Hardest To Catch A.H.

Chapter 2.

WARNING: SPICY STUFF A'HEAD' hehehe because y/n gives hotchie poo the glock glock 3000. SO minor smut warming

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As we got into the car, Hotch was all business when he typically wasn't when we were alone. I wanted to try to help him feel better, but I knew now wasn't the time to get into anything personal, so I left it alone, making a mental note to check back in at the hotel later on. The car ride was silent other than the radio playing quietly in the background.

Once we pulled up to the house I asked, "So Foyet and Culson are what? Friends?"

"Something like that." He responded, not looking at me. I now realize he hasn't looked at me in the span of time we've been on the case. I quickly shook it off though.

"Oh look, I think that's him." I say as I look at a medium build man walking towards the building, carrying groceries. "Let's go" I said as I made my way out of the car.

Once we made our way over to him, Hotch said, "George Foyet?" Let me tell you, this man was attractive. Not Aaron Hotchner attractive but certainly not ugly. Hotch continues before Foyet has a chance to respond, "It's okay, we're FBI Agents. This is Agent y/n y/l/n and i'm Agent Hotchner. We met once before, do you remember?

"Yeah, I remember. Would you mind if we get off the street, please?" He says timidly, leading us into the building. "How'd you guys find me?" He says once we get inside.

"Roy Culson." I respond plainly. Something about him felt so off about him to me but I just didn't know what it was.

"Oh. Well, is this going to take long? I really can't be late for work."

"What do you do?" Hotch asks.

"I'm a freelance computer specialist for the city."

I interject with, "We're sorry to bother you. We'll make it as quick as possible. Are these yours?" I ask, holding out an evidence baggy with his glasses inside.

He grabs it slowly out of my hand and almost faints as he looks at it. Breathing heavily, he responds with, "Damn it. I knew it wasn't a copycat." He started tearing up before adding, "I'm sorry. I was gonna propose to her that night at the restaurant, but I got cold feet. The ring was still in my pocket when he approached us. He said he was lost and has one of those sightseeing booklets. I was looking though it when he stabbed me."

Hotch interjected before he said anything else. "Mr. Foyet, you don't need to go through this again" but Foyet kept going.

"I couldn't move. I just sat there, bleeding, while I watched him kill her. He stabbed her 67 times. Do you know how long it takes to stab somebody 67 times? I never found the finger."

We kept talking to him for a while longer. We offered him protective custody but he referred because 'Boston was his home'. It seemed off to me that this guy has gone through such great lengths to protect himself from the Reaper, yet once he gets close to him, he doesn't want to take the one chance that he could stay safe. Like I said before, something about this guy was off to me.

Once we left and started driving back to the station, I turned towards Hotch and just started at him.

"Did you need something? You're staring, y/n."

"Sorry no, you're just really cute when you're focused." I said, winking at him and turning back towards the road.

"That's very sweet, but you know our rule. We have to stay as professional as we can on cases, especially this one. We can't let emotions get in the way of our judgement. It's almost dark and the Reaper could kill anyone at any minute, you know this." He said sternly, causing me to try to shrink deeper into my seat until we got back to the station.