Rom-com Gone Wrong (Hotch x Reader)// ✔

14. Gold Rush

Summary:

A new development in the case which leads to arguments, rash decisions, and even more time with Hotch

Notes:

heyyy yall sry for the time apart yet again, :D BUT back with another long one! and updating at ungodly hours of the day (night) so if u see grammar errors - no you don't
im not gonna spoil but :D theres make outs! theres family drama! theres action sequences! and girlbossery!
TW: cm talk, murder mention,

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When Hotch had told you to search for "safe" make out places, he probably doesn't expect you to take the matter to heart, and actually know all the appropriate spots, and perfect timing for said kissing to happen. And it's not like high school, or the beginning of a new relationship where you find any free moment to clash mouths. It's less frequent – a lot less frequent – and more slow-paced. You'd describe it as restrained.

Hotch sends you a text the following morning, the contents of which don't stay in your mind for long. Something about bad coffee, bad breakfast food, or noisy diners – something serious. It's why you suggest the trusted coffee shop out in the center, a block away from the precinct.

You wait for him on your bike – yes, you do steal something from your teenagerhood – and when you see him in another well-tailored suit, suit jacket folded and hanging on his forearm, you ring the bell.

Hotch turns, and does a doubletake. In yet another summer dress, loose hair, and sunburned, grinning stupid-big when his eyes meet yours, you probably look ridiculous. Not your fault you hadn't planned to bring with you any suits, button-ups, or actual pants for your lazy vacation back home. Hotch looks at you head to toe, taking you in. It's the most subtle flicker of his brows as his tongue laps his lip, and his eyes linger on you, much longer than socially respectable. Much longer than a simple greeting between two colleagues.

"Coffee?" he asks, taking out cash from the inside pocket of his jacket. You lock the bike and pause beside him, feeling pins and needles on your arm from his proximity.

"Ice cream." You relay your favorite flavor to the woman in the counter and Hotch pays for it. The question falls out of your mouth without your permission. "Slept well?"

He holds your gaze, "Surprisingly so. You?"

Not certain if it's the lilt of his voice or the entirety of him, but you still become flustered.

"Better than ever" you grin at him. You want to blurt out something even more ridiculous, but then his hand drops to the small of your back and the words die out as he pulls you in.

"Is it bad" he keeps his eyes on you as his warm breath fans your ear, "that I'm enjoying seeing you on vacation?"

As if to make his point on which part, he lets his hand brush your hip where your dress drapes looser over your form, his touch a soft graze of warm summer breeze, before removing it faster than you can react. Either way he catches the way your body shudders.

"I'm enjoying not working with you" you confess shyly, and he grants you a dimpled smile.

"Here's your coffee" the woman at the register says and Hotch grabs it, before the woman returns with ice-cream and hands it to you.

"How much time do you have?" you ask, taking a small taste with the plastic spoon. The coldness exploding in your mouth helps you regain a bit of your composure and not think about the heat of last night. Because you also want to know every meaningless detail about his life you also ask: "What time do you usually go to work?"