Against Protocol (Aaron Hotchner X Reader)

chapter twelve: the feeling is mutual

"Good morning," you greet, your voice cheerily picking up as you put down the cups of coffee you bought before class had started. The smell of Hotch's black coffee filled up the office, the steam steadily seeping into the air under the lamplight. "Ready for class?"

"I'm ready to get this course over with and get back to working cases," he deadpanned, continuing to intensely study the profile Derek sent over after Hotch's adamant request.

Hotch had been working the case every chance he got, dead set on returning to the team. As much as he enjoyed the relieving breath of air that came with not having to study gruesome body disposal sites and interviewing serial killers, every spare second he had consisted of working on the profile.

You smile, offering him a warm, comforting reminder: something he desperately needed. "Don't lie. I know you enjoyed playing Professor Hotchner for a few weeks. The students and the University appreciate you being here."

He finally looks up from the paperwork. His dark chestnut eyes that had been highlighted with his deep eyebags bore into yours. "I enjoyed it because you were with me. You shouldn't forget you're also appreciated —by the students, by the team, by me. You seem to forget that."

You roll your eyes carelessly, brushing off the compliment. "Did you even go home last night? You know Derek can handle the case, right? You need sleep."

"Does it matter what I need," he sighed, fatigue tainting his voice. "Trust me, I know Derek is capable of taking over the case. I just, I can't help but feel like I'm abandoning my team. And they just found a new victim, a middle aged white man who worked at a local restaurant, disrupting the entire profile. How can I just sit back and let this all happen?"

"You don't have to juggle the case while you're here. It's just a few more days, and we'll be back. By then, the team will be done with this local case and we can work on more pressing ones. You need a break."

"A break?" He reiterated questionably, like the word was foreign and unheard of.

You laugh. "Yes, a break. And you need one, desperately."

"I don't want you worrying about me just because we're sleeping with each other," he whispers out professionally, but a soft part of his voice cracks.

You glaze over what he said, trying to look past it.

Is that what this was? Just sleeping together? You knew the job didn't allow for anything more.

"Is it that hard for you to believe someone cares for you without something in return?" you ask softly, wrapping your hands around his wound up shoulders tenderly. He lets loose of his posture, falling back into the chair.

Skillfully, he diverts from the question as he tilts his neck back to meet your gaze. He purses his lips and lets out a strained smile. "You deserve better than me."

"Hotch, stop being ridiculous." You say it teasingly, but it burned inside of you like an unrestrained wildfire. The hints of unspoken, wrought up tension in the air consume both of you momentarily.

Words settled at the tips of your tongues, like maybe there was more to be said on the matter, but you two were masters at tiptoeing around the important conversations, always delaying it.

He softly grabs your wrists, his watch brushing up against your arm as he pins you down to his lap. His hand roams the buttons of your shirts as you tilt in forward to kiss him. Your knees straddle over his thighs, your heels hanging off the edge of the chair. "What did you call me?" he asks jokingly, his chuckle vibrating inside your anatomy. "Ridiculous?"