"Hotchner, will you hurry up and open the door so I can kiss you?"
He eagerly obliged and my lips were on his the minute the door shut behind us. "I missed you."
"We've been together all day." He chuckled softly.
"I know, but I missed this —being able to touch you." I pulled him towards me by his blazer, "It's difficult for me to ignore you, you know?"
"Do you think it's easy for me?" He gripped my jaw, his thumb tracing my chapped bottom lip, "To see your pretty face and not be able to kiss you?"
I grinned, breaking away from him, "Can we please order some food."
He nodded, taking the roses from me. "You order: I need to shower."
Before he did, he scanned the room —his eyebrows furrowed in careful concentration. After a minute, his eyes settled on the kettle. Curiously, I watched as he filled it with water from the bathroom sink. Then he took great care to organise the roses on the window sill —the kettle a makeshift vase.
It was not the first time I had brought a man flowers. Before Daniel and before Rosie, I had dated a man who had been so embarrassed that he had blushed, holding them awkwardly by his side to hide them for our entire date. But Hotch wasn't like that, I thought, as he attentively displayed his gift.
"Be quick," I urged, "I fear I won't be able to hold off if the food arrives before you're ready."
Hotch laughed.
I ended up ordering ice cream and Pizza. As I waited, I poured myself a glass of pink lemonade and admired the roses. They were such pretty flowers. It was a shame that they had been picked really. But there was no changing the fact that they were going to die —better to cherish them while they were beautiful.
The room service arrived before Hotch. I thanked the courier, tipping him generously because I had worked in the hospitality sector before and I knew it could be hell. Then I placed the food on the desk, trying not to be tempted to eat it just yet. I texted Anna to distract myself, asking if Jack and Rosie were still awake. They shouldn't have been —given that it was almost ten— but I hoped they were.
"Aaron?" I rapped on the bathroom door, "The food is here."
He emerged wet with a towel around his waist, his skin glistening with beads of water, "Smells good," he remarked.
"It's only pizza," I said, suddenly worried he'd be disappointed.
"I love pizza." He snaked his arms around my waist, pulling me roughly against his chest as he breathed in the apple-almond scent of my hair.
"Stop," I protested, "You're getting me wet!"
He smirked, "Am I?"
I feigned disapproval, "You know what I mean."
I pulled away from him to rummage in his go bag, "Hurry up," I tossed him his pyjamas, "I'm starving."
He dried himself halfheartedly before slipping on his clothes. As I was cutting the pizza, my phone chimed. I checked the message.
"Rosie and Jack are just about to go to bed. We could call them?"
Hotch agreed between mouthfuls and pulled me onto his lap. I roped my arm around his neck and tentatively rested my cheek against his own. He fiddled with his phone and —a few seconds later— we were on FaceTime.
"Hi," Hotch laughed as Rosie and Jack came in to view, each on either side of Annalise.
"Momma," Rosie smiled and my heart melted at the sound of her sweet voice.
"Hi babies," I took a bite of pizza, "how was your day?"
"I got an A in my science experiment." Jack smiled shyly.
"That's great, buddy." Hotch grinned, his hand squeezing my thigh in a silent thank you for the all-nighter I pulled trying to paper mache a volcano out of newspaper.
"You know it's only fourteen days 'till my birthday?" Rosie interrupted excitedly.
I looked at Hotch, feigning a surprised expression, "Did you know that?"
"Do you know, baby, I think it slipped my mind."
Rosie giggled, "You guys are silly."
"What about a bedtime story?"
"But we have the book here!"
Annalise spoke with a fond smile, "I don't think your mother needs the book."
"It's okay," Rosie answered, "River read to us."
"She did?" Hotch and I exchanged a curious glance.
Annalise picked up on our confusion, "She said it was okay with you —the kids love her."
I fiddled with the collar of Hotch's blazer, swallowing hard. "Well, what about a chapter? Where did we leave off?"
"I can't remember," Rosie admitted.
"Chapter six," Jack said quietly.
"Alright," I grinned, getting up from Hotch's knee to reach for my ice cream (which had melted by now).
I cleared my throat, "The next day the rain poured down in torrents again, and when Mary looked out of her window..."
I continued to recite the words of 'The Secret Garden' by heart, pausing occasionally to eat my ice cream.
Hotch got up to brush his teeth and I did the same when both our children's eyes were closed and Annalise whispered that they were sleeping. Hotch and I said our goodnights, soaking in their peaceful expressions before we hung up.
After the distraction of talking to our children, the tiredness crept in like it always did. Gratefully, I sunk into the mattress, pulling the duvet over me. Before Hotch joined me, he pulled something out of his go back and my heart seized when I realised what it was. He got into bed, reaching across me to plug in my night light. He kissed my forehead as he flicked the switch, the lilac light enveloping me with a warm welcome feeling.
I rolled on my side, putting my arm around him. His hand found mine and he held it there against his chest.
After a couple of minutes, I spoke, "Aaron?"
"I forgot how annoying you were," he joked, his voice thick with almost-sleep, "What?"
I giggled but quickly turned serious, "Do you think it's weird that River spends so much time with them?"
"No," He said gently, "I know I was apprehensive at first because of the drinking and the smoking —and I still don't like that— but she's a good kid, Addy. And she's better off with us."
"Kid?" I giggled, "She's older than me."
He chuckled, "But you're old for your age."
"Because I had to be."
He rolled over so that our noses were almost touching, "I know."
"You're right," I said as he pulled me against him by my waist, "About River. I don't know why I feel so hesitant. It's just always been me and my mom. Then she's left. And then I suddenly had a Dad. And now I have a sister."
"It's a lot," he whispered, his hands finding my face in the dark, "But you can handle it."
"I know. Thank you. Goodnight, Aaron."
"Goodnight, baby."
...
The next morning, I gently disentangled myself from Hotch. I paused to admire him: he was so pretty. The only time his face adopted that blissful expression was when he was sleeping or sometimes I caught a glimpse of it when he was playing with Jack or Rosie. It was that rare occasion where he forgot about the files stacking up and the type of people that awaited him every time he worked a case.
I worried about him. He worked too hard and it wasn't guaranteed that he would feel fulfilled after an exhausting day. Usually, it meant unresolved emotions and Hotch was not one to deal with them.
I scavenged around for a pen. When I found one, I bit the cap off with my teeth. Then I gently lifted Hotch's hand, turning his palm over in mine so I could leave a note.
Going to get coffee and see Spencer x x x
With a final kiss —to which Aaron stirred softly in response— I left the room. I grabbed his coat, slipping it over my shoulders. It was comically big and went way past my knees but it was so early that I doubted anyone would bat an eye. I didn't trust the hotel coffee so I nipped across the street and ordered three.
On the way back, I stopped at Spencer's room 304. I knocked quietly, conscious that he was a light sleeper. I heard the sound of shuffling and, were my ears deceiving me, or did I hear a giggle?
The time it took for Spencer to open the door was suspicious. He opened it, breathless. Blocking my view, he grinned at me sheepishly. I took in his dishevelled hair and tired eyes. Tired —yes. But happy too. He looked so much...lighter.
"Hey, Addy. Good morning."
"Good morning," I giggled, a huge smile stretching across my face, "Do you have someone in there Spencer?"
Spencer boycotted the question, "What are you doing here?"
"I got you coffee —as promised."
"Is that Addy?"
At the voice I by now recognised well, I pushed the door open despite Spencer's protests.
"What the hell are you doing here River?" I asked, utterly flabbergasted.
She sat up in bed, holding the sheets to her chest in a lazy attempt to preserve her modesty. Her hair was messy and her makeup smudged but she looked as beautiful as ever. She blinked at me nervously, a cautious smile tugging at her sweet lips. It did not take a profiler to understand what was happening here and the clothes strewn all around the room helped the pieces fall into place.
"Hey, sis," River giggled, "Oooh is that coffee?"
"Uh, yes," I suppressed a sigh, handing her the coffee I had intended to drink.
I put Spencer's down on the bedside table and he smiled at me in thanks, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink.
"What brings you here?" I asked as casually as I could as River got out of bed, slipping on a white hotel bathrobe.
"Boredom." She confessed, retrieving a small shot-sized bottle of Tequila from the minibar.
I watched as she emptied the bottle into her coffee before she cracked open the window, letting in a rush of harsh September air. She perched on the window sill, pulling out a cigarette and a box of matches from her breast pocket. Expertly, she lit a match and, in turn, her cigarette. She took a long drag before she held it out of the window to not alert the smoke alarm.
"You didn't call." I didn't like the high pitched edge to my voice.
"I called Spencer." She shrugged, "Rosie and Jack give their love. I made them promise not to ruin the surprise."
...
At the Russian Roulette, Spencer was evidently uncomfortable and didn't know where to look. All around us, women danced —some on tables and some on poles— and they left very little to the imagination. Derek, on the other hand, seemed to have cheered up immensely and was happily engaging in conversation with two women in matching black lingerie. JJ and Prentiss were interviewing customers and were finding it incredibly difficult to get their full attention. Hotch was talking with the owner, his eyes inadvertently wandering as he talked.
"Don't they get cold?" Spencer whispered in my ear loudly above the music.
"Dancing is a sport. They're probably hot," I reassured him and when a woman in red walked past I added, "In fact, they're definitely hot."
I understood his discomfort. Whilst it was not my first time at a strip club, it was my first time attending with my colleagues and I already knew this was going to be an interesting experience.
I rummaged in my blazer pocket and pulled out a generous stack of dollar bills. I split the money and handed half to Spencer.
"Time is money," I told him, "Make it worth their while."
Spencer nodded, overwhelmed, "Good plan."
I watched as he disappeared into the vibrant crowd, apologising as he accidentally bumped into a woman in red stilettos as she stepped down from a table.
I was reminded of the time Daniel and I went to the strip club in his home town.
We had been walking for miles in an attempt to change something. This past week Daniel hadn't felt right. Although he couldn't explain it, I understood and I knew the importance of feeling something different.
That night he whispered, "Addy, this must be the last day of this feeling because I can't endure it much longer."
And that morning he had erupted, "Jesus fucking Christ!" He hurled his book at the wall, making me flinch, "Leave me alone."
He hadn't been talking to me. He was referring to that black feeling —the darkness gestating in his chest that had released its hurt into his veins. I had left him be for a while.
He made me so angry.
Angry at his parents, who should have loved him but instead planted the seeds of self-hatred inside his heart. Angry at the God who had abandoned him. I would always have that anger. People always said God didn't give people more than they could take. But then why did it kill Daniel?
To distract him and to distract me, we went for a walk. It was three am by the time I managed to get him out of the house. I had to dress him like a child. I forced his feet into his trainers, double knotting his laces. I brushed my hands through his soft curls and pulled his coat over his pyjamas, wrapping a scarf around his neck.
We walked so slowly. Each of his depleted footsteps dragged as if his shoes were coated in led. I held his hand, gently pulling him forward. We walked for hours. He said nothing until we came to a stop outside The Lady's Rose.
"Let's go in."
"To the strip club?"
"Why not?"
"Okay," I smiled.
I was just content that he was talking. That he was here, alive and breathing. But, before we went in, Daniel insisted that we cross the street to the corner shop and we buy every single woman in the club the prettiest flowers that we could find.
I remembered their faces. I remember the joy that danced in their eyes as they kissed our cheeks in thanks. Daniel sat with a woman named Marie. He gave her his coat and they sat and talked for a very long time. Marie had lost her brother a week prior but couldn't afford to take time off. Daniel made her cry. But he had also made her laugh until her she had bent over, clutching her stomach.
As my eyes scanned the club, I was reminded of Daniels absence more sharply. There were no real smiles, no real flowers and no tears. It was one of those moments in grief where it knocks the air from your lungs and threatens to sink you to your knees.
I needed air.
I pushed through the crowds of pretty women and men in suits. Hotch caught my eye and silently asked if I was alright. I was too flustered to nod, instead, I concentrated on getting away from the noise. I wandered down a poorly lit hallway, finding refuge in the first room I found.
It was small and cramped but quiet. A dresser in the corner of the room was almost completely covered in clothes. Its surface was littered with cheap perfume bottles and piles of makeup. The floor was completely covered and the racks of clothes didn't ease the feeling of confinement. I plonked myself down on the nearest chair, pushing aside a pile of clothes. The room reminded me of my childhood bedroom.
I closed my eyes in an attempt to clear my head.
"Excuse me?" An annoyed voice emitted from one of the clothes racks.
...
Authors note: Isn't flabbergasted such a fun word?
My apologies for the lack of smut but I think it's important to show that their relationship is more than sex. THAT BEING SAID, there will be PLENTY OF SMUT AHEAD.
I APPRECIATE YOU <3