wanna be yours [aaron hotchner x reader]

II.VII

"Come on, come on," Hotch mutters under his breath.

"They're not saying anything about injuries," Prentiss says, almost reading Hotch's mind.

"As of right now, there are no reported injuries. The car seems to have exploded at the perfect moment when no pedestrians were close by. We will continue to keep you updated as we hear more from the authorities," The newscaster signs off and the feed cuts to a commercial break. Hotch wastes no time.

He reaches for his phone, dialing your number, pressing it to his ear. The phone rings. And rings. And rings. "Hi! You've reached—" Hotch hangs up. He rings you again. He waits, holding his breath, waiting for the sound of your sleep-ridden voice. He's hoping you went back to sleep, sleeping off the events of the night. He's waiting for you to pick up the phone and groan into it, the way he knows you do when someone wakes you from a nap on the jet. The way you groan and swat their hands away always has him suppressing a small laugh.

He can practically picture it. Even after all these years he still remembers what it was like to wake up next to you, though it wasn't often. You hardly stayed the night with him way back when, but he remembers the way you'd squeeze your eyes shut in response to any light. You'd stretch and moan in that delicious way that had him aching to push into you before you could even mutter a good morning. He wants that with you. He's realizing more and more with each passing day. He wants to wake up next to you. He wants to hold you again. He wants to claim your body, own every moan, and make you come so hard you see stars. He wants to comfort you, wipe your tears, be there every time the world feels like it's collapsing in on itself.

He would dedicate his life to being the one who makes sure your world keeps spinning. You can't be hurt. You have to be okay. He needs to get his second chance with you.

"Nothing?" Reid accepts Hotch's stern, pale visage as a sign of bad news.

"Hi! You've—" Hotch hangs up again, "Fuck," he mutters under his breath. Reid's eyes widen at the curse. Hotch doesn't have a foul mouth and he never, ever curses on the job. "Reid, JJ, Rossi, I want you to stay here running point on the crisis response. Send out every available team. We are catching this son of a bitch, and we are catching him tonight. No one sleeps, no one stops, no one rests until we find him."

No one on the team questions that. He doesn't need to give that order when it's one of you in the crosshairs. There's no letting up, no sleeping, no stopping until there's justice.

He grabs the keys to the SUV and nods to Morgan and Prentiss to follow him. "Hotch, we don't know if we're going to be able to get close to the explosion, or even the hotel. The first responders are going to want to clear the area before we go—"

Hotch doesn't let him finish that sentence, "I don't care about protocol. That is one of us. That is a member of my team in danger or stuck in that hotel."

"We don't know that she's in danger—" Prentiss steps between the two men, feeling the tensions rising rapidly.

Hotch turns his piercing gaze onto Prentiss, "So your expert opinion is that the bomber that we've been trying to catch has just conveniently managed to bomb a car right outside the hotel that we are staying in when one of our team members is there alone and vulnerable? Just a coincidence?"

Hotch's tone is sharper than he's ever taken with the team. He never loses his calm composure. But he needs you to be okay. Diplomacy be damned. The world, him included, has thrown challenge after challenge into your path. You've suffered more than anyone ever should.

"Let's just..." Morgan reaches for Prentiss' arm pulling her back a little. Neither Morgan nor Prentiss have been known to be capable of holding their tongues around Hotch. They don't let him boss them around beyond the scope of reason. "Let's just see how close we can get. I'll keep trying her phone."