wasted times- s.r

ONE

As soon as the elevator dings, an indication that you've arrived on the floor, you drop your nervous and anxious composure immediately. Instead, you replace it with the confident, self-assured version that you have learned to turn on and off as you please. As you walk toward the glass doors, you take a deep breath before pushing the door open and walking into the crowded bullpen which would now be your new place of work. When you discovered you'd been offered a position at the BAU, ecstatic could not begin to describe how you were feeling. You have not been an agent for too long, only having joined the FBI when you were twenty-four, and you were now twenty-seven.

You slowly approach the door and look at the paper in your hand to ensure you are in the correct place. The nameplate on the door read Aaron Hotchner who you knew was the unit chief. You knock on the door and wait until you hear the muffled sound of a deep male voice instructing you to come in. You push open the door slightly, and the man barely acknowledges you until you clear your throat softly. It was when he finally looks up at you that the pieces begin to click in his head, it seems. After all, you got here earlier than you were supposed to in hopes of being early for your first day.

"You must be the new agent, Y/N Y/L/N, correct?"

"That would be correct, sir." He motions to one of the two chairs in front of his desk, "Feel free to take a seat." You take the hint and walk over to the chair and seating yourself in the one on the right, crossing your leg over the other and folding your hands in your lap. "Now, I could sit here for a while and go over everything you have probably already heard over and over, but I'm going to choose not to in hopes of saving the both of us some time. I've seen your records, and you have done some excellent work, I have no doubts about you fitting right in here."

"Thank you, sir." The way he speaks so highly about you and your achievements so early on make you feel even more pressure now. The need to live up to the expectations set for you was already unbearable and you haven't even started officially yet. You want to fit in here and you want to succeed. You have heard stories about the BAU, how they were such a tight-knit team that considered themselves family more than colleagues, and you could only hope that you'd be accepted into it shortly.

"Now, we do have a case today so you'll be joining us right away. You have your credentials and your gun, I presume?" You nod your head and dig through the piles of papers so you could hand over proof from your latest gun re-test, which you had gotten a perfect score on. He skims over the paper before sliding it back to you to tuck into the folder.

"Everything looks great so far. Let me show you to your desk and then I'll introduce you to the team." He walks you over into the bullpen near a few desks and leads you over to the empty one where you could place your things down. This must have been the desk of the woman you were replacing, whom you knew basically nothing about, only that she no longer worked in the BAU and you would be taking her position. 

As you glance at the desk directly adjacent to yours, you notice a stack of books piled in the corner of the desk and you subconsciously skimmed the titles of them quickly. Maybe it was the profiler in you, but you were curious to see if you could somewhat get to know the person by the books they were reading. From what you could tell, this person had a very similar taste to yours when it came to literature.

You did not dwell on it much longer, placing your box of things on the desk and following Agent Hotchner over to the conference room. You could see a small group of people gathering in the room and you feel a nervous pit in your stomach as he motions you into the room where all eyes are immediately on you. You feel small under their gaze, and you could feel them profiling you from the second you had walked in. You couldn't even blame them because you have been guilty of doing the exact same thing, even if you did not often realize it. Your profiling skills were hard to turn off sometimes.