pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader
summary: beth is coming back from hong kong and you feel like hotch’s feelings are slipping away, so you decide to do it first.
content/tw: brace yourself, it’s a long one! established relationship, beth’s coming back, jealous!reader, oblivious!hotch, dave being a father figure (love him), very angsty (at least my attempt), alcohol consuming (barely), lots of crying, happy ending, lmk if i missed something!
word count: 7.3k (stfu challenge level impossible)
a/n: based on this request! this one goes for my people who feel like they have to remove themselves from the situation for things to be okay. know that you are important, wanted and loved! if you ever had a girl crush, sending you an extra hug and much love! hope you like this one💗🪽
dividers by @uzmacchiato
masterlist
The smell of bacon and toast fills the air even before you step into the kitchen.
Aaron is there, scrambling eggs with his shirt still unbuttoned and his hair damp from the shower. He glances up when you step in, already dressed up “Didn’t have time to make coffee.” he explains, nodding to the empty coffee pot plugged on the counter behind him. You shake your head, squinting your eyes at his face.
“Aren’t you at least a little bit embarrassed?” you tease, already starting to brew the coffee beans. It has been almost a year since he bought it – following your suggestion – and he never even cared to learn how to use it. Not that he needed to, really. You were always there to do it for him.
He pressed his lips together in a mocking reflective expression, just to shrug his shoulders “Not really, no.” you just chuckle as the two of you move in sync to finish preparing breakfast.
Just as the eggs were ready, his phone rang all the way to his bedroom. As an old man who still hadn’t created the urge to be glued to his phone 24/7, you took over the bacon pan as he faded into the hallway to pick up.
You were so focused on your task you didn’t realize he was taking too long. It wasn’t until you filled both of your plates and mugs that you noticed he didn’t come back. Your first reaction was too tense, to go after him and check what was wrong, but soon after you heard his laugh, loud and strong, making its way towards you. So, no emergencies.
Sensing it was probably Sean, your boyfriend’s brother, or maybe Rossi with a gossip – something you learnt after you started dating Hotch: the two older men at the BAU were gossipers. Penelope Garcia level gossiper – you stayed back, giving them privacy to chat. Ignoring all the etiquette lessons you had, you started eating alone. At least one of you should enjoy the warm food.
Just when you took the last bite you heard him stepping back into the kitchen, a ghost of a smile still present on his face “Hey, you chatty” you teased. He chuckled, sitting beside you on the stoll and drinking a sip of coffee “Who was it?” your curiosity got the best of you, even though you knew he was going to tell you either way.
“Beth!”
Oh.
“Oh”
“Yeah.” he agrees, taking a bite of the toast, completely oblivious to the gut wrenching feeling taking over your senses “She called me to say she’s coming back. From Hong Kong.”
Oh (but harder).
“That’s… good?”
“It’s great! She got to transfer back for a promotion, with a higher salary and getting to be close to her family.” he explains, sounding way too pleased with himself.
“She rocks.” you cringe immediately, not knowing what the hell you meant by that.
“Right?” fortunately – or not, that’s up to the eye of the beholder – he remained completely clueless to your awkwardness. “Jack’s going to lose it when he hears it.” he said, chuckling to himself.
You hate how hearing this makes you twice as jealous.
“Y’think Jack remembers her?” you wonder, pretending to be unbothered as you wash your dishes in a way to distract yourself. He stays silent for a second, and you hope he’s not picking up on your selfish rotting for the worse.
“He does. Last time she face-timed me, Jack took over half the call.” he says, his voice suddenly closer to you. He takes the dishes from your hand, gently pushing you to the side “That’s on me.” he points kindly, taking over the dishes. You step away, hoping he didn’t feel the sound of your heart breaking.
They face-time each other? Is Jack a part of this? By the way he said it, it seems like a frequent occurrence. Where were you all those times? How could you miss that?
Is this cheating? Objectively speaking, if it was cheating he probably wouldn’t be so blunt about it. And he’s probably the most loyal person you know.
So why does it feel like cheating? Why do you feel betrayed? Why do you feel so jealous?
Trying to take a hold of the situation, you fight to appear normal, trying your best to hide your anxiousness and all of self-doubt, at least while you figure your feelings out. Otherwise you’d probably end up locked in a mental asylum.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
It turned out the mental asylum would probably be a nicer place to be than your own head right now.
As the day passed by, you started to notice how excited Aaron was for Beth’s arrival. If you missed their calls before, you definitely weren’t now. Every other day you stumbled on him somewhere in the house, his phone balanced between his shoulder and his ear while he finished a task.
When it wasn’t the calls, it was the texting. He would send her pictures about things she liked and places she missed. She would always send a picture of everything that was different over there, ask silly questions about the job or about Jack.
And Jack was a whole other problem. Not a problem, actually. But his obvious adoration towards the woman made you bitter. You found yourself losing your appetite more often than not every time Jack asked about her in the middle of dinner or lunch. Which was a horror on its own, but it was even worse because every time he did it, soon after the meal ended Hotch would call her to tell her about it.
You felt like an outsider.
The worst part was that it wasn’t even their fault. Everytime you walked by him, he asked you to join the call, pulling you to sit with him and chat with the woman on the other side of the screen. She would ask about you, about your likes and dislikes. She would joke about Hotch, about his sleep myoclonus, about his ability to fall asleep in the first few minutes of a movie. You laughed with her, making fun of his antic habits as if sharing that with her didn’t feel like a knife in your gut.
When she finally came back, it was, somehow, worse.
Hotch insisted that you’d tag along on their catching ups, you hang with them as she went out with the team. You had playdates with her and Jack.
It was now safe to say: you hated Beth. And you were completely obsessed with her.
You watched the way she spoke, the way she dressed. How she smiled, how she laughed. The exact color of her lipstick, her haircut.
When her nails were perfectly made. She was so elegant. You started doing your nails weekly.
Next time you saw her, her nails were chipped and two of them were broken. She was so carefree. You cancelled your membership at the nail salon.
One would think Beth was a frequent character in Hotch's life. She really wasn’t. With all the cases, Jack and his relationship with you, he barely had time to actually hang out with Beth. But there was no point, and the damage was made.
Ever since he took that call, she made her way into your head, building her own little house with a balcony and a white fence. Even if she wasn’t around, your mind made sure to think about her. You hated hearing her name, but you secretly hoped it would come up in the middle of the conversation.
When his phone rang, you braced yourself, preparing for that gut wrenching pain you were oh, so familiar with. 9 out of 10 times, it wasn’t her. But 1 out of ten times, it was. And when you hear him calling her name, smiling easily at the speaker like she was seeing him, you felt your world fall apart, and what a comforting sensation that was.
You had no idea how you could crave someone as much as you craved her.
You wanted her gone.
The thought came to you out of nowhere, in the middle of the night. You were sleeping on his bed – almost yours by now – and his body involuntarily jerked. And there it was: another sleepless night. You were reminded of her, and now you were cursed to spend the rest of the evening wondering if she slept on the same side of the bed you were in, on how she would react. Would she laugh? Would she wake him? Would she pretend she didn’t see it?
It was maddening. It had to stop.
It wasn’t going to stop. You had to get out of this.
When the thought came, it stayed. You haven’t thought about it before, but you knew it. It had to be done. There was no way you would survive this. There was no way you could compete with this, with her. They understood each other to a degree you could never. They were the same age, and had the same references. They were both divorced, they had experiences you still haven’t had. You hated being outside of their inside jokes, even if said jokes were whatever was fashion in the 70’s.
Truth to be told, you wouldn’t even be with him if she hadn’t moved out of the country. And now she was back, reclaiming her old apartment, her athletic habits and his heart.
You weren’t dumb. You could see he loved you. But he loved her too. And you wouldn’t settle for half. Even if it killed you inside.
Besides being younger than Aaron – and Beth – you were very mature. Mature enough to understand that you shouldn’t make a big deal out of this. You knew, usually, the right thing to do was to talk about your feelings. To explain where you were coming from and make changes in order to keep the relationship alive.
But how could you go to the man you loved and beg him to not fall back in love with his ex? What exactly do you want to achieve by talking to him about it? He wasn’t doing anything wrong, you know that much. He would probably just stop talking to her ‘if it meant not making you insecure’, but you know very well how that would turn out. You didn’t want it to end with a fight, and you didn’t want to feel like you had to put up a fight to keep the man you love. You didn’t deserve that, and neither did him.
So, piece by piece, you started to make your way out of Aaron’s life.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
You usually spent the majority of your time in his place. And you started to change that, slowly starting to spend more time in your rented apartment than in his. Piece by piece, you started to move back your clothes. First a blouse, then a pajama. Evolving to your dresses, shoes, and your products.
It was going by unnoticed, until after you moved almost all the products on your side of his bathroom’s cabinet. A wednesday morning, while getting ready to work, you opened it to find everything back where they belonged.
You stayed there, shocked for a few seconds, your heart racing. The toothbrush inside your mouth is frozen, the minty foam starting to burn your gums. Aaron stepped on the bathroom behind you, fixing his cufflinks and looking at you through the mirror.
“Oh, I saw you ran out of them.” he explained, casually pointing at the new stack of products, completely unaware of your mind short circuiting “You didn’t restock, but I remembered them from last time. I had to go to the drugstore anyway.” he shrugged, reaching for his cologne and stepping out like he didn’t just shatter your whole world.
Later, when your tears smudged your mascara, you just said you choked with the mouthwash.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
After a while, you’d spent so much time on your own place that Aaron started to miss you. Not only that, he questioned it. One specific morning, you were in the shared kitchen in the BAU mixing a bowl of yogurt with cereals and fruits when you felt a pair of large hands clinging to your hips. Yelping in surprise, you turned to face your boyfriend.
“Hey, you scared me.” you chuckled, picking up the bowl to put something between the two of you.
“I miss you.” he said, simply. He wasn’t whining, or complaining, or even trying to talk you out of your devious plan – not that he knew about it. He was just stating a fact, as clear as the day, the same way and tone he announced a profile or call a meeting.
Not knowing what to answer without breaking into tears, you stuffed a spoon full of greek yogurt, granola and strawberries into your mouth. While you did it, you mumbled something he couldn’t comprehend. Figuring you said you missed him too, he just moved on, leaning over your head to reach for the cabinet.
“Can I take you out for dinner tonight?” he asked, grabbing the freshly made coffee and filing his mug “It’s been a while since we left the house.”
You swoon at him, taking a deep breath before answering “It has. But I have plans.” you grimaced “Girls night.” you explained, chewing on the granola for longer than needed.
Aaron stopped for a second, his steaming mug already halfway to his lips. “Oh.” He wasn’t the kind of boyfriend to be in the way of your life, but he usually was aware of your plans. Not in a controlling way, but by knowing you, talking to you. And he was just realizing how it felt not knowing. He hated it. Not being a man to give up, he quickly came up with another idea “I can make you that BLT you like while you get ready.” not seeing you immediately jump with joy – as you usually do when BLT is mentioned – he suggested “Or we can stop at McDonalds drive-thru when I pick you up later.”
Your heart did a backflip and shattered in a thousand pieces with the sight of his puppy eyes, expectantly looking at you.
“Oh that sounds lovely. But the bar we’re heading it’s the one across the street from my building. We’re walking there.” you explain, placing a hand on his chest gently, fixing the lapels of his suit. He looked down at your hands, fighting the urge to pull you by his arms and lock you in there. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but his gut knew something didn’t sit right.
“Text me when you get there. And when you get home.” he says, more a statement than a request. Your safety was not negotiable. You nodded, stepping closer to him and giving him a quick peck on the side of his jaw.
“I promise!” and you meant it, winking at him as you move to leave the kitchen.
Just as you step outside the perimeter, you almost bump into Rossi, who’s just standing there with his hands buried in his pockets and his eyebrow raised so high it was almost blending his hairline. Not ready to handle his piercing gaze – knowing you’d crumble at the first couple minutes –, you just nodded and gave him one of your best polite smiles, speeding your pace all the way to your desk.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
After you knocked twice on the office door, you stared at the words “David Rossi” engraved on the metal platter in its center as you waited for him to open.
When he did, you were surprised to see his office drowned in low light coming from the lamp on his desk and the moonlight peeking through the widow.
“You wanted to see me?” it meant as a statement: he did ask to see you. At first, you were sure it had something to do with the case you were consulting, the topic you and him were talking about during dinner. What confused you was that the setting looked anything but professional, if the expensive bourbon bottle and the two glasses sitting on the table wasn’t enough of a tell.
“Yes. Come in.” he said, waiting for you to walk into the office to close the door. You stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for him to take the lead. Unaware – or, most probably, choosing to ignore – your startled state, he slowly made his way to the couch on the back of the room, filling up both glasses before sitting comfortably.
Taking one of the glasses, you sat beside him, pressing your lips together and trying not to bounce your leg to ease the tension.
“How was girls night?” Rossi asks, raising his glass to his lips. He didn’t even look at you as he waited for your answer, his tone almost mocking you.
Having absolutely no idea what he was going with this, you decided to play along “It was fun.”
He nodded “I see.” You took a sip of your drink, trying to keep your posture. It didn’t work. As soon as the burning liquid settled in your stomach, you turned to face him. Terrible idea.
“Dave, what’s going on? What is this?”
“You know,” he started, completely ignoring your question “People may think about profiling as a criminal study. They think we have to learn about psychopaths, stressors, geography, and criminal patterns. That it’s about getting in the mind of crazy people and figuring them out.”
“And it isn’t?” you blinked, drowned by his speech.
“Oh, definitely. But it’s not just that. It’s about studying people. Feelings, motivations. Learning, understanding their behaviour and using it to figure out their intentions.”
And that’s when it hit you: he knew.
“We have an unspoken policy in the BAU: not profiling each other.” he began, turning his body to face you.
“So why are you profiling me?” you asked, voice edging and uneasy, desperately trying to stop him from putting into words. He ignored it.
“You’re breaking up with him.” Not a question, not a suggestion, and definitely not a doubt. “I know what this is about. Who this is about.” your chewed on your bottom lip, deciding on what to say.
“Please, don’t try to talk me out of it.” you beg, hating how weak your own voice sounds. He took another long and lazy sip, and you watched as the liquid clinged to his lips, the wet reflecting the low light of the lamp.
“I won’t.” he stared at you, his eyes squinting slightly “I’m here to encourage you.”
You frowned, your eyebrows pinching together “What?”
“Yes. You really should break up with him. You know, if you’re in such an unbearable relationship.” You roll your eyes, tilting your head back.
“Stop.”
“No, seriously. Do you think he’s what? Cheating on you with Beth?”
“What? That’s not what this is about. I know he’s not cheating.” you defend yourself, cringing at the topic of the discussion.
“Then what is it?”
“I’m just…” your eyes burn with tears harder than the liquid on your throat when you down the rest of the bourbon before continuing “I’m not her.”
“You sure? Under this specific light I could’ve swore…”
“Dave!” you whine, and he chuckles.
“Yes, you’re not Beth.” you grimace at her name, not bothering to hide your feelings anymore “Why are you saying this as a bad thing?”
“Because it is. She’s back now and…” you feel a tear striking down your cheek as you gesticulate “She just fits. She gets him.”
“And you don’t?”
You sigh “You must think I sound really stupid.”
“Oh, you sound absolutely ridiculous.” you look at him, looking at a smirk on his face. Before you realize it, you’re laughing as well, but in a weak and depressed way “Love does this to us. Make us blind to the obvious. Clouds our judgement and turns us into…” he gesticulates towards you. You roll your eyes, but you’re not crying anymore “I have three divorces, so you’d think I know one thing or two about failed relationships. And let me tell you: yours isn’t one of them.”
“You’re just saying this because you’re his best friend.”
“I’m saying this because I love you.” he stated bluntly, and you widened your eyes in surprise, not expecting this. “And it'll kill me to see you do something I know you’ll regret later.” he leaned closer, looking at you with a paternal love that made you uneasy “Hotch loves you, kid. Don’t try to assume things. Let him know.”
“It’s hard.”
“I know it is. It has to be, don’t you think?” he smiles, the wrinkle on the corner of his eyes enhancing his passion towards the subject “Or else is not worth it. But talk to him. You know him more than I do, but I’m pretty sure you’re seeing things out of a place of hurt, probably past experiences.” he nod his head in a knowing gesture “From what I see, you’re out of your mind if you think that Hotch would ever consider living his life away from you.”
You only notice the tear streaming down your cheeks like a waterfall when his fingers gently wipe them away.
“Sorry.” you mumble, and he shakes his head.
“Listen, if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t. It’ll be fine too. You’ll be fine. But just don’t let it all go to waste before at least giving him a chance.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
It got to a point where you had to stop for a second to wipe the sweat out of your eyelids to see. By the time you reached your – Aaron’s – front door, your heartbeat had lowered to a normal rhythm and your skin was now cold rather than wet. You spent almost the entire night awake, tossing and turning on the bed. The night went so late it was almost morning, so you figured it made more sense to just get up and do something other than to lay in the dark with nothing but your loud and torturous mind.
Running, these past few weeks, were your loyal ally to your early mornings. That specific day, you just got back from an over two hour long run, finally feeling your limbs hurting more than your heart. As you walked in, you were surprised to find Aaron pacing around the living room, something crumpled up on one of his fist, a piece of paper in the other.
When he looked at you, his face was everything but stoic: he looked panicked, tortured, confused and, overall, hurting. “We need to talk” he said, quietly. If you listened closely, you could hear the way his voice wobbled in the middle of the sentence, like he didn’t actually want to talk. Like he wanted you to just be confused, and just ask what he meant by that, and that you weren’t being distant, he was just paranoid. Anything that could prove, beyond reasonable doubt, that you weren’t, in fact, leaving.
Despite all his silent wishes you just nodded, making your way to the couch “Yeah, we do.”
Hoping the sound of his heart shattering wasn't loud enough for you to hear, he made his way to the couch in front of you, distant enough for him to think clearly – as much as possible, under the circumstances. For a minute you just stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid so heavy it could suffocate.
You glanced down at his hands, still not managing to understand what he was holding so tight on his fist. On the other hand, you could finally see what it was. Before you left the house that morning, already planning on staying out for long, you wrote him a note with the steps to use the coffee pot.
“Before we start,” he began, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat before continuing “I already know. So there’s no need to lie.” you gulp, shifting in your seat. You never lied to him before, but it was fair of him to point it out. You weren’t being exactly honest. And even though you knew what he was talking about, it still surprised you when he finally said it out loud “When exactly you were planning on breaking up with me?”
Your breath hitched, panic rushing through your veins. It didn’t matter that you still weren't sure about what to do, there was no point in lying. Not anymore. It hurt you to think about it, but actually admitting to him was a whole other level of pain.
“I don’t know.” you answer weakly.
He blinks. And then chuckles.
When he dips his head down, you stare at him confused. The only thing you catch is the way his head shakes slightly, his fists flexing but never letting go of your note and the other white soft – looks fluffy? Is it a stress relief ball? – thing. Aaron tilts his head up and his eyes are full of tears. They are shiny and reddish, and you want nothing more than to make it all go away.
“Hotch,” you try, because just watching him crumble in front of you is not an option.
“Jesus! Stop calling me that.” he spat, frowning.
“Your name?”
“That’s not my name. Not to you. Not in here.” he adverts, the pain muffling the anger in his tone.
You chew on your bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall from your eyes. Sniffing as quietly as possible, you look at him “Do you think this is easy for me?”
“It must be!” he says, barely containing himself, “You’re doing it all behind my back, vanishing from my life little by little, until all I have left is an empty drawer with nothing but this shirt and a coffee pot I don't know how to use.” and you finally understand what he was holding on so tightly. It’s a plain silky pajama shirt. It’s the only piece of clothing because it’s matching short you – he – ended up tearing it in half on the first night you wore it.
“I left you instructions.” you point to the paper in his other hand.
“I don’t want to learn.” he looks disgusted at the paper, like it personally offended him “I’m not learning how to use it.” he emphasizes.
You try again “It’s not that hard.”
“I won’t.”
That discussion was pointless, anyway. It is something to cling onto while avoiding the main issue. Sighing deeply in order to avoid crying, you change the subject “Listen, it’s nothing with you. It’s me.” you snort at that, because it’s that old cheesy and shitty excuse. But it’s the truth. “I’m just…” it’s all you manage to say before the tears blur your vision and you have to dip your head down to try and wipe them away.
His voice filled your ears, making you glance up to face him again. “I noticed that you weren’t being yourself, but I figured you’d tell me. It was something from work, or your family. I didn’t think it was this. It was us.” his voice weakens, and he has to gulp before continuing “Aren’t you happy anymore?”
“I… there’s a lot going on.” you feel your nose burning, and you stop caring if he sees the tears streaming down your face.
“Tell me what I did.” his demeanor changes, and he doesn’t look sad and confused anymore. He sounds energetic, urgent, demanding and begging all together “Tell me where I got it wrong, i can change it. I’ll do it right. I’ll do it better.”
Hearing this, combined with the raw desperation on his voice, so opposite from his usual calm and steady behavior, only makes you cry harder, and you don’t even try to wipe them away.
“You did nothing wrong. Nothing. I don’t want you to change. I just…” a strangled hiccup interrupted your speech, and you feel ridiculous, weak, dramatic and lonely. You want this to end, but also you want this to have never happened. “I shouldn’t feel this way in a relationship.”
He nodded, thinking. When Aaron speaks again, his voice is much calmer. Resignated, even. “So that’s it, then? You have your mind made up? Nothing I say will change it.” and it’s not a question anymore.
“I’m doing this for you, I want nothing more than what’s best for you.”
“Bullshit.” he snapped, his words startling you “Why are you doing this? Is it the job? You said it’s not me. Is it Jack? Is this life too much for you? The responsibility of…”
“What? Of course not!” your heart aches thinking about it. It hurts that he thinks this, but you have no one but yourself to blame “I love Jack. I love our… this life.”
He stays silent for a second, as if analyzing your explanation — or lack thereof. “Is it someone else?” you stop, and blinks. This is it. You won’t lie straight to his face. He stiffens, and it doesn’t need another word from you to understand. “Who is him?”
“Him?” you frown in the middle of your tears, so confused you stopped crying. “What do you mean?”
“You said there was someone else.” he squinted his eyes at you.
“I didn’t, you did.”
“You didn’t deny it. Who is he?” he insisted, his jaw tensed.
“Who do you think I am?” you asked, actually aggravated at his accusations “I would never…”
“Who is he?” he interrupts you, his eyes burning holes in your head.
“There's no he. It’s Beth.”
Hotch’s jaw is immediately unlocked at that, the anger and betrayal completely subsided by complete shock and confusion. “What? You and… Beth?”
“Huh?” you were the one left in confusion now. How did he get to that conclusion? For a second, you didn’t feel the excruciating pain and humiliation from admitting your feelings to him “No. You and Beth.”
“What do I have to do with this?” he asks, his confusion turning to aggravation once again “You don’t like our friendship? That’s why you're breaking up with me?”
Now, said excruciating pain and humiliation were back on its full force. You ignored the lump on your throat, taking a deep breath and explaining the situation in the most sober and objective way possible. “I realized you and her fit more together than me and you, and…” your voice faltered as you saw his outrageous expression “...the two of you only broke up because she moved away. You’re all happy that she’s coming back. I just figured…”
“What?” he interrupted, his voice sharp and edgy “That i’d break up with you to be with her?” asking like it was a ridiculous thought. You stayed silent, because that was exactly what you thought. He huffed an incredulous laugh through his nose “Jesus. Did I ever give you a reason to question me? Or my loyalty?” he accused, his voice showing more worry than anger.
“No. Actually I don't know if you’d break up with me. That’s why I saved you the trouble.” you shrugged, trying not to show how much it hurt you to say it.
“Jesus fucking christ.” he muttered, pintching the bridge of his noise “Are you even hearing yourself?”
“Stop talking like I'm insane.” you snapped, losing your patience “You’re the one making phone calls, facetiming and going on dates with your ex girlfriend. I saw you when the two of you broke up. I was there. You were in pain. How am I supposed to feel? How am I supposed to handle this? How am I supposed to compete with this? Explain to me, Aaron. Because I have no fucking clue.”
The moment you stopped speaking, you realized you were almost yelling. It was the first time you let out your anger, your hurt. All the time you kept saying you were doing the best: for Aaron, for Jack, for Beth… Not once you stopped to think how much it sucked to be you, to deal with all of that. Yes, you could’ve talked to him sooner. But you shouldn’t have felt like that. No one should.
When you asked him to explain, to tell you what to do, it wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t sass. You were actually asking, begging for him, for someone, to tell you how to feel. It didn’t make sense, none of this made sense to you. It was too overwhelming, and you just wanted it to be gone. You wanted to disappear.
You noticed too late you were crying, fully sobbing now, with one hand clutched to your chest, as if you tried to rip your heart out, and the other resting against your throat, trying to soothe the pain from talking so loud. You didn’t see how his expression softened, his anger melting into pure sorrow. He couldn’t believe he did that to you, that he, of all people, made you feel this way.
A few minutes had passed when he finally made a move. He got up from his couch and crossed the room, sitting right by your side. His knees were pressed against your thighs, his eyes filled with tears. His body and his soul were completely in surrender to yours.
“I’m sorry,” he said, simply. “I should’ve seen it before. I shouldn't have acted like this. Or at least, talked to you about it. I’m not trying to make any excuses for the way I acted, but I need to explain.” he cleared, his eyes scanning your face every 10 seconds, trying to find any hint of chance in your stance “The thought of someone other than you, in a romantic way, is so out of my reality that I didn’t even considered her a ‘threat’. Not that she, or anyone, is a threat. But I really didn’t see the situation as something that could’ve hurt you. And that was my first mistake.”
“She knows you in a way that I can’t.”
“You know me in a way no one can.” he argued “You were my subordinate, then my work colleague, my friend. Now you’re my best friend and my family. You’re the woman I love.” he gulped, flinching at his own words and feeling the hot streak of a lonely tear falling from his eye. The one he couldn’t hold back. “I don’t want you going back to being less than that.”
Your posture didn’t show any kind of surrender. But he didn’t see resistance either, and when you turned to face him, he noticed that you didn’t keep arguing and just waited to listen. Taking it as a good (the best yet) sign, he pressed further.
“There’s nothing going on between me and Beth. She happened to be the first friend I’ve had outside of the job for a long time, that’s all. I don’t know if it will help to hear this,” he tried, hesitantly “...but her leaving wasn’t the only reason why we broke up.” seeing your questioning expression, he kept going “We came to the realization we worked better as friends anyway, and it was just a matter of time for us to end things. The moving just happened first.” he shrugged.
You opened your mouth to speak, but he anticipated your argument “Yes, I did suffer. It was a change in scenario, how could I not? But as I said, we knew it was happening. So what it hurt the most was actually Jack. I felt like the worst parent from giving another sort of mother figure just to take it away from his life. Again.”
Before you could think properly, your hand reached out to his, squeezing in a silent reassurance. He always doubted his parental skills, and you were always making sure to remind him how amazing he was. Even now, with your heart broken and your relationship hanging by a thread, you still found a way to comfort him.
How could he lose something like this? Someone like this? How could he let you go? How could he make you feel that way? He had to press his lips together in a thin line to keep them from trembling, and to hold back the force of his grip when he squeezed your hand back, making sure he wasn’t hurting you as he not so subtly tried to hold on to you. To keep you from leaving.
“Honey,” he started, not even caring about his voice cracking. He couldn’t wait any longer, or lose any more chances. This was it. “I love you so much. I know this isn’t ideal, and I hate myself for ever making you feel this way. If not being with me will make you happier, then…” he gulped “...I’ll let you go. But if this situation is the only reason, please, don’t go. Please, give me a chance to show you how you’re the only one I want.”
You feel your tears running freely from your face, and you choke up a sob before speaking, your voice so weak it was barely hearable “I feel really immature.”
He laughs, but it doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of you. It sounds like he’s gone completely mad, like your admission was the water bottle after two days in the desert. It gave him hope.
“No.” he denied firmly, not letting go of your hand even for a second “Now that I think about it, if the tables were turned, I might’ve murdered your ex.” he whispered like a secret. It was so unexpected and so out of character of him that you laughed, surprising both you and him. He smiled from ear to ear at the sound of it. “I’m really sorry, I should’ve been more careful with the situation.”
“I should’ve just talked to you instead of jumping to conclusions.” you smiled apologetically. He ignores your attempt, looking deep into your eyes and calling your name with such a raw expectation that if you weren’t already seated, you would’ve fell.
“Did you change your mind?” you hesitate for a second, and he sees right through you “Tell me you have. I know you want to, I can feel it.” His voice is quiet, his words so soft spoken it feels like a spell. Only you know that you do want to be with him, now that is all cleared. “Please, give me a chance to make things right.”
You chew on your bottom lip as your eyes fill with tears again “I feel stupid.” you admit, and he wants nothing more than to cry his eyes out.
“Don’t say that ever again.” he leans in hesitantly, and when you don’t flinch or pull back, he wipes the tears from your face with the pad of his thumb. The other hand is still holding yours firmly “You were protecting yourself, as you should’ve. Thank you.”
“What for?” you snort between tears, not understanding what he could possibly be thankful for in this situation.
“Thank you for protecting and taking such good care of someone I love so much. Especially when I was too damn blind to see that she needed it.”
After that, there was no point of dragging this any further: you were completely and undeniably his.
He didn’t see it coming, his body jerking in surprise when you literally jumped to his lap, hugging him tightly and burying your face on his neck, sobbing and muttering apologies on repeat. His lips were glued to the crown of your head, kissing you repeatedly. His hands were all over you, touching from your feet to the strands of your hair, as if his body needed to feel you there, to make sure you were with him, for his mind to completely wrap up around the fact that you weren’t going anywhere.
Ignoring your words, he whispered his own, “Don’t you ever apologize. I should be the one apologizing. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” and it’s the only moment his lips leave your skin “I’m sorry. I will never make you feel this way. If I ever hurt you like that again, and I won’t, I want you…”
“Don’t say it.” you cut him off. He ignores, once again.
“...to just shoot me in the face. Kill me.”
You chuckle weakly, lifting your head from his chest to face him properly “Dude, you gotta stop with the murder threats.” he arches his eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smirk.
“Dude? Who do you think you’re talking to?” he asks, and his finger tickles your sides as the stubble on his beard tickles your neck. Your body jerks and twitches on top of his while you laugh loudly, but never moving away from his.
When he finally feels you learned your lessons, his hands rested comfortably around your waist in its rightful place. You sigh, looking at him.
“Promise me that you will always talk to me, and be honest about your feelings. No matter how ugly you think they are.”
“I promise.” you say as you wipe the wet off his face, and it’s just then that he realizes he’d been crying all along “Promise me that if your feelings for me change, you’ll communicate.” he rolls his eyes so hard it feels like they’ll hit the back of his head “Promise.” you insist.
“I promise.” he says, seriously. When you relax, he starts again. “Matter of fact, my feelings just changed.” you squint your eyes at his playful tone “A few minutes ago I wanted to stop by your place to get back the clothes you took. But now, I’ve decided you’ll be spending the rest of the weekend with nothing to wear but that shirt.” he says, leaning – without moving you away from his lap – to grab the piece of fabric he left on the center table.
“I have to get at least underwear.” you argue.
“If you behave, I’ll let you borrow a couple boxers.”
“Jack will see it.”
“He’s a kid. And they’re the exact same size of what you call your casual shorts so I doubt he’ll notice the difference.” he points seriously and you squeal, slapping his chest slightly.
“That’s rude. And humiliating.”
“That’s what you get for stealing.”
Your mouth hangs open for a second “I didn’t steal! I didn’t take anything from your house but my clothes.”
“This house is ours.” he stares at you deeply, waiting for his statement to sink in before continuing “So is everything in it. From the bedroom to the coffee pot and, therefore, your clothes. So, basically, you stole from us.” he shrugged, like he made a perfect point. You just laugh, choosing to accept it.
“I’m sorry for stealing.” he nodded politely and you dive back into his embrace, sighing happily “Can we stay like this forever?” Aaron tight his arms around you, his whole body answering before any words came out.
“I’ll think about it. But before that, we have to eat. You're probably on the verge of dehydration right now.” he points, standing up with you still in his arms, and makes his way toward the kitchen. He settles you in one of the stools and hands you your shirt “Go change while I make us breakfast. Now that I’ve learnt how to use the coffee pot.”
You gasp, widening your eyes in a mock-threat. Jumping out of the stool with your shirt already crumpled on your hands, you stomp your way to where he stands behind the stove, pointing your finger to his chest. “You can cook whatever you want, but don't you dare touch the coffee pot, Aaron Hotchner.”
Aaron does just as you said, beaming while frying the bacon even when you’re upstairs in his shower. Your shower. And both of you know, somehow, you’ll be okay.
taglist: all hotch @winyourheartemma all cm @s0urw00lf @deeninadream @khxna
( synopsis ) — when a random woman pops up in the bau looking for hotch, no one really knows who she is until accidentally stumbling upon a moment they definitely shouldn’t of had seen.
( warning ) — implications, nothing really happens in detail though. just a needy hotch! this is a reupload. no bot this time, got lazy :[.
No one truly knew much about Aaron Hotchner's personal life following his divorce from Haley. He was notoriously private, reserved even among close colleagues.
Unlike Morgan, who wore charm like cologne, Hotch never flirted, never hinted at a workplace crush, never so much as entertained office gossip.
The general consensus was that he simply went home to an empty apartment and a quiet, solitary routine. But that couldn't have been further from the truth.
Each evening, Aaron returned home to you. His radiant, warm hearted girlfriend. You met him at the door with that bright, effortless smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, grounding him in a peace he rarely found elsewhere.
It wasn't something he broadcasted. His relationship with you was his own.. private, meaningful, and not something he felt compelled to share with coworkers. Especially not Morgan.
That privacy, however, came crashing down on a rare paperwork heavy day. The team was still at their desks, buried in reports, when the elevator doors opened and you walked confidently into the bullpen. All heads turned as you made your way over to the first familiar, looking face, Emily Prentiss.
"Hi," you greeted with a kind smile, a paper bag in hand. "I was looking for Aaron? I'm dropping off his lunch."
Emily blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Hotch?" she repeated, brows raised. "His office is just over-" But before she could finish, Hotch was already descending the steps from his office, eyes only for you.
"Hey, sweetheart," he murmured, his hand settling instinctively on the small of your back as he gently ushered you away from the now very curious stares of his team.
"Not so fast, Hotch!" Morgan called out behind him, followed closely by Emily, JJ, and Reid. "You're not going to introduce us?" Emily added, a playful glint in her eye.
"No," Hotch replied without missing a beat, smoothly guiding you into his office and closing the door behind you, shutting out the murmurs from the bullpen.
You laughed softly, leaning against his desk, still holding the lunch bag. "Work got you all grumpy?"
"Not work," he said, stepping closer with a faint smile. "Just them." He took the bag from your hand, setting it aside before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.
You giggled against his mouth, looping your arms around his neck as he steadied himself with a hand on the desk behind you. "Thank you for lunch," he whispered.
"Of course." You reached up to wipe a smudge of your lip gloss from his mouth, making him chuckle as he playfully nipped at your finger.
"There's pasta, some greens, and I slipped in a snack cake. Just in case," you added with a grin.
"A snack cake?" he teased, raising an eyebrow. "What am I, ten?" Still smiling, he moved around to his chair and sat down. "Why don't you stay with me while I eat?"
You followed, walking around the desk and settling onto his lap. His arm wrapped securely around your waist, hand resting warmly against your stomach as he tilted his head to press a kiss just beneath your ear.
You smiled at first until the kiss lingered, deepened, his mouth moving deliberately against your skin. You squirmed slightly, breath catching.
"Aaron?" you murmured.
He didn't answer with words, just a hum of affirmation as his other hand pulled you closer.
"Turn around," he murmured, voice low and coaxing.
You obeyed, as you always did, shifting to straddle his lap. His hands found their place on your hips, then lower, as his lips sought yours once more with increasing urgency.
Outside the office, Spencer's voice broke the stunned silence. “Guys... maybe we should get back to work."
The rest of the team stood frozen, eyes wide and cheeks red, as they quickly realized that Hotch had, for once, forgotten to close the blinds.
All of them staring just long enough to see Aaron's hand slip somewhere it definitely shouldn't have in a federal building.
"I didn't see anything," JJ said quickly, turning around.
"Yep, back to work, back to work," Morgan muttered, practically jogging away.
Emily just blinked, then slowly followed, shaking her head. "Well. That explains the mystery girlfriend."
Begging and pleading for reader hosting a dinner for the team since they just finished a rough case. No one knows her and Hotch are together, but start getting suspicious when he just?? Knows where everything is in the apartment?? Like he’s been there before??
right at home
i loveee a classic the-team-is-finding-out 🤭 cw; fem bau!reader, established relationship, mentions of food and drinking, fluff <3 wc; 1k
Sometimes, a little team bonding was the only thing needed to recover from a tough week.
After a brutal case that left everyone with a bad taste in their mouth, you jumped at the opportunity to host a gathering at your apartment. It was clear no one wanted to go home just yet; the darkness of the case hung over your heads and made the idea of being alone so soon unbearably daunting.
It wasn't anything extravagant, coming straight from the jet; ordering delivery from a local cafe - a slight, healthier alternative to the usual takeout consumed on cases. Forgoing formal seating at your kitchen table and instead crowding on the carpet around your coffee table, a movie playing in the background, offered a casual and comfy atmosphere.
Sitting next to Aaron, you wished you could lean over and rest your head against his shoulder. Just for a second. Just long enough to breathe out some of the weight clinging to your ribs. You were glad the team was comforted by being together, but all you needed was Aaron. Only him and then you would be able to put this case in the past.
Plus, it's been a few days since you’d been physically affectionate. Long days in the precinct and out in the field made finding a private moment impossible, and with the team unaware of your relationship, it was impractical to do so much as hold his hand without being behind a closed door.
Little did they know, his overnight bag lay discreetly in your bedroom.
As if he could hear your thoughts, his eyes found yours, a gentleness to them as he silently checked in. Your own eyes briefly softened, relaying that you were fine.
"I'm so happy you all made it home to me unharmed and all in one piece." Penelope commented, her eyes flashing with relief. "Thank good gracious that's over."
"You and us both baby girl," Derek answered, dipping a veggie in some dressing. But as condiments with a thin consistency often did, it dripped off his piece of celery and onto the carpet before he could bring it to his mouth.
He grimaced, an apology in his eyes as they shot to yours. "Shit, I'm sorry mamas."
You waved it off, bringing your knees up to your chest and hugging them. "No worries. Nothing a bit of carpet cleaner can't fix."
"I got it." Aaron didn't hesitate, scrambling up and heading to your hall closet.
The quiet hum of conversation continued on. But after a moment, JJ’s expression shifted; a flash of confusion appearing so abruptly, it was impossible to miss.
How did Hotch know where you kept your cleaning supplies?
"JJ?" Emily asked, her wine glass pausing at her lips. "Something wrong?"
"No." She tentatively shook her head, but her eyes stayed on you, searching your face as if trying to read the things you weren’t saying.
And you weren't saying much. Oblivious to JJ's stare, you weren't acting out of the ordinary at all - taking a sip of your drink, eyes flickering back and forth amongst the conversation. But as Aaron re-entered the room, your face lit up the smallest amount. He handed the carpet scrubber to Morgan, and reclaimed his spot next to you.
You looked relaxed, happy.
Aaron did as well. Too relaxed and too happy, as if he felt at home.
JJ did, however, nudge Emily with an elbow. One that read: start paying attention.
"Morgan, make sure you-"
"I know how to clean a carpet, Hotch." Derek bantered quickly, causing a smile to tug on the ends of Aaron's lips, cheekily looking in your direction as a laugh escaped you. Satisfaction pulled onto his face.
Emily's eyebrows rose. Oh.
The next instance that brought questioning, you all had congregated to the kitchen - another round of drinks for some. As Emily distributed the wine, Aaron took it upon himself to help you rinse off dishes and put them away. Handling it in advance, and saving the two of you time later.
As far as the rest of the team was aware, this was the first time you’d had any of them over. Usually, everybody would meet at Dave's house (mansion, he would correct) or eat out at one of the many establishments populating DC.
But Aaron acted with practiced ease. He didn't ask you where something belonged, no lost expressions filled his face as he tried to determine where something maybe belonged. He just knew.
Spencer's eyes followed him, weighing all the variables. Sure, your dishes were in the closest cupboard to your sink; logically that made sense. Rather convenient, a quick and easy unload, especially given at your height. Was it common sense, or prior knowledge?
But what did he know? Genius or not, he’d never been good at reading subtle cues like those.
Aaron's hand even brushed the small of your back as he passed - something that could've easily been dismissed as a casual, friendly gesture - the kind people make when squeezing by. But there was a quiet familiarity to it, a natural ease, as if he'd done it countless times before.
-
"Are you heading out too?" Dave asked Aaron, his eyes narrowing at him in suspicion. It had gotten late, and everyone had begun streaming out - grabbing coats and tossing goodbyes left and right.
Meanwhile, Aaron lingered quietly in the background, his shoulder pressed lazily against the wall with his arms loosely folded. There was no urgency in his posture - just a calm stillness, as if he had all the time in the world and nowhere in particular to be.
"Why wouldn't I?" Aaron feigned confusion, suddenly debating putting his shoes on to make it more believable.
But he was soon distracted by you - giggling wildly as Penelope refused to release you from her tipsy embrace. Your laughter echoed through the room, unbothered and bright, as JJ - her ride home - attempted to unlatch her from you. Aaron's lips lifted in an almost-there smile.
"Mhm." That answered that. Dave smirked, a wise and knowing glint in his eyes. "Hope you two have a good night."
Pairing: Country boy!Hotch x City girl!reader | WC: 0.7k | CW: Fluff, a little sexual tension but it's very minimal, to the point where you can't really see it that much.
The old leather couch groaned under Aaron’s weight as he sank onto it, the sound was the only thing that could be heard throughout the quiet ranch. His jeans were dusty, frayed slightly at the edges from yet another day spent on mending the fence line, and his boots, well-worn but polished, rested firmly on the creaky wooden floor.
Outside, the sun was sinking low, casting the room in the last remnants of daylight streaming through the windows.
You stood a few steps away, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk playing on your lips. "You know," you began, your tone dripping with sarcasm, "I think this couch should be in a museum. Really, Aaron. It’s practically an antique."
He tilted his head, his deep brown eyes glinting with amusement as he glanced at the old couch beneath him. "That couch," he drawled, his voice as calm as the man himself, "has more character than any overpriced piece of furniture you’d find in the city."
You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself away from the doorframe, stepping into the room with slow, deliberate clicks of your heeled boots against the floorboards. "Character isn’t exactly what I’d call it," you teased, stopping a few feet away.
Aaron leaned back slightly, letting one arm drape across the back of the couch as he studied you. His gaze was warm, but there was a glimmer of challenge in it, too, as though daring you to keep going. "You’re welcome to find something better," he said, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "Good luck getting it past the front gate, though."
With a soft laugh, you took another step forward, closing the distance between you. "You’re impossible, you know that?"
"And yet, here you are," he shot back, the smirk widening.
You planted yourself between his knees, standing tall, your hands resting on your hips as you looked down at him. For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Without warning, you reached out, placing your hands on his shoulders and easing yourself onto his lap. The couch creaked again beneath the shift of weight, but you didn’t care. Aaron’s hands immediately found your waist, his touch firm yet careful, like he was afraid to hold you too tightly.
"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and rich, "you might just fall for this 'museum piece.'"
You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, light and teasing as you leaned in slightly. "You wish, cowboy."
Aaron’s grip tightened just slightly, his thumbs brushing against your sides as his gaze locked onto yours. The warmth in his eyes darkened, and the smirk on his lips softened. "Oh, I know," he said quietly.
Your breath hitched, but you recovered quickly, refusing to let him have the upper hand for long. "Still think I wouldn’t last out here?" you challenged, tilting your head slightly as you leaned just a little closer.
His chuckle was low and rumbling, a sound that vibrated through his chest and into you. "Not a chance," he replied, his tone was teasing but tinged with affection. "But I’m glad you keep trying."
You narrowed your eyes at him, though the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. "Maybe I’m not here to prove anything," you said, your voice softening slightly. "Maybe I just like the view."
His gaze dropped, just for a moment, to your lips before meeting your eyes again. His hands shifted slightly, his thumbs tracing slow circles against your waist. "The feeling’s mutual," he murmured.
For a moment, the world outside seemed to fall away. The ranch, the city, the differences that should’ve kept the two of you worlds apart, they didn’t matter. All that existed was his touch, the steady rise, and fall of his chest beneath your hands, and the way his eyes seemed to hold you in place like you were the only thing that mattered.
"I think I’m starting to like this country life," you admitted softly, your fingers brushing against the stubble on his jaw. His skin was rough beneath your touch, a stark contrast to the polished, pristine men you’d known back in the city. But you liked it. You liked him. You loved him.
Aaron’s lips quirked into a small smile. "Don’t get too comfortable, city girl," he warned, though his tone was far from serious. "I might just make you stay."
You tilted your head, your smile softening as you let your fingers trace along the line of his jaw. "Promise?"
You didn’t hear him come in, just felt the shift in the air, like the room itself tensed. Hotch stood in the doorway, sleeves rolled, tie loosened, eyes darker than you remembered.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, heart already betraying you with every beat.
“I know,” he said, stepping closer, voice low, almost broken. “But I couldn’t stay away.”
The silence between you crackled. You reached for him without thinking, fingers brushing the bruises time hadn’t healed. His hand found your wrist, gentle but firm.
“I thought forgetting you would keep me sane,” he breathed. “Turns out, it just made me hollow.”
You pressed your forehead to his chest, hearing the ache in his heartbeat. And in that quiet, painful closeness you both knew you'd never be the same again.
hotch has feelings for you and decides to deal with it (going to a psychiatrist)
drabble
pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem!reader
content/tw: none i think?
a/n: a drabble no one asked for… yet, here i am. idek what is this… anyways… THANK YOU FOR 400 FOLLOWERS 😭❤️ i’m soooo happy sending much love to each and every one of you MWAH MWAH MWAH
dividers by @uzmacchiato
masterlist
“What brings you here today, Mr. Hotchner?” the psychiatrist asks, adjusting her large glasses up on her nose.
Hotch shifts on his seat, a frown forming on his features. The first thing that comes to his mind at that question is you. Your laugh, your glistening eyes, your smart mouth, your legs…
“I’m having a… problem. And I need it fixed.” his mouth barely moved. The psychiatrist stifled a sigh. He’s that kind of patient. Those who want instant solutions to many-decades old problems without giving a hint of what it’s about. Every professional’s personal favorite.
“Okay, then.” she hoped she sounded more excited than she felt “Why don’t we start with symptoms?” he nodded – yes, he could do that – “Are you having trouble breathing?”
“Sometimes.” she nodded, writing it down. It was a start, since there was nothing on his physical exams – which he brought on a fold, all labeled and laminated.
“How is your sleep schedule?”
“Not ideal.”
“Is this a regular thing or do you think your… problem… is causing that?”
“Both.”
The woman nodded, pressing her lips together and scribbling harder on her paper. Aaron fought the urge to ask what she was writing.
“Really?” she leans in, trying to hold onto every piece of information. He scratched the back of his head, not enjoying the attention.
“Yes. It’s affecting my work.”
“Why do you feel that?” she tilts her head to her side, and it takes all of his strength not to snap at her.
“Because it is. I’m getting slower. She’s frequently on my way.”
“She?”
“My coworker. She’s the problem.”
The woman nodded, trying not to sound too relieved to finally get some advance.
“So you’re having problems with a coworker.”
“That’s what I said, yes.” he muttered, trying once again not to be rude.
“Do you feel threatened by her?”
“No.”
“Does she disrespect you?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you feel angry at her?”
“I’m stressed.”
“Do you feel like getting violent towards her?”
“No, what do you think…”
She raises a hand, interrupting him “Mr. Hotchner, I’m just trying to understand the root of the problem. I’m not her to judge you, I just need to get you diagnosed.”
He nodded, sighing loudly.
“So, you feel stressed, you don’t feel angry or violent. Can you specify the problem you’re having with her?”
“I’m having work-inappropriate problems.” he manages, his voice barely hearable.
“Mhm.” the psychiatrist hums “And she’s your subordinate?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think about being inappropriate with her?”
He keeps silent, looking everywhere but the woman before him “Yes.”
“Do you feel like using your position as her superior to get her to perform those inappropriate scenarios?”
Hotch frowns “Absolutely not. Everything we ever did was completely consensual.”
“Oh.” her eyes widened at that “So you have a relationship with your coworker. Are you having relationship problems?”
“No. We’re not in a relationship, and I’m having problems.”
“You’re having problems with not being in a relationship with her?”
“No. We can’t have a relationship, that’s inappropriate.”
“So what happened between you…”
“It never happened in a work scenario.”
“It happened more than once?”
“Many times. Never in front of other people, especially at work.”
“So you have a casual relationship with her, and no one in your work knows.”
“Again, not a relationship,” he pointed out.
“Understood. So back to those problems you’re having. Trouble sleeping and eating, sometimes breathing. Do you get any other physical symptoms?”
“Sometimes trembling, heart palpitations and occasionally gastrointestinal distress.”
“And tell me, Mr. Hotchner, do any situations trigger those symptoms?”
His mind instantly flooded with images of you.
“She does.”
“She makes you feel like that? She’s causing all of those problems?”
“Exactly.”
The psychiatrist started to smile, her posture more easy going now, which didn’t sit right with Hotch.
“Do you feel stressed when she’s not around?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And nauseous when thinking about or seeing her interacting with any other men?”
“Yes.”
“Does the trouble sleeping have anything to do with you thinking about her?”
“Yes, doctor. That’s exactly what I said.” he sounded incredibly impatient.
She laughed, the sound making him want to stand up and walk out without looking back.
“Something funny?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner. Can we talk more about those feelings?”
“Doctor, with all due respect.” he started, buttoning up his suit as if he was ready to stand. “I’m not here to talk about my feelings. I’m currently under a lot of stress, which is leading to a mental disorientation and it’s causing me physical symptoms. And I came here because I need something to help me.”
“I’m afraid no medicine will help you with that, Mr. Hotchner.” and before his already blushed face could explode like a cartoon scene, the professional explained with a large smile and glistening eyes “You’re in love with her.”
