Discover Top Posts Tagged with #thomas gibson

Hey! I just read your entire page and love every single one of them!! If its ok can i request something where aaron and reader used to date, and reader's dream was to preform on broadway but she never did until they broke up. And aaron (and maybe the rest of the group?) goes to see a show without knowing that reader is preforming

Oho ho! I have been excited about this one, dear anon. I love me some Hotch too. Hope you enjoy <3

================================================== Title: Curtain Call Word count: 851

The BAU had not planned to spend the night in New York. Their case ended before five, but a storm grounded the jet until morning. Garcia refused to waste an unexpected Friday night in Manhattan and found discounted Broadway tickets three blocks from their hotel.

Aaron objected, yet no one listened. That was how he ended up seated between Rossi and JJ while Morgan complained about the legroom.

Aaron never opened his Playbill. If he had, he would have seen your name. Instead, the curtain rose, the stage filled with light, and you walked into the center of it.

Aaron went still. The last time he had seen you, you were standing in his kitchen with a suitcase by the door. Now you were singing beneath a spotlight.

JJ noticed his face. “Hotch?”

“We used to date,” he said quietly.

Rossi looked from him to you. “You neglected to mention she was on Broadway.”

“She wasn’t.” Not then.

When you were together, Broadway existed in audition notices tucked into drawers and sheet music scattered across Aaron’s table. You taught voice lessons, performed in small local productions, and kept saying you would audition seriously when life became less complicated.

Then a touring production offered you a callback. You had shown Aaron the email, hopeful and terrified. He responded with facts: The tour lasted ten months. The pay was uncertain. You would be away from Jack. From him.

So you declined it. And three months later you left anyway.

“I needed you to tell me you believed I could do it,” you had said. “I did.” “You made it sound impossible.”

Two weeks after the breakup, you moved to New York and Aaron had not seen you since.

The applause pulled him back into the theater. You stepped forward for the final bow, breathless and smiling. Your eyes swept over the audience and stopped on his row.

Your smile faltered. Then the curtain fell.

“You have to talk to her,” Garcia said.

“She may not want to see me.”

Rossi stood. “Only one way to find out.”

Twenty minutes later, Aaron waited outside the stage door while the team pretended not to watch.

You emerged in jeans and a long coat, signing programs for the small crowd. Then you saw him. “Aaron.”

He had imagined this moment often enough to prepare speeches. All he managed was, “You were extraordinary.”

A faint smile touched your mouth. “You always hated superlatives.”

“Only inaccurate ones.”

You glanced toward the team. Garcia waved with a bouquet.

“You didn’t know I was in the show.”

“No. Our flight was delayed.”

“So this was an accident.”

“Yes.”

The softness left your face.

Aaron stepped closer. “Seeing you wasn’t.”

You looked at him.

“If I had known, I would have come.”

“You didn’t want me to do this before.”

“That wasn’t true.”

“It felt true.”

Aaron did not defend himself. “When you showed me the callback, I treated your dream like a problem to solve,” he said. “I listed every reason it could fail because I was afraid you would go.”

“You could have asked me to stay.”

“I was afraid you would.”

Your brow furrowed.

“If you stayed for me, I thought you would resent me. I decided what was best for you without asking.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I was wrong.”

Your eyes shone. “I turned it down because I thought staying meant we were building a life together. Then you kept leaving for cases, and I realized only one of us was allowed to have a calling that disrupted everything.”

Aaron swallowed. “I never believed yours mattered less.”

“You never said that.”

“No.”

The silence hurt because it was deserved.

Then Aaron looked back at the theater. “You made it.”

“I’m the understudy. The lead is sick.”

“You still walked onto that stage and made an entire theater believe it belonged to you.”

Your expression cracked. “I wanted you to be proud of me.”

“I am.” His voice softened. “I was then too. I just loved you badly.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. “I’m happy here,” you said.

“I can see that.”

“I’m not moving back to Virginia.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“My life can’t revolve around your cases again."

“It shouldn’t.”

You studied him. “Then what are you asking?”

“Dinner.”

You blinked.

“Tonight. And another the next time I’m in New York, if you want one.”

“That is not much of a plan.”

“I’m trying not to plan your life for you.”

A small laugh escaped you. “That's new. There’s a diner around the corner,” you said. “I still get pancakes after performances.”

“You always spilled syrup in my car.”

“Twice.”

“Three times.”

You held out your hand and Aaron took hold of it. “This isn’t forgiveness,” you warned.

“I know.”

“It isn’t us getting back together.”

“I know.”

“It’s pancakes.”

“I can start with pancakes.”

You pulled him closer and kissed him. It was soft, brief, and uncertain. When you drew back, his hand was still wrapped around yours. “That wasn’t forgiveness either,” you murmured.

“What was it?”

You smiled for the first time that night. “An encore.”

#thomas gibson

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#thomas gibson