one shots | a.hotchner

mistaken identities || aaron hotchner

''Big mistake.'' You muttered.

You had ended up sitting in the NYPD interrogation room, you had to laugh because these agents had no clue of what they were getting into. You were just brought in for questioning, even though they wouldn't exactly specify what for. Of course.

Little did they know who they'd just brought in, a top CIA agent who could probably take them down singlehandedly. You'd been deep undercover now for 6 months, only a handful of the CIA knew you were in an undercover investigation. You'd been thrown into the world of the Botchelli Brothers, the big bad mafia bosses of NYC. It had taken you months to earn the respect, especially as you were a women, to the other mobsters. You'd quickly earned rank and now were the right hand women to the boss himself.

You'd be been gathering plenty of intel and it all had been going well until one of your men had gone AWOL. You'd seen plenty of shootout's between the men and the men of other Mafia groups but this was different. One of the men was killing innocent people, something had snapped and you all knew someone had turned into a murderer.

Your boss had kept you stationed to find out who.

But now that had gone to shit.

Fucking FBI, ruining my investigation.

You knew you had only been brought in for questioning, and there was no chance you were showing your real identity when there was a high chance you'd be out of here in a couple of hours. Xavier Botchelli was in an adjacent room, you both had given each other the signal not to talk or give them anything.

You still couldn't believe they were jeopardising all of your hard work, for some stupid profile.

You looked at yourself in the two way mirror, you had a low cut blood red cocktail dress on. Your long brown hair curled down to your waist, you did look fabulous as usual. They'd pulled you from a party you had been attending, luckily you hadn't had a drop to drink.

As you carried on looking at yourself you suspected that someone was standing at the other side, usual agent behaviour. Your gaze was pulled to the door opening and in stepped two agents.

And holy shit.

In walked in a tall, young man. His hair in a shaggy mop on his head but suited him perfectly, he was dressed in slacks, a shirt and jumper with a satchel around his chest.

It wasn't him who had gotten your attention though.

The man stood tall, and total power and dominance oozed off him. He had gorgeous, thick dark hair and brown eyes that looked like pools of honey in the interrogation room's light. His face was tight, and his gaze cold. His hands tucked into his slacks, the Rolex on his wrist only showing. His suit looked like it had been made just for him to wear, it fit tight across his shoulders and chest. You knew it must been a sight to see underneath.

''We have a few questions for you Miss Gomez, are you willing to talk to us?'' He spoke, even his voice had butterflies fluttering in your stomach, you wouldn't show that though. You were still pissed that they had stepped foot into your investigation. You noticed he used your undercover name, they definitely have no clue.

''Probably not.'' You chuckled, leaning back into your chair.

''I think it would be in your best interest to do so. I'm Agent Aaron Hotchner and this is Dr Spencer Reid.'' He nodded to the younger agent, who looked at you with a fixated gaze.