Acting on impulse, you show up at your boss, Aaron Hotchner's, doorstep in the middle of the night. The resulting night of passion kickstarts a timeline of events you never could've imagined. Crazy how one night could cause so much pain and pleasure.
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Your whole body feels stiff and tense as you roll over, wrapping the sheets tighter around yourself. The light from the blinds warms your face as your eyes slowly flutter open.
There's a strong smell making its way into the bedroom. Bacon. Pancakes. Breakfast. But it's not the smell of food that really wakes you up. It's two voices from downstairs. Two voices you recognize.
The small laugh of a little boy. Jack Hotchner, to be exact. That's when your eyes shoot open completely.
"Fuck," You mutter softly and hurriedly rush to put on some clothes. That's when you remember you didn't show up in any clothes. You never meant to fall asleep in Hotch's bed. After your little stint in the rain, Hotch drove you back to his place. You wore some of Hotch's clothes and passed out in his bed.
You look around and notice a pile of your neatly folded and freshly washed clothes from the other night. You let out a sigh of relief and slip on your jeans before rummaging through Hotch's drawers for one of his dress shirts. You do your best to tuck the button down into your pants. You search through his bathroom and finally find a clean comb, trying your best to comb through your matted hair.
As you reach to open the bedroom door you hear Jack laughing again. This time, however, Hotch's laugh joins in with his. Just hearing his laugh puts a small smile on your face. It's not often that Hotch laughs but when he does it's not what you would expect from such a serious man. His laugh is playful and it never fails to make you happy.
You walk down the stairs, glancing into the kitchen. Hotch holds Jack up in his arms, holding him close enough to the stovetop that Jack attempts to flip over the pancakes with a spatula. You laugh a little at the sight: Jack gripping the large spatula in his tiny hands as Hotch struggles to hold him away from the hot pan.
"Good morning," You finally speak up and Hotch turns his head to look at you. He gives a small smile and looks over your outfit, probably taking in the fact that you're wearing his shirt, and quite honestly pulling it off flawlessly.
"Daddy, is this one done?" Jack calls and pokes at one of the pancakes with the spatula.
"Not yet buddy," He puts Jack down, "You remember Y/N? She works with me."
You walk forward and give Jack a small high five, "What's up big guy?" You grin and Jack places his arms behind his back, leaning against Hotch's legs.
"Did you and my dad have a sleepover?" Jack asks, reaching to latch a small fist onto the bottom of Hotch's jeans.
You glance up and grin at Hotch, "Yeah. You had one last night too, at your Aunt Jessica's place right?"
"Yeah I stay there while Daddy fights the bad guys," Jack turns back to Hotch, "Daddy the pancakes!" He jumps slightly and Hotch laughs, picking him up to hold him over the stovetop again.
