered wherever there was a free surface and all over the floor. He ran his hand across the back of his neck. Despite the less than pristine condition of his living room, Reid couldn’t help but notice how perfect Jasmine looked on his couch. Or how weird it felt to have her there in the first place.
“It’s hot in here,” Jasmine breathed out, fanning out her white t-shirt and using the ponytail holder on her wrist to tie the front up into a knot. Reid pursed his lips and forced himself not to stare at her toned midriff.
“Yeah I’m sorry, I just can’t seem to get warm,” he muttered, crawling onto the opposite side of the couch and balling himself back up into his blanket. As if to prove his point, his body let out a shudder at the sudden warmth.
“Do you have anything to drink?” Jasmine inquired, still drawing in all of the details of his apartment.
“Yes of course,” he exclaimed, attempting to scramble to his feet.
“No, I’ll get it. Just… tell me where to go,” she held his shoulder down and physically forced him back onto the couch. The contact sent an electric current through his body that bubbled into a soft heat which pulsated through his stomach.
“In the kitchen, the cupboard next to the fridge has glasses. I hope you didn’t mean alcohol because I’m afraid all I have is water and orange juice. I could make you some tea-”
“Water is fine.”
Reid tried not to watch her so carefully as she came back into the living space. He tried not to stare at her behind in the light gray sweatpants that hugged it so perfectly, he thought they might have actually been tailored to her. She sat with her back against the arm of the couch, bringing her knees to her chest. She was staring at Reid with a neutral expression, but he was trying his best not to fidget under her gaze. He mirrored her position, but his legs were too long, so he took up most of the two person couch. Their toes just barely brushed against each other but it was enough to make his stomach do a flip.
“You have a really nice place,” Jasmine said with a smile.
“It’s a mess. I’m so sorry-” Reid said with a sigh, rubbing his hands down his face.
“Don’t be. It’s just books.”
“Right.” He avoided her gaze, but he was aware of it burning a hole into his chest. He grabbed his mug off the side table and sipped it quietly, afraid if he didn’t give his hands something to do, he’d pick all of the skin off of them. He cleared his throat when his gaze accidentally met hers and drew his lips into a tense line. The corners of her lips turned up into a soft smile and she wiggled her toes against his. His feet prickled at the feeling, but he couldn’t move them away. He wanted more.
“How are you feeling?” Jasmine asked quietly, running her fingernail along the rim of the glass in her hand.
Her eyes followed her actions and the pause in her eye contact allowed him to compose himself enough to answer, albeit stiffly, “Good.”
“Is that so?” Jasmine challenged, her tone was distrusting and her eyes slowly dragged up the length of his body. It made his skin crawl and his spine sent another shiver radiating through his body. His heart rate spiked when he felt a flash of heat stir in between his legs.
“Yup. I’m doing good,” he doubled down weakly.
“Reid, you almost died.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t,” he said with a small shrug. She took a long gulp from her glass, water pouring from one side of her mouth as she drank. Spencer’s eyes honed in on the single drop of water that traveled from the corner of her lips, down her jawline and onto the column of her neck. He swallowed hard and his body physically recoiled when he realized he was staring.
“See, this is what I mean. You don’t seem good.”
“Jasmine, I’m fine,” he insisted, pulling the blanket down off his shoulders and bunching it onto his lap.
Spencer was suddenly very aware of the texture of the blanket as it scratched against his hands. He was aware of the hood on his sweatshirt, just barely pulling at his neck where it was caught between his back and the couch. He was aware of the smooth texture of the ceramic mug, now too warm in his hands as steam rose from the mouth of it.
Spencer was acutely aware of the way Jasmine’s gaze seemed to ignite his body into flames. He was aware of how dry his mouth was and how his hair felt against his forehead. He was also critically aware of the lengthening silence between the two as Jasmine’s eyes observed him unrelentingly.
“Are you sweating?” Jasmine narrowed her eyes. Spencer brought the back of his hand to his forehead and realized that there was some perspiration near his hairline.
“Let me turn the heat down,” Jasmine offered, rising from the couch and making her way over to the thermostat on the wall, “This thing is ancient,” she mentioned under her breath.
“It’s a historical building,” Reid offered an explanation to a question she wasn’t asking.
As soon as she was out of his proximity, he felt like he could breathe easier. He took advantage of his clearer mental state and pulled the FBI hoodie over his head, discarding it onto the floor. He frowned when he noticed there were sweat stains on the pale blue t-shirt he’d been wearing under it.
He shifted in his seat, replacing the mug onto the side table. He drew in a sharp breath when he realized he had a much bigger problem. He gulped as he pressed the blanket harder onto his lap, his stomach sinking. The bulge in his underwear rubbed uncomfortably against the seam of his pants, but it was better than the alternative. He closed his eyes in exasperation, willing his erection to go down. Concealing a boner from the world’s most observant woman was an uphill battle. Heat rose in his cheeks at the thought of her knowing. He closed his eyes; if he couldn’t see it, maybe it wouldn’t be true. All he had to do was keep his blanket on his lap and not look at Jasmine.
His eyes fluttered open when there was a tugging at his lap and he was met with Jasmine’s shirt collar falling low as she bent over to take the blanket from him.
“What are you doing?” Reid demanded, gripping the blanket so tight, he could feel his nails digging into his palms through it.
“You look warm, I was just going to fold this up and put it away for you,” Jasmine explained. Reid forced himself to maintain eye contact with her, it was the lesser of two evils with her cleavage only centimeters below his eyes. Was this her way of taking care of him? In any other instance, Spencer might have found it sweet.
“I’m fine, Jasmine,” Reid snapped. He frowned at the unpleasant tone of his own voice, but the urgent desperation in his chest subsided momentarily as she raised her hands in defeat.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I was only trying to help,” she muttered, retaking her seat opposite from him. He sighed inwardly, wishing the couch would swallow him whole. “How are you, Spencer? Really.” She was looking at him expectantly, her green eyes hooded by the thick coat of mascara she’d applied earlier in the day.
His stomach flipped at the sound of his name, “I already told you, I’m fine.” He concentrated deeply on ensuring his voice didn’t break, but he wasn’t sure his feigned nonchalance was cutting it.
“I thought maybe you would want to talk about what happened. I know you didn’t want to see me at the hospital, and I don’t blame you, honestly, I just want to help you,” her voice was more tentative than usual. It almost felt like she was beating around the bush. Spencer could tell her downcast gaze that she was worried he’d tell her to leave again like he did then.
Reid didn’t trust his voice to speak, and more honestly, he didn’t know what to say to her. He felt himself throb in his boxers and just the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as she breathed made him twitch with interest. He knew his face was flushing as he fought a losing battle to regain control over his body. There was no way he was going to make it out of this without being made. He laughed at the irony, only two days ago the thought of touching Jasmine kept him alive, now the thought of touching her was slowly killing him.
“What’s so funny?” Jasmine questioned, smiling at his amusement. Reid’s eyes snapped to hers as if he hadn’t realized his thoughts were manifesting on his face. Before he could stumble his way to an explanation, her phone buzzed in her pocket. He let out an actual breath of relief as her attention was drawn from him.
“I have to go, Spence. Are you sure you’re okay?” Jasmine eyed him suspiciously as she stood up, pushing her phone into the pocket on her thigh.
Spencer knew if he asked her to, she would stay; she would probably even stay the night. But the thought of her staying over at his apartment caused his pulse to race. Spencer would have no idea how to navigate that situation. Spending an entire night on the cusp of making a move would be exhausting at best and predatory at worst. He would rather take his chances with the butcher nightmares than embarrass himself with a misstep.
“I’m great. Thanks for stopping by, I really appreciate it,” Reid mumbled, pulling an open book onto his lap and turning the page. He knew he was coming across as a bit dismissive, but if she asked him to walk her to the door, he couldn’t have talked his way out of the tent in the front of his pants. He knew he would have to make up for his crassness at a later date, but for now, he couldn’t be more relieved to see her go.
She frowned as she made her way to the door, stepping over piles of books as she did so. Spencer offered her a nonchalant wave as she opened the door and as soon as it was closed behind her, he let out a soft groan and slumped onto the couch, pulling the blanket to cover his beat red face.
As soon as he sent the text, Hotch regretted it. He stared at himself in his bathroom mirror and shook his head. He had no business doing that. Not after what he said to her at the hospital. Not after what he said about protecting Spencer.
“Aaron Hotchner, you are a stupid, stupid man,” he grumbled to himself. He reached for his phone, after giving it a second, third and twentieth thought, he was going to tell her nevermind. Of course, she knew what he meant by ‘come over.’ It was 11pm on a Saturday night. It didn’t matter, he could pretend it was meant for someone else. Maybe one of the most perceptive women on the planet would believe his lie if luck were on his side tonight. It was worth a shot and it beat the alternative of willingly creating another giant mistake.
He unlocked his phone and pulled up her contact. He had the message typed out when there was a knock at the door. He drew in a sigh, his shoulders tense. Plan B was to pretend he invited her here to consult on one of the many cases he had open on his dining room table currently. It didn’t matter which, he could pretend to need her assistance on any of them.
He opened the door with a stern look on his face. He was giving the front of business despite his original motives being pleasure. With any luck, she would follow his professional lead.
Her smile caught him off guard as the blonde looked up him and down, “What?”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought you wore suits at home, too,” she said with a small laugh, her nose scrunching a bit. His black moisture wicking shirt and gym shorts didn’t exactly scream professional meeting. Hotch relented his stern appearance for half a second, “I half expected you to show up in a pencil skirt.”
“Touche.”
“Please, Jasmine, come in. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry to have bothered you on such short notice. I’m sure you had other plans, but I was hoping to pick your brain about a case,” Aaron had fully committed to the facade now. He noted the way her face didn’t drop in the slightest, perhaps she hadn’t had any expectations for the evening afterall.
“I was visiting with a friend, but work is work,” Jasmine explained, taking off her beige cardigan and placing it on the back of the dining room chair. Aaron mumbled another apology as he scanned his table for any case that would warrant a late night call to Jasmine exclusively.
“This one,” he grabbed a large file off one of the piles, “involves a series of deaths that are potentially related. The CIA thinks it could be organized crime, but I disagreed. The crime scenes are too sporadic for this to be organized.” Jasmine bit her lip as she thumbed through the file, taking a seat in the chair. She drew her legs up to sit criss-cross on it and she looked engrossed in the images in front of her. Hotch let out a small breath of relief, it appeared as though she’d found it all believable.
“I think I agree with you. Anyone involved in an organization who would order hits like this wouldn’t want someone this messy around. The killer wouldn’t have a chance to kill again, they would have been taken care of one way or another,” Jasmine nodded, chewing on the pad of her index finger while she read the police reports. “Why does the CIA think it’s organized?”
“The deaths have mainly involved small-scale local officials,” Hotch said as a matter of factly. He took a seat next to her when he realized he was hovering over her.
She let out a soft hum as she read over some details, “I think that’s a coincidence. They could be dealing with a vigilante. I think it’s a disorganized, politically motivated anger excitation killer.” Hotch allowed the corner of his mouth to turn up into a smirk. He’d drawn the same conclusion hours earlier, but it felt nice to be validated.
“Is that it then?” Jasmine asked, folding her hands in her lap.
“Yes, I just needed a second opinion on it to submit the official verdict to the CIA,” Hotch lied. He’d sent the verdict to the CIA much earlier in the day. “Thank you,” Hotch added quickly, gathering the file and placing it to the side.
“Yeah of course. Happy to help,” Jasmine said with a soft smile. She got up at the same time Hotch did, their chests bumping into each other.
“Oh-” Jasmine exclaimed. Aaron grumbled out a small apology before motioning for her to go first. The simple touch woke his body up and made his brain tingle.
Fuck.
Before he could stop himself, he grabbed her wrist and spun her around to face him. He pulled her body to his chest and grabbed her face with his other hand. Aaron ignored the knowing look in her eyes as he sealed his lips onto hers. His jaw moved in tandem with hers as he caressed her face with his hand, moving his other hand to the back of her head, and fisting it into her hair. She ran her hands across his chest and slowly down his abdomen. She didn’t dare venture any further than the hem of his shirt, moving the fabric through her fingers tentatively.
When he pulled away for air, his brown eyes were looking down over his cheekbones as he panted, his hand tilting her face up to meet his. “Sorry,” he slurred out between breaths, watching the tantalizing flush that spread across her cheeks.
“It’s ok,” she said quietly, tugging the hem of his shirt slightly upwards. He felt air kiss the bare skin of his abdomen and her fingertips brushing the hair under his navel. His cock twitched in his shorts where it pressed against Jasmine’s thigh. He smirked unabashedly at the sensation, watching as Jasmine’s eyes darkened at the contact.
Her eyes flickered between his own and his lips as she found herself raising to her tiptoes to capture them in another heated kiss. His tongue drew across her bottom lip and once he had access. He explored her mouth in a way he hadn’t allowed himself in times prior. Now, there was no need to rush and there were no prying eyes.
In a fleeting moment of mental weakness, Aaron almost forgot this was a wildly inappropriate affair with a much younger subordinate. She kissed him with such rabid passion, it almost felt like he was experiencing the touch of a lover. The realization that he wanted to savor this moment with her was sobering, but it was no match for the intoxicating feeling of her hands roaming under his shirt.
She pulled back from him and pulled his shirt over his head. He watched in amusement as she allowed her eyes the time to drink in the image of his naked torso. It seemed as though she wanted to savor this moment just the same. Aaron hated how much he wanted to let her. Before he could ask her to, she removed her own shirt and Hotch followed it to the floor and back to her chest, licking his lips when he saw she wasn’t wearing a bra.
It was almost unfair how perfect she looked as she presented herself to him. If you were to ask any one of his teammates, Aaron’s self-restraint was legendary. But, the reality was that he was just a man. A man with very human desires and needs.
He brought his hands to her chest and cupped her breasts. She let soft moans escape her lips as he pinched her nipples between his thumb and his index finger, using his other hand to pull her to his body by the waist. She preened against his touch, bringing her hand to the bulge in his shorts and giving it a well intentioned squeeze. Hotch let out a soft hiss, thrusting his hips into her touch, indulging in the delicious friction.
The feeling was dangerously good. Hotch closed his eyes and let her touch him, it wasn’t enough to get him close, but the over the clothes teasing made his head buzz with possibilities. Without breaking their kiss, he reached behind him and pushed all of the files off the table, his motion was fluid and purposeful.
Jasmine pulled back from him for a second, her lips were swollen and the flush that once painted her cheeks had spread to her bare chest. She eyed the disheveled pile of files on the dining room floor and looked back to Hotch incredulously before peeling off her sweat pants and pressing both hands to his chest, pushing him back against the table.
Hotch let out a soft groan, a dark smile gracing his face as he raised his hips high enough to take off his shorts, pulling his underwear off with them in one singular motion. He sat back on his elbow and brought his free hand to stroke his length, now dripping generously with precum. Aaron drank in the image of her as his wrist lazily worked its way along his shaft. He almost couldn’t believe how good she looked in only a tiny red thong. The waistband laid high on her hip bone, elongating the shape of her legs. Hotch wanted to sink his fingers into the flesh of her hips and pull her to his body and not let go.
“Red’s my favorite color,” Hotch panted out playfully, as she climbed onto the table and crawled her way to him.
“Lucky you,” she purred, bringing her hair into a makeshift ponytail at the back of her head. She brought her hand to the one stroking his cock and pulled it off, guiding it to her hair as she leaned down to encase his length in between her lips. His fingers flexed around her blonde locks as he held enough slack to keep from pulling it.
“Just like that,” Hotch moaned out as she hollowed out her mouth and drew him deeper into her throat. Her movements were precise and smooth. Hotch controlled her depth, but he had no real power right now. He was reduced to a moaning, twitching mess underneath her. All he could do was grit his teeth and gasp out broken praises as she electrified every single pleasure center in his body. She was more magnificent than any of his wildest fantasies. He knew how bad it felt to come down from this high, but watching her saliva cover his cock silenced every negative voice in his head.
When he felt himself riding a dangerous line between pleasure and orgasm, he grabbed her biceps and dragged her up the length of his body, forcing her into a heated kiss. His hips moved on their own as he humped her thigh, his hand moving to her ass, kneading it roughly. The skin was soft and warm beneath his grip. He had to physically restrain himself from leaving bruises.
“I want you so badly, it’s making me look stupid, Jasmine,” Hotch breathed into her ear, forcing her thigh down against his erection. He barely even heard the words as they flowed out of his mouth, it sounded like someone else talking. He wasn’t sure where they came from, but the sultry smile that bloomed across her lips was a prize he didn’t even know he was chasing.
Strings of precum painted her toned thigh as he grinded into her leg lazily. She sat up in his lap, looking down on him with blissful green eyes. Hotch brought his hands between her legs and forced the tiny red thong to the side as she grabbed his length and guided herself onto him. Her head flew back at the feeling of him filling her while he traced hearts into the skin of her hips, waiting for her to get adjusted.
Once she began to roll her hips against his, Hotch let out a string of curses, “Fuck Jas. Just like that, oh my god. Fuck. Oh you make me feel so fucking good.”
Her pace quickened at his praises. His hair was falling flat on his forehead as his hair gel began to give out from the perspiration. Her chest bounced with the movements and Hotch couldn’t decide whether to look there, at her eyes or to watch the place where they were connected. Every slide of her velvet walls down his length made the edges of his vision get darker and darker. He reached between her legs with his fingers, the pad of his thumb rubbing a soft circle on her clit. The way she clenched around him at the sensation caused him to let out a strangled moan as his head fell back against the dining room table. He kept stroking the sensitive bud, relishing in the physical and vocal reaction he elicited with each movement.
He wasn’t going to be able to hold on any longer, not with her clenching around him like a vice each time he sent a new wave of pleasure through her body. He let out a soft groan, “Jasmine, I’m not going to last much longer.”
She looked down at him, the overhead light casting a dramatic shadow over her eyelashes. She appeared like something out of an erotic noir film and it made Hotch’s abdomen flex as he tried to stave off his orgasm.
“Hotch,” Jasmine gasped, “Just a little longer.” There was a pleading in her voice that went straight to his dick. She looked so stunning like this, bouncing on his cock, covered in a thin layer of sweat, quietly begging him to get her to her orgasm.
“Jasmine, I’m not going to l-” a moan ripped from his throat and he clenched his jaw, trying to regain some control over his body, “I’m not going to last much longer. Ngh I’m so close,” Hotch moaned gruffly, his hips bucking up to meet her thrusts, his thumb circling her clit relentlessly as his other hand reached up to cup one of her breasts. He drew his other thumb over her nipple, as he met her glazed over eyes. Beneath the hazy, erotic pleasure in her eyes, Aaron saw a hint of submission that he hadn’t seen from her before. Her eyebrows were knitted together tightly and her lips were parted. Her body was begging him for release, even if she were too proud to say it with her words. Her eyes began to flutter closed.
“Look at me,” Aaron engaged his diaphragm in an effort to sound commanding. Her beautiful green eyes met his without hesitation. “Cum for me. I want to feel you fall apart around me.”
And she did.
Her body tensed against his as her head flew back, her mouth agape. Her nails dug into the muscles on his chest, leaving blunt crescent shapes.
Hotch followed her off the cliff immediately after, his hips faltering as he fucked into her. Mentally, he marveled at the reactivity of her body. His cock twitched as he spilled his cum inside of her, moaning needily as he thrust against her, riding out his orgasm with a white knuckled grip on her hips. She fell against his chest, her head tucking almost perfectly under his chin.
They said nothing, their heartbeats raging against each other and the matching pulse in his cock slowly subsided. He placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head before clearing his throat.
“Jasmine I-”
“I can’t believe you needed me to tell you what a disorganized anger excitation killer looked like,” she cut him off with a teasing tone as she lifted herself off his body.
Hotch looked away sheepishly, “Alright it might have been a lie.”
“Either way,” Jasmine grabbed his shirt off the floor and cleaned herself off before throwing the garment to him to use, “I’m glad I could help.” He hopped off the table and pulled on his shorts, making a mental note to throw the shirt into the laundry once she left.
“I’m sorry for any trouble I might have caused you,” Hotch’s heart rate was just about normal again.
“It was no trouble at all. Have a good night, Hotch,” Jasmine flashed him an award winning smile as she threw on her beige cardigan.
“Wait,” he called after her, running his hand through the sweaty hair on his forehead, “You’re just going to leave?”
“You don’t want me to stay,” Jasmine challenged. She said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“I didn’t mean for you to leave immediately after,” he protested weakly.
“Did you want to cuddle?” Jasmine’s response was flat and annoyed, but the words made Aaron's stomach flutter. Of course he didn't. Did he? Even if he did want it, he could never say that. That would be crossing a line they had someone managed to leave uncrossed.
“You’re upset,” he observed.
“I’m not allowed to sleep with my coworkers, so I better leave before my boss finds out.”
“I didn’t mean what I said at the hospital.”
“Which part?” Jasmine asked as though she were debating whether this conversation was worth having.
“Any of it. I said a lot of things to you that I should have never said. I can never undo that damage, and for that I apologize. But, Jasmine… you think just because I’m not watching you all of the time that I don’t see you. Trust me ,” he met her gaze with infallible sincerity, “I see you. Whatever psychological need you have to act out sexually for my approval, it's got to stop.”
Hotch could tell by the tension in her jaw that he was skating on thin ice, but these were words she needed to hear. He’d made several consistent mistakes in dealing with their situation, the very least he could do was give her some mental reprieve. He owed her that much.
“This,” he motioned between the two, “has nothing to do with your abilities as an agent. Our mission went awry, that happens. Your value to this team is not contingent on whether or not the members of that team want to sleep with you. And I’m sorry to say it, but performing sexual favors for me won’t make up for how badly that mission went. But that’s okay because you don’t have to make up for that, Jasmine. It wasn’t your fault.”
He was used to her careful stoicism and he was unsurprised by her lack of reaction. If it weren’t for the way her fists clenched at her side, Aaron would think she hadn’t heard him at all. He could only imagine her inner monologue as she processed the deep cutting and accurate assessment he’d given her, unsolicited.
“I enjoyed myself,” he offered, “But I can’t keep doing this if you’re trying to settle a moral score with yourself. If you need me to tell you that you make me feel good so that you can feel like you’re a good agent, or a good person, then I implore you to look inwards and find out why that might be.”
“Have a good night, Hotch.”
He couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed to watch her walk out his door without feeling like his words had landed. Hotch knew he overstepped by profiling her, but it was better for both of them if they stopped pretending like this affair wasn’t deeply toxic. They were using each other for different things and neither had the purest intentions at heart. He trusted her well enough to continue their professional relationship with a certain caliber of decency and push through whatever awkwardness there might be for the sake of the team.
He frowned as he turned back to his mess of a dining room. Piles of carefully curated papers were strewn about the beige carpet randomly. Deciding that would be tomorrow’s problem, he sighed and made his way upstairs to brush his teeth. When he met his own stern gaze in the mirror, all he could do was shake his head.
“You never learn, do you Aaron?”