↳ Favorite Quote: And what about my team? How many more times will they be able to look into the abyss, how many times before they won't ever recover the pieces of themselves that this job takes? Like I said, sometimes there are no words, no clever quotes to neatly sum up what's happened that day. Sometimes, the day just... ends.
summary: hotch is completely enamoured with one of his students. will he let himself be happy or will his professionalism get in the way?
pairing: fem!reader x professor!hotch
warnings: age gap (reader is 21 and hotch is like early 30s), pining, some angst, fluff, kissing
an: professor hotchner my beloved 🥰. here’s my submission for the au day of @hotchappreciationweek! hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it.
word count: 3.7k
masterlist | hotch appreciation week masterlist
Aaron Hotchner always takes pride in his discipline. He’s able to compartmentalize and thread structure through his life, and lives of others around him at all times. He’s professional, calm and collected, rarely let his emotions get the best of him when making decisions.
When he’s asked to teach a series of lectures of behavior analysis as an elective he’s reluctant to say yes. It would be nice to have a break; taking on the class would cause him to take a hiatus as long as the semester, but he knows he would miss work. He talks to Jessica about it a bit, and she encourages him to do it. He’s getting older, and so is Jack, and the hours would be more conducive to building a better relationship with him. He tells her that he’ll talk to the team about it, and he does the next day. His reluctance is met with nothing but support for the opportunity. They’re all for it, gas him up and tell him he’d be a great professor and that he can always consult on cases and do as much paperwork (which he rolls his eyes at) as he wants as long as he prioritizes spending time with Jack. The decision is made quickly and he emails back the university and tells them he’s available to teach the course. What’s one semester?
He finds that on his first day he’s nervous. He’s put in the effort and made sure that all of his powerpoints for the classes are thorough but not too wordy. He’s incorporated a couple videos into things, and a few movie days all together because he doesn’t want to bore the students by lecturing at them constantly. He plans to gauge their interest in discussion and maybe even a field trip to headquarters. He wants this to be a positive experience for them, one as positive as his first class on analysis. The best part about this? Any free time he had during office hours could be dedicated to consulting with the team and he’d be leaving in enough time to pick up Jack from soccer practice. It's like everything was aligning perfectly. And it was, until you tilted his world off his axis.
You hair is up, most of it pulled back by a clip with just a few pieces framing your face. There’s a pair of black reading glasses adorning your head. You’re dressed in a pair of light wash jeans that fit you perfectly and a pink top that makes your skin and eyes pop just right. In his opinion, you look absolutely heavenly, out of this world, like you were put here just to distract him. He watches as you take a seat that’s in what he would classify the perfect spot, row 5 which is not too far back but not too far up. You catch his eyes for just a moment, give him a friendly smile that he can’t help but return before he looks away since he got caught staring. He hopes that you just think he was scanning the crowd. He pretends to flip through the syllabus one last time as more students pile in but really he’s just stealing glances at you, watching as you acquaint yourself with the girl a couple seats down from you. You have a laptop, a notebook and a few pens ready, along with a cup of what he assumes is coffee. Once the clock hits 9:30 he introduces himself and proposes an ice breaker, making sure to answer himself so that the class will be more willing to.
“I’m Professor Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia. My favorite dessert is pumpkin pie though carrot cake is a close second. When I was younger I wanted to be an astronaut and I collected coins. My family consists of my younger brother, my sister, and my son. One day I hope to retire and get a house on the beach so I can hear the sounds of the ocean no matter the time of day.”
He eagerly awaits your turn, listening pretty well to the other students, but tuning in intently when its your turn.
“I’m Y/n/n Y/l/n. I’m a junior in Criminology and Psychology. My favorite dessert is apple pie which sucks because my mom only makes it during the holidays. When I was younger I wanted to be a pediatrician. I didn't collect anything but I did watch old cartoons obsessively. My family is just me, my younger brother, and my mom. One day I’ll retire abroad, somewhere where they revel in taking naps, and don’t look at you funny when you drink wine at 11 a.m.”
Your answers are thought out, funny, sweet, and he finds that he’s just become more curious about you which means he’s completely and totally screwed. Enamoured with his student on the first day. Its something Dave would say is fate so he’ll keep the information to himself, hoping that he’s just having an off day.
That resolve doesn’t keep him from wanting to talk to you. After class he hovers, waiting to see if anyone has any questions. If you have any questions. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this, you’re his student. But you look soft and smart and gorgeous, so open. You were completely focused as he went through the syllabus, he watched as you took out your planner and marked all the dates, noticed how you took thorough notes on the introductory video he played before dismissal. He can imagine just how much knowledge you hold in that brain of yours. That’s what he finds the most attractive about you, and he’s only heard you speak a handful of words. To his favor, you do have a question after class.
Your fingers are digging into the leather strap of your bag when you come up to him, but you hold eye contact with him as you speak. “Professor Hotchner, do you have any books you would recommend? Its just that I’ve already read the textbook, and it’ll be an easy second read for me because its quite well written.”
He nods, impressed but not surprised that you’ve already read it. “Why don’t you stop by my office hours and I can give you a few that I’ve put in my office?”
“That’d be great. Is 2:15 alright? I won’t take up too much of your time.”
“2:15 is just fine, I’ll see you then Y/n.”
“Sweet, have a good day sir.”
“Hotch is fine. Sir makes me feel...old.” It doesn’t, he just wants you one step closer to saying his name.
You smile easily, eyes alight with humor. “Hotch. I’ll see you later.”
You nonchalant demeanor makes this interaction feel familiar and for a moment he feels like knows you. He wants to know you but once he gives you these books, he knows he needs to take a step back. You’re first and foremost his student, and he’s your superior. You’re young, and have so much life ahead of you and there’s no way that you would want to spend it with a man like him.
He doesn’t know that you disagree. You find him handsome and charming. His voice is intoxicating, you hang onto every word that he says and know that even if you were a bad student, somehow you would pass this class because you’ll listen to every word that comes out of his mouth like it’s gospel. So when class ends you can’t help yourself. He hangs back for questions and though you’re practically set and have loved everything true crime since the age of 12, you ask him for some book recommendations. The last thing you expect is for him to invite you to his office, well office hours. Technically that’s what questions like this were for, and when you walk out of his class you feel nervous and giddy. You feel stupid even entertaining the idea of being interested in him, and even more stupid when you let yourself think about what it would be like if he wanted you back. Shaking your head you head to your next class, and push the thoughts of Professor Hotchner out of your mind.
-----
Hotch has organized and reorganized his office what must be a million times before 2:15. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous, he doesn’t even know you and you’re his student for god’s sake but once the clock hits 2:10 he finally makes himself sit down, keeping his hands in his lap as he fidgets endlessly.
You’re standing outside of his door, have been since about 2 o’clock trying to build up the courage to knock on the door. He sounds busy inside, you hear lots of rustling and low frustrated groans. You almost chicken out and email him that something’s come up but eventually the sounds inside his office cease and you assume that he’s figured whatever he was doing out. At 2:12 you knock on the door and he tells you to come in.
“Y/n, good to see you again.”
“You too Hotch, I’ll be quick, I don’t want to take up too much of your time, I’m sure you have plenty to do.”
“This is what this time is for. I’m your professor. I'm here to support you in any way that I can. I’m sure I’ll get something out of our conversations as well, I can tell that you’ve come prepared and educated.”
“The more knowledge the better as my mother says.”
“She’s not wrong. Now, I have a few books for you to choose from or you could take all three. Its up to you, depends on how quickly you think you’ll get through them.”
“How about I take one at a time, that gives me an excuse to come back and talk about them all separately.”
“Oh, uh, sure. That works just fine.” He gives you a smile, one you’d classify as bashful if you weren’t repeatedly telling yourself that he’s your professor and not just some man that you can flirt with.
“Great. Maybe I could bring a list of talking points once I finish.”
“Sure, I’d like that.”
“Alright, well I’ll get going, I have a class at 3 and I know you have things to do.”
“Thank you for stopping by. Would you like some coffee before you go?” He gestures to the Keurig behind him.
“Do you have decaf? I usually cut myself off around this time or I’ll have issues sleeping.”
“I do. And there’s creamers in that fridge it’s on top of.”
“Thank you, sir. Hotch.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
_____
It only takes you a week to finish the first book. You shoot him an email, asking him if he wants you to make a specific appointment or just come to office hours. You’ve made a list a million years long, not just because you want to spend more time with him but because you want to hear his opinion on everything, crime related or not.
He so desperately wants you to make an appointment so that he knows he’ll get to spend that block of time with you for sure but he resists. He beats himself up whenever he stares at you a moment too long, or smiles at you too wide. He reminds himself daily, if not multiple times a day: you are his student. It doesn’t matter how pure his intentions are, he must respect that boundary. He would never want to make you uncomfortable. In the end he tells you office hours are fine and that he’ll see you on Friday.
It’s during this first discussion with you one on one that he realizes just how deep he is. You’ve brought coffee and donuts, somehow you guessed his order, something about him seeming like a classic man. You set an apple fritter and black coffee with two sugars on his desk before pulling out an old fashioned donut of your own and flopping down on his couch.
The two of you are halfway through your discussion points when he notices some crumbs on the edge of your lip.
“Y/n, you’ve got,” He pauses, gestures to his face.
“Oh,” you feel your face warm in embarrassment before you wipe at a spot on your face. “Did I get it?”
“No, it’s just,” He points at his face again and wants to chuckle when you miss once more. “Here I’ll just,” he grabs a napkin and before he can think he stands and sits next to you on the couch, wiping the crumbs away in an overfamiliar gesture.
Your eyes catch his as he pulls the napkin away, your breath hitching as you peer into the brown orbs. “Thank you, Hotch.” You murmur softly.
He wants to kiss you. He wants to lean forward and wrap his arms around you while crushing his lips to yours. But instead he clears his throat, moves back to his seat at the desk with a “you’re welcome”.
He makes sure to keep his eyes trained on the list as much as possible after that, though his eyes do stray to your frame every once and a while. Once finished he stands, offers you a bottle of water before you leave.
“Thank you,” You say as you take the water bottle from him, being careful enough to avoid touching your fingers with his. Direct contact with him would be the death of you, you’re almost positive that you would pass out if his skin ever touched yours. “And thanks for this I…I had a really good time.”
“I did too.” He says it because it's true. It doesn’t matter to him that he shouldn’t have because the smile that spreads across your face beats out any consequences his words could have.
“Glad I could be good company for you. What’s the next book?” You lean over his desk slightly, placing your hands flat against it.
He turns, grabs a book off his shelf in such a smooth manner that your heart flutters. When he hands it to you his eyes don’t leave yours and you feel a heat spread through your entire body. “Take your time with this one, there’s a lot of information and I don’t want you to miss anything.”
“Okay, I’ll take my time. I’ll see you in class, Hotch.”
“See you in class. And next time I’ll get the donuts okay?” He doesn’t know at the moment that when he says this it's a lie.
“Okay.”
_____
He hates how he avoids you after this. A few weeks later he receives an email from you saying you finished the book and that you read it twice to make sure you didn’t miss anything. He hates the sad look on your face when you come into class the day after he tells you that he can’t meet. He’d been more than available but since your first encounter he’s started to dream about you. His dreams consist of holding your hand, pushing your hair out of your face, laying in bed with you, and lastly what he wants to do most: kissing you so deeply it makes his brain melt. He’s putting some distance between himself and you because he’s afraid he won’t be able to control himself. As weeks pass he keeps coming up with excuses, cancelling his office hours to consult with the team and requesting that all contact be through email. You don’t know what you did wrong but once you're halfway through the semester you’re fed up.
You show up to his office hours one day, and barge in without knocking. You catch him completely off guard, causing him to stand abruptly, his hand falling to his empty hip in a reflex.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It's alright. What are you doing here? I have my office hours closed right now, appointment only.”
You make a noise of frustration in the back of your throat. “Yeah, appointment only except you’ve ignored all my emails for one and refuse to acknowledge my existence.”
“Is there something urgent that you need?” He keeps his expression though on the inside he’s starting to get a little anxious, he knows where this is going.
“For you to tell me what I did for you to start acting like this.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“I’m not stupid, we both know what’s going on here.” You take a step forward and he instinctively uses his chair to roll back an inch. He can’t be close to you, it’ll drive him wild.
“I don’t think we’re on the same page.”
“Aaron, don’t treat me like I’m just some student. We had a moment last time, I know you felt it.”
His eyes close, and he pinches the bridge of his nose trying to manage the emotions that arise when he hears his name on your lips. To you it looks like frustration, but it couldn’t be anything further. When he opens his eyes again they’re piercing.
“I think it best if you call me Professor Hotchner.”
You scoff at his words, crossing your arms against your chest. You can’t even start to describe how angry you are at him and how stupid you feel. All this time you thought that there was something between the two of you, even if it was just a tiny spark. Clearly you were wrong and now you’ve embarrassed yourself.
“Fine, Professor Hotchner. Here’s your stupid book,” You fish it out of your bag angrily, and throw the book onto his desk, effectively scattering some of the files he has on his desk. “Have a lovely day, sir.” Your voice is full of venom as you turn to leave.
His calls your name in a soft plea, and you turn to look at him. You can see the apology in his eyes but you know that he’ll keep denying the fact that he’s been ignoring you and the reason for it.
“If you won’t be honest with me there’s nothing you can say to me. Nothing.”
-----
You’ve turned the tables on him. For the rest of semester, you don’t so much as throw him a glance in class. He knows that you’re listening and paying attention by the way you take notes, and the fantastic grades or quizzes and papers. You keep your eyes trained on your notebook, laptop, or the screen. He sees you leaning over to tell the people around you to ask questions for you. If he didn’t know he was in the wrong he would call you out for it but he doesn’t want to make things worse. Day in and day out, you walk in and out of his classroom making him feel like a ghost.
The week before finals rolls around and you don’t even come to the review, something he expected to see you at. He’s grateful that the final is in person and that you have to bring your test packet up to him because it allows him to get one last good look at you.
“It was a pleasure to have you in class Y/n.”
For the first time in 2 months you look at him, squaring your shoulders as you make eye contact with him. “I have to disagree, Professor Hotchner.”
He doesn’t have time to answer because another student comes up behind you to turn in their test. You take the chance to leave, scurrying out of the classroom before he has a chance to call after you. The final wraps up pretty quickly, leaving Aaron with a hefty stack to grade.
He’s in his office trying to focus on grading when finds himself pulling up your email thread on his computer. He types out a quick email, asking you to come to his office hours tomorrow at 2:15, just like you did the first time. He turns notifications on for you, and turns his ringer all the way up. He finishes grading all the papers and technically has no reason to come back tomorrow. He could enter grades from home, and discuss any discrepancies in grades over email or phone call. He comes back the next day anyway, even after not hearing from you because he has to hold out hope.
He checks the time obsessively, watching the minutes creep by achingly slow. It's almost the end of his office hours, 4 p.m., with just half an hour left when there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
You step into his office, closing the door behind you, heart beating out your chest. “You wanted to see me sir. I hope everything with my exam is okay, I worked really hard on it.”
His feet are moving because his mind can catch up with him. He’s in front of you, scooping you into his arms and pressing his lips to yours before either of you can truly process what’s happening. But, somehow your brain catches up, and your hands are threading through his hair in seconds as you push up on the tips of your toes to deepen the kiss. His mouth is warm and soft against yours, and as he kisses you he gets confirmation of what he always suspected. You’re perfect for him; the two of you go together like coffee and cream as your tongue swirls into his mouth.
He pulls away, completely out of breath but manages to say, “Call me Aaron. Please.”
“Okay, Aaron.” You breathe, nodding against him.
“I’m sorry I was a jerk, I was trying to do right by you.”
“I know, and its not okay but I forgive you. I can protect myself. I can handle myself.”
“I figured that out when you threw the book across my desk.” He chuckles, raising his eyebrows in amusement as he thinks of the memory.
You pout, rubbing your nose against his affectionately. “I’m sorry about that I was just hurt.”
“There’s no reason for you to apologize, I understand.” He runs his hand over your hair, pressing you closer by the nape of your neck.
“So we’re doing this now? Us?”
“I’m not your professor anymore so yes, I would really love to do this, us, and take you out on a date.” He tightens his hold on your waist.
“I would really love that too.” You murmur before pulling him in for one more kiss. Its slower, and wetter than the first.
“By the way,” He mumbles between placing sweet kisses on your lips and nose and cheeks, “making out with the professor will not boost your grade.”
“Oh shut up, as if my grade needs boosting.” You smile into the next kiss, knowing that whatever you were getting into with him was going to be one of the best things you’ve ever experienced, especially if he kept kissing you like this.
Summary: Hotch tries to work up the nerve to talk to his pretty next-door neighbour with a little help from his son
Warnings: none :)
A/N: Day 5 of Hotch app week!! time is flying by like crazy! I hope you guys enjoy this cute little fluffy piece that’ll definitely make up for Wednesday ;)
@hotchappreciationweek
Aaron never thought retirement was something that would suit him. But while being in WITSEC he realized how much he enjoyed spending time with Jack so after being away for over a year, it made sense for him to leave the FBI and take up a less busy job in prosecution, working part time and only taking smaller cases here and there.
They moved to a new neighbourhood, he bought a house, one with a nice balcony in the primary bedroom, something Haley always wanted. And Jack loved it because as a fourteen-year-old it was big enough to house all of his friends when they would decide to get off their video games and hang out (mainly to just play video games in person).
Aaron liked the neighbourhood for a different reason though. Right next door, 4873 Diver Lane is where you lived. The sweet woman who had first welcomed him and Jack to the neighbourhood. You brought over cookies and a big bunch of flowers from your garden that you tended and cared for almost every day.
It was obvious to Jack that his dad had formed quite the little crush on you, so he decided to ask him about it one night while they watched soccer together on the TV.
“Hey dad,”
“Yeah?”
“What do you think of Miss (L/N)? From next door?” he asked.
“She’s nice,” Aaron nodded, scribbling down some things in the margins of a report he was reading. “Why?”
“Well, it’s pretty obvious you have a crush on her,” he offered. “I mean I’m a teenager, I’m awkward and hormonal, what’s your excuse for having no game? Actually have you ever even had any?”
“Hey there,” Aaron chuckled. “Easy,”
“But?”
“It’s been a while Jack, I think the rules of the game have changed since I played,” he offered. “Why don’t you pay more attention to the TV, you just missed Lukaku do a bicycle kick,”
“What!?” Jack exclaimed and Aaron chuckled to himself knowing his son would catch his lie sooner or later.
“Dad that was mean,”
“No, mean is saying your dad doesn’t have any game,” he grabbed a pillow and tossed it at his son. “30 more minutes then go study a bit more for your test before bed, okay?”
“Fine,” Jack sighed and settled himself further into the couch.
Aaron noticed that after that interaction, Jack started to chat more with you on his way back home from school every day. He always watched him out of the window, trying to read his lips and make sure he wasn’t saying anything ridiculous, but that may have been asking a lot of him.
“I hope you didn’t say anything too out there,” Aaron said one day when Jack walked in.
“Only good things. If you aren’t going to talk to her then I might as well talk you up so she asks you out,” Jack shrugged.
“Good luck with that,” Aaron ruffled his hair.
“I don’t need luck, I’ve got more game than you,” Jack teased and Aaron rolled his eyes.
A few nights later, he could hear quiet talking coming from Jack’s room, well past the time she should have been awake, but when he came to the door, he could see a flickering light coming from underneath the door and he had a good feeling of what he was doing.
“Mom you gotta help me,” he could hear him whisper from past the door. “He freezes up every time we walk past her house and she waves at him. I seriously can’t believe he actually managed to join a play to try and ask you out,”
Aaron couldn’t help but let a small smile sneak past his lips as Jack continued.
“I love him, but he’s a little bit of a lost cause and could use a bit of a push, can you help me?” he asked. “He deserves to be happy again after everything, right?”
Aaron pressed his lips together and decided to leave then, letting the rest of the conversation his son was having with his mother be private.
That night as he laid down in bed, he wondered to himself what it would take for him to overcome his nerves, even just to talk to you, hell, to just walk by your house without becoming a bumbling mess.
Jack even decided that he needed to get his friends involved, each time they were over, Aaron would hear some iteration of,
“Mr. H the lady next door is really pretty! You should ask her out!”
And honestly, he was about to, just to get them off his back because, man could fourteen-year-olds be persistent.
But a more realistic first step came one autumn weekend when Jack slid down the railing, already wearing a sweater he had stolen from Aaron, his phone in one hand, quickly checking his messages.
“Where are you going?” Aaron asked.
“Little walk around the neighbourhood,” Jack said. “Needed a homework break,”
“If you give me two minutes I’ll come with you,” Aaron said and Jack nodded, putting his shoes on and waiting by the door while Aaron went to put on something a little warmer.
When he came back, Jack practically dragged him out of the door and they started in the direction opposite of your home but Aaron knew they would loop back around so it gave him time to prepare himself, even if it was just to say hi.
“So how’s that history paper going?” Aaron asked his son.
“It’s fine, Mrs. Jacobs really liked that piece you helped me write though,”
“Still got it,” Aaron chuckled with a grin and Jack elbowed his dad slightly in the gut to get him to be quiet.
The fall leaves had all changed colour by this point and were slowly but surely falling off the trees and all over the roads and lawns.
Their neighbourhood had their fair share of trees that offered a variety of colours around and Aaron had to agree with his son that it was a much needed break from work.
As they finished their loop around the street and came past your house, he noticed you were outside raking leaves that had fallen into your front yard, warm mittens covering your hands and a scarf wrapped around your neck.
“Hey Miss (L/N)!” Jack waved and Aaron’s eyes went wide, not expecting his son to be so loud in his call.
“Hi Jack!” you waved back and Jack ran over to your fence, Aaron following closely behind him. “I told you to call me (Y/N), remember, Miss (L/N) makes me sound old,” you laughed.
“Right, sorry,” he apologized. “This is my dad, I’m not sure if you’ve met him yet,”
“Maybe in passing,” you nodded and offered your hand for him to shake. “(Y/N),”
“Aaron, nice to meet you,”
“Nice to meet you too. Your son’s told me a lot about you,” you smiled.
“Except one thing,” Jack whispered under his breath and Aaron tried to put his hand over Jack’s mouth, but Jack continued to wrestle out of his grip until he knew he was absolutely free and said, “(Y/N) my dad has a crush on you but he has no game, ok bye!”
Jack bolted off back to the house leaving Aaron standing in front of the gate to your home while you laughed at the actions of the teenage boy, remembering how you had done something similar to one of your friends when you were that age.
“So, is it true?” you turned to Aaron and asked him.
“I-What would you say if it was?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Maybe I’d ask if you want to come over for dinner sometime,”
Aaron was stunned. He couldn’t believe Jack’s little plan had worked, all he had to do was say yes. And the push he needed was right there when he saw Jack back at the house, his face glued to the window waiting for his dad’s response.
“Then I guess it is true,” Aaron admitted.
“Then I guess I’d like to have you over,” you smiled. “Is tonight at seven a little too eager?”
“Not at all,” Aaron smiled, “I’ll see you then,”
When Aaron got back to the house Jack was waiting in the living room, slightly cowering under the blankets until Aaron came right up to him, moved the blankets away from his face and kissed his son on the cheek.
“Thank you,” he said. “But if you ever pull something like that again,” he warned.
“Grounded, yep, I understand,” Jack nodded, but he still had a faint smile on his lips knowing that he had done the right thing.
—
“Are you seriously gonna wear that?” Jack asked.
“What’s wrong with this?” Aaron wondered as he looked in the mirror, “I-It’s just a dress shirt and some slacks,”
“Okay, it’s your funeral,” the boy shrugged and Aaron rolled his eyes, something he found himself doing more and more the older his son got.
“Did you bike down to the florist and grab the flowers?” Aaron asked.
“Yep,” Jack nodded. “They’re on the table, wrapped and everything,”
“Perfect,” Aaron breathed. “Okay, wish me luck I guess,”
“Good luck,” Jack patted his dad’s back. “If you need me I will be in my room-,”
“Talking to your girlfriend?” Aaron raised a brow.
“N-No,” Jack shook his head, but it was evident that Aaron had caught him off guard.
“Tell her I say hi,” he chuckled and left his room, grabbing the flowers on the countertop and heading over to your house, knocking on the door.
When you opened the door you wore an apron over your clothes, a simple blouse and a nice pair of pants, a wide smile on your face.
“Hi Aaron, please come in,” you opened the door wider.
“These are for you, but I guess you probably figured that one out on your own,” he chuckled nervously.
“Yeah,” you nodded. “They’re gorgeous though, I’ll put them in a vase,”
You led Aaron further inside your home, inviting him to take a seat at the kitchen island while you finished up the last things for dinner.
“I can’t remember the last time I had actual good home cooked food and not something burnt or takeout,” Aaron told you. “So this will definitely be a treat,”
“Are you not quite the cook?” you asked.
“Well, I can be when I want to, but with my old job I never had time and now Jack’s old enough and he wants to learn to cook so he’s been taking a lot of the load and… well he’s not very good at it yet,” Aaron admitted and you laughed.
“What job did you have that was so busy you didn’t have time to cook?” she asked.
“I was a behavioural analyst and unit chief with the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the FBI,” he said. “So it took up most of my free time,”
“Wow, I’ve heard of the BAU,” you said. “I mean mostly in TV shows and a few times on the news, but it’s pretty prestigious right?”
“Yeah, something like that,” he nodded.
“What made you leave?” you asked, pulling out a pie from the oven.
Aaron tried to figure out the best way to word what he wanted to say and landed on,
“It just put my family in danger one too many times, so I thought it was best if Jack didn’t have to deal with any more trauma because of my work,”
“That’s very big of you. I can’t imagine, it must be hard leaving something you love,”
“It was, but Jack’s more important,”
“Of course,” you agreed. “And what do you do now?”
“I work at the Justice Department, as a prosecutor. I was a lawyer before the FBI, it just seemed to make sense to go back. What about you? What do you do?”
“I’m a writer, so mostly at home work,” you said.
“Would I have read any of your work?” Aaron asked.
“Possibly, but I write under a pen name so you probably wouldn’t have noticed it was me,” you chuckled. “I can pull out my series later if you want to have a look, but I think the food’s ready to eat,”
“I’d love to see it,” he nodded. “But I think you’re right, it can wait until after dinner,”
Conversation with you seemed to come so naturally for Aaron, you asked thought provoking questions and in return Aaron wanted to get to know all about you and your life.
“You know, I have to say, I’m actually really happy Jack said something,” you told him after you had eaten dinner and were now sitting on the couch, slowly munching away at a pumpkin pie you’d made. “Ever since you moved in I wanted to come up and talk to you, but I’m afraid my words come out a lot better on paper than out of my mouth,”
“Well, I was in the same boat,” he nodded. “I got pretty lucky with Jack’s mom and afterwards dating just wasn’t a priority so I must have forgotten how to do it,”
“I guess it makes for quite the story though,” you chuckled. “Set up by a fourteen-year-old,”
“Yeah, if any of my friends found out they would lose it,” Aaron chuckled into his glass before taking a sip of wine. “But on the other hand they’d probably slap me for not being able to get my head out of my ass and talk to a beautiful woman,”
“You flatter me,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm under the dim light illuminating the living room.
“Is it flattery if it’s the truth?” Aaron asked.
“And who says you don’t have any game,” you smiled, feeling yourself lean in a little further.
“Guess I still have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he whispered.
There was a small pause and a moment of silence before Aaron spoke up again.
“(Y/N), can I kiss you?”
“I think I’d like that,” you nodded and let your eyes flutter shut as you leaned in, letting his hand hold the back of your neck while he kissed you. His lips were soft but slightly chapped and you melted into his every touch, your breathing a little heavier once you pulled apart.
“Tell Jack I say thank you?” you asked with a small cheeky smile.
“I’ll tell him when he’s older, can’t let it get to his head,” he whispered with a slight scrunch of his nose. “But I think he already knows,”
You nodded your head and let yourself lean in once more, capturing his lips with yours. “Dinner at mine or yours next time?”
“Unless you want take out or a call to the fire department, maybe here,”
“I can deal with that,” you chuckled.
And if it meant you got the chance to date the man next door, really, you could deal with anything.
because this is aaron hotchner we are talking about, I cannot pick just one look. I love everything he wears, but these are some of my all time favorites ❤️
but we all know FBI vest Hotch is superior 💁🏻♀️
-> @hotchappreciationweek
these are NOT my gifs- if you own them or know who owns them, please give them credit for me as I do not remember where I found them (:
Promise me that you will tell him how we met, and how you used to make me laugh.
Haley...
He needs to know that you weren't always so serious, Aaron. I want him to believe in love, because it... it is the most important thing... but you need to show him. Promise me!
