Yes Sir [Hotch X Reader]

Chapter 3

You stood for a second, processing, before slowly walking down the stairs and down to your desk.

You stand there for a moment, collecting your thoughts with your palms face down on the table.

What. In the hell. Just happened?

Before you had much time to think, you saw the team come out of the room, and you quickly picked up your bags to follow them out to the jet.

You take your normal spot next to the window, putting your bag in the overhang and sitting down.

You watch the rest of the team take their place. JJ and Emily sat together across from you, laughing and talking.  Derek quickly took an aisle seat next to them, and Rossi sat across from him. Spencer sprawled out on one of the long seats, likely going to get some rest.

There was one seat next to you. One seat left. And you knew exactly who was going to take it.

Hotch was the last one to get on the plane, quickly surveying the seats. You glanced up and read his face. He seemed completely unbothered, or at least if he was, he was good at hiding it.

He put his bag in the overhead and sat down in the chair, sliding his briefcase underneath.

You always got a bit nervous before flights. The whole team knew it. You never really took flights as a kid. As a matter of fact, your first flight was when you moved to Virginia. You had thrown up into one of those plastic bags.

"Seatbelt, y/n" you heard a voice say. You look around, noticing the team had already buckled in. You were about to take off.

You nodded slightly, slowly pulling your seatbelt across your lap into the holster.

You felt the usual turbulence, its power shaking your belly. Suddenly, your glad you had nothing for breakfast. Your hands clutched the armrests hard, fingers wrapping around and pressing nervously into the upholstery.

You hold your breath silently, closing your eyes as you feel yourself rising into the air. You breathe a gentle sigh of relief as you feel it steady.

You tap your finger against the armrest nervously, trying to calm yourself. One of these days you would get used to takeoffs, but that day was not today.

When you tapped your finger you felt something odd. Whatever you were tapping didn't feel like the hard plastic armrest. It felt softer, like fabric.

You look over to the armrest, realizing in horror that a single arm had taken over both pieces of plastic. The arm was wearing a dark grey suit that was slightly wrinkled from your hard grip on it.

Slowly, your eyes made their way up the arm, until they met his face.

What you had been desperately gripping during takeoff was not your armrest, it was Hotch's arm.

He had a book laid out in front of him, pretending to focus on it. You could see his eyes were on you though, looking curiously at your arm on top of his.

Quickly, you pulled your hand away and placed it on your lap, mumbling a quick apology under your breath and looking out the window to avoid eye contact.

Well, that was embarrassing.

Luckily for you, the team hadn't seemed to notice. They were all absorbed in their own various activities to see your little stunt.

You thought over it in your head, churning it around. It made a bit more heat rise to your cheeks. Above all, one question seemed to rise above all the rest: