"Ha!" You shout as you put the cube down. You turn Spencer's chair and take off his headphones. He wasn't allowed to hear or see what you were doing, otherwise he would have had an advantage.
Morgan stops the timer and gives you a fist bump: "Seven minutes and twenty-seven seconds."
You are competing in a three-dimensional ball labyrinth that is played without being able to see the actual labyrinth. There are five layers through which you have to navigate the tiny ball. Then you turn the cube around and have to get it all the way back.
Morgan starts the timer and Spencer takes the cube to stare at the engraved 2D maps of the stages. It takes him about forty seconds to figure out the route all the way through the five layers. But now he has to actually get the ball there.
Emily, JJ, and Morgan are sitting around you and observe. You intensely stare at his movements. Even though he is faster at finding patterns and memorize what he sees, it seems like you have the better fine motor skills. Spencer struggles with moving the cube carefully enough to get the ball into the correct openings. He sighs loudly when he finally makes it to the other side. Now he has to get it back.
It makes a loud noise when he bangs the cube onto the table. "Seven minutes and thirty-four seconds." Morgan declares.
"Ayyy." You throw your hands up and get high-fives from everyone. Spencer stares at the cube as if he wants to crush it.
"Come on, don't take it personal, pretty boy." Morgan laughs.
"Alright." Emily says, "As acting supervisor, I end this entertaining break."
Everyone groans. "Come on, don't take it personal." Emily grins.
Hotch is still out of office, probably until tomorrow. So, once again, everyone is catching up on paperwork and writing consultations for other departments.
You didn't have the time to see him yesterday, hence you were really looking forward to getting home today. When the clock finally hits six, you immediately get up and throw your stuff in your bag.
"Ready to go?" You ask Spencer.
He already got his jacket on and nods at you. In the car you turn on the radio and bang your hands on the steering wheel, while you drive out of the parking lot.
Suddenly Spencer asks: "Would you like to watch a movie with me?"
You turn your head to look at him for a second, he is staring onto the road ahead.
"Sure. Thanks for asking me. When?"
"Don't you want to know which movie?" Spencer asks confused.
You shake your head: "I'm positive you have great taste."
He smiles: "Alright. Now?"
You kind of want to say yes, but you also really want to see Hotch: "How about tomorrow? Does that work for you as well?"
"Sure."
"Great. See you in the morning." You park in front of his apartment and wait until he gets out. You wave at him and drive off. With take-out and soup in your hands you knock at Hotch's door.
He opens wearing sweatpants and a shirt. His face still shows bruises, and his eyebrow will likely have a permanent scar in it.
"Hey." You smile at him, glad to finally see him in person. Yesterday you only texted.
He smiles back and gives you a peck on the lips. After you unpacked the food on the kitchen counter, you turn around to hug him. Hotch puts his arms around you, and you breathe in his scent.
"I missed you." He mumbles.
You kiss his neck: "We didn't see each other for like two days."
"Yeah, well I'm used to seeing you every day, even if it's only at the office."
You cup his cheek before you let go of him: "How are you feeling? Is your head better?"
He clears his throat: "Mostly. I sometimes get vertigo, especially when I stand up."
Putting the food on plates and the soup for Hotch in a bowl, you ask: "For how long were you unconscious?"
When he doesn't answer immediately, you turn around to look at him.
He shrugs his shoulders: "I'm not sure. Like an hour?"
"Did you go to your check-up yesterday?" You hand him his plate.
Hotch takes it and goes to sit at the table. "Yes." His voice is a little too neutral.
"Does it annoy you, when I ask questions like that?" You sit down next to him.
"A little." He admits.
You furrow your eyebrows: "Why?"
"I'm not a child."
"I know." You drink some water. "I simply want to know how my boyfriend is doing after being abducted and repeatedly beaten."
Hotch puts down his spoon: "I am aware of what happened to me, you don't need to tell me."
This makes you mad: "Is there a reason you are this hostile towards me?"
He stares at you, his eyes tell you that he probably isn't telling you the truth, when he says: "I just told you."
His reaction confuses you. Were you actually treating him like a child? You don't think it's possible to treat Aaron Hotchner like a child. Maybe he is embarrassed about how you two have sex? It hurts, thinking that he doesn't trusts you enough to tell you the truth.
You stare back it him, waiting for him to say anything else. You can tell, however, that he will not let his guard down right now.
"Okay." You simply say and stand up. You take the food that's still in boxes and put it back in the bag you brought.
You sigh, Hotch is just quietly observing what you are doing. You put your shoes back on and tell him: "Let me know when you want to talk about it."
ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ
You punch the rim of your steering wheel before you drive off. There is nothing you can to about this, until Hotch talks to you.
It's not even seven when you pull up in front of Spencer's apartment again.
You take several deep breaths and get out. He buzzes you in instantly and you climb the stairs to his apartment. You show the bag of food: "Does the offer still stand?"
He is still wearing his work clothes, minus the vest he had on earlier.
"I thought you wanted to do that tomorrow."
You shrug your shoulders: "Change of plans. Can I come in?"
"Of course." He steps to the side.
His apartment is lovely. Books upon books upon books.
"I really like your apartment." You smile. "Now I know where to go, if the library closes."
Spencer lets out a little laugh: "What food did you bring?"
"Salad and some chicken. Is that alright?"
He takes the bags from you and puts an equal amount of food on two plates: "That's perfect, thank you."
Since there is no table, you ask: "Where do you eat?"
"Usually on the sofa or the floor." His cheeks get a little red when he notices your surprised face.
"Floor it is." You take your plate and sit up against one of the overflowing bookshelves.
Spencer sits down in front of you, but then springs to his feet: "Would you like some wine?"
"You have alcohol?" Now you're really surprised. "I thought you don't drink?"
He shrugs his shoulder: "I don't like to drink in public."
You nod: "Alright. White, if you have some."
He comes back with a bottle and two glasses. You grin: "Oh, so this is about to be a party."
"Ehm. I- I didn't know how much you'd like." Spencer hands you the bottle.
You fill up both glasses and hand one to him: "Thanks for saving my evening." You immediately bite your tongue. I shouldn't have said that.
Spencer looks at you: "What happened?"
You sigh: "Is it alright, if I don't want to talk it about it right now?" You rub your face.
He nods: "Okay."
You both extend your legs, and they are right next to each other. For moment you eat in silence, then Spencer asks: "When did you write your first PhD?"
You're pretty sure that he already knows that, but its sweet of him to ask about it: "I started it when I was twenty-four. Finished it three years later. Then I did my second."
When he is done chewing, he asks: "How did you get Will Graham to work with you?"
You chuckle: "I found his address, which is quite a miracle, and wrote him letters."
By the time you're done eating, both of you finished two glasses of wine. You're a little tipsy. Spencer, however, seems almost fully drunk. He has trouble walking to the sink.
Laughing you help him: "Are you alright, Spence?"
He downs a glass of water before he tells you: "I'm not sure."
"Still wanna watch a movie?"
"Yes!" He yells. The volume of his own voice startles him.
"I like your enthusiasm." You giggle. "What are we watching?"
Spencer stares at you in disbelieve when you tell him that you have indeed seen every Fritz Lang film. You settle on watching M.
Because his sofa is quite small, your legs touch, even more when you sit down cross-legged. You watch glued to the screen.
Just when the films over, Spencer turns to you: "I think I'm bisexual as well."
You turn around and prop your elbow up on the headrest: "Okay." You smile: "Would you like to talk about it?"
Spencer laughs, seemingly relieved: "I don't know. I never told anyone."
"Oh." You touch his shoulder: "Thank you for telling me."
He looks at his hands: "You made it seem so easy when you told me."
"It's easy when you trust someone."
By the time you should head home, the bottle of wine is empty.
"Shit." You mumble. "I have to get home."
You take out your phone for the first time this evening. There is one missed call from Hotch, several hours ago.
You get up and search for your car keys. Handing them to Spencer, you tell him: "I will get a cab, can you drive us tomorrow?"
Spencer gets up as well: "Have you been to England for a longer period of time?"
You stare at him, it takes you a minute to understand his question, because it's so out of context: "Umm, yes. Why?"
"Your pronunciation sometimes slips into British English."
"Damn, Reid. You really pay attention."
"I just listen." He smiles.
In the cab you write Hotch.
I will come by tomorrow, okay?
When you close your apartment door, your phone vibrates.
Okay.
ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ
Sitting under the bright lights of the bullpen, your head punishes you for the amount of wine you had yesterday. Spencer doesn't look much better. His reading is slowed down noticeably. Morgan looks at you: "Okay. Spill. What did you two do yesterday?"
You groan: "Do you have to talk so loud?"
"Yes!" Morgan yells.
"Oh, fuck off." Spencer retorts.
Morgan and you stare at him. This is the first time you heard him curse.
Morgan puts up his hands and leaves you alone.
You extend your hand to give Spencer a fist bump: "You should do that more often."
He grins at you and looks back at the paper in front of him.
JJ comes in, followed by Emily and Garcia: "We have a case."
A minute later, you are all gathered around the roundtable.
"You are flying to Worland, my fearless crime fighters." Garcia tells you.
"Where?" Emily asks.
For some reason you remember the name of the town. "Wyoming." You and Reid say in union.
"Damn, alright." Emily smiles.
"Correct." Garcia confirms. "There have been found two bodies in the Bighorn National Forest. Local law enforcement has no idea how they got there. You better pack your winter coats and some hiking boots."
Just as you're about to leave for the airport, Hotch enters the office. His face still looks awful.
"What are you doing here?" You ask.
Without looking at you, he answers: "Garcia called me."
Everyone has their go bags and stares at Hotch.
"Have you been cleared to fly?" You look at him concerned.
He doesn't answer you; he just says: "Let's go."
Your lips tighten, he really knows how to upset you. However, you're not in the position right now to call him out on his behavior. Quietly, you follow everyone into the elevator. You make a point standing beside Spencer, instead of Hotch.
On the jet you also take your usual place next to Reid. You look at the pictures of the body. They are both laying on their stomach, face to the side, blood around their head. A woman and a man. The woman barefoot, in the middle of the forest, in ankle-high snow. Their bodies were found about a mile apart.
You look at the map: "The next highway is almost twenty miles away from where their bodies were found. How the hell did they get out there?" You lay your head on your hands and stare down on the photos.
"Do we know who they are?" Emily asks.
Hotch flips through the file: "Not yet."
Everyone sighs, trying to get up with explanations.
You get out your phone and call Garcia: "Hey, sweets." She answers.
It makes you smile for a second. "Hey, Garcia. Could you check the satellite pictures around the crime scenes for any buildings in these mountains?"
"Sure thing, give me a minute."
You patiently wait, listening to the clicking sounds of her keyboard.
"There is one building in a six-mile radius: A drilling facility."
"Alright, thanks." You hang up.
Everyone heard what Garcia said and is just as confused as before.
"If there were any tracks of snow sleds, they are long gone. It snowed yesterday." Morgan points out.
"The cause of death officially is asphyxiation. When you run and breathe in air that's that cold, your pulmonary alveoli freeze. Your lung bursts and you suffocate." Reid explains. "That's the blood around their heads. They coughed it up."
"If the cause of death is officially not murder, how did we get called in?" Emily asks.
Hotch speaks up: "Since no one knows how they got there, it is labeled as abduction and involuntary manslaughter for now."
You observed Hotch since the plane took off. He tries to hide the pain flying causes him, but you see it in how he constantly moves his head, apparently trying to find a comfortable position.
To not get too worked up about his reckless behavior, you get another cube out of your bag.
"Rematch?" You ask Reid.
ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ
"Do you have any sleds we could borrow?" You ask the officer.
It bothers you to not be able to see the crime scene in person. You want to get up there.
The officer stares at you, before he answers: "We could get someone from Fish and Wildlife Service."
"Okay, please get them as fast as you can."
Back in the conference room, you announce: "We get sleds from the Wildlife Service. I think we should go look at the crime scenes."
Hotch hesitates, but then says: "Alright."
"Who will come with me?" You look around, apparently no one wants to go out in the cold.
Finally, Reid gets up: "I'll go."
It takes you by surprise, but you're also glad.
Hotch's eyes dart between the two of you, but he doesn't object.
Reid and you leave the room to find some snowsuits and put on your gear.
Outside the station, a ranger waits for you.
"Are you the feds?" He calls.
"Yeah. Can you bring us up there?"
The ranger drives in front of you, you follow him, Reid holding onto your waist tightly. You drove as close to the crime scenes as possible, but it's still about a twenty-minute drive with the sleds.
The cold air hits your face and makes it difficult to breath. You cannot imagine how someone could run in this environment, especially barefoot.
You have to stop when the forest gets too thick. On foot you walk about half a mile. When you finally get there, Reid and you are breathing heavily.
The only thing still visible, is the imprint in the snow where the body was found. And the red sprinkles around it.
You look around. Seeing nothing but trees and snow.
"Why would someone be out here?" You ask after a few minutes of quiet.
"Sometimes teens drive into the forest to party, but never this far off the roads. The only reason why someone would run here, is if they are chased."
"Do you think the other person, the man, chased her?" Reid looks in the direction of the other crime scene.
"I don't know." The ranger shrugs his shoulders.
While you're out here, you might as well take a look at the building Garcia pointed out: "Can you take us to the drilling facility?"
You stop on the hill above the valley the facility is located in. There are a few trailers, but no cars.
"Where are the people that work here?" Reid asks.
"They usually have some drinks in town at this time."
ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ
You and Reid try to warm up with some hot chocolate, while telling the team what you found.
"There is no evidence that suggest that someone drove the woman out there. The forest is too dense anyway, so if someone were to bring her there, they would have to carry her; and I don't think that's likely. The man, on the other hand, was found in an area that can possibly be reached with a sled."
A police officer comes in: "We have an ID on the male. He worked at the drilling facility."
"And the woman?" Emily asks.
"No idea."
You bite your lip and look back on the map: "Hey, Reid?"
"Yeah?" He turns around, the others lift their head.
"Why did you remember that Worland is in Wyoming?"
He furrows his eyebrows. Before he can say anything, you answer your own question: "Because of the Wind River Reservation."
That's the reason you got no ID on the woman. There is not data base for missing persons from a reservation. No one know how many are missing.
Hotch and JJ drive to the reservation to get an ID.
They come back with vital information: "The woman is from the reservation and the man was her boyfriend."
Morgan and Emily go over the coroner report that finally came in, you and Reid look into the men that work at the drilling facility. No one catches your eye.
"The woman has skin under her nails, she apparently fought someone off. They are analyzing the DNA right now; we probably will know tomorrow." Emily sums up the report.
Morgan adds: "The man was repeatedly beaten."
"So, someone beat up the man and probably attacked the woman." You state.
Hotch scans the evidence board: "We still don't know how they got out there. We will interview the workers of the facility tomorrow. I'd like to know why they didn't report their co-worker as missing."
Your legs hurt and you're incredibly tired when you arrive at the hotel. Hotch hands everyone their keys and takes off to his room. You follow him.
When he hears your steps behind him, he turns around: "Can I help you?"
You squint your eyes: "Yes. I would like to talk to you."
He sighs: "I'd rather not do this right now."
"Why, Aaron?" He's unbearable when he closes himself off like that.
"At work, it's Agent Hotchner or Hotch."
You glare at him: "I'm too tired for this shit." You walk away.
ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ
Aaron, Morgan, Emily, and you are driving to the drilling side. Reid and JJ try to find out more about the victims and their social lives, staying at the station.
Hotch parks the SUV about twenty yards away from the first trailer. Everyone gets out, wearing their vests under their coats. You cannot close your coats in the front, otherwise you would have no access to your gun.
A group of five men walk towards you. They introduce themselves as the victim's coworkers. You start to follow them to their office, when you notice out of the corner of your eye, how two of them start to walk a little slower. Morgan is walking behind you and notices as well.
"Hey!" He finally yells.
Hotch turns around, everyone else freezes in their movement.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Morgan shouts at the two men.
"What's going on?" Emily asks.
Morgan takes a few steps back, so the men are not behind him anymore: "They try to flank me!"
Hotch's eyes dart between Morgan and the men.
One of them just shrugs his shoulders: "I don't know man; I was just walking."
The other men seem to get nervous. They shift their weight from one leg to the other. You notice how their arms twitch. You're sure at this point that they are all armed.
"Okay. Everybody, stand down." Hotch says in a calm demeanor. "We just want to know what happened to your co-worker."
He turns back and everybody starts walking again. You fall back until you are next to Morgan: "One of them is missing." You whisper. "There are supposed to be six."
"I don't like this." He shakes his head.
The one who seems to be the boss, tells Hotch that someone called Marvin is still in his trailer, sleeping. Emily and Morgan start to take the statements of everyone. Hotch, however, walks over to Marvin's trailer. You follow him.
Just as he walks up the stairs to the door, you get a call. It's Spencer.
"Yeah?"
"We got a match on the DNA. From under the girl's fingernails. Someone called Marvin Gates, he…" Before he can finish his sentence, you drop your phone into the snow.
"Hotch!" You scream.
He turns around, annoyed: "What?"
You sprint up to him: "Get away from the door!"
The second you push him away and your back is facing the door, the shotgun goes off.
Gates shoots right through the door, catapulting you off the stairs when the pellets hit your back.
Face first, you land in the snow. Your back feels like you just have been hit by a truck. You hear nothing but a high-pitched noise in your ears. Breathing is almost impossible.
When you finally manage to roll onto your back, you hear and see how everyone shoots at everybody. Frantically, you try to reach your gun. Even though, your vest saved your from being perforated by a thousand little pellets, there is probably already forming a giant bruise on your back. Your ribs feel like every single one of them is broken.
For the life of you, you cannot reach your gun. You roll back onto your belly and start to crawl in the direction of your phone.
You only made it a few feet, when the person, who you assume is Gates, picks it up and puts it in his pocket.
Not knowing what else to do, you lay your head down in the snow, pretending to be unconscious. There are still shots being fired, you hear your team yelling at each other.
You are in a lot of pain, but the adrenalin pumping through your veins, allows you to stand up.
There is a massacre in front of you. Emily is lying on the ground, Hotch and Morgan are covering her, shooting at the men still standing.
They don't see Gates walking up to them from the side. You raise your gun and fire three shots. You don't know if you hit him, the pain from the recoil lets your vision go white and you fall to your knees.
ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ
The first thing you notice, is that someone is holding your hand. Then the pain in your ribs hits you and your eyes shoot open. Not knowing where you are, your eyes dart around the room, until they land on the person next to you.
"Hey." Hotch looks at you, frowning.
"Is Emily okay?" Is the first thing you ask. You remember her laying on the ground, not moving.
He nods: "She got shot, but her vest caught the bullet."
You sigh in relief.
"Am I at the hospital?" Is your second question.
Hotch squeezes your hand: "Yes."
"Did I get him?"
"Yeah, all three bullets hit him. You saved Morgan and me."
You rub your face, trying to process what he is telling you.
"Thank you." He says quietly.
"For what?" You turn your head to look into his eyes.
"For pushing me out of the way."
You furrow your eyebrows: "I thought you would be mad at me."
He shakes his head: "I choose not to."
You laugh, but immediately wince at the pain.
Then you remember the girl: "Did she really run away from the drill site?"
Hotch looks at you with sad eyes: "Yes."
You cover your face with both hands. Tears start run down your face.
You no longer can hold it in, and you start to sob uncontrollably. Your breathing is ragged. With the right sleeve of your hospital gown, you start to rub your cheeks, but the tears won't stop coming.
Hotch gets up to sit next to you. Carefully he leans down to hug you.
You cry against his chest, until you breath out: "She ran six miles in the snow."
"Yeah, she did." Hotch whispers in your ear. "She is a warrior, just like you."
When he leans back to look at you, the others come in.
"Hotch, what did you say to her?!" Emily asks.
Morgan chimes in: "Yeah, man, how did you make her cry?"
You wipe your face and shake your head: "He didn't make me cry."
"Whatever you say." JJ sits down on the other side of the bed: "We will get you home by tomorrow."
ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ
Hotch is driving you home. Everyone got a week off after that awful shooting.
Luckily, your ribs are only bruised, not broken. You still have to move slowly.
Hotch helps you to sit down on your couch and brings you something to drink. You lay your head back on the headrest and close your eyes. This was one of those cases that will hunt you forever.
"Hey." He says quietly.
"Hmh?"
"Are you in pain?" He sounds concerned.
You lift your head to look at him: "It's alright."
"Would you like me to go?" He looks at his hands.
You examine his face: "Why are you scared?"
Hotch clears his throat: "Because I don't know how…I…" He shakes his head.
He takes a deep breath: "You scared me."
You carefully turn your body towards him: "I just did what I thought was right. In that case, it meant pushing you to the side."
"That's not what I was talking about."
"Oh." You tilt your head.
"I felt so vulnerable. I got scared." His voice is steady now and he looks into your eyes.
You ask: "Is that why you were such a bitch?"
He lets out a chuckle: "Yeah." Hotch takes your hand: "Do you still want to be my girlfriend?"
"Yes, Aaron. Under one condition." You pause for a second. "Don't ever push me away like that again."
He leans towards you, and you kiss him. His lips taste like coffee. Your hand grabs his neck, pushing him against you. Hotch leans his forehead against yours: "I promise."
ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ
It is nice, having Hotch around. He is really sweet. Making you breakfast every morning.
After only washing yourself with a cloth the last days because your body hurt too much for anything else, you really crave a bath.
"Aaron?" You call from the bathroom.
He barges in: "You alright?"
"Yes." You laugh. "Could you help me take a bath?"
Hotch blinks, not moving.
"You don't have to." You put your hands up.
"No, no. I'll help you." He turns on the water, meanwhile you sit down on the edge of the bathtub.
Slowly, you take off your clothes. When you swing your legs over the edge, to get into the tub, Hotch audibly gasps.
You turn your head and see your back in the mirror. It looks pretty bad. Big yellow and almost black bruises cover most of your back.
"I'm okay, Aaron." You sit down in the hot water and let out a sigh. "Do you want to get in?"
Hotch is still standing next to the tub, fully clothed: "I don't want to hurt you."
You smile: "You won't. Come on."
"Okay." He quickly takes off his clothes and sits down in front of you.
He is extremely cautious when he leans back against you. You put your arms around his chest and pull him onto you until you can lay your chin on his shoulder.
"I understand now." He tells you while caressing your arm.
"What, darling?"
"Why you asked me about my injuries so much."
You kiss his shoulder.
He continues: "It hurts to you see someone you deeply care about like that. I just want to make sure you're alright."
You continue to kiss his shoulder and neck.
"I never was with someone I work with. But I get it now."
"I'm really glad. You scared me too, you know."
His hand stops in its movements, and he grabs your arm.
"I want to be with you, Aaron."
Before he can react your hand wanders to his crotch.
You start to gently bite his neck. Hotch inhales sharply when you grab his cock.
Slowly, your hand starts to move up and down. You press your thighs against his hip to keep him still. With your free hand you pinch into his nipples. That makes his dick twitch.
You start to rub his dick faster and feel it get hard in your hand.
His head falls back against your chest, and you see his face relax. Eyes closed; he lets you touch him. You kiss his now exposed side of the neck. Leaning forward a bit, you gain access to his pulse point and start to roughly suck at it.
He moans. You savor the sound.
With every stroke of his cock, his hips buck up. You twist your leg around his and press him down. Frustrated, he groans. You switch hands and start to move faster around his dick. Simultaneously, you grab his neck, without squeezing it.
Just feeling your hand there, makes him moan again. You bite his shoulder and keep up the quick pace. His jaw clenches and you feel his body tense.
You push your fingers into his neck, cutting off the blood circulation. Hotch gasps.
Your movements around his dick slow down for a moment and you hold your grip on his neck.
When you pick up the pace again, you let go of his neck. Seconds later, he moans loudly into your ear, his hands holding onto the edge of the bathtub.
You stroke his dick a few more times. Then you let go and put your hands back around his chest. Gently, you kiss his shoulders and neck, until his breathing slows down.
"Fuck." He mumbles.
It takes him some time to open his eyes. He turns to look at you. You smile and kiss the side of his head.
Hotch insists that he dries you off with the towel. It's sweet but takes forever because he does it so slowly. You take the towel from him: "Aaron, I'm getting cold."
Quickly, you rub yourself down and put on a bathrobe. Hotch has a towel around his hip. You stare him up and down, before you remember that you wanted to get the hairdryer.
"I saw that." He comments.
You plug in the hairdryer and turn around: "I don't know what you mean." Your lips twitch.
"Come here." You tell him.
He sits down on the toilet lid. You dry his hair, running your fingers through it.
Hotch seems to space out.
When you're done, you hand him the hairdryer: "Your turn."
Lying in bed, you draw circles on his arm.
"I could get used to this." He whispers.
You kiss his cheek: "Good that I'm your girlfriend then."