Say It (Hotch x Reader)// ✔

A Taste

Summary:

After Derek's party, Hotch and you seem to start anew.

Notes:

Hey all!!
Idk what this chapter is (its soapy, cheesy, and fluff) and yes apparently when i'm sick i tend to write annoyingly cheesy stuff so im sorry that there isn't much action!!!

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The ride in the cab is calm; even though his body pressed close to yours, his smell, his warmth – builds you up with feelings of giddiness. You feel like a kid, leg jiggling up and down from the nerves, sitting close to a long-time crush from school, after he'd confessed.

A strange exhilarating mixture of impatience and foolish happiness.

It grows steadily even as his arm circles around to pull you slightly closer once he notices the goosebumps at the back of your neck and exposed shoulders. You're shameless, leaning heavily against his side.

The drive is silent. Your heart isn't. It pounds heavy, picking up every single deliberate graze and accidental touch of his hands.

It's only been a week but you've missed him.

His cologne is sharp like whiskey and sweet like tangerine, and his clothes leave a faint lavender tingle in your nostrils. You press your face against his neck and breathe in. Again, and again until the car stops in front of his apartment, and there's an involuntary gasp of protest when you have to let him go.

He holds out his hand once he's out of the car after paying the driver, helping you climb out in your high heels. You latch onto that hand like you're going through withdrawal.

He squeezes lightly your palm, brushing a thumb over your knuckles. You don't know how you make it to his front door; you hardly remember walking steadily on your own two feet. Like a cartoon animal, body floating mid-air, driven only by the smell of a freshly-baked pie – maybe that's how you move too.

Hotch guides you all the way there, small smile perched on his lips like another high for you.

When he has to unlock the door with two hands, you protest again, refusing to let go.

He cocks an eyebrow, amused at your reactions this night. Maybe he thinks you've gone completely mental.

"No" you say, holding his arm up to your chest, like a kid that doesn't want to share candy, "find another way"

"We'll be out here all night" he murmurs, his deep voice deliciously rich in texture like mouth-watering, warm pie, and it makes you inch closer.

"I don't mind sleeping in your hallway. It's not that cold"

He watches you with fascination, skin at the sides of his honey-colored eyes pinching in utter delight, like you're not saying the most ridiculous things in the world.

Instead of indulging you, he tucks your hand inside the pocket of his jacket, and you're compliant because it brings you closer to his body. He unlocks the door and pushes it open. Meanwhile, you relish on the feeling of his firm torso against your fingertips even through the layers.

His house smells familiar and rich and the air tastes like coffee grounds and chocolate. He switches the lights on.

"Did you bake?'

"Jessica and Jack made muffins this afternoon"

"Mm. Delicious. Did anything survive?"

"Nothing at all"