"-I mean look at what she's wearing Barbara, she's obviously a mail order bride."
"Like Mike had?"
"No, Mike had a male mail order bride."
"But didn't Aaron say that she was just his 'nanny?'"
"Oh come on, that's just a cover."
"I can't believe he just waltzed in here after ignoring every event invite since his divorce with that cheating dead-"
"Who? Mike's male mail order bride?"
"Barbara I swear to baby Jesus himself-"
Sunday stared at the burnt, hastily made cookie in her hand thrown together kindly by the grumpy deli owner two towns over hours before as the poorly whispered gossip clouded like mom-tastic pollution.
PTA moms; a new-age kind of evil Sunday was more than familiar with.
Even as a teacher she had her fair share of gossip conspired about her by the mother's of her students.
It was like a pack of wild animals, pedicured claws and all, that seemed to be a given at any school event- like the one Sunday found herself sweating in now.
The familiar generic stone walls felt like her baby blanket, the booger coated under tables brought back a sense of beige belonging that the jabbering flock of mom's behind her only seemed to add to.
It was almost painful, to be in a school again- but to not really be there.
To visit, but not to stay.
To be seen as the 'young scandalous mistress' of a divorced, widowed man who she had been trying to avoid the entire morning, even taking her 'lunch' (consisting of a few spare carrot sticks and snack pack of out of date hummus) into the toilet to hide from him and the thoughts she was mortified to have felt even for a moment.
If she was honest, that was the real reason Sunday couldn't care less about the passive aggressive greetings from the squawking women practically undressing themselves the moment they saw Hotch, who was apparently a sort after 'prize' on the school grounds, reluctantly enter the gates.
Sunday was more than happy to let them flock in fake Louis Vuttitons, taking the opportunity to be as far away from him and the flutter lingering in her lower stomach that made her want to scream into the mirror- of which she of course did the moment she tossed the burnt cookie down, escaping to the toilet past the PTA pack.
The scream was fine, it wasn't as cathartic as she would have hoped, but a solid 6/10.
The flutter seemed to dim, the confusing memory of Hotch's eyeline flicking to her lips against that door blurred, the feeling of her own body moving towards his became a fever dream.
That was all it was.
Of course.
She was imagining it, obviously.
He must have... had a creak in his neck, that was why he leaned in.
She must have... forgot how to stand momentarily, that's why her knees were weak.
Sunday took a breath, shaking her head in the mirror at herself.
"We're fine" she bore the smile of a miserable actor signed into a CW contract, "we're having so much fun- so fine, having so much fun, all is fine."
The locked door jiggled, followed by a small knock that threatened the dread in Sunday's stomach again.
"Coming" she called out, opening the door to one of the local moms juggling three kids in her arms.
STAI LEGGENDO
Sunday Surprises
Fanfiction'The table was long, the man's face longer. The cafe was quiet, the woman quieter. Neither wanted to be there, neither quite knew why- but they each knew why they hadn't left. The woman; in need of a job, in need of a new start, in desperate need of...
