Never Gonna Happen

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"Wheels up in thirty," Hotch said.

He had just finished briefing the team on the newest case, a string of murders in El Paso where the women were strangled and left in dumpsters around the city. The local police department had it "handled," until 4 more women died. You worked for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, where you profiled criminals to find them and bring them to justice.

You and the rest of the team left the round table and walked to your desks, grabbing your pre-packed go bags for the stay in El Paso. You really weren't one for fashion, so you only packed a few pairs of skinny jeans and some button up shirts. You imagined how many bags Garcia, the lovable technical analysist with an interesting sense of style, would need to pack to support her crazy and colorful outfits.

Spencer Reid, the boy genius, was a doctor- and also your closest friend on the team. He had taken to you since you first arrived at the B.A.U., and you could tell he liked you more than a friend, but you had never felt the same. You'd had your eyes on Aaron Hotchner, your boss, since he interviewed you. He was tall, with dark brown hair and a strong jawline. He exuded such a strong sense of power and dominated over everyone in the office. His looks plus your terrible daddy issues make him practically irresistible. But, he was married, so it didn't matter how you felt.

On the jet, you sat yourself across from Spencer, like always. Hotch was alone, reading through the case file over and over. Your eyes were glued to him, and Spencer nudged you with his foot. "What?" you said, snapping back to reality. "You're staring, again," the doctor said. "No, I wasn't, I was just looking at the..." your words trailed off and you began to blush. You always were a terrible liar.

"I don't know why you waste your time on him. You could just go out with me instead," Spencer said, his shade turning a shade of red, just like yours.

"No, Spence," you began. "You know I don't see you as anything but a friend. A very handsome friend, but a friend nonetheless."

His cheeks deepened, and he let out the sigh of defeat that you'd caused many times before. "Just one date!" he pleaded. "Please!"

Morgan, the office's "chocolate thunder," walked past as he said this and mumbled, "never gonna happen..." Spencer sighed once more, pulled a book from his bag, and began to read.

You had a few hours to kill, so you decided to get up and talk to Hotch. "Any new epiphanies on the case, sir?" you asked as you sat down. You crossed your legs and played with your hair seductively, but he didn't even look up from the file. "Hmm?" he grumbled, bringing his gaze from the grisly photos to you. Before you could repeat yourself, he began to speak again. "No, no, nothing new... I just can't stop looking at these pictures." 

You had hoped he'd say something like, "sir? Call me Aaron," but instead, you had to talk about murder victims. That's how it always went with Hotch, always work, never play. You wish it could just be play, even if it was only once. You constantly fantasized about his large, vainy hands grabbing your neck and caressing your body. But, it was impossible, so you had better quit while you're ahead. 

"That bad, huh? I mean, I saw them too, but what's it about them that gets to you?" you asked.

"I don't know... it might be the imprints in the skin. The killer didn't use his hands, he used a nylon rope to strangle these girls. They were all only 19 or 20, they hadn't even lived yet..." Hotch said, his voice getting quieter as if he was speaking to himself. Of course, you had known all of this before from the briefing, but it didn't matter. His husky voice to you was like nicotine to a smoker. Irresistible. 

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I hope we catch this guy," you responded. 

"We will, Y/N. We have to." 

You placed one hand on your bosses and propped your head up with the other. He looked down, confused, and moved his hand away. Hotch cleared his throat and said, "Alright, well, I've got to get back to the file. Talk to you later, Y/N." 

Rejected. Again. 

You sighed and got up from the seat, and moved to your place next to Spencer. Nose still in his book, he said, "I told you, it's a waste of time." 

You made a "hmphn," sound and crossed your arms. Your conversation with Hotch had barely lasted three minutes. You decided to close your eyes and get some sleep while you could, anticipating some restless nights in El Paso.

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Authors note: Hi! I originally wanted this to be a one shot, and then I realized I really liked the story. I have some pretty cool plans, so I hope a couple people see this. If you do, and you like it, please comment and vote! I crave validation so anything would be incredible. 

I think I'm going to write another chapter now just cause I'm in the mood. Hope this was good!

author from the future here! i'll be putting a * next to chapters with smut. there's one for the next chapter, but it's really nothing but a precaution. don't expect any smut for a while, this is a good old fashioned slow burn.

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