Criminal Minds Imagines

confession - aaron hotchner

Part 2 to Safe and Sound! I know this is late but anywho enjoy!~🌸

You roused the next morning to the sun flooding the room through the slits of the blinds. You sleepily reached out for Hotch but realized he was no longer there.

Something in the irrational, paranoid side of your brain flooded you with a sickening thought: what if someone took Hotch?

You were still half asleep, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and grabbing your crutches clumsily.

"Hotch!" You called, not realizing how it must've sounded, "Hotch!"

As you hobbled out frantically into the hallway, you were met by an equally frantic Hotch.

"What, what? Are you okay? Did you hurt your leg-"

You sighed loudly reaching up to rub at your temple, "No, no I'm fine. I'm so sorry, I don't know what's up with me, I just...I woke up and you were there, and my brain thought maybe...I don't know what it thought."

"Hey, don't apologize," he said, reaching up to rub your shoulders gently, "Your mind is in a fragile state right now, it's completely understandable. You'll get better, it just takes time."

You nodded slowly, smelling something burning, "Do you smell that?"

"Shoot," his face dropped, "Breakfast."

He jogged to the kitchen and you hopped along after, laughing. When you made it to the kitchen he was moving a smoking frying pan off the burner and swatting at it with a towel.

"Oh my gosh," you snorted at his attempts to fan out the smoke.

He looked at you with a smile full of mirth, "I tried to make pancakes."

You smiled widely as he moved to open the kitchen window, "Mmm, looks like you cooked them just how I like them."

He tossed you a look over his shoulder, rolling his eyes. Once the smokiness cleared you realized what he was wearing. You recognized the white tee shirt from when he came in to comfort you the night before, but you hadn't noticed that his bottom half was covered in nothing but a pair of blue boxers.

You tried not to make your ogling noticeable, coughing loudly to distract from it, "Want to just grab some food from the diner down the street?"

With his hands on his hips, his face drenched in sweat from the almost-fire, he let out a long sigh, "Yeah, that would probably be best. Just let me go shower first real quick, will you be okay in here by yourself?"

You hated that he had to ask that. You felt like a five-year-old.

"Unless that's an invitation to shower with you, I don't see how I have a choice," you giggled nervously, unable to believe those words came out of your mouth.

His cheeks flushed pink, flustered, "Oh, well, I mean, if you-"

"I was teasing, I'll be okay," you reassured him, though the look in your eyes gave away your anxiety.

"I'll tell you what, I'll shower in the master bathroom and you can just relax in the bedroom and watch TV while you wait," he offered, "That way you'll still be close."

He wanted to add, "without me desperately wanting to kiss you under the water" to the end of that statement but thought better of it.

"Deal," you smiled warmly.

He gave you an affectionate pat on the back with a smile matching yours before leading the way down the hall, "C'mon, Hoppy."

"Rude," you pouted as you hopped on your crutches back to the bedroom.