The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known - chap. 1
Hello friends. I already posted chapter 1 weeks ago, but I've finally gotten around to making a post about it.
Written with permission off this post by @sapphicdeath (my main is @strung-by-fate).
[Masterlist]
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Summary: A day in the office. Nighttime sets the stage.
Warnings: none
Pairing: Hotch/Rossi
Words: 1.9k
Read below the cut, or on ao3.
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The office was never empty, not even early in the morning as Hotch arrived. Already there were other employees there, setting up for their days or ending their nighttime shifts. He made his way to his office, nodding a greeting to those he passed.
He set up his desk, arranging the papers he would need to go through according to importance, as he frequently did. Occasionally, there would be a file he would go through first that wasn't overly important, but he would still go through first for other reasons.
It was easy to sink into the headspace he needed for the motions of reading each document and filling out what needed to be. A glance at the clock showed him it was eight. The team would likely be some time still.
Half an hour later, he looked up to see most of his team spilling into the bullpen, talking and laughing together. JJ was absent, but then, she had spoken yesterday of her son's fever and how she and Will were worried. He would give her until nine, then call.
Hotch watched in silence as they settled into their desks, getting ready for the day without ever truly ending their conversation, save for Rossi, who found his way to his own office. It always felt distant, viewing them from behind the glass as he was now. He was part of the team, but there were times he wondered if he was truly part of it in anything but name. Mornings were some of those times, more often than not.
A knock on his door stirred him from his reverie.
"Come in."
"Hey, Hotch," Morgan said, opening the door. "Saying good morning."
"Good morning."
"You looked a bit lonely up here this morning. Anything you want to talk about?"
"I've been thinking," Hotch said. Morgan made a disbelieving but amused sound.
"Alright, man. But if you do ever want to talk, I'm always here."
"I know. Thank you." Morgan shut the door and walked off. Hotch returned to the work in front of him.
*
"You know, we don't actually know how many-" Reid began, only to be cut off by Prentiss.
"JJ, there you are. Everything alright? You're usually as early as Hotch." The other agent was rarely late, and yet it was almost nine. Hotch had been in the office for likely more than an hour, from what the others knew of his schedule.
"Yeah, everything's fine," JJ said, waving away her friend's concerns. "Henry has a fever, Will's watching him. I left a bit late because of that and hit traffic."
"Henry okay?" Reid chimed in from his desk.
"He will be," JJ assured the group. "He's warm but not dangerously so. We're just worried over how frequently he gets sick."
"That's not uncommon," Reid said. "The average child Henry's age tends to get several fevers a year, not to mention seven or eight colds. So I really wouldn't worry about it unless it's rather severe." He tapped his pen against his fingers, as he was wont to do. JJ nodded, a bit off-kilter
"Thanks, Reid."
*
"Prentiss." Her name being called grabbed her attention away from the report she was filling out as Morgan and Reid bickered behind her, and she turned. Hotch stood outside his office, waiting for her to turn. "I need to speak with you."
It wasn't only her attention that he had. Reid and Morgan were watching intently as well. She rose and made her way over, frowning.
"Something going on?" Hotch opened his door for her in answer. She entered, and he shut it behind them.
"You're not in trouble," he said once he had taken a seat at his desk and she was sitting in the chair across from him. "It's just some routine training. Seven months is a long time to be gone from the team. The Bureau needs to know you're still sharp."
"What do they need from me this time?" The retraining and assessments had been continuous since she had returned to the Unit. Hotch slid a form and a pen towards her.
"For you to fill that out, then report to the mats tomorrow. Morgan and I can cover your paperwork." She nodded.
"You can return to your desk. And, Emily. It's nice to have you back." She stood and moved to the door, then paused with one hand on it.
"Hotch?" He looked up questioningly. Prentiss smiled. "Thanks." She got a small smile in return.
*
Lunch was a remarkably quiet affair. Even Hotch deigned to join them, which was unusual in itself.
"Is anyone doing something interesting this weekend?" Garcia asked.
"A friend and I have plans to go strawberry picking up in Pennsylvania,” Prentiss offered, which gained some approving nods around the table.
“Let’s hope nothing comes up, then.”
“You know, the garden strawberry is originally from Brittany, France, and is a cross of two other breeds, one from eastern North America and the other from Chile. It replaced the woodland strawberry, which had been around since the early 17th century,” was Reid’s contribution.
The talk after that shifted to work, and what had come up in reports. Some members were more vocal than others. Hotch was frequently observant but largely silent when there wasn’t a case, staying in his office and working alone. Rossi preferred to observe as well, but tended to be more active in the conversation.
*
Towards the end of the day, Hotch knocked on JJ’s door.
“Come in,” was the call he was greeted with. She looked up in surprise as he entered, hands pausing on the file she was looking over. “Hey, Hotch. There’s nothing demanding we fly out, though there are a couple of cases that we should offer a consultation on.” He made a small, dismissive gesture.
“I’m not here to discuss cases yet. I trust your judgement.” She smiled.
“Um, thanks. Why are you here, then?”
“Checking on you. You’ve seemed distraught today.” JJ gave him a tight smile.
“It’s nothing, really. It’s this job. It’s my son being sick. I’m fine, Hotch.”
“JJ, if you want to talk, I’m here. And if you need to take some time off, no one’s going to think less of you.”
“I know that.”
“But?”
“But I can’t bear to.” She sighed, quietly. “I can’t step away from this desk and these files, knowing that if I take even a day off, they’re going to pile up and by the time I get through, there’s going to be more bodies. They aren’t my fault, and I know that, but some days it weighs on me more heavily than others.”
She looked up, studying his face. “I can do this job.”
“I know.”
“I just have bad days.”
“Look at me.” JJ lifted her eyes, meeting his own. Hotch continued softly. “You go through files detailing some of the worst acts human beings have committed every day. You have to choose who we try to catch, knowing that the others that you don’t pick are going to keep on killing. Of course this job weighs on you. I want you to know that you have my respect. You’ve always had it. If you need anything, I’m here for you.”
She smiled, teary-eyed.
“Thank you, Hotch.” She slid him a file. He took it.
“The evil in the world is not your fault,” he reminded her as he opened the door to leave.
“Nor is it yours,” she said.
*
It was unusual for any of them to, towards the end of the day, find themselves with a light enough load of work to begin thinking about heading home. It was unfortunately common amongst members of the team to stay far later than was healthy in order to finish filling out some form or report, or to finish reading through a file.
The time was approaching eight by the time Rossi wrapped up the final file he was reviewing. He shook out his wrist, stood, and began packing up.
Then, as was custom on the nights it was just the two of them left, he made his way to Hotch’s office.
Hotch looked up as he entered. “Budget reports,” he said in answer to the questioning look. “HR wants to make another cut and Strauss has me looking over the proposal in case they go through with it.” Rossi dropped into one of the chairs opposite Hotch’s desk.
“What’s it look like for the team?”
“There’s no threat of downsizing this time.” Hotch made another mark and kept reading.
“Well, that’s good, at least.”
Rossi watched in silence as his friend continued to make his way through the report, his usual frown etched on his face even now, in the quiet stillness when it was just the two of them.
Hotch set the file aside some ten minutes later. He took his things as well, then Rossi opened the door for them both and they headed out.
The elevator ride and the walk to the main entrance passed in a blur, and before long, the two of them had reached the parking lot and their cars. They had parked beside each other, something that had started out being convenience (they tended to leave late, and together), and had turned into a habit both were unwilling to break.
“I’ll see you tonight?” Rossi asked as they stood face to face, closer than was perhaps appropriate for two colleagues. Hotch’s hand found his waist.
“Tonight,” he agreed. “An hour from now, my place?”
“Works for me,” Rossi told him. The kiss they shared was brief and chaste. Nothing else was safe, and even that much was too much for a place like the parking lot of Quantico.
*
An hour later, Hotch had seen Jack safely to bed and now opened the door to admit his partner. Rossi entered, and they found their way to the kitchen, trading soft words and sure hands, at ease with each other.
Their relationship was far from new, after all. They had been working with each other for a little over two decades and had been friendly throughout. Their romantic involvement was shorter, but still had several years on it.
Hotch took Rossi’s free hand as they drank, and Rossi could feel the cold of the ring Hotch wore against his skin. They both wore the rings signifying their relationship, though what exactly the rings signified he couldn’t say.
“I’ve been wondering,” Hotch said into the quiet. They had never dared to go further than what they had. A serious relationship between two employees, especially two senior employees, was enough risk as it was. Marriage was out of the question for more than one reason. Anything more than friendship was already putting the team at risk. If one of them was injured or killed on a case, the other would be more vulnerable than was safe with their job. Relationships were a risk, always had been. Unfortunately for them and countless others, their hearts had never cared.
“We have plans to not go further until we’re retired.” Hotch paused, turning the words over in his mind and finding the right ones. “But if we could safely, Dave, would you marry me?”
“Yes,” was the answer that fell from Rossi’s lips, before he sealed them over Hotch’s again. He tasted desperation and the wine they had drunk. The glasses found their way onto the counter as he wrapped his arms around his lover, holding him close as Hotch did the same.