Pride and Punishment

Chapter 22

Author's Note: I don't usually include trigger warnings, but Aaron's in a mood in this chapter and, well, without giving too much away, little slappy make Daddy happy. 

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"I'm quitting. My notice is going in today. Aaron, I quit." You groan from the backseat of the SUV.

"I only accept notices in writing, and I expect you to work another two-to-four weeks so we can find and train your replacement." He replies dryly without even looking up from his phone.

"I'm so tired. I can't move."

"Oh no, that must be terrible for you." His eyes flick back and forth as he reads his cell screen.

"And what's even worse, my boss doesn't seem to care."

"Give it a rest, Y/N." Morgan pipes up. "We're all tired. It's been a rough couple days."

"You'd be less tired if you'd mind your own business." You retort and he smacks your leg.

"Aaron. A fellow agent has struck me on the job. I demand you take disciplinary action."

"Morgan, hands to yourself or you're getting a time-out as soon as we get back to the station. And Y/N, we may have solved this case but we have a lot of paperwork to wrap up, which is what I'm trying to do now by making notes on my phone. So please, shut up."

You scowl and cross your arms over your chest."Geez, everyone is so touchy today."

Rossi looks up in the rearview mirror and grins at you. "Not me, my dear. Today has been a good day."

You grin back at him. "Blessings to you, my dear sweet spaghetti man."

Aaron huffs from the passenger seat and Morgan echoes the sentiment, pushing at you as he attempts to stretch out in the backseat you're sharing. You shove him back and land a slap on the back of his head.

Aaron turns in his seat and glares at you.

"Y/N, a little professionalism please?"

You pout at him. "I should have ridden with Spencer and the girls in the cool kids SUV."

He rolls his eyes and turns back to his phone, typing intently.

I swear he's spent more time on that phone than with me the past few days. It ain't even that serious, I just wanna get laid sometime this week if he can manage to put the cell down more than five minutes.

You pout a little longer, and finally whip out your own cell, shooting him a text.

Turn your phone away from Rossi.

You watch him read your text, brow furrowed before typing a response.

Why?

You grin like a fool and reply:

I wouldn't want him to see this.

Before he can respond you thumb through your gallery and select a photo of your bare ass you had taken a few weeks ago when you were a little tipsy and feeling yourself.

You send it to him and sit back feeling satisfied, watching for his reaction.

Aaron's eyebrows shoot up and he runs a hand over his chin before shifting in his seat.

How's that for professionalism, baby?

He quickly types a response:

I am going to spank the shit of you.