Aaron Hotchner X OC

Disgruntled Driving.

Stars shone through the sky as Cecile fiddled with her necklace, the same necklace Hotch bought her for her birthday, while quickly walking out to the car that she had parked a few hours previously. Hotch was sat in the passenger seat, meaning that he expected her to drive. 'I need a holiday,' he grumbled as he checked his watch and yawned.

'Backpack for a year around Australia, you might find who the fuck asked,' she retorted while blinking back her tired state.

'Sounds expensive, they don't pay me enough for that,' Hotch confessed with a smirk.

Cecile scoffed as she started the car and waited for Hotch to put the address into the car's navigation. 'Download a dating app, because the next thing you know, thousands of guys are willing to take you on a trip to the lowest point of your life. And, for the low cost of your mental health and sanity, you can visit rock bottom. Travel is a life style, Hotch,' she replied sarcastically, irritation high in her tone.

'Why do you hate men so much? Is it because I wouldn't let you drink the bleach under the sink?' Hotch asked curiously.

'It smelt nice, I just wanted to give it a taste,' Cecile retorted angrily as she pulled up at a set of lights.

'You would have died,' Hotch snapped back as he readjusted his tie to meet his top button.

Cecile scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest. 'Keeping me alive is like a fucked up Tamagotchi. A traumagotchi if you will,' she retorted quickly, a little too quickly for Hotch's liking.

'If a genie met you, they'd offer you twenty wishes, because you're such a mess,' Hotch replied as Cecile began driving again, carefully making her way through a surprising number of cars that were out for the night. 'You said earlier that you have ninety nine problems, and money would solve all of them. May I suggest a rich husband?'

'You mean, wait. You want me to get a husband? The thing that killed everyone on Dateline?' Cecile asked incredulously. 'I don't even know if I am a real human yet, how can I make a plan like marriage?'

Hotch laughed, a high-pitched, joyous laugh at her before he managed to stop himself. 'What about a secret admirer? An admirer who sends you money would be enough, they don't have to be so secret about it,' he suggested. 'Boost your confidence without the commitment of marriage.'

'Every admirer is secret if you're bad at reading social cues. And being a heterosexual woman is the worst thing ever. I have to date and encourage my only natural predator. Discounting polar bears,' Cecile remarked as she shifted gear and turned a tight corner. 'See that? I turned quickly and didn't nearly kill you, if only you could have returned the favour all those months ago,' she quipped.

'We got where we needed to. You're incredibly judgemental. Jack would say that you sound like goldilocks,' Hotch retorted as he carefully pushed his palm against her palm that was on the gear stick, her fingers barely reaching across his hand for her to change gears.

'Snow White finds a house in a forest and starts working, and then she dies. Goldilocks gets into the joint, shares some truths, and then gets out of there. However, I would say that I've done the seven little men thing and I appreciated their hi ho,' Cecile commented with a snicker.

Shaking his head, Hotch hid his laugh behind a sigh. 'More like "Hi, hoe". Being attractive doesn't account for everything,' he remarked. 'Maybe that's why you don't like to enter relationships. Unless you count confessing your love for me after attending the worst date I have ever heard of.'

'First of all, if that wasn't such a good play on words, I would be punching your dick right now. And I'm not attractive by choice, my body is just a vessel for pasta. And this vessel is valid. And should I remind you that you also confessed your love for me? In fact, you fell for me first. Let's test the falling fastest and furthest theory, one year with no contact and we can see who gets over it the quickest,' Cecile snappily remarked while quietly smirking under the moonlight.