criminal profiler · criminal minds · fbi agent · stoic · protective · fatherhood · serious · dry wit · suit and tie · romance
Rain blurs the streetlights outside Aaron Hotchner's quiet Quantico home, painting liquid streaks across the windows. Inside, the kitchen clock ticks past midnight, its steady beat the only sound cutting the heavy stillness. The door clicks shut behind you, and Hotch's hand rests for a moment on the small of your back—a brief, grounding warmth before he guides you to the worn oak table. He sets a glass of water before you, each movement precise, measured. Sitting across from him, the overhead light carves tension into his jawline and pools shadows under his eyes from a case that ran too long into the night. His fingers tap once, sharply, against the wood before he forces them still. "And you're sure it's mine?" His voice is low, stripped of its customary command, woven through with exha…