#but aaron is prettier so it's fair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

winterscaptain · 2 years

Text

roadblock.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: aaaaaaand we're back! i'm working on the next bits of the season 11 arc, so stay tuned!

words: 7.4k content advisories: language, pregnancy, canon-typical violence, death, and discussion of sexual assault, brief alcohol mention, brief discussion of gun death, food consumption

summary: “home is anywhere that you know all your friends and all your enemies.” ― orson scott card, hart's hope

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You roll over in bed, stretching with a little noise from the back of your throat. Somewhere along the way, you land across Aaron’s chest and settle, shifting a little to get comfortable.

“Good morning,” comes a rumble from under your cheek.

You hum, still not fully awake. “Morning.”

“You get prettier every day I know you, you know that?”

“Flatterer,” you reply, offering a halfhearted smack of the hand over his heart.

Aaron chuckles and wraps his arms around you, holding you tight to him. “It’s been nice having you home a little more.”

“Don’t get used to it.” You finally open your eyes and tip your head up, pressing your nose to the hollow under his jaw. “I’m benched, not retired.”

There’s a kiss pressed to the top of your head. “I know. It is spoiling me, though, just a little.”

It’s spoiling you, too, if you’re honest. Given the recent events with Derek, you’re sure Emily has a hand in artificially lightening your desks, keeping your consults manageable and outlining expert witness testimony in writing whenever possible. Still, you’re somewhat busy.

Tara’s been out in interviews most of the week, working on one of her publications with an inmate in federal prison, and the rest of the team has been working out of the office or away on judicial obligations.

You’re sure Spencer would be tired of acting as an expert witness by now, but he seems to be in high spirits every time he returns from a trip.

It’s kind of impressive, for someone who hates handshakes and commercial flights so much.

“Doing work behind a desk is fun for about three days, then I’m kind of over it.” You sit up, stretching again and removing your pajama shirt so you can pretend to get your day started. Aaron reaches for you, tucking his head into your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. With a snort, you ask, “Having fun?”

He nods, burrowing deeper.

“All you men are the same - you see a pair of boobs you’ve seen probably a thousand times and your brain shuts off.”

“Only one brain,” Aaron says, mumbling into your skin. “The other one works just fine.”

You snort. “That’s hardly a brain. It’s more of a sentient appendage.”

Aaron hums noncommittally.

Can’t hurt to let him stay for a minute, right?

“You have three minutes and then I have to get up. Jack has a test today and he can’t be late.”

A little dissatisfied, but resigned, chuff gets past your sternum.

Good enough.

+++

The federal building is relatively quiet when you and Aaron arrive a little after nine. As usual, Penelope and Emily are up in the office, discussing any recent developments on the Montolo case while Dave putters about the kitchen.

“Morning,” you say, slipping past him and heading toward the fridge. Aaron, in all his thoughtfulness, packed you a lunch today while you took care of Jack’s.

Dave looks up. “Bellissima! Good morning.” He picks up his coffee mug but doesn’t take a sip. Between you, Kate, and JJ, everyone has been mindful about public caffeine consumption for over a year, now. The niceties are second nature. “Any big plans for the weekend?”

You shake your head. “It’s Aaron’s birthday on Monday, but we’re not doing much. You?”

He shakes his head. “My publisher has been after me. She apparently doesn’t believe me when I tell her I’m retired.”

“You didn’t stay retired from this job,” you point out. “So, that might be fair.”

“Retirement is a state of mind,” Dave says, waving you off. You follow him as he wanders back into the bullpen. “As long as I’m not writing books in my head, I’m retired.”

You tip your head. “Decent rule.”

“What’s a decent rule?” Spencer asks, looking up from his mini chess board.

You take a seat at your desk and fire up your computer. “Rossi says he’s retired as long as he’s not thinking about writing books.”

Spencer shrugs, turning the board. “That seems reasonable.” He looks up at Dave. “Is your publisher bothering you again?”

Dave tips his head. “Apparently, the forums are anxiously awaiting my encore, but I don’t have anything for them.”

“Yeah. MIT keeps emailing me about another publication, but I had Garcia take them out of my inbox.” Spencer shrugs. “I hardly look at my email anyway.”

You laugh a little. It’s true - the best way to reach Spencer via email is to email anyone else on the team and request to pass the message along. More than one department has learned its lesson trying to wheedle communication out of Boy Wonder, to no avail.

Speaking of email, yours is relatively orderly. Only three new items in your inbox since you left the office last night, and two of them are non-urgent items for Derek upon his return, compliments of IT forwarding his email to yours.

The time passes quickly while you work on the only remaining email that needs your attention. Soon enough, Spencer stands and waits by your desk, ready to walk with you upstairs to the roundtable room.

“You can go on without me, Spence. I’ll be there in a second.”

He shrugs. You can see it out of the corner of your eye. “I’m not in a rush.”

You huff a little laugh and hit Send. “Thanks. Ready?”

He nods, and you head up.

+++

You settle in at the table. Derek and JJ’s usual seats are empty, and you can’t help but feel like the room is getting rather small.

“Meet twenty-year-old Jose Rivera, night manager at a place called Dee's Original Diner.” She clicks through two portraits of two young men. “And then this is Eddie Butler. He was seventeen. He was a fry cook, high school senior, and basketball star.”

She clicks again. “And finally Renee Acosta. She was sixteen years old. She was a cashier at the restaurant, and she was a junior in high school.” She clicks again. “And they were all murdered last night just after closing. The safe and the cash register were both emptied, and all the victims' valuables were missing, too.”

“Any surveillance video?” Dave asks.

“No. Because the system burnt down in a fire that was set after the murders took place.”

You sigh. “The arson was probably just a forensic countermeasure.”

“The coroner has the bodies right now,” Penelope says, “and it looks like the cause of death to each was a gunshot wound to the head.”

“Garcia, pause!” Spence leans forward. “Where did this happen?”

“Oh,” she says. “I was saving the worst for last.”

“Las Vegas, New Mexico?” It’s hardly a question. If you already had an inkling as to where this was going, so did Spencer. Your face falls, as does Emily’s.

“Mm-hmm.” Penelope’s nod comes with a pinched face.

“Wait, what's the deal with Las Vegas, New Mexico?” Tara asks.

Your mouth twists. “The same exact type of robbery-homicide took place there six years ago.”

“At that time it was at a place called the Burger Corral and there were four victims,” Penelope adds.

“Teenagers,” you continue. “They sexually assaulted the girls, then shot them execution style, robbed the place, and then burned it down to the ground.”

You look to Emily, who adds, “We consulted from here and the NCAVC coordinator in Santa Fe did the groundwork.”

“Any suspects?” Tara asks.

You shake your head. “None, but we knew it was probably someone with a personal connection to the town.”

“Problem was it's a pretty transient place,” Dave says. “Tourists, truckers, and a lot of the work opportunities are seasonal.”

Spencer nods. “Given the level of violence, we profiled it was two or more criminally experienced unsubs, most likely under the influence of some type of narcotic, but they never struck again and the case went cold.”

“Looks like it’s hot now.”

Tara looks up from the file. “So, are these guys back or is this somebody playing copycat?”

“That's what we need to find out,” Emily says. Aaron appears behind her. “Hotch will be joining us now that we’re down two hands. Wheels up in thirty.”

+++

Now you really feel spoiled. Having Aaron on the case with you brings a certain level of comfort to you, especially with Derek and JJ out for the count.

You know for a fact that JJ has called daily to confirm she’s not actually needed, but Emily has been quite firm with her. Now, she says, is the time for JJ to enjoy her growing family and get all the rest she can. She’ll be back soon enough.

Aaron takes your bags as you walk across the tarmac. You might all be a little delayed getting off the base due to some in-air exercises by Marines in their Black Hawks and Osprey helicopters. You can hear them, but the clouds mask their movement as they fly above you.

“Feeling good about traveling this morning?” He asks. What he really means is, how nauseated are you, but he’s too polite to ask with Tara walking so close by.

You nod. “Just fine. I have stuff in my bag if I get queasy at all.”

He shifts the bags, throwing one over his shoulder and taking the other in the same hand. He offers you his free arm and you take it, winding your fingers in the fabric of his coat. A little smile pulls at the corner of your mouth.

It’s not overly cold - just under sixty degrees - but it’s nice to be so close.

+++

“Las Vegas, New Mexico,” Spencer says, supplying you all with some fun facts and context prior to the briefing, “was actually founded seventy years before its Nevada counterpart. In the late nineteenth century, it was a booming railroad hub with a reputation for lawlessness, and apparently, outlaws are a part of the town's genetics. Billy the Kid lived there, and Doc Holliday himself had a saloon there before going to meet Wyatt Earp in Tombstone, Arizona.”

You smile. Tombstone is a favorite movie of Aaron’s (and Jack’s as well). Love for both cowboys and Val Kilmer runs deep in your household.

“The more things change, the more things stay the same.” Dave says.

Tara looks up as if Dave hadn’t said anything at all. “All the victims in both instances were teenagers, except for Jose Rivera.”

“A younger staff,” you note. “That's pretty typical for a night shift.”

Dave nods. “The unsubs might have considered that. It would be easier to subdue a group of kids.”

“Almost an identical M.O.,” Tara says. “Copycat or no, why go back to this town and do this again?”

“They could be sending some kind of message to announce their return.”

Aaron seems to like that idea. His eyes flicker to Spencer for a moment and he squints, thinking.

Dave has another thought while Aaron ponders. “Or it just might be criminal ego. They got away with it the first time. Why not do it again?”

“With unsubs this violent,” Tara asks, “how do you just disappear and go dormant for six years?”

Aaron tips his head. “They may have been in prison. That would explain the criminal experience.”

“Crime U,” Dave says, a heavy dose of sarcasm in his tone, “best education taxpayer money can buy.”

Emily cracks a smile, but gets down to business quickly. “When we land, I'll have Garcia compile a list of recently released convicts in the area. Rossi, you and Reid go to the coroner when we land. Lewis, you're with me and the Hotchners at the local PD.”

+++

When you arrive at the precinct, you flash your credentials to security and they get you checked in.

“Agent Hotchner, FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

The woman behind the counter takes your credentials and scans them, handing them back with a security tag. It’s a little more advanced than most local stations, but given the history of the town, it makes a fair amount of sense.

Emily’s right behind you. “Emily Prentiss, Unit Chief.” She gets settled, tucking her credentials back into her pocket and clipping her ID tag to the pocket of her pants.

You wander to the side of the lobby, where photos sit behind plexiglass. It’s almost like a museum, with pictures dated back to the town’s founding in the 1860s.

Headed for civil war and people are still posing for portraits.

You shake your head with a little laugh. The door opens and you follow Emily and Tara inside. Aaron follows behind you in an attempt to keep the focus on Emily. Even though he outranks her, she’s the lead on this case and everyone needs to know it.

“Agents,” A man says, coming out of his office and crossing the bullpen to meet you, “Chief Montoya at your service. Thank you for coming.”

Emily extends a hand. “I'm Agent Prentiss. This is Agent Hotchner, Dr. Lewis, and our Section Chief of the Northwest Investigations and Operational Support Division will be working with us on this case, Agent Aaron Hotchner.”

It’s always made you laugh, the way that Emily puts as many words as she can possibly fit between your name and Aaron’s. It seems to work, because the chief doesn’t say anything or offer any curious looks.

“Nice to meet you. There's been a development. Renee Acosta's parents discovered a voicemail she left when the assailants broke in. Over here.” He gestures to a place behind you and you follow him.

“Lewis, why don’t you sit with Renee’s parents and see what you can do after listening to the voicemail.”

Tara nods, moving to hover over one of the officers. She puts the headphones on and focuses in.

You look around, finding the eyes of a man tracking your team.

“Chief Montoya, who is that?” You ask, tipping your chin toward the watcher.

“That’s Brooks Tanner. His daughter was a victim of the original attack six years ago.” Chief Montoya meets your eyes. “He’s a friend.”

“You mind if we talk to him?” Emily asks.

Chief Montoya gestures broadly. “By all means.”

Emily turns back to you. “Would you mind? I’ll go over the previous case with Hotch while you two conduct the interviews.”

“Not at all.” You turn to Montoya again. “Do you happen to have the case file handy?”

“Of course.”

+++

“I can't believe it's been six years,” Brooks says, looking out the window into the bullpen. His back is to you, but you don’t mind. “It feels like yesterday. Fell asleep out on the couch. Next thing I know, my wife's shaking me, yelling about how they killed Jenny. It all felt like a dream. I keep hoping maybe I'll wake up one of these days.”

All these years of doing this job, the humanity of it never stops smacking you in the face. You have, however, learned how to hold your composure.

“And where is your wife now?”

“Went back to her family in Reno about a year after it happened. Her heart was broken too bad.”

“But you stayed.” It’s not a question.

“My daughter's buried right up the road. I ain't goin' anywhere.” He turns toward you. “I thought for sure you'd have caught 'em last time. I was positive.”

You nod, understanding. “Mr. Tanner, we're going to do everything we possibly can, I promise you.”

“You just promise me…” He takes a few steps toward you, but you see more hurt than threat. “You'll catch those sons of bitches and you're gonna make 'em pay.”

“We will do our best,” you tell him. You glance down at the photo in the file. The striking young woman, smiling between her parents, seems bright, happy.

Mr. Turner shifts his weight. “When are you due?”

You take a little breath, looking down to realize your hand is pressed to the side of your belly to relieve a little pressure under your ribs. “March.”

Mr. Turner hums. “I remember those days. My wife says that keeping the heat on your back helps with those muscle aches.” He shrugs. “I think she said it even helps with the gas, too, but I don’t want to be impolite.”

“Thank you.” You giggle a little, despite the circumstances. “I think this condition reveals something a little impolite about all of us, so I’m happy to take all the help I can get.”

“You’re already a mother, aren’t you?” It’s almost not a question.

You nod. “Yes. I’ve known my stepson since he was very young. I feel very much like his mom, but I’m not his mother.”

There must be something in your voice because he asks, “What happened to her?”

“She was killed,” you reply. You don’t sugarcoat it.

Mr. Turner doesn’t say anything.

“I know people say they understand what you’re going through, but I know that’s impossible. Losing a child is unlike anything else.” You pause, glancing down at the picture of Jenny again, thinking of those horrible minutes where you were sure you lost Jack. “But I know that pain of grief. I will do whatever I can to honor your daughter, sir, and bring her justice.”

He nods once, puts his hat back on his head after tipping it, and walks out of the station. You’re almost certain it’s a peace offering.

+++

You return to Tara, who has finished up with the Acosta family. She has a laptop now, but her headphones are still firmly planted over her ears. You watch her flinch, sigh, then remove them.

“You all right?” You ask.

“Yeah. Yeah, just, um…” She takes a breath. “Just listening to that voicemail again. With my work I've never been big on the whole compartmentalization thing. I just feel like I can't understand others' emotions if I don't deal with my own, you know?”

You shrug. “The best way out is always through.”

“Too bad it's not always the easiest way.”

“No shit.” You sit down beside her, leaning back in the chair so you can run your hand over your aching hip. The second trimester is a bit of a bitch, so you can’t even begin to imagine what it’ll be like when he gets even bigger. “You hear anything else on the recording?”

“Yeah. You guys profiled that you thought there might be multiple unsubs. I can only hear two on this recording. So, unless there are others outside, we're dealing with a partnership.”

That’s not ideal.

+++

When Dave and Spencer return from the M.E., they have information that confirms you’re dealing with the same unsubs. No copycat, no similarly-minded weirdos. The same people.

Spencer stands at the front of the room, walking everyone through the evidence. It’s mostly for Tara, but you all could use the refresher. Plus, nobody has the patience to sit and stare at the evidence board for an hour, parsing through all the similarities and differences. Spencer’s grasp of pattern recognition always comes in handy, it seems. “Six years ago the unsubs separated the victims by gender. The bodies of the boys were found out by the register, the two girls were found in the back office.”

You nod. “Yeah, we profiled that was about control. Isolate the males who were more of a threat.”

“Exactly,” Spencer says. He sounds very much like a professor at the moment. “They even blindfolded them. But they didn't do that this time. No blindfolds and the three victims were found in the same area, all within a few feet of each other.”

“Dee's Original Diner had a back office,” Dave points out. “Why didn't they use it?”

“And look at the body position.” Spencer gestures to the board. “The victims from six years ago were prone, like they were shot while kneeling.”

You gesture to the board. “But Jose Rivera and Eddie Butler were both sitting up.”

“Maybe they posed them that way.” Tara says.

“I don't think so,” Spencer replies. “Ballistics suggest they were seated when they were shot, and look at the way they're facing. It's like they wanted them to see each other.”

“Not see,” Dave says. “Watch.”

Your brow crinkles. “You think they made the boys watch the sexual assault?”

“Well, if they did, they probably made her watch the murders.”

“Psychological sadism,” Tara answers simply.

“A ritual aspect.” Dave’s eyebrows raise. “That's new.”

“And very specific,” Tara says. “Why didn't they do this before?”

You hum. “Well, they could be evolving.”

“Or…” Spencer leans on the table. “It's possible only one of them was involved six years ago.”

A little ripples goes around the room and Dave puts voice to your thoughts. “Which would mean he has a new partner.”

+++

When Emily and Aaron return from the chief’s office, you fill them in on your findings. They’re not overjoyed that it's the same unsubs, obviously, but they’re at least pleased you can pull from the previous profile as a starting point.

“Alright. Good work today. Let’s get settled at the hotel and grab something to eat.” Emily checks her watch. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I haven't eaten since we left Quantico.”

You can’t say the same - Dave and Spencer brought you a sandwich on their way back from their field trip. They’ve both done their best to not babysit or hover, but they’ve been very attentive to your food and water consumption on the last couple of trips.

Aaron pulls your coat from the back of your chair, opening it so you can slip your arms in. His hands brush your shoulders for a moment as he fixes the collar. It makes you smile.

+++

The two of you end up snoozing on top of the covers after dinner, trying to get a little bit of sleep and adjust to the minor time change.

You’re curled in front of Aaron, his whole body snug around yours. His arm falls over your waist, his fingers laced between yours over your abdomen. It’s comforting to hear his breath, to feel it brush over your ear. His other hand curls beneath the pillow under your head.

There’s a moment where the surrealness of your positionality hits you again, just like it did a week after your first… everything with Aaron.

You’re here, on a case, wrapped in his arms, taking a nap, and pregnant with his child. Of all the things you could have anticipated, next to none of these were on the list of coulds, shoulds, or woulds. Your fingers tighten around his and he returns the gesture, holding you impossibly closer.

You’ve grown used to everything down to the way he brushes his teeth in the morning. When you return home from a case, your home smells of both of you - something you can’t describe, but you know it’s yours, together. It’s a strange thing to notice, surely, but his apartment always had a smell specific to him and Jack, even after the Haley in it faded in time.

Now, you’re the added piece of the environmental puzzle - the part that fits in so neatly you wouldn’t know to look for its absence.

The thoughts swirl around in your head, keeping you from sleep. Eventually, Aaron’s phone rings. You know exactly what it means, given the blossoming profile of these unsubs and the nature of their crimes.

“What is it, Emily?” Aaron answers, not unkindly. He just sounds tired. “...Yes. Alright… We’ll meet you there.”

He hangs up and turns to you. “Two more bodies.”

With a sigh, you get your shoes on and round the bed, tucking yourself into Aaron’s chest. He wraps his arms around you.

“You doing okay?” He asks.

You nod. “I just miss you. I miss this.”

He hums, thoughtful. “I miss this, too. It’ll be nice to be out on a couple of cases until JJ gets back.”

“You’re good to have around, you know.” You tap his chest over his shirt. “You’re pretty useful.”

He chuckles. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself. Otherwise I’d have you recalled into the IOSS analyst division.”

“Give me a break,” you tell him with a snort. You step back. “You’d never catch me as an analyst.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “If you read your reports from behind my desk, you’d probably change your mind.”

“Good thing I don’t, then.”

+++

“Do you want to go in?” Emily asks when you arrive on-scene. You shake your head. “Let’s not push it. I’ll get statements from out here.”

She nods, leaving you outside with Aaron. Chief Montoya arrives a little while later but doesn’t greet you as he walks into the pharmacy. You can’t really blame him - this has to be difficult.

Collecting the statements isn’t too difficult, all things considered. There are very few witnesses, given the size of the town and the late hour. You and Aaron finish up with decent time to spare, waiting outside for the crime scene techs to finish their work.

The press arrives shortly thereafter, rolling up in their news vans and bathing the parking lot in bright white light. You watch as Chief Montoya confers with Emily before taking measured steps toward the door.

He handles the press with grace and integrity, looking more than a little worse for wear.

“You think he’s okay?” You ask Aaron.

He shakes his head. “No. I don't. His job is to keep this community safe, and now he feels responsible.”

Spencer walks out and waves you off to the side, away from the TV cameras and microphones.

“Victims are Randy McAdams, his niece Jane McAdams.” Spencer holds a little notepad, but you know it’s mostly for show. He just keeps it to fiddle with while he’s talking, finding a place to focus his eyes somewhere over your left shoulder. “The unsub looted the methamphetamine hydrochloride stores and the register before shooting both victims. They were facing each other, just like the victims in the diner.”

You sigh. “At least he’s keeping the ritual aspect consistent. You said unsub - was it both of them?”

“No. The surveillance footage only shows one of them, which means the partner was elsewhere.”

“That's a huge risk to stay in town and pull this so soon,” Aaron says.

“That’s what Emily said as well, but they're meth addicts, though. The risk may be of little consequence.”

Aaron hums. “Is the coroner’s office done in there?”

“Yeah,” Spencer replies. “Everything is bagged and tagged. Bodies are headed to autopsy now. If you’re asking specifically about biohazards, they’re minimized.” Spencer looks at you. “Should be safe for you to go in.”

You reach out to squeeze his shoulder before following Aaron into the pharmacy. Emily and the rest of the team, sans Tara who’s back at the station, stand in a small huddle.

“Six years ago they up and disappeared,” Dave says, “This one doesn't seem like part of their playbook. My money says it's the new guy.”

You tip your head. “Well, he was smart enough to hide his face and he didn't burn the place down. We still have to wait for the autopsy, but she's fully clothed. Doesn't look like there was sexual assault either.”

“But he still made them watch,” Dave points out. “Look. He positions them so they're facing each other. That aspect is important to him, almost compulsive.”

+++

The five of you return to the station when everything has settled down a little bit. Penelope, of course, has been working away since Emily sent over the latest batch of information.

You’re all stationed in the conference room when Penelope rings in.

“Hey, kid,” Dave says, “you got something good for us?”

“I am happy to report that I have finished my nationwide ViCAP search of criminals who like to make their victims watch them commit violent crimes,” she replies. “I'm sad to tell you it is an appallingly populated genre. I got a whole lot of bad boys and it's not even Saturday night.”

You crack a smile, looking up at Aaron. He returns it with a fond roll of his eyes. You turn back to the phone. “Well, narrow it down by surrounding states. The unsubs are probably from somewhere in the region.”

“And eliminate anybody over the age of forty-five,” Tara says. “These crimes are impulsive and violent. They're probably not that old.

“Copy you. That brings us down to four…” There’s another beep. “Ooh. Wait. Rewind. Actually two. 'Cause two of those guys have died.”

“What's that leave us?” Aaron asks.

“Uh, first up is forty-one-year-old Glen Capshaw from Yuma, Arizona. He made his nine-year-old son watch him beat up a bully's father. Apparently made the ten-year-old bully watch, too. Which is mean, but weirdly fair, maybe?”

You hum skeptically. “He doesn't fit our profile. Who else?”

“Okay, next up is twenty-six-year-old Lester Turner from Lubbock, Texas. When he was sixteen, he raped a fifteen-year-old girl, made her twelve-year-old brother watch. Beat up the brother really bad, too.”

“Well, that would explain the ritual aspect,” Emily says. “What else you got on this guy?”

“Uh, he served nine years, two of them in juvie, the rest of them at Texas State prison, which is owned by the Citadel Corrections company. He was released last year.”

“So, he was actually locked up during the Burger Corral incident.” Tara shifts her weight back where she stands, crossing her arms over her chest.

“They may have met in prison,” Emily says. “He could be his new partner. Garcia, give me everything you've got on Turner - known associates, cell mates, the whole nine.”

“On it,” Penelope chirps. “Stand by, queen of my heart.” The line falls silent.

+++

Conversation around the conference room and lots of scanner surfing fills the next hour. You’ve refused Emily’s subtle prompts to get you back to the hotel for a lie-down rather politely to this point, but a more pointed comment about taking it easy has your teeth on edge.

“Emily, damn it, I’m fine.”

Emily raises her eyebrows, but before she can say anything, your phone rings.

“Yeah, Pen, whatcha got?” You try to keep your tone light, but obviously fail because…

“Yikes, what’s gotten into your cornflakes?”

You sigh, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose. “I’m fine. Let me put you on speaker. What do you have for us?”

As promised, she delivers on speaker. “Besides the fact that I'm all hopped up on dark roast and espresso beans? I have intel to share. 'Tis why I have called thee.” She takes exactly one breath. “Deep background search into Lester Turner brought me down into a wicked place. Turned out he shared a cell block with a Benjamin Wade and a William Duke Mason.”

Emily tries to get ahead of Penelope’s caffeine-fueled findings. “What's so—“

“Buh-buh-buh-buh-buh!” Penelope rebuts. “You know better than to interrupt me when I'm all 'fiened out. You're gonna ask me what is so sinisterly special about Wade and Mason, and I'm going to tell you. They were messed up bikers, who, five years ago were arrested in El Paso for an armed robbery at a gas station where the clerk was killed. It turns out they tried to torch the place, but the cops came and caught them.”

You can almost see her satisfied smile. Even Emily’s soured mood in light of your bad attitude seems to have lightened.

“Alright, can you send—“

“Stop it. Check your tablets. It's already there.”

Emily tips her head. “Can I ask a question now?”

“Definitely not, because that's not the kicker. Get this. Before he dropped out of high school and ran away, William Duke Mason spent his junior year in what New Mexico town?” There’s a pause. “Yes, you may talk now.”

“Las Vegas,” Aaron offers. You look at him and the corner of his mouth curls up just a tiny bit. It’s a check-in.

Are you alright? Really?

You nod a little bit.

Tired of the babysitting?

Your deep, measured breath tells him all he needs to know.

“Precisely! See, Mason's name was on that list of ex-cons, but it wasn't flagged because he's actually from Dallas, and high school records weren't part of my search parameters, you guys.”

“Garcia, where are Wade and Mason now?” Spencer asks.

“Oh, I can tell you that definitely. Wade is still in prison because he was the shooter in that robbery, but Mason was paroled last month.”

Emily nods. “Lewis and I will fly to Texas and talk to Wade. Let's put out an APB on Turner and Mason.”

+++

Dave sidles up to you, settling just off your shoulder. “You’re looking a little chartreuse there, kid.”

You shake your head once as if to clear it. Apparently, you’ve been caught staring wistfully at Montoya’s coffee mug. “I hope it’s not the nausea,” you reply, laughing a little. “I miss coffee.”

Dave snorts. “Well, there’s more than one thing in that cup you’re not allowed to have.”

“What?” Your brow crinkles. “What do you mean?”

“Nevermind,” he says, waving you off. “Just an observation.”

Aaron appears in the archway. “Hey. Ready for profile delivery?”

You and Dave scramble for a second, grabbing your notes. You follow Aaron out to the bullpen, where the officers have gathered in front of the evidence board. Spencer is already there, fussing with some thumbtacks while he waits for you to get settled.

You get started, identifying the William Duke Mason of the original attacks and giving brief physical descriptions of him.

Aaron picks up where you left off. “William Duke Mason's mother Violet moved here from Dallas after she married a rancher named Jeff Koldyke, who worked for the Romero property for a short time.”

“Don't remember any of them,” Chief Montoya says.

Spencer nods. “It's not surprising you don't remember Mason. As a teenager, he would have been withdrawn.”

“Especially because we think he hated it here,” you add. “He was already fatherless, and then he was uprooted and dragged to a new place where he had no friends. As a teenager, that can be traumatic and may somehow be a source of animosity towards the town itself.”

“Who's that guy?” One of the officers asks.

“His name is Ben Wade,” Spencer supplies. “We actually have reason to believe that he was involved in the Burger Corral murder six years ago.” He passes it off to Aaron again.

“Five years ago, Wade and Mason were arrested in Texas. So we know they were partners back then. Then in prison, they met Lester Turner. Turner gets released and a few months later Mason gets out. A partnership is born.”

You nod, picking up. “A lot of criminal ego in play. So we think they may have come back here in order to emulate the success they had with their old partnership.”

“They're methamphetamine users,” Spencer says, “so it's likely the limbic systems in their brains have been damaged. This is disconcerting, because it can dramatically alter behavior and give rise to a series of psychopathic tendencies and eventually turn into full-blown psychosis.”

He’s right. Even then, you have to point out, “The dynamic between Turner and Mason is rare, like two Alpha males co-existing.”

“A rift will grow between these two if it hasn't already,” Aaron adds. “In fact, we're counting on it. Hopefully, they'll make a mistake. Thank you.”

Montoya stands. “Alright. Let's get to it.”

A little rumble of affirmation ripples through the assembled officers as they disperse. You and Aaron head back into the conference room almost immediately, finding something to do in there.

“How did that go, you think?” You ask.

Aaron’s eyebrow lifts. “I think it went alright.” He glances over his shoulder. “I think Rossi has the rest covered.”

Your gaze follows his. “What do you mean?”

“I think….” Aaron’s chin tips as Chief Montoya turns to leave. “...We might have some light work for the EAP if he doesn’t follow Rossi’s advice.”

You snort. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was. I told Dave if he could take care of it one-on-one, we would wait to alert city council. Not sure if it’ll stick, but our first priority is these unsubs.”

“Agreed.”

+++

A little while later, one of the officers runs in with a note from dispatch. He passes it to Aaron. “We’ve got a report of a homicide and property crime on the outside of town. Two witnesses left behind. We’re starting the scene with a couple of patrol units, but I thought you guys might like to check it out.”

You read the details over Aaron’s shoulder. “Thank you, lieutenant. We’ll definitely want to check this out. Are there any more details on the witnesses?”

“Yes!” He says. “Caller said there was a man and his son.”

“Perfect.” You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. “Please let the Sergeant know that nobody is to interview the child until we arrive. Dr. Reid and I are trained in children’s forensic interviews. It could damage your case to take a statement without the training.”

He nods. “I’ll get right on that, ma’am.”

A hand on your shoulder stops you before you can get your coat. It’s Aaron.

There’s this indecipherable look on his face, one that you’ve seen a few times.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Just thinking about how lucky we are to have you on this team.”

“What did I do this time?”

“Nothing. I miss seeing you do your job.”

You reach out and he takes your hand. “Ready to go?”

He nods. “Yes, Agent Hotchner. Following your lead.”

+++

Spencer takes the lead on the forensic interview while you take notes. The witnesses are incredibly helpful.

Aaron wanders out of the gas station just as you finish up. “All the surveillance has been destroyed. What'd the father say?”

“There were two of them,” Spencer replies. “Both on motorcycles, both matching the descriptions of Turner and Mason.”

Aaron squints, looking off into the distance. “They let them live. I wonder why.”

You step up, checking your notes. “They said the one with the short hair just stood there pointing his weapon but never pulled the trigger.”

“That must have been Mason.”

“Apparently the other one wanted to shoot them, Mason wouldn't let him, they had a brief argument and then fled. But here's the thing - they've never left a survivor before.” You close your little notepad. “I think something between them must have changed. If they were arguing, it could mean the partnership's dissolving, exactly like we thought.”

“These guys are headed south, maybe Mexico,” Aaron says. “We should alert border patrol.”

+++

The ride back to the station is quiet enough after Aaron has finished all his phone calls. Spencer is nearly asleep, his head tipped back and eyes closed.

Aaron reaches across the console. You take his hand.

+++

Your written expert witness testimony is blurring before your eyes while you sit behind your laptop. You’ve said it before and you’ll say it again: court is the worst part of your job. It’s the mind-numbing desk work you’re not looking forward to in the spring.

“Agents.”

You look up, finding Chief Montoya in the doorway.

“Chief,” Dave says. “You're back.”

“I made some phone calls. One of my guys knows a girl who went to high school with Duke Mason. She said he used to date a girl named Tammy Vasquez. Even after they graduated, I guess he still would come around. Anyway, the rumor is he got her pregnant.”

“Is she still here?” You ask.

Montoya nods. “She sure is. Lives just outside of town.”

Spencer’s already on the phone. “Garcia, tell me everything you can about a Tammy Vasquez. She's from here in Las Vegas.” He puts her on speaker while she types away.

“Um... Tammy May Vasquez. She is a waitress at the Spic and Span Diner in New Mexico. She has a five-year-old son named Cole.” She pauses, clicking her tongue behind her teeth. “He's a cutie.”

“So, she must have gotten pregnant right around that first set of murders.,” Tara says.

“What can you tell us about Cole's father?” Dave asks.

“Absolutely nothing,” Penelope replies. “It says father unknown on the birth certificate.”

Your brow furrows. “What if Tammy is the reason Mason came back?”

“Send us an address, Penelope.” Spencer looks at Aaron. “We should talk to her.”

“Sent!”

“I can get you up there quick if you don't mind an escort.” Montoya offers.

“Yeah,” You reply. “That would be great. Let me call Emily while you guys get on the road.”

+++

Instead of fussing and getting shot down again, you take a seat at the table with the scanners while the rest of the team gets ready to roll.

You look up as Emily calls for Aaron. “Hey, Hotch. You’ll need a hand coordinating those roadblocks.” She tips her head toward you. “Get some fresh air. We’ll meet you back here when it’s over.”

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you get up and grab your things. Aaron almost hides a smile, but you’re better at catching them than the rest.

“Don’t look so smug,” you tell him. “It’s not like this was your idea.”

He shrugs, following you out to the door with his hands in his pockets.

+++

You reach the state highway and Aaron hits the gas. He’s always done that to make you smile, to watch your head press back into the seat out of the corner of his eye.

After he hits cruising speed, you turn your head to look at him. “You’re very handsome today.”

Aaron smiles, just the smallest upturn of his lips. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. It’s probably the sunglasses.”

“These?” He asks, tapping the frames. “If my memory serves, someone very smart and very beautiful bought them for me.”

You nod. Even though he’s not looking, you know he can see you. “I did. For your forty-fifth birthday, if my memory serves.”

“It does.” He reaches across the console and takes your hand, kissing the back of it without taking his eyes from the road.

The rest of the drive is quiet as he hums over the New Mexico highway.

+++

“I hear some praise is in order, Chief,” you say, walking back into the station. “Good shooting out there.”

He shrugs. “Thanks. Your people did the good work.”

“It’s a team effort,” you insist.

The conversation bounces around for a little while, but the wrap-up is pretty quick. You’re not quite sure what all happened when the chief took the afternoon to himself, but it seems to have paid off in spades.

Emily pulls you aside, her fingers glancing off your sleeve.

You cross your arms under your chest and tip your head, waiting and listening.

She just chuckles, brushing off the implication of your posture. “Don’t be so defensive. I just wanted to tell you that you did good work today and I’m happy we were able to find something safe for you to do outside of the precinct.” She reaches for you and you uncross your arms, letting your hand fall into hers. “How are you? Really?”

“Who am I talking to?”

“Your friend. Also, your supervisor, assessing morale.” The twist of her mouth tips you off to her sarcasm.

You sigh. “I’m frustrated. I don’t love feeling shut down all the time.”

“It would be easier to avoid shutting you down if you didn’t insist on volunteering for dangerous fieldwork.” It’s only half a joke.

She’s not wrong. It would be a lot easier if you swallowed your pride and stopped getting out of your chair.

The kicked puppy look doesn’t help, either.

“Right.” You tip your head. “I get it. It’s just…”

“- It’s an adjustment,” she finishes for you. “And I know it’s even harder to be grounded with JJ out and now Morgan.” Her hand is warm where it rests on your forearm. “I promise nobody expects any more or less of you than they did before.”

You cover her hand with your own. “Thanks, Em.”

“Of course.” Her lips curl up into a warm smile. Her eyes shift to something over your shoulder. With a squeeze of your arm, she lets you go.

You turn and find Aaron waiting behind you with your coat. You let him put it over your shoulders and wrap his arm around you.

“Ready to go?”

+++

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic #fem reader

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mrsmaybank · 3 years

Text

My Little Sun - Reid x Reader

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.” “So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

CONTENT WARNINGS: AGE GAP, VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY, STALKING, LANGUAGE probably the misuse of a Russian word IF THERES MORE LMK

A/N: Okay, let me be honest rq this idea lowk scared me but the words really just fell out of my brain really easily so, yk fuck it whatever. ANYWAY, if you like, please let me know!

pt 2, pt 3 “I love you Spencer.” The words immediately melted me.

“I know so many things.” She gave me an unapproving look.

“I don’t mean to sound cocky, but I do! Now for once in your life, listen to me.” She nodded her head in concession.

“I’ve just read more, I’ve written more, I’ve discovered and studied more than the average person. I could tell you a little bit about anything with one hundred percent certainty. I could--and want--to tell you the names of all the stars, I could recite verbatim the entirety of Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus or Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, which you know, speaking of I will ‘cause I still can’t believe you haven’t read it,” Her smile flattened into a straight line, and I laughed. “Orrr, I could also tell you something simple, like why we get the hiccups.” I shook my head.

“Regardless, I know so many things and I’m rarely taken by surprise because of it. Everything in life is a pattern of change, and as a human, we will always adjust and adapt to whatever situation we are in. For better or worse, we don’t feel the same thing for very long. This is why an addict takes a couple more every time, a sadist hits his second victim harder than the first, they’re searching for the high of the first time, and it will never come.”

She nodded in understanding,

“I know this is true, it’s factual, and yet every time I look at you it feels like the first. You’ve broken the laws of human psychology.”

“First time you saw me was at a gas station Spencer.”

“No. The first time I looked at you after I knew I loved you.”

“Where were we?”

“My car. You were dancing. You looked ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously sexy? You mean?” She smiled.

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.”

“So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”

“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin.

“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.”

“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled.

“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine.

“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine.

“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted.

I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.

“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss.

“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed.

“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.”

“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.” “You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic.

“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”

“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.”

“You are. So, so much smarter.”

“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest.

I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.”

“Whatever…”

I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?”

She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.”

I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Must you work?” I sent the message to Spencer as I rolled over to his side of the bed in anticipation. I breathed in heavy, liking the way the pillow smelled like his laundry.

“Unfortunately.” he responded. “Think you’ll be home this weekend?”

“It’s not looking like it, little one. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t reply. I was too sad to reply. I knew it’d make him feel guilty, which I didn’t want to do, cause like, his job and saving people and shit is important. But, it still wasn’t fair! At all. There was something very important I had to tell him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Total darkness, and then way too much light. My head hurt and I couldn’t move. I was handcuffed to a wooden chair. There were chains around my torso and ankles. The room was a medical sort of bright. It smelled like bleach and rotting fruit. The walls were dilapidated, seeming to be made of tiles that were once white, but have turned yellow.

What the FUCK?

“Hello!” I shouted. My voice was so coarse it hurt. Shit. My head pulsed so badly it practically hurt to think, but I still racked my brain.

Where am I?

How’d I get here?

Why am I here?

I woke up again. Fuck, why can’t I think? Why can’t I do anything?

“Hey, y/n.” A woman’s voice. A very stoic, cold, sounding female voice.

I’m not alone. Thank god, oh my god, I’m not alone.

With the little strength I had, I lifted my head to see her. She wasn’t what I thought. She was alright, she wasn’t tied. She did this to me?

She took a sip from her silver flask, “Do you know who I am?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Typical.” She stood up and grabbed me by the hair, “You fucking disgust me.” Like, she said, she threw my hair away like it disgusted her.

She sat back down on the bench in front of the chair I was chained to, “My name is Brook Austen. I was a professor at Georgetown last year. Taught a couple seminars at your school, that little university you go to, the students there were nothing like mine. Not nearly as intelligent, but as expected, Georgetown is much more prestigious, obviously.”

I was confused, and she knew, but did not care.

“You’re not the brightest, y/n. Only slightly above average high school grades, strikingly mediocre academic performance now.”

Where the hell is she going with this?

“And you know it doesn’t surprise me, per say, because every man on this goddamn planet is a piece of fucking shit! But I thought that, maybe, just maybe, Spencer was different.”

She grimaced, “I thought he’d want more than just a pretty face! ‘Cause you might be prettier y/n, but I’m smarter.” Her words were laced with utter hatred.

Her demeanor changed, and it almost started to seem like she was talking to herself. “I'm older. I’m more successful. I’m fucking better.”

She approached me again, grabbing my face so I was looking her in those scarily light green eyes, and she wrapped her hands around my throat. “I’m fucking better then you! Better, better, better!” Every time she said better she shook my neck and gripped tighter so I couldn’t breathe.

“Stop! Please! Please stop!” I shouted, “I’m-I’m pregnant!”

She began to break down, “You’re pregnant?” A maniacal chuckle left her throat, “You’re pregnant?”

“Is it Spencer’s?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Wow.” She laughed once more, “Fucking wow.”

“How could Spencer choose this!? You’re nothing like him. You are a pathetic fucking college student. A fucking daddy issue ridden slut! I’m a celebrated academic, just like him!” Tears began to slip from her eyes, “How could he not choose me?”

This woman is NOT well in the head.

“You--you like Spencer?” I asked.

“You don’t get to ask the fuckin’ questions here.” She pulled a knife out of her pocket and held it to the tip of my chin, “I do. So you’re gonna answer them.” Or, she started manically laughing, “I’ll kill you.” She swallowed, “And your baby.”

I screamed at those words, “No,” I sobbed, “NO!”

I turned my head away so I didn’t have to look at the woman in front of me, there was a timed red dot blinking. A camera.

“Is that-- is that a camera?”

She nodded, “I want Spencer to see you and his child die.”

“He….No! No, please, No!” I choked on a sob and she smiled.

“He doesn’t know.” She paced, “He doesn’t even fucking know!”

She waltzed over to the camera and brought it closer to us, “Hey Spencer.” She began waving, “Hey Penelope. Aaron. Derek. Jennifer. Emily.”

Her demeanor changed once more, into that of a cheerleader of all things, “So, quick recap.” Brook pursed her lips, “Spencer your twenty three year old fucktoy is pregnant. Congrats!”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N was two things I didn’t know she was this morning: In serious danger, and the mother of my expected child. I felt frozen in trepidation.

We all watched in horror as Brook greeted us. All by first name. She knew exactly what she was doing and it freaked me out even more.

“Reid, you need to step out.” Hotch grabbed my shoulder, “Now.”

I was sick with fear and ill with rage. I sat down because I could feel my knees go weak. Hotch started again, “We know who she is. We will find her. Y/N will be alright.” He paused, “So will the baby.”

I replayed the events of the live footage in my head, her screams of pain and terror, her trembles and confusion. I’d failed her. I’d failed her and now I knew I’d also failed our child.

JJ sat down next to me, “Spencer, when did you meet Brook?”

“I uh,” I wiped my face, “A year and four months ago. I did uh, I taught uh, I taught a string of seminars at Georgetown. It was biweekly. Her office was next to mine. We spoke for the first time when she offered me a coffee.”

“What did you say?”

“What do you think I said?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I said yeah, I fucking like coffee.” I felt instantaneously guilty for cursing, and especially at JJ but I was too frazzled for it to last long enough to apologize.

“I know Spence, I’m sorry. Just keep going.”

“Then, the next week, we got lunch together.”

“Was it, you know, friendly?”

“What are you implying Jennifer?” I snapped.

“No Spence, we just need to know. You know that.”

“It was-- it was just lunch. A very normal colleague to colleague lunch. We talked about the school’s history. And uh, where we grew up. It was small talk.”

“Ok, was this the last time you spoke to her?”

“No. There was one more time. Y/N was there.”

“Tell me about it Spence.” She grabbed my hand,

I breathed out, “It was the next week I taught after lunch. About two hours before my class. I was lesson planning, and Y/N was doing homework on my desk. She came in. She asked if I wanted to go get lunch. She saw y/n and--Fuck.”

“What Spence? What?”

“She asked me who she was, but it was like, she didn’t want y/n to know she was asking. She thought she was…”

“She thought she was what?”

“A student.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“The truth. That she was my girlfriend.”

“Did you see her anywhere else after that?”

“No. She never came by my office again. When I would see her by chance, she would scurry away. It was strange.”

“Think really hard Spence. Did you ever see her again after you stopped teaching at Georgetown.”

I racked my brain, “Yeah. I did. It was two months ago. Three days after I proposed to y/n. She was getting a coffee at this coffee shop by y/n’s school.. I was bringing her some lunch”

“Spencer she's been stalking you. Your proposal was the stressor.”

“But--I’m a profiler. I would’ve noticed.” I stood up with a realization. “What Spence?” JJ asked, standing up as well to look at me.

“She’s been stalking her, not me. She knew I was a part of the BAU, she knew I would’ve noticed.”

“I’ll tell the team.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N2: If this doesn’t totally flop, I’ll write PT 2, that elaborates on the reader’s and Spencer’s relationship. I think through flashbacks from both Y/N and Spencer would be a cool way to explore their relationship and of course the whole reader being kidnapped thing plot could develop. Again, if you enjoyed this pls let me know!!

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toriwakes · 3 years

Text

Pretty Boy 187 [s.r x reader]

summary: reader finds out that her new found tumblr crush is none other than her coworker.

content warnings: she/her!reader, mentions of alcohol

a/n: hi!! i’m so happy to be posting again. i’m really proud of this, so i hope you all like it! as always, let me know if you have any requests!

convincing spencer to get tumblr was tough. not only did he hate technology, he didn’t like social media either.

“it’s gonna be fun! c’mon, please?” you’ve been bugging him about it for about a week. “spencer, please just download it. if i have to hear (y/n) whine again i’m gonna loose it.” said derek, plopping is papers on his desk. “you like it when i whine.” you teased, causing derek to flash you a toothy grin. “alright! jeez.” you clapped of joy and jumped to help spencer, but he stopped you. “no way, i’m not letting you follow me.” he kept his phone facing away from you, your arms dropping to your sides in defeat. “fine. i’ll find your account somehow.” “we’ll see about that.”

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

over the next few weeks you acquired a few new followers, only one catching your eye. ‘prettyboy187’ followed you on a quiet friday afternoon. the username caught your attention at first, but when you checked is profile? that’s when you were hooked. half of his pictures were just aesthetically pleasing: outside of his window, his extreme sugary coffee, some books. but others...

it was an excerpt of a poem and his hand was holding back the pages. you doubt he meant to capture it so beautifully. just his hand was godly. you wasted no time dming him.

hey :)

how desperate did you look right now? he followed you barley an hour ago. you cant stop staring at that picture.

hello

he didn’t sound happy. well, he didn’t “sound” anything, you guys were texting. but you could feel his tone through the screen. where you overthinking this too much? you shuffled into your bed, wrapping yourself in the covers as you pondered what to say next.

i just wanted to tell you i really like your account. are you a photographer or something?

no, i’m not. my friend convinced me to get this app and i noticed people post aesthetically pleasing photos on here, so i’m just doing the same haha.

ok, well you don’t post nice pictures. at least, not that type. maybe you’d post a picture of the snow or your bed, but every now and then you’d bless the feed with a picture of you in a swimsuit. it was more for opinions on the suit than anything else.

ohh. maybe i should start doing that.

how do you mean?

oh.

that sounded like a very judge-y ‘oh’. your eyes scanned your own profile to see what he could’ve hated. there was you in your favorite red swimsuit, a picture of your computer with netflix on the screen. the rest of the posts were of the same type, so you couldn’t pinpoint what the problem was.

what is it?

no, nothing. your recent picture. that’s a nice swim suit.

oh. that’s what he meant. you practically threw your phone across the room and squealed. thank the universe that he didn’t dislike you already. you shot him another text. just like that, you had your first ever tumblr crush.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

“what’s up with you pretty girl?” derek asked when you walked into work. you supposed you still had the blush on your face when pretty boy wished you a good morning and day at work. “nothing!” you said, obviously it being something. as if on cue, spencer walked in behind you also giddy. “what, you’re both sweet on someone now?” when neither of you responded, derek laughed. “what?” emily inquired, taking her seat. “spencer and (y/n) both have a crush.” emily’s jaw dropped. “spencer has a crush?” everyone broke into laughter, jj overhearing and almost dropping her files. “why is that so surprising?” spencer defended himself, derek giving him a ‘you know the answer to that’ look. “well?what’re their names?” he pushed. you bit your tongue. you didn’t even know his name. yikes. “let’s start.” aaron called. saved by hotch. thank goodness. “this ain’t over.” derek warned the two of you. yes it was. by the end of the day morgan would’ve forgotten all about this.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

you were right like always. morgan didn’t ask anymore about it, instead offering to get drinks. you turned it down, desperate to get home and text your boy. and you did, only at 11pm.

hey, sorry it’s so late. had a long day at work.

no worries, so did i. listen, i have a question.

this boy only sent messages that would make your heart drop. with a pacing heart, you texted back.

yes?

his ‘online’ button flashes on. then he was typing. then he was deleting. it seemed like hours before he responded.

what’s your name?

godamnit. you didnt have a display name because you didn’t want anyone you knew finding your account. what’s a fake name you can use? maybe...

lila.

why did you pick spencer’s ex’s name? you don’t know. you remember being insanely jealous of her because she got to kiss spencer in the pool while you were posted outside. your crush on spencer was still very much alive, but not as much as it was with pretty boy.

that’s a pretty name.

thanks. now you have to tell me yours ;)

you’ve never been so nervous for a text conversation in your life. for some reason, the back of your head wondered what it would be like if you were texting spencer. it was just a thought, though. spencer would never say half of this stuff.

call me morgan.

oh NO. please no... you stalked his profile again, terrified that you’ve been flirting with your coworker this past month. alas, your eye caught another body picture- this time of his arm. no tattoos like derek. not to mention he was much smaller. not that that’s a bad thing. you don’t think you’d ever be able to handle derek...

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

you arrived at work yet again with a blushing face. “come on, you can’t keep hiding this from me! tell me something at least!” derek whined. “okay! his name is morgan. and i know what you’re thinking, and no, it’s not you, my boy is much more attractive.” derek’s mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape in fake offense. “that’s damn near impossible. ain’t nobody prettier than derek morgan.” spencer walked in now, again with a dorky smile on his face. “spencer. (y/n)’s got a crush on-“ you jumped to cover his mouth, the sound of your crush’s name muffled. “what- hey! no fair! derek gets to know but i cant?” spencer whined. derek held his hands up and sat back down, not wanting to get you mad. smart. “three can’t keep a secret.” was all you said before sitting down to clean your workspace.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

the new highlight of your day was texting morgan. you learned several things about him; he has a job he can’t specify for personal reasons, he really wants a dog but he feels like animals hate him. you told him about your cat joel, and how they could absolutely love him. he appreciated that.

if i tell you something, do you promise not to freak out?

depends. are you about to tell me you’re a serial killer?

no!

you giggled to yourself at your humor.

i wanna meet you.

you promised not to freak out, but you were freaking out. it was just now setting in that you didn’t know this man at all. where he lived, how old he was, even what he looked like. you took a few deep breaths and asked a question.

where do you live?

quantico virginia.

no hesitation on that one. he lived in the same town as you? you didn’t know how you’d be able to turn this down...

shit, me too. let’s meet up then.

i’ll send you a good place to get drinks.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

“every time you walk in here, you’re blushing. now so are your ears.” you beamed at derek, sitting at your desk before spilling. “i’m gonna meet him.” “wait what? are you sure that’s safe?” you rolled your eyes. “i’m an fbi agent. i’m not scared of a little danger.” you playfully winked and derek blew out a huff of air. “if anything happens, you know you can call me.” you pouted at your friend and nodded, appreciating his concern. spencer was spinning in his seat. “you happy too?” you asked. he only nodded and didn’t elaborate. you we’re going to press on, but hotch called you all in and you lost your chance.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

on rare occasions, the bau got tough cases with very happy endings. this was one of those cases. the plane ride home was extremely joyous and derek offered to get drinks again. this time, everyone accepted (all except hotch). you texted morgan telling him you were going out tonight and you wouldn’t be back till late. you laughed to yourself. it was like he was your boyfriend.

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the night was young and you were fairly tipsy. ok that’s generous, you were drunk. you were spending most of your time with penelope and it took you a minute to remember spencer. “ohmygosh! spence!” he was startled at your presence but he gave you that flat mouthed smile of his. “how are you! you’re my favorite scorpio.” you nodded as you said it, as if trying to convince him it was true. “thanks? i’m good. you’re drunk.” he pointed out. “no shit. hey!!! you never showed me your tumblr user! you gotta show me that girl you like, bet you she’s really sexy.” you didn’t even know what you were saying at this point, whipping out your phone and snapping a picture with spencer. “what are you doing?” he asked, watching you type. “posting this on tumblr! i want everyone to know you’re my favorite in the world.” he wanted to ask favorite what, but a ping on his phone distracted him. lila posted. he smiled and checked her page.

holy fuck.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

“(y/n)?” he asked, not looking away from his phone. “yess?” you responded. “what’s your tumblr?” what is your tumblr? “uhhh..i don’t know, check.” you tossed him your open phone, and his eyes only grew wider. “you’re lila?” the words rang through your ears like a siren. “what?” the word was breathy, you couldn’t add stability to what you said. spencer showed you his phone, ‘prettyboy187’ on the screen. “you’re morgan?” still no confidence in your voice whatsoever. your feelings were supposed to change, you weren’t supposed to like that morgan was spencer. but they didn’t. you didn’t even think about the fact he saw your swimsuit photos. you loved that morgan was spencer, and you still wanted to see him on the weekend. “are you mad?” you asked, not being able to stop yourself from sipping from your glass. “no. should i be?” you smiled. “no. do you still wanna meet up this weekend?” “yes. but i don’t wanna get drinks.” he wasn’t even drinking, why is he complaining. “where should we go then?” “my house.”

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #ssa spencer reid #ssa reid #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds

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imaginesandinserts · 3 years

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Irreverent Pt. 46 - Salve

Title: Irreverent Pt. 46 - Salve Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~10K

A/N: Flashback Chapter set between Chapter 14: Superheroes and Chapter 15: Foyet.

Irreverent Series Masterlist

The bar was thrumming with activity and the energy that accompanies people who've all had a long, hard day at work and would like to do nothing besides forget. The team had gotten back from a case in the evening, and with only Friday separating them and the weekend, had all decided to head out for a night of drinking.

You look around, your hands wrapped around a glass of scotch - Derek, Penelope, and Emily were dancing in the makeshift dancing area, JJ was playing darts with some guys, Spencer was cheating people out of their money at a game of pool, and Rossi had long ago excused himself to go sit by some woman at the bar. You'd be dancing too, but the unsub had gotten the jump on you during the takedown and you'd been nursing a sprained ankle ever since. Hotch had stayed with you - whether it was simply to keep you company or because none of the other activities appealed to him, you're unsure. Likely the former - he was pretty good at darts too.

He's sitting across from you in the booth, a glass of scotch in his hand as well. He doesn't make a face when he drinks it, which you have to admire - it was such a man thing. You only drank liquor to get drunk and had been surprised with the drink by Rossi, who had insisted that you needed to drink something stronger than a glass of wine after the day you'd had. You take another hesitant sip from your glass, trying hard not to give away how little you like it. He could've ordered you a mixed drink - something sweet so you didn't taste just pure alcohol.

"What've you got going on this weekend?" you ask Hotch. The case had been miserable all around and you wanted to talk about anything but that.

He looks up at you, the faint hint of a smile on his face. "Haley and I worked it out so that I can have Jack the entire weekend. I'll have to think of something to keep him occupied."

You knew that Hotch would be content to do nothing as long as it was with Jack, but he liked to make the most of their time together and did his best to plan things out that Jack would like. "I saw a poster that said the Air and Space Museum has some special exhibit on this month. It looked interesting." You knew Jack would enjoy that - his latest toy was a rocketship that went everywhere with him.

"Saturday?" he asks, eyebrow quirked up in question.

"Make it 11, and you've got a deal," you tell him, with a small smile. "I am no longer entertaining plans at 9am."

He lets out a slight huff. "If you just went to bed at a normal hour it wouldn't be that hard to wake up in the morning."

This was an old argument with the two of you. Hotch insisted on always being the first in line to any ticketed event. He hated waiting - he'd start to fidget and get annoyed and keep leaving the line to walk to the front and see what was taking so long.

"Take it or leave it." You were sticking your ground. He could use the lie in too, he'd just never admit it.

"We'll pick you up," he says, bringing his glass to his mouth and taking another sip, eyes meeting yours from above the rim.

It was interesting how you and Hotch had settled into this routine of constantly doing things with Jack. You reckon he likes having another adult around when he's out with Jack - it definitely made things easier to keep a little kid entertained. You'd once mentioned to Emily that you were having dinner with him and Jack and she'd looked at you a little oddly, saying that she'd been on the team forever and had never once had dinner with her boss and his kid. You'd responded by telling her that she probably wouldn't enjoy it all too much - Emily liked kids just fine, but her and Hotch tend to get on one another's nerves a bit after a while. They were far too different even if they did work well together. Hotch would try and fail at limiting her to two glasses of wine with dinner and she'd annoy him by just putting the dishes straight into the dishwasher without caring how she did it.

"Someone sent this over for you." You turn to see the waitress place a drink at your table, and indicate towards a man in a wrinkled suit, seated at the bar, who waves at you.

You can feel your face turn into a grimace as the waitress looks at you expectantly. You avoid looking at Hotch across the way. You didn't need to see his reaction. "Would you mind telling him thanks, but, no thanks for me?" you ask her apologetically.

She nods understandingly, taking the drink back and walking towards the bar.

You turn to look at Hotch, completely exasperated. It was nice. It was a nice gesture - sending a girl a drink. Friendly. Yet, you're just a little at your wit's end lately when it comes to men. It all just feels superficial.

Hotch can read you pretty well by now, so he asks if you're alright.

You look at his concerned face. You know why - usually you don't mind this sort of thing. Hell, you pretty much encourage it with the way you act, flirting with nearly everyone simply because you can. It's like a sport to you.

"Are you asking as my boss or as my friend?" you ask him, eyes cast down towards your drink, following patterns in the wood of the table.

"Friend," he says, adjusting to lean in a bit more towards you.

Sighing, you shift a bit, dropping your leg from where you'd been keeping it elevated next to him. "Lately, I just feel like I can't get guys to see me. Like every guy I meet, they either want to date me or kill me," you tell him, referring to your job. "But beyond that, it's like I don't even matter."

Hotch nods understandingly at your frustration, his face a grimace at your explanation. He's unable to deny that that is very much the case when it comes to women quite often - especially in your line of work. You're all far too aware of the horrors of dating, being called in on numerous cases on dating gone wrong. "Aren't you still seeing that guy - Kensington?" he asks with a slight uptick of his jaw.

"Well, if you can call seeing someone six times over the course of about an equal number of months, then yes I suppose so," you scoff lightly. "Twice we got called in on cases halfway, once he got interrupted by a work emergency, and then most recently I accompanied him to an event at which most of the other dates were the kind that demand a retainer in exchange for services rendered," you say, alluding to the super model types you'd kept company at Cedric's business event a couple of weeks back. You could fit into his world quite easily, but you didn't want to. You'd left that behind for a reason.

Hotch chuckles slightly at that, amused at your tone and manner in which you referred to women who were essentially either escorts or sugar babies. You didn't really fit that mold - of that he was quite certain. For one, you definitely didn't need the money.

"Don't get me wrong, I actually do like him. We get one another and our background and upbringing is similar enough. He makes me laugh. However our schedules - both of ours - are highly unconducive to dating and in his line of business he needs a girlfriend who can leave everything at the drop of a hat to stand by his side."

"So unless you leave your job or he leaves his, it won't work out," Hotch finishes your thought for you, a resigned expression on his face in commiseration.

"Exactly. Which is a shame because he's actually one of the good ones. He's rich but not pompous, educated and intelligent without being condescending about it, and actually shows genuine interest in me and my job. Believe it or not, as basic as those things might seem, they are actually difficult to find all in one man."

He hums. "I can imagine," he says, taking another sip of his drink, a slightly amused expression on his face. You rarely talked to him about your dating life so he was actually very interested in this insight. He wonders briefly if there's any significance to you having listed the fact that Kensington was wealthy before any of his other qualities. From what he knows of you, he doubts you'd truly care if your partner had money or not. More than likely it merely helped establish a commonality, nothing more. However, from what he does know of the men you've dated recently, they all appear to be quite well off nonetheless.

"Anyways, all that is to say that I'm not exactly looking to entertain complete strangers in bars at the moment. I don't trust my luck."

"Probably for the best, anyways," Hotch comments, appraising the crowd at the bar. There really didn't appear to be anyone worth talking to - especially none of your caliber, per his judgement.

"What about you? How's the post divorce dating scene?" you question, feeling a little bolder than you usually might, since the two of you are already discussing the matter. Turnabout was fair play.

He's a little surprised at your forwardness. You tend to do your best to not meddle in his personal business, despite the amount of time you two spend together. He believes it's your way of maintaining some modicum of professionalism to your outings. Your conversations tend to revolve around cases, your classes from college, an article in the newspaper, or the ever present game the two of you like to play of profiling complete strangers walking by. He says its to hone your skills, but really he just enjoys how invested you get - how competitive and passionate, color rising in your cheeks as you defend your assessment, annoyance tinging your tone as you disagree with him, admiration when he notes something you hadn't, and pride when he praises your observations, your cheeks flushed a prettier pink and your eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

"I wouldn't know," he discloses, a slight flush in his cheeks. He hadn't dated at all since the divorce. He hadn't had the time and he hadn't really had interest in anyone. Not when you exist, so overtly present in his day to day life. He knows he's - in some capacity - using the outings with you and Jack as the closest thing he's got to dating again. Not to say that it was that - dating. However the fact that his weekends were typically filled by you and his son made it so he wasn't exactly left wanting.

Your eyes widen a little in surprise. Their divorce had been a while back now - you knew for a fact that Haley was dating, having ran into her with some man when you'd offered to drop Jack off for Hotch when you all got called in on a case last minute. You hadn't mentioned it to him, but you're sure he knew as well. "You're joking. Really? No one?"

"You might recall, I got divorced because I didn't have the time for my existing relationship. A new one requires quite a bit more attention than that," he says dryly, self deprecation dripping from every word.

You hum, narrowing your eyes at him as you stir your drink with the toothpick it came with, spearing the cherry inside and popping it into your mouth.

"You should just go for it next time we're in some whatever town. Every female detective we've encountered constantly gets all moony eyed around you," you inform him matter-of-factly. They're all so obvious too, eyes always drawn to his ring finger in search of a wedding band, and upon finding it empty, hanging onto his every word. Flicking their hair and fluttering their lashes at him, keen on proving themselves to be competent by sticking their noses into the profile.

"That's hardly true," he contradicts, shaking his head, the color in his cheeks having creeped down his neck.

You chuckle at that. "Maybe you're not as good of a profiler as you think you are."

He glares at you, however the lightheartedness remains in his eyes so you know you're in the clear for your jab.

"Anyways, all I'm saying is, whenever you decide to get back on that proverbial horse, I think you won't find a shortage of options," you tell him kindly. After all, Hotch worked harder than any of you. He deserved to find happiness again.

He rolls his eyes at your statement ever so slightly. His right hand was a much less complicated and demanding lover for the time being - he was making do just fine.

"So, on to the next for you then?" he asks, attempting to divert attention back to you and your existent dating life rather than him and his non-existent one.

You shake your head, a humorless smile appearing on your face as you start to feel just slightly light headed from the alcohol. Maybe accepting random pain killers from Emily hadn't been quite the right move. "Nah," you mumble into your drink. "Cedric can stay, if only because I don't have an actual good reason to end it yet. Besides him, the other two on the back burner are quickly losing what little appeal they held to begin with. I might actually take a break."

Hotch smiles as if he doesn't quite believe you're capable of actually taking a break. Your reputation for never being without a date far preceded you.

Truth be told, at first it was simply easier to always be dating someone in the aftermath of the John wreckage. If you could constantly keep yourself occupied and distracted in that area, while you actually gave turning straight a fair shot, then maybe you'd make it through instead of going crawling back to his bed. Maybe you'd stop seeing his broken face when you told him you couldn't be with him. Maybe the memory of leaving him standing alone in front of that tattoo parlor in the Village wouldn't cause your heart to ache and rebel against your own actions. Maybe. Just maybe.

Now, the pain of Julian's death and the subsequent fallout with your family was merely hurtful when you chose to think of it or were reminded of it inadvertently It was no longer ever present. That seemed like progress. Like somehow despite everything - the pain and torture you'd inflicted upon both you and John had somehow been worth it if it meant you could go to sleep without thinking of Julian. Wake up without your father's face looming ever present in your mind.

You and Hotch look up when you see the rest of the team approaching the table one by one as the night drew to a close. It was last call and about time to head home so you could all have a hope of making an appearance at the office the next day.

"You want a ride home?" Hotch asks you, noticing your slight struggle to get out of the booth.

"It's totally out of your way," you protest, yanking your coat on and fishing for your keys in your pocket.

"I insist, come on. You can't drive properly with that sprain right now. He walks towards you and placing his hand at your lower back, guides you out of the bar behind the rest of the team. "Your car should be fine and we can grab it in the morning."

You know he's right, so you allow yourself to lean against him ever so much more, letting him help you out to his car. Hotch helps you in and closes the door behind you, before walking around to the driver's side. You take control of the music, plugging in your phone, intent on introducing him to more modern music. The two of you made it through seven Top 50 songs on the drive to your place, Hotch complaining throughout and not finding anything redeemable in any of the songs you'd chosen.

Aaron looked over at you as he neared your house, your head moving along to the music and your fingers dancing across your thighs to the tune, a large grin plastered on your voice as you tried to convince him that this this one he surely had to enjoy. He actually didn't mind most of the music you picked out to introduce him to - you didn't just pick anything, you always did your best to pick something you thought he'd truly enjoy. However, he worried that if he started to openly like any of them, you might stop trying so hard.

He pulled into your driveway and walked around to help you out of the car, lending you a hand along the path and up the steps to your door. He stands on the lower step as you unlock the door, before you turn around to tell him goodbye. When you turn, you're almost at his height due to the different steps you two are stood upon and you're not quite sure what compels you, but you reach for him and lean in to a hug, tucking your head onto his shoulder. If he's surprised he doesn't react as such, wrapping his arms around you as well briefly.

"Thanks Hotch."

"I'll pick you up at 8:30AM tomorrow. Is that alright?"

"Sounds good. I'll be the one standing right here, holding the cups of coffee."

He smiles, rolling his eyes just slightly, before turning around and walking away.

*------------*

He first becomes aware of only pain. A piercing, stabbing pain that he can feel everywhere, centered around the abdominal area. He can't move, everything feels heavy. Opening his eyes is a struggle and he manages to only open his eyes a fraction, before being forced to close them tight again. It was bright. White and too bright for his sensitive eyes.

He's slowly starting to realize where he is - becoming increasingly aware of the pain and the bandages, the needle connecting an I.V. to his arm - he's in a hospital. He tries to remember what happened - he'd dropped you off, waited until you made it inside and waved him off, before leaving. He'd gotten back to his apartment. It had been quiet. Eerily quiet. Then Foyet was there. After that all he recalls is pain and Foyet's voice - over and over and over.

Do I seem impotent now?

You should've made the deal.

This will never be over.

Aaron finds it too difficult to keep his eyes open and closes them once again, slipping under.

The next time he wakes, a technician was present and the girl quickly hurried out when she noticed him move.

Once the nurses became aware that he was conscious, it had been a flurry of activity - doctors and technicians in and out to ensure he was alright and to up the pain medication. Some talk about internal bleeding and nine stab wounds to which he'd simply nodded along. He tried to ask for Dave - someone who could make sense of all of this. They told him no visitors yet, but that family had been informed.

Once Dave enters, that's when he finds out everything. Foyet had dumped him outside the hospital. After he hadn't shown up to pick you up that morning, you'd raised the alarm and Garcia had tracked him down. Nothing was missing from his apartment from what they could tell, despite the mess. The only thing left out was his address book. Dave had it with him and Aaron looks through it, going immediately to the one page that mattered. It wasn't there.

Haley Brooks.

Rossi had sent you to go get Haley since the Marshalls were getting ready for her. You'd left Jack with JJ, assuring him that you'd be right back. He'd already seen his father and you'd watched from a distance as Hotch had adjusted to sit up, insistent on not letting his son see him as anything but alright, even in the context of a hospital bed. Haley had been with them and you watched as her eyes flitted from Hotch to Jack - fear for her son and what he might have to go through, due to his father's job, her main concern. She was worried for Hotch too, of course. She must be. However, their initial interaction that you'd witnessed hadn't been quite how you'd expect a wife to react to her husband being in a hospital. Though, you suppose, she wasn't really his wife anymore. Not that it mattered to him - you're pretty sure in his eyes, she might as well still be.

You approach, and you can hear Hotch and Haley in conversation about what's going to happen next. Foyet had taken only the page in his address book with her name on it, so his intentions were perfectly clear. Haley and Jack were being targeted by a serial killer. That meant they needed to be protected, and you knew that Hotch would have to break it to her.

"Do you know where they're taking us?" Haley asks. You can hear the uncertainty in her voice. You wait outside, trying not to eavesdrop but it was impossible not to overhear.

"No I don't. And that's the point. I can't know where you're going. If you have any contact with anyone, then he could track you."

"Jack has school, Aaron. He has friends. I have a job now." Her voice is accusing and you want to tell her that none of that matters right now. The only thing that matters is the two of them being safe.

"I know. And I'm sorry. We will catch him. And you'll come back, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you." Hotch's voice comes out low and you can hear the anguish caught in his throat as he speaks to the mother of his child - telling her to take their son and go. Breaking his own heart in the process by keeping Jack away from him. Knowing that that is exactly what Foyet wants. Wants him to suffer.

"Are you sure that we're in danger?" she asks, her voice suggesting that maybe he was overreacting. You feel a surge of anger course through you at that. For her to even suggest that he was overreacting when he was laid up in a hospital bed with multiple stab wounds was simply…you didn't have the words. He wouldn't make her go through this over nothing!

"Yes."

You decide to intervene then. Before she can question it further and agitate him more. He needed to rest. You knock quickly, alerting them both to your presence. "Haley, the Marshalls are ready for you."

She nods and grabs Hotch's hand. You avert your eyes to give them their privacy as Hotch tells her to be brave and strong. He'll see her and Jack after she's met with them.

Haley walks towards you and you point her to the tall female agent standing at the end of the ICU doors, wearing non-descript clothing in order to not garner too much attention. She nods and looks at you, and you see a hint of something pass through her eyes, like she wants to speak, but then seems to think better of it and walks towards the direction you'd pointed her in.

You watch her go, before turning to Hotch. His eyes followed her until she disappeared around the corner, and then he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. You hesitate for a second, before walking in. Your presence wouldn't be missed for a few minutes, you hope, so you walk towards the bed and take a seat in the chair to his left, waiting until he decides to look at you.

"How're you feeling?" His face is turned towards you as though he's partially surprised you're even there at all. You wonder if he would've preferred you have left him alone instead.

"They're got me some pretty strong meds," he tells you, indicating towards the I.V. drip connected to his arm.

You lean over and read the chart hanging from the side of the bed, eyes glancing over it. "They got you on all of the good stuff - Hydromorphone will get the job done for sure." You try to smile but you know it won't reach your eyes right now.

"How long did it take you to sound the alarm?"

You shift, tilting the chair to look at him better, your teeth worrying your bottom lip and eyes narrowed, trying to work out why he'd ask that. The smell of a hospital was starting to get to you a bit - that odd smell that feels like despair and cleaning supplies. "Ten minutes. At 8:35, I called your cell and you didn't pick up. I called again at 8:36 and 8:37 and 8:38. At 8:39 I told myself I was acting crazy and that the weird feeling I had wasn't anything really. I just needed some breakfast. At 8:40, I called Penelope and had her track you down." You remembered the ten minutes of pure panic you'd gone through when he hadn't been outside at exactly 8:30AM. With anyone else, it wouldn't be a cause for concern. With Hotch, you'd expected him to be there at 8:25AM and so you'd been ready to go by 8:15AM with a travel mug of coffee for the both of you in each hand. He also always texted you when he left his place to come to yours and you hadn't gotten an ETA text that morning. Maybe that's what had originally put you on edge.

He looks at you, an odd look on his face at your explanation as if he's trying to decide what to make of it - the entirely detailed and rambling explanation he got from you, likely catching him off guard a bit. Great, he thinks I'm insane.

A small smile makes its way to his face however, and you're glad he's still capable of that, despite everything. You haven't yet looked down at his bandages. Foyet had stabbed him nine times. You'd seen the notes that Rossi had taken - what Foyet had said to Hotch as he stabbed him. Talking about how Hotch has profiled him as being impotent. The mere act of stabbing Hotch while taunting him with that particular piece of the profile -it filled your stomach with churning acid. It was the closest to sexual assault that Foyet could inflict upon Hotch and you're trying hard not to think about the emotional and mental ramifications of it all for him. The physical was one thing - that's something that people can move past with time. The violation of one's home and one's body however - the toll that takes on ones being and sense of self - that's much more difficult to bury.

Just to even think that he was exaggerating - you're mad all over again at Haley. You shouldn't be. You know that isn't fair at all. She was having her whole life upended. And yet…he was the one in a hospital bed and you're having a hard time recalling her seeming at all concerned for him. She must've been, of course. But…he didn't deserve to be made to feel like shit because of it. It wasn't his fault. Knowing him, he really would spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

You avert your eyes to stare at the wheels at the bottom of the bed. They'd wheeled him, unconscious, past you when you'd first arrived at the hospital, not bothering to go into the office and instead arriving straight from your place via a cab. You'd been the first one there, having Garcia call the rest of the team. You'd called Rossi so that he could be the one to call Haley. He'd known her longer. You'd limped your way into the ICU, bypassing every single security check with a flash of your badge.

Pointless really. They wouldn't let you see him. Family first. You had to wait for Haley and Rossi to arrive - they were his emergency contacts. You briefly wondered if that was because he'd never bothered to update it after the divorce or if that was truly still the case - if she would be the person he'd want to have during an emergency.

"Can I say something?" Your voice comes out small and hesitant. He hadn't said anything in the wake of your explanation earlier.

He nods, looking at you curiously.

You wet your lips, clearing your throat a bit and sitting up straighter. It's not your place, and yet.. someone should say it. Someone should tell him.

"Sometimes, when we love people, we allow them to hurt us. We allow them to ignore our pain in favor of elevating their own. We allow them to bypass our feelings and our needs because we believe we aren't as worthy of having what we need acknowledged. I get why, of course. Especially right now, but.." You trail off, not knowing how to finish what you'd started in a way that didn't complete overstep the boundaries that you'd already crossed. He'd know you had heard. He didn't need to know that right now, you didn't exactly love his ex wife. You liked her just fine. But right then, you didn't appreciate how she'd treated him.

Hotch looks at you, breath caught by your words. He hadn't realized you'd overheard the conversation between him and Haley. There could be no other reason for you to be saying all of that. You'd said it all softly, hesitantly, knowing you were crossing some sort of line and yet you'd still said it because you felt he needed to hear it. We love.. We allow… We believe… You were speaking from some amount of personal experience. Your first question to him had been about how he was doing - unlike both Rossi and Prentiss who had asked him what happened. He's not sure why the distinction matters, yet it does.

Haley was right too, however. He can't be upset with her. This was all his fault. He hadn't made a deal with Foyet and now his family - his son - their lives were being upended. Haley had already put up with a lot during their marriage. The divorce should've meant that she no longer had to bear the consequences of his job. He can't help but feel guilty for that - for putting her in this situation. Especially when he's so overtly aware that he could've kept it from happening.

He watches as you sit in that chair, eyeing him apprehensively, chewing on your bottom lip. You care. He can tell you care. You care so overwhelmingly that it's hard to deny it. Sometimes he wishes you didn't. It would make things a lot easier on him if he could think that he felt something for someone that didn't even think about him - that he never crossed your mind even. However, there's far too much proof to the contrary. So instead he has to live with knowing that you care about him, that you think of him, that you likely - in some capacity - love him. The way one might love a friend or a mentor. Somehow that's worse because he has to then deal with you saying stuff like this. Things that make it seem like only you care.

He doesn't know what to say and he can feel tears forming that he's quick to blink away, hoping you hadn't noticed. He swallows and just nods, not trusting himself to say much of anything that didn't involve asking you to stay - possibly forever, because for the first time since he'd woken up in the hospital, he feels seen.

You try to smile and change the subject, fill him in on the Marshalls' plan with Haley and Jack. Offer to get him ice chips or some food that wasn't from the hospital cafeteria. He notices how at ease you seem in the hospital, and comes to the conclusion that maybe a family member had spent some time in one. You seem to know which nurses to talk to in order to get whatever you needed. You watch like a hawk when they come to do anything with his medications. He's pretty certain you would've slept there overnight had Rossi not asked you to help Morgan with something on the ongoing case.

He misses you as soon as you leave.

*------------*

You catch Jack and Haley on your way out. You know you won't be seeing Jack for a while. The Marshalls would be taking them today. Everything was going to change for them.

You nod at Agent Montgomery - the U.S. Marshall that's going to be on their case for the time being. She shifts, moving to the doorway to give you guys a moment.

Haley is seated at the table, her hands holding onto some paperwork. She meets your eyes briefly and nods before returning to the documents. There's a pen in her hands and you can't help but note that her fingers shake around it a bit.

Jack is seated at another table nearby, Agent Montgomery having cleared the breakroom for their meeting.

"Hey buddy." You kneel down to where Jack has been sitting, coloring a printout that one of the nurses must've provided. Jack turns to you, showing off his work. "That looks amazing, Jack!"

He beams with pride at your praise. "Thanks, Y/N."

"I have to head out, okay. I just wanted to say goodbye before I left."

Jack gets up and hugs you, wrapping his little pudgy arms tightly around your neck, allowing you to sweep him up entirely. You know this is the last time you'll get to hold him for quite a while, so you allow it to linger, hugging him back tight. "I love you, Jack." Whispered into his ear while you blink back tears.

You release him and stand, making sure he's settled back into his activity and occupied, before turning to Haley. She stands, walks with you a small distance away from Jack. It isn't fair, what's happening to her. You don't really hold anything against her. It's awful, entirely awful what's happening - her whole life was about to be uprooted because of your jobs. Because of all of your collective failure to catch Foyet the first time. It was your mistake and her and Jack were going to pay for it.

You look up at her and you can see how entirely scared she is of what's about to happen. To have to do this on your own was one thing. Doing it with a partner, another. To have to do it all alone while supporting a child - she wouldn't have anyone she knew to rely upon. All by herself and unable to trust anyone.

"We're going to find him. We're gonna catch him. I promise." You know words were of little solace but that's all you have to give right then.

She smiles, a watery smile to match the unshed tears in her eyes. There's a shaky nod before she moves forward, hugging you in much the same manner Jack had. She's a bit taller than you, so you try to stand straight, allowing her to lean against you. "Take care of him." Her voice is a whisper against your ear, as though she's entrusting you with something extremely precious. Which she is, you suppose. She's counting on you to make sure that Hotch would be alright. That Jack's father would be fine, awaiting his son's return.

"I will."

*------------*

It had been a week since Foyet had left Hotch outside the hospital. A week since Haley and Jack had been taken into WITSEC protective custody and given new identities in an unknown location. A week since Morgan had become the new acting Unit Chief of the BAU, taking over in Hotch's stead. To the public - to the outside world - and especially to Foyet, it had to seem like his attack on Hotch had left him completely alone and broken - no wife, no kid, no team to lead.

You hated it.

The team had been assigned a new case late Sunday evening after you'd all pretty much spent the past couple of days in the hospital. Hotch was discharged earlier in the day and was under strict orders to stay on bedrest for the time being. You'd all flown out early Monday morning and it was now Saturday evening, the case having stretched out the entire week due to the Unsub's kill schedule.

You got back home after submitting your report, grabbing a water and a pack of the little bunny crackers you keep on hand for Jack. You're pretty sure you won't be seeing Jack before those expire and someone should eat them. You shower and get dressed for bed, thinking about Hotch. You knew he was home and would be coming back to work next week, doing the absolute bare minimum bed rest that the doctor had mandated. You're fairly certain the doctor had been intimidated into it by Hotch's severe face, daring him to say anything longer than a week.

It's fairly late by the time you actually crawl into bed, plugging your phone into the charger by the nightstand and flickering off the lights, plunging the room into darkness save for the red glow of the alarm clock stating that it was now eleven o'clock. You wonder if anyone has checked in on him while the team has been away. Perhaps Jess, but she must also be out of her mind with worry about Haley and Jack.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you've grabbed your phone and scrolled to his name in your Favorites, pressing on it. You hold the phone up to your ear and listen as it rings, once, twice, thrice, until you hear the sound of it being picked up.

"Hotchner." His voice is low but doesn't sound sleepy, so you're at least confident that you hadn't woken him up. Having nothing to do but lay around must be messing with his carefully regulated sleep schedule.

You suppress a laugh at his formal no-nonsense greeting, even though he undoubtedly knows it's you. "Hey." Your voice comes out breathier than intended.

"Is everything alright?" There's a slight edge evident in his voice and you realize that maybe calling him at eleven at night when his wife - ex-wife - and kid are being kept away safe wasn't exactly the right move.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's alright. I'm sorry. I just called to check in. How are you?"

There's a pause where you can hear the ambient sounds of your house settling in along with him shifting - the rustling of a bedsheet and the groan of the frame as he moves to adjust himself. So he had been in bed when you called.

Finally, you hear, "I'm alright. Thank you for dropping off the food."

"Yeah, yeah of course," you respond, your heartbeat picking up a bit for some reason. You figure it's because you're unsure of the call itself still and knowing that Hotch was in bed and you'd likely disturbed him in some sense at least, makes you feel a little uneasy.

For his part, Aaron had been going stircrazy, sitting at home with nothing whatsoever to do. The Marshalls had taken Haley and Jack the very same day. Dave had taken him from the hospital and back to his apartment and Garcia and JJ had dropped by the same day with some groceries and a couple of ready to eat meals for him.

He spent most of Sunday sleeping, the strong painkillers making him drowsy. Monday morning, he awoke to his doorbell and his nurse, Eric, from the hospital was there to help him with the dressage. He didn't think that was covered by his insurance - he could only imagine how much home visits from a medical professional cost - and had told Eric there was some sort of mistake. However, Eric had insisted that someone at the hospital had already worked it out and insurance wasn't an issue - this was a covered service apparently. Since Aaron already knew him, and he really could use the help, he'd let him in. Eric had entered holding a large box of food as well, that he said had been left at the door along with a note. After Eric left, Aaron had opened the box to reveal pre-portioned meals - all homemade, all different, all things he could throw in a microwave easily. The note was just signed with your name, telling him to call if he needed anything else.

He'd slept through most of the days, awakening only to let Eric in daily. He ate only because he had to in order to take his medications. Otherwise his mind was a haze of thoughts and worries - worrying about Jack and Haley, about Foyet being around the next corner, about the team managing without him, and somewhere at the farthest reaches of his mind your face danced around - worried and concerned for him, despite doing your very best to appear otherwise.

When your name flashed across his phone late at night, at first he felt the thrust of panic - that something had happened. And then there's your voice, calm and even, asking him how he's doing. No one else had called him. Dave and Prentiss had texted once or twice over the week, but with a case going on, everyone had been busy.

There's a brush of silence after he thanks you for the food and he can hear you take a breath and shift ever so much. He realizes that you're calling him while most likely lying in bed. It causes his heart to speed up and a tight coil to begin tightening in his stomach. It's utterly benign - he has no reason to feel that way, and yet, yet he does.

"How was the case?" he asks, desperate for someone to speak with, not wanting the phone call to end.

You're slightly surprised but you easily talk him through the details of the case, the profiling process and how the team had approached it. You find yourself babbling on for a while as he asks you questions about the evidence, how the local detectives had been, how the team was doing.

Aaron listens to you, taking it all in. You're good at this, providing all the details you know he'd want. You notice everything, all the little things. How the local detectives had responded to Morgan being in charge - how it had been easier for JJ to liaise with them more closely instead. How Reid was getting much more comfortable with having a weapon in the field. There's a soft, sleepy quality to you despite your obvious willingness to tell him everything. Your voice like a salve, doing more for him than any of the medications the doctors had prescribed.

He's not sure when or how, but the conversation has meandered from the case to something Prentiss had told you once, to a story he had of Dave and Gideon back when he first joined the team, and then to a professor of yours from college who had been particularly invested in the Bundy trials in a near obsessive manner. He finds himself laughing for the first time since that night at the bar with you.

When his eyes next catch the time, it is past 2AM. You'd been on the phone for the past three hours. Before this, the longest phone call he's ever had was fifteen minutes.

"It's late," he whispers, almost as though he doesn't want you hear him. "You should get some sleep."

You glance at your clock and find yourself shocked at how long the two of you had been on the phone together. Who knew Hotch was even capable. Though, you figure, you'd been doing the bulk of the talking, rambling on about something or the other. He must be utterly exhausted of listening to your voice.

"You should too," you murmur through a yawn, your eyes flickering under the weight of your lashes.

"Good night, Y/N." You can hear a smile in his voice and it's almost as though you can feel him - the way he feels when he hugs you, warm and strong, firm against you, surrounding you completely with his being.

"Night Hotch."

*------------*

Hotch had been back a couple of weeks and the team was adjusting. While Morgan was indeed the public face of the team, Hotch was very still involved and working far too much behind the scenes. You've kept an eye on him, looking for signs of him overexerting himself. He is, of course. He's burying himself in work, diving in head first because that's likely easier than focusing on everything else. So far, all you've done is give him looks that say Shouldn't you be going home? and Is this really what you want to spend a Wednesday at 9PM doing? He doesn't acknowledge them openly but you know that he knows that you see exactly what he's trying to do. He'll leave once he realizes that you're staying if he is.

You're not quite sure how to check on him during the weekends. Before, you used to have Jack as the reason why you saw him. Now, without Jack, you're not quite sure how to go about seeing Hotch and making sure he's alright, without it somehow being seen as overstepping. You nudge Rossi to go check on him one of the days and then another, you invited the entire team over for dinner so that you know he ate. You know he won't let you cook for him if he's no longer on bedrest, even though the way he holds his gun and the sharp inhale he takes anytime he has to put the Kevlar on is extremely telling.

JJ wants everyone in the conference room on the other side of the floor since your regular one is taken and she calls you to inform everyone of the change in venue for the scheduled meeting. You glance up from your desk after having told Derek and Emily of the location change, trusting them to tell Spencer when he returns. JJ isn't expecting everyone for another half hour, and Emily had caught Rossi as he was heading out to lunch, so he's also aware. Emily and Derek follow in his steps, asking if you're going to join them, but you wave them on ahead.

You take the steps up to Hotch's office swiftly, knocking and turning the knob in one motion, only to find him standing behind his desk, no jacket or tie, shirt unbuttoned, a patch of red visible on his skin from one of the stab wounds inflicted by Foyet. He looks up at you and you can feel the surprise in his eyes. It was your fault, you should've waited. That was stupid. Your eyes can't seem to look away from the blood spotting the otherwise white wrappings that sit in a pile on the desk.

"I - I'm sorry," you stutter out, blinking and trying to make sense of the sight in front of you. You notice that his shirt was also equally marred, the blood having seeped through. You'd obviously interrupted him.

He draws a breath, and you can see him try to put on a mask of being unbothered by your sudden appearance. "Did you need something?"

'Um, JJ had to move the briefing to the other conference room," you inform him, still unable to look away. You're staring. You know are. It's dawning upon you how entirely you'd fucked up. Hotch was such a private person. He'd hate having someone see him in such a state of vulnerability.

He nods. "Thank you. Could you close the door, please?"

You don't move from your spot in the doorway.

"Y/N?"

You're not sure what exactly has overcome you, except this overwhelming need to take care of him. Especially now, right then when he's hurting. Bleeding quite literally. Hotch takes care of everyone. Every single one of you. But no one takes care of him. Not the way he needs to be cared for.

You cross the threshold, shutting and locking the door behind you. He seems entirely taken aback as you approach him silently. There's a voice in your head telling you that this, right here, this was the definition of overstepping. Yet, there is a more insistent compulsion residing within you, urging you forward until you've reached him. He looks at you, confusion in his features.

"Let me." You reach for the alcohol wipes on the table, meant to disinfect the affected region.

He doesn't say anything, but he also doesn't move, making it difficult for you to actually reach him as he's standing flush to his desk. He only looks at you, brows scrunched together, the pronounced cleft of his lower lip set tightly.

"Let me." You repeat yourself, moving forward and forcing him to back up a little and make room for you. You deftly move to sit on his desk, facing him, and beckon him towards you without looking up. If you looked up, you might lose your nerve.

You part your legs and much to your surprise, he actually moves forward, coming to settle between them. You can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You're suddenly very aware of the friction between his dress pants and the material of your own fitted ones.

You take the alcohol wipe and tear open the packaging, unraveling the cloth before cautiously moving towards him and dabbing at the area that seemed to have opened up slightly. He releases a sharp hiss and suddenly, his hand is at your waist, gripping tightly. You pause, looking up at his face. His eyes are shut, lips pressed tightly together. After a second, he nods, indicating at you to continue. He doesn't make a sound again as you clean up the area, though he does tighten his grip ever so slightly a couple more times.

You look at the items on his desk and pick up the jar of salve that he must put on prior to the dressings. Carefully, you unscrew the lid, looking up at him with a question in your eyes. He nods again, barely looking at you.

You try to do it quickly. Fingers picking up some of the salve and gingerly spreading it over the region, brushing past raised skin, puckered up as it heals. Slowly. Not fast enough for him.

Aaron watches as your head is bent, teeth biting down on your lower lip in concentration as you gently span the entirely of his chest and stomach. Soft, dainty fingers quickly working so as to put him out of his misery faster.

Of all people, he didn't want you to see him this way. So vulnerable, so exposed, so scarred. You'd thrown him off balance when you hadn't quickly scampered away after you realized your error in barging in. Approached him with such purpose that he hadn't known how to turn you away.

You reach for the fresh roll of gauze next, swallowing as you look up at him once again. "This would be easier if you take the shirt off."

He shrugs it off at your words, placing it on the back of his chair. There's a fresh shirt on the seat of his chair. He'd been prepared, it would seem.

"This might put a dent in the line of women waiting to pounce." He indicates towards his chest, self deprecation dripping from his weak attempt at humor, in an effort to cut whatever imaginary tension he had made up in his head.

You look at his face, seeing the vulnerability and insecurity as plain as can be. He doesn't need to verbalize his thoughts in order for you to know exactly what he's thinking. What he's been thinking.

Who would want someone this grotesque?

Who would want a man as broken as this?

Who could possibly bear the sight of him - marred forever? His very flesh a perpetual reminder of the terror he wades through, the monsters he encounters, the horror that is his life.

"No."

Your answer is simple, straightforward. Yet nothing has ever confused him more as he watches you hold one end of the gauze to the front of his chest near the top of the scarring, and then bring the roll around his back, over it to hold it in place, your small hands ghosting over his skin with the utmost propriety, intent in making this as painless, as easy, as comfortable for him as possible.

"I'm not going to tell you some patronizing bullshit about scars being beautiful."

You control your breath in easy measured paces, forcing him to follow along. One breath in. Pause. Breath out. Repeat. You continue to wrap the dressing around his chest slowly, your eyes fixed on the task at hand to ensure that it was all straight and even, tight but not too tight.

"They do, however, speak to all that you've endured. All that you've conquered. Overcome. Anyone who loves you will see you just as you are. They would think you absolutely incredible. Regardless of anything. Because of it all."

Aaron focuses on your voice, soft and melodic and yet sure. So very sure. How could you possibly be so sure?

"Someone who loves you will see the scars," your fingers press ever so slightly against his chest, "and they will know. They will know all that you've undergone to become who are - how you survived despite the odds."

You take a sudden shuddered breath as you recall the sight of him unconscious in the hospital bed, being wheeled past you. You're quick to shake it away.

"They will be grateful. To have you, scars and all."

You finish, tucking in the end of the gauze firmly and ensuring it wouldn't come loose with just the slightest of motions.

You look up at him then, finally meeting his eyes properly. Beautiful, deep brown eyes with flecks of gold brought on by the late afternoon sunlight that was filtering through the windows.

Aaron can't help but look at you. He rarely gets to see you this up close. So very close. If he were to just bend down the smallest amount, there'd be no space at all. Your hair bundled back into a professional low bun, soft wisps framing your face. The cupid's bow lips - pouty, pink, perfect lips. The upturned nose and the slight babyface cheeks that accompanied it. He realizes his hand is still gripped onto your waist and he's reluctant to remove it. Not yet. In a bit. Not yet.

"Thank you." His eyes are closed as he says it so he misses it when you nod your acknowledgement.

You lean past him, one hand grabbing his forearm for balance while the other reaches for the shirt on the chair. You'd started the job. Might as well finish it. You unbutton the collar and he takes it from you, quickly slipping it on, and yet not moving away. His hand returns to your waist. Staying where you could easily reach up and start buttoning it for him. So you do.

Aaron knows you don't need a response to everything you'd said. He also is quite certain that you believe it. No matter the entirely shallow world you'd been a part of, he knows that you aren't like that. You might be a little vain - the nice clothes and makeup, the care you put into your own appearance. However, you're not vain like this.

Aaron breathes out a deep sigh that he'd been holding for some time as you dexterously work each button into its proper hole. He really could get used to this. To you.

"Why do you always sit on stuff?" His voice is soft and low, calmer.

You glance up, noting the slight humor dancing behind his eyes while he waits for your answer.

You can't help but smile, a breath of laughter escaping you just barely. "I suppose…because I'm short," you admit, shaking your head as you continue down the trail of buttons. "Makes it easier for me to be at eye level if I sit on higher surfaces."

He laughs. A near boisterous laugh. His chest rumbles underneath your hands, causing your fingers to tremble.

You can't help but laugh along with him, releasing a deep held breath as you do.

He would be alright. He would.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #irreverentseries #hotch x you #hotch x reader

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kakakakashi · 4 years

Note

The magicians name was aaron crow btw. I looked him up and was like "I shouldn't be attracted to someone with an age gap that big" but here I am, also attracted to inoichi, cor from ffxv, and fanon bruce wayne... Don't get me wrong, I'm over 18, but my moral compass is like "bro that's like a 20-30 year age gap" so I just keep this on the dl

His cheekbones... are so much prettier than mine??? It’s not fair???

Meh. There’s nothing wrong with a harmless crush on someone in a different age range than you. I think we all have crushes on teachers, mentors, etc. There’s nothing wrong with a harmless little crush like that. I mean, I think all of my celebrity crushes are older than me. Does that mean I’d accept if one of the older ones actually asked me out? Hell no! There’s nothing wrong with a little crush, though. There’s no reason to feel ashamed for liking someone older than you.

Shame on them if they try to exploit you for that, tho, but I won’t go into that rn because my hand hurts.

#cherry chats with friends #Anonymous #cherry posts about ninja nerds

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aaronexplainsitall · 4 years

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Aaron, have you ever been to Peru? I’ve been looking into it as a possible place to visit on my gap year (either that or I am gonna join the navy for a year so extremes and spectrums and what not). If you have: would you recommend? If not: is there anywhere in particular you would recommend?

Hey pal, yes, I have. I really loved Peru, it’s a wonderful country. Obviously, one of the must-dos is Machu Picchu, but I’d recommend the Salkantay route over the Inca Trail (it’s quieter and prettier in my experience). I also loved Mancora, it’s a chilled beach town, a lovely place to spend a fair whack of time.

I would also recommend Ecuador, if you’re planning to go to that part of the world. I actually preferred Ecuador to Peru. I loved Banos, which has amazing watersports, Cotopaxi is awesome with it’s volcanic lake, I really enjoyed spending close to a month in Otavalo which is a smaller city than Quito (and they have a type of blackcurrant pie called Mora pie and I would WALK back to Ecuador for a slice of that).

South America is amazing, and if you’re going to fly that far, try and see as much of it as possible. Also, if you’re going to go for your Gap Year, I really would book a tour of some sort. Oyster have a really good reputation, as do G Adventures. I’ve used Intrepid and thought they were excellent but they don’t get quite as good reviews. GVI are great for more service based voluntourism stuff.

(Also, I know it’s not my place and you can totally tell me to fuck off, but please don’t join the Navy. Go see the world, don’t sell your soul to the armed forces.)

I hope that helps!

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ffsfics · 6 years

Text

Robert is barely out of his last exam when something blond and shouting plows into his side and tackles him to the ground. It's not the first time it's happened, so his bag is thankfully zipped and his things don't spill out everywhere, but it still knocks the wind out of him and he lies on his back in the grass, gasping fish-like for air.

"Robert!" Pete says, unnecessarily loud. He's straddling Robert's legs and grinning down at him hugely. Robert blinks at him.

"Hi Pete."

"Sorry Rob." Robert turns his head to see Ross and Finn walking toward them, hands linked casually between them. Pete gets off him and helps him up, and Robert stands up and dusts grass off his clothes. Ross's smiling ruefully. "He took off before we could stop him."

"To be fair, you should've seen it coming," Finn offers with a smirk. Robert offers him two fingers right back but he's grinning and he slings a companionable arm across Pete's shoulders.

"We're done!" Pete yells, wrapping Robert up in a tight hug. "First year of uni done, lads! Let's celebrate!"

"I've been in a library for three days. All I'm doing is sleeping."

"Sleep when you're dead," Pete says.

"That might be soon," says Robert.

Pete looks at him blankly.

Robert tilts his head at him. "If I don't get some sleep."

Pete sticks his tongue out at him and Robert catches it between his index finger and thumb and pinches until Pete makes a choking noise and bats him away. Ross is too polite to point and laugh, but Finn isn't, and he does just that as Pete pets at his tongue like that'll make it stop hurting and glares balefully at Robert.

"We should celebrate," Ross says, trying and failing to hide a smile. "Go out tonight or something? You can have a nap, first."

"I'm in," Robert agrees. "S'long as I get to sleep first. Where should we go?"

"Li and I've been wanting to check out this place called Ruby's Welcome. 'S a club."

"Never heard of it."

"I have," Pete says. "Supposed to be good. Hear the drinks are rubbish, though. Dancing's supposed to be fun. And the girls."

"That's why Ross and I wanna go," Finn adds, rolling his eyes. "The girls."

"It's true." Ross nods seriously and squeezes Finn's hand, lifts it to his mouth and kisses it like Finn's a princess. Robert makes gagging noises and Pete laughs and Finn makes like he's going to pull away with a disgusted sound in his throat but he's got a small, soft smile on his face and he's blushing. Ross and Finn have been together for years. They're absolutely foul with how sweet they are together. Robert can't imagine either of them with anyone but each other, let alone girls.

"All right, you two are sickening. I'm going home. Pete?"

"Yup?"

Robert waves an imperious hand toward the car park. They'd splurged on paying to park for their last day of term. "Take me home."

All it does is make Pete jump onto his back and refuse to get down, so Robert ends up carrying him to his car, Finn and Ross on either side, Robert's school bag clutched in Ross's hand.

The girl he's with is gorgeous, curvy and blonde and she smells nice and has something shiny and sparkly in her hair. She's nearly as tall as he is with a pair of truly fantastic legs. He's got his arms around her, teasing his fingers over the skin of her back where her dress bares a big tear-drop of skin just above the waist. She's got one of her hands on his chest and the other arm around his neck and they're kissing lazily, swaying together under the pound of dim light and throbbing bass and God-awful music. Robert's sweaty from dancing, his hair damp at the nape of his neck and her fingers are smooth out the blonde hair.

"You're really very good at this," she says, breathing heavy. She has pretty brown eyes and she tastes like the bubble gum she was chewing earlier. Her name is Ella and she was quiet and shy at first but she's bold with her body and unapologetic with her mouth and Robert likes that. Over her head he can see Pete with Ella's friend, and Ross and Finn are dancing together, all wound together like usual, Finn's lips moving around words Robert can't read and Ross's head tilted back as he laughs.

"Only as good as you make me, love," Robert tells her, and she laughs, smacks a hand against his chest lightly.

"That was a horrible line."

He grins, kisses her again. She's lovely and fun and it's the perfect first night of the summer holiday. He licks his way into her mouth and she makes a quiet sound in her throat and squeezes the back of his neck, leans in closer so her breasts are squished into his chest.

"Ella!" her friend says all of the sudden, shouting to be heard over the music. Robert reluctantly breaks the kiss to let her turn around, but she stays pressed close to him, her arse right against his groin as she leans down to hear more easily. Pete is there too, still attached to Ella's friend, wearing a pleased, mellow grin. His face is sheened in sweat and his hair is a mess like the girl's been running her hand through it. Robert offers him a wan smile and Pete winks theatrically.

"He's here again!" Ella's friend—Brittany or Bethany or something—shouts, and points at someone over Robert's shoulder. Robert turns around when Ella does and follows Brittany-or-Bethany's finger to a boy by the bar, and every single checkbox in Robert's mental list of everything good in a body is marked on sight.

He's not really a boy, probably at least Robert's age, but he's at least a head shorter and small, like Robert could wrap around him and hide him from everyone else's view. He's wearing tight, bright blue trousers and a white t-shirt with braces that've fallen down off his shoulders. He has a mess of dark, wind-blown looking hair and bright, piercing blue eyes and a crooked, sun-bright smile. As they watch he turns to face away, yelling to someone over the crowd, and Robert zeroes in on his perfect, perfect arse and feels his blood throb in his veins.

Ella must see the look on his face, because Robert's ever been an open book, and he can feel the smirk in her voice when she whispers in his ear. "He's prettier than every girl in here, isn't he?" He opens his mouth to answer but doesn't know what to say, can't answer honestly when she's on his arm, but she just laughs and pats his cheek. "It's all right. I already know he is. This is your first time here, yeah? He's a bit famous. His name's Aaron."

Aaron, Robert thinks. "Aaron," he says aloud.

"Mm-hm," she sing-songs. Robert's just about to turn back to her when the boy—Aaron—when he turns around. It's a coincidence, the crowd having parted a bit around Robert as someone pushed through to get to the bar, and Aaron's blue eyes settle on Robert and Robert doesn't look away. He's not self-conscious, and Aaron is beautiful to look at, especially when he smiles like that, one elegant eyebrow quirking. When the crowd closes in again Robert looks back to Ella. Ross and Finn have wandered off, and Pete is laughing with Brittany-or-Bethany a few feet away.

"What's he famous for?" Robert asks her curiously, pulling her back in, their hips swaying together again.

"The company he keeps," she says vaguely. "Or, rather, the company that keeps him."

"Pardon?"

Ella laughs, a sweet, tinkling sound. "Well, the rumor is that he has a bit of a thing for wealthy older men."

Huh. Robert looks back through the crowd toward the bar, but Aaron isn't there anymore and he shrugs, turns back to Ella and smiles at her, leans in and kisses her again.

The club is crowded and the beat heady and sexy. The DJ is very good and Robert's pleasantly buzzed and has a beautiful girl on his arm, against his chest, grinding back into him with her hair brushing his neck and the underside of his chin, her curvy hips in his hands.

He catches sight of Aaron a few more times, see him jumping around with his friends, and dancing up on the bar with one of the bartenders a little later. His voice is everywhere, loud and forceful and everyone seems to know him. Robert pays only Roby attention until later, when a guy at least in his early thirties leads Aaron past he and Ella on the dance floor. Aaron's all lit up in strobe lights, his smile a flash of white teeth and his eyes on Robert. The guy pulls Aaron in close, whispers something in his ear that makes Aaron laugh and Robert wets his lips, closes his eyes, wonders what it would feel like to be the other guy. When he looks again Aaron's dancing, lost in the music and for a second their eyes meet again.

Robert feels himself flush, tightens his arms around Ella and opens his mouth when she kisses him. She smells amazing, whatever perfume she's wearing and clean sweat and her shampoo. He cups the side of her neck and nudges his nose against her cheek, his mouth at her ear. "You want to go back to mine?" he asks her.

She pulls back and grins at him. "Thought you'd never ask. Just let me tell Brit and pop into the ladies room, hm?"

"Sure. I'm gonna go out back, have a fag. Meet you at the entrance?"

She nods, kisses his cheek and slips through the mass of dancing bodies and out of sight. Robert heads the other way. Finn and Ross aren't far off the dance floor, in a little alcove by the side wall. Finn has a drink, but Ross's hands are free and Robert gets a running start before launching himself onto Ross's unsuspecting back.

"What the—Robert!" And only Ross can sound so disapproving and fond at the same time. He gets his arms under Robert's legs to make sure he doesn't fall off. Robert smacks a loud kiss to the side of Ross's head before he lets his feet drop back to the floor. Ross cuts a look at Finn. "You saw him coming."

Finn shrugs lethargically. "Wouldn't have stopped him if you'd known."

"S'true," Robert says. "I'm leaving with Ella. You two let Pete know as well?"

"Sure," Ross says warmly, while Finn smirks and calls Robert a slut, ruffling his hair.

"You're parked the other way, mate."

"Going out back," Robert tells them. "Fancy a fag?"

Ross doesn't smoke, and Finn shakes his head, so Robert shrugs, hugs them both and makes his way out the back door.

The sudden lack of noise is startling, makes his ears ring. He shoves his fingers back through his hair, ignores it when it all falls right back into place. He digs his cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up as he walks further away from the door. His eyes are on the sky, though it's not like he can see stars or anything, but the clouds are hanging over the moon and it's kind of pretty.

"Hey," a voice says next to him and he jumps, turning swiftly and coming face to face with Aaron. He's even smaller up close in comparison to Robert, slight shoulders and a narrow waist. His hair is a wreck, and he's smiling wide and so sweet. "Scare you?"

A laugh is surprised out of Robert, and he takes a quick drag on his fag, lets the smoke curl out of his mouth before he answers. "Maybe a bit."

"I'm Aaron," Aaron says, unprompted. He rolls up onto the balls of his feet and reaches for Robert. Robert's not sure what he's doing, tries not to move when Aaron's hand digs into the pocket of his trousers, hand warm through denim, and pulls Robert's cigarettes out. "Bum a smoke?"

"Sure."

"Cheers." Aaron's already got one in his mouth, the butt pushing prettily against his bottom lip. He leans in closer than necessary for Robert to light it, his breath hot on Robert's neck. Robert wants to put his hands on Aaron's hips, wants to slide his hand down his back and grip Aaron's bum and squeeze. "So who're you then?"

"Ah, " Robert replies, somewhat caught off guard by the question. He'd forgot for a moment that he's talking to someone he doesn't actually know. "Robert.".

"Ah, Robert," Aaron repeats, amused smile pulling at his lips. He's beautiful. "Had enough of the party?"

"No," Robert says. He can never have enough of the party, really. He thrives off that sort of scene, all those people and all those bodies, the endorphins and the sweat and the sex. "What about you?"

Aaron tilts his head, exhales into the wind. He's cold, goose bumps on his skin and little shivers running through him, an arm wrapped around his middle. Robert's feeling overly warm himself, so he shrugs out of his jumper and drapes it over Aaron's shoulders. He's immediately glad he thought to, because the smile Aaron gives him makes his knees weak.

"Such a gentleman," Aaron teases, but he shifts his fag from hand to hand so he can pull it over his head and get his arms in the sleeves. It's huge on him, the sleeves too long and the neckline nearly falling off his shoulder and Robert has no idea why he finds it so attractive but he does.

"I try to be," Robert says honestly. He doesn't really feel like smoking anymore, drops his fag to the ground and toes it out. Aaron raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment. "You never answered my question."

"Right," Aaron says, smiling again. "I think I'm about sick of the party. Drinks are shit."

"We could go back to mine." Robert has no idea what makes him say it, but he's glad for once that his mouth moves without permission from his brain. Aaron looks a little shocked at the invitation and Robert likes to him taken by surprise like that. "I'm very good at mixing drinks. Good drinks, even."

"Yeah?" Aaron asks.

"Yeah," Robert shrugs and thumbs at his nose like he tough, no big deal, looks at Aaron through his eyelashes. The wind is blowing and Aaron's hair isn't moving an inch. "'ve got a degree in it. Bartending. Drink mixing."

Aaron laughs around his fag, coughs lightly. "I bet it's a doctorate," he says. "I bet you're a doctor of bartending and drink mixing. Dr. Robert…"

"Sugden."

"Dr. Robert Sugden. Ph.D."

"M.D.," Robert correct.

"Oh right, of course," Aaron says knowledgably. "Because fine alcohol is a medical necessity."

"Ten CCs of vodka, stat."

And Aaron is grinning, dropping his unfinished fag on the ground too. He swaggers a little bit closer, until there's nearly no space between them.

"How old are you, Robert Sugden?"

"Nineteen," Robert answers, thinking about what Ella told him inside, but Aaron doesn't look disappointed.

"Nineteen and already a doctor. Impressive."

"I'm very advanced. How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

"You don't look it."

Aaron snorts. "I know." He pushes his fingers back through his hair and looks up at Robert through his eyelashes. He's lovely, all of him, wrapped in Robert's jumper. "I'm going to kiss you now."

Robert wets his lips nervously, nods. "Okay."

And Aaron does, puts both hands on Robert's cheeks and slants their mouths together. It's slow and sweet and exploratory, like Aaron is testing him, and Robert is nothing if not good at tests. He grips Aaron by the hips and pulls him in until they're a long line pressed together belly to knees. He licks across the seam of Aaron's mouth, presses his tongue in when Aaron parts his lips and Aaron inhales sharply, threads his fingers into Robert's hair and tilts his head so the angle is better. He tastes like alcohol and sugar and heat and even though Aaron is pressing him back into the wall, is sliding his thigh between Robert's knees and sucking on Robert's tongue like he can't get enough of it, there's something naturally submissive about him. Robert guides him through touch, his big hand on Aaron's slender back, his fingers tugging at Aaron's hair until Aaron tilts his head back and Robert laps one last time at the roof of Aaron's mouth, retracts his tongue but just so he can sink his teeth into Aaron's bottom lip until Aaron moans for him.

When Aaron pulls his head back, it's not by much, and he's looking up at Robert with a heavy-lidded, pleased gaze. He trails his fingers over the shells of Robert's ears and Robert's mouth feels bruised and raw. He palms over Aaron's stomach, back around to his hip. He's breathing heavy.

"You're leaving with someone else tonight."

Ella. Of course, Robert'd forgotten. He looks back around at the door. She's probably waiting on him, wondering if he ditched her and he feels guilty. "Right."

"I'd offer to join in, but I only swing one way, mate."

Robert swallows. All he really wants to do is go in, tell Ella that something's come up, pack Aaron into his car and take him home. But he's not that kind of guy, no matter how much he wishes right now that he was.

"Right," he repeats. "I should..."

Aaron is smiling as he steps back. His hair is even more of a mess than before. He plucks Robert's phone out of his pocket and flicks it on, taps at the screen for a minute and then hands it back. "Go on, Dr. Sugden," he says, already turning like he's going to walk away. "Enjoy your night."

"My jumper," Robert says stupidly. Aaron looks back at him.

"I'll keep this for now. Keep an eye on it. Feels nice on me."

"Looks nice on you," Robert agrees. Aaron smiles like Robert just gave him a few million pounds and Robert wants to fuck him right up against the wall.

"Ring me tomorrow. I believe you owe me drinks."

Robert can't keep the grin off his face. He clutches his mobile close to his chest like a security blanket. "Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow," Aaron agrees. "G'night, Robert."

"Night, Aaron."

He watches Aaron walk around the building until he turns the corner out of sight. Safely alone, Robert lifts his fingers to his tingling lips.

Back inside, Ella is waiting for him at the entrance, looking gorgeous and smiling quite prettily at him, and he's already flushed with heat and want. She holds out her hand and he takes it, smiling, and leads her to his car.

When Robert wakes up the next morning, Ella is gone and there's a sticky note stuck to his forehead that says Thx for a great night. – Ella. Robert grins, tosses the note into the trash can under his nightstand and stretches hugely, yawning. His head is still pleasantly buzzy with sleep and he's sore and sated. Ella was good, a lot of fun and enthusiasm and Robert feels relaxed and comfortably zen with the world.

He tugs on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, grabs his mobile off the bedside table and pads into the living room, utterly unsurprised to find Pete, Ross and Finn sitting around his dining table eating breakfast.

"Did you wait until she was gone, at least?" Robert asks them. It smells wonderful, and he drops into the chair between Pete and Finn to pile his own plate high with eggs and sausages. It's one of Pete's latent talents, cooking, and Robert's almost all right with him using Robert's food if it means he gets breakfast cooked for him.

"Of course," Pete answers, mock-offended. "What d'you think we are, perverts?"

"Yes," Robert says. Pete lobs a piece of bacon at him and Robert catches it, adds it to the growing stack on his plate. Finn's plate is already nearly empty, and Ross's is, so he sits sipping at his coffee and reading the paper, because he's really an old man. Pete, of course, is on his second helping. Robert steals the butter from him and slathers his own plate in it. He's starving.

Naturally, Finn waits until Robert's mouth is full to bursting before he says, overly-casual, "Stepped outside to find you last night, tell you your date was about to leave without you. Saw you'd found another."

Robert gawps at him, feels his ears redden. He tries to chew as fast as he can before the others can start in, but his mouth is too full. It's a losing battle.

"What?" Pete asks, looking oddly proud. "Double dipping? Robert!"

"S'not like that!" Robert tries to say, but it comes out 'Saw hoh ah" and they ignore him.

"Who was it?" Pete presses on. "The first girl...the one he was dancing with when we got there? Or that big bloke?"

"No, was a smaller guy. I couldn't see his face since it was sucking on Robert's."

Ross makes a face and Pete whips his head around to look at Robert. Pete is possibly the nosiest person in the world. Robert swallows so much food at once that it actually hurts. "Face-sucking?" Pete says. "Really?"

"You're a class act," Robert tells Finn, pretending he's not choking a little. He takes a few gulps of Finn's water.

"S'what it looked like from where I was standing," Finn says, shrugging. "Like he was trying to crawl inside your mouth."

"Who?" Pete demands, laughing. Robert sends a desperate look at Ross, who simply smiles benignly and takes another sip of coffee. Traitor.

"Just a bloke," Robert answers finally. "That guy Ella's friend pointed out."

"The pretty one?" Pete asks. "Looked a bit like River Phoenix?"

"Yeah, him. He's called Aaron."

"Hm," says Pete, and it sounds so uncharacteristically judgmental that Robert frowns at him.

"What?"

"Brittany told me some stuff about him is all. But it's probably just people talking, yeah?"

"What'd she tell you?" Finn asks.

"Finn," Ross says disapprovingly, but Finn just levels a look at him and Ross sighs helplessly.

"Just that he's always hanging around these older men that kind of, like, parade him around. Like an escort or something."

"An escort?" Robert repeats, and even Finn snorts derisively. Ross sighs loudly again and starts to clean up their plates. Robert would normally help, but just thinking about Aaron is making him want to call him up and have him come round right now. He wants to hear what else Brittany told Pete.

"It's just a shoddy part of town and he's there a lot with older men. It's just people talking."

"So she thinks he's a prostitute?"

"That was the implication, yeah," Pete says, and shrugs again.

Robert frowns thoughtfully. Aaron certainly hadn't come across that way to him at all.

"I wouldn't look too much into it mate," Ross says from the kitchen, where he's loading their sticky plates into the dishwasher. He looks at them over the counter sagely. "When I was sixteen I worked at a country club and there were these old men who were a bit…well, flirty, I suppose."

"Really?" Robert asks, mildly surprised. Ross's such a good boy, Robert can't quite imagine it.

"S'true," Finn says, frowning.

"Yeah, it was harmless, y'know. They were just…But anyway, I was the youngest and gay and the other staff gave me a hard time about it, started rumors that I was getting tips with my mouth and that sort of thing."

"Jesus, Li," Robert murmurs, feeling horrified.

"People just like to talk, is my point," Ross says, rolling his eyes and smiling sweetly at Robert's concern. "Nothing happened to me, Rob. It was just a summer job and I got to go home to Finn every day. I'm just telling you not to believe everything you hear. And you either," he points at Pete sternly.

"I didn't believe her!" says Pete.

"Well, whatever the case," Robert says, decision already made, "I'm going to call him. I liked him and I want to see him. He didn't tell me what he cost when we were snogging, so until he does I'm going to assume he's not a hooker, all right?"

Pete claps him on the back. "Right on, Robza."

"You should bring him by the pub," Finn offers. He's leaning back in his chair, looking very sleepy. "I'm working all week, an' Li's playing tonight and the day after tomorrow. We need to meet your new beau."

"He's not my new—"

"We have to make sure if he's good enough for you," Ross adds, as though Robert hadn't spoken.

"You are a bit of a slut. It wouldn't be bad idea to run them through a filter before you sleep with them," says Pete.

"I hate you all," says Robert, and he gets up to go and take a shower while the three of them laugh, thinking that he might just change the locks on his door.

'Hi, you've reached Aaron Dingle. Leave a message and I might call back.'

"Hey Aaron," Robert starts after the beep, inexplicably nervous. "It's Robert...ah, Robert Sugden, from the club last night. You told me to ring you. Ring me back at this number when you can. Erm, if you want, I mean. Yeah. See you."

He hangs up quickly before he can ramble anymore and stares hopelessly at his mobile, wondering if he always sounds like such an idiot. It's not something he wants to dwell on though, so he cuts that train of thought off quickly and makes his way into his kitchen, chugging water from the bottle in his hand. He shot up like a weed between the age of sixteen and eighteen and he only in the last year started to fill out, and he tries to work out a few times a week. He's just been to the gym for a couple hours and he's sweaty and hot and painfully hungry. He chomps his way through a protein bar and is digging around in the freezer for something sweet when his mobile rings where he left it on the dining table.

Grinning, he crosses the distance in two graceless leaps, ignores the irritable pounding on the floor from his downstairs neighbor, and feels his chest go tight and pleased at the sight of Aaron's name on the screen.

"Hullo?"

"Ah, Robert Sugden," Aaron answers, and Robert grins wide, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Aaron," he says. "You got my message."

"Well, yes, obviously."

Robert rolls his eyes at himself. "Obviously."

"To what do I owe this pleasure? Not spending the day with your girl?"

"She's not my girl," Robert says. "And mostly my day's been spent thinking about you."

"Charmer."

"Not to mention I owe you drinks."

"That you do."

"And you've still got my jumper."

"It's very nice. Quite warm. I'm wearing it now. I think I'd rather keep it."

Robert's smiling, so wide that his face hurts a bit. "Are you busy tonight?"

"That depends," Aaron's voice is casual, teasing. Robert wonders what he's doing, where he is, if maybe he's curled up on a sofa or in a chair nearly swimming in Robert's jumper. "Why do you ask?"

"I'd like to take you out."

Aaron's quiet for a several seconds. "Out? Like on a date?"

"Exactly like that. On a proper date. And then, if things go well, possibly back to mine for those drinks I owe you."

"I'm going to call you Dr. Sugden all the way through the shag."

"Kinky."

Aaron laughs, and it's a beautiful sound. Robert wishes he could see him. "All right. You can take me on a proper date."

"Excellent! Where should I pick you up?" Robert fistpumps into the air, but he'll keep that to himself.

"Such a gentleman."

"Not really," Robert says. "After all, I do plan on feeding you drink and then taking you to bed."

"But you're buying me dinner first," says Aaron. "That makes all the difference."

"A man with low standards. I like it."

Robert can hear Aaron shifting around, the sound of fabric moving on fabric, and when he speaks Robert can tell that he's smiling.. "I'll text you my address. Pick me up at seven."

"On the dot," Robert promises.

"Mm-hm."

Aaron hangs up without another word and Robert lowers his mobile from his ear, grinning giddily.

Aaron's flat is very nice, small but cozy. He answers the door wearing tight red trousers and a t-shirt, a matching red beanie on his head. He smiles as soon as he sees Robert and Robert can't even help himself, lifts a hand to cup Aaron's face and dips his head to kiss him. Aaron makes a soft, surprised sound but opens his mouth easily for Robert's tongue and curls his fingers into the front of Robert's shirt.

"Hi," Robert breathes when the kiss breaks, head spinning. Aaron blinks at him, quirks his lips into a small smile and hooks his fingers into the gaps between two of the buttons of Robert's shirt to rub at the t-shirt he has on underneath.

"I thought the kiss came at the end of the date."

Robert strokes his thumb over the ridiculous cut of Aaron's cheekbone and reluctantly steps back. "I'm spontaneous. It's very attractive."

"It's the blonde hair, really," Aaron tells him, sighing as though it's a hardship. "The seductive power of the blonde hair."

Robert shakes them like he's in a shampoo commercial, bites his lip on a grin when Aaron laughs. It's even better with the visual.

"You look beautiful—"

"I always look beautiful. I've already agreed to let you take me to your bed. The flattery is quite unnecessary."

"S'not flattery," Robert says, still smiling. He leans in to press a chaste, sweet kiss to Aaron's lips again. "S'truth. You ready to go?"

Aaron looks like he wants to say something, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but then must think better of it because he simply shakes his head and takes Robert's hand when Robert offers it. Robert threads their fingers together, folds Aaron's smaller hand into his own and tugs him out the door.

"Caveman," says Aaron.

"Me Robert," Robert agrees.

Aaron locks the door to his flat one-handed and shoves his keys into his pocket, where Robert can almost make out the bulge of his phone and wallet. Robert squeezes his hand and they start down the hallway toward the stairs and the entrance, their hands linked between them.

In the car, Aaron touches everything, the dash and the console between the seats, both cup holders. He opens the compartment in the passenger door and digs around a bit in the glove box.

"Awfully nosy, aren't you?" Robert asks him.

"Mm. Did you know you've got a fiver in here?"

"Yeah, it's for luck."

Aaron looks at him, curling the note around his fingers idly. Robert can feel his gaze on the side of his face. "For luck?"

"My mum. When I first got the car she put it in there. Said her mum put a fiver in her car when she learned to drive and she never once got in a crash. When she got a new car she forgot to move it over, and got run off the road into a tree because of ice the same day."

"So you're superstitious, then."

Robert grins, shakes his head. "I believe in the power of the human mind, is all."

Aaron hums thoughtfully, and after a few seconds puts the fiver back into the glove box and closes the door with a quiet click. "You're very strange."

"Intriguingly weird," Robert corrects. Traffic is slow, but not horrible, and Robert doesn't mind the slow ride. It gives him a chance to study Aaron, who's busy looking through the receipts strewn across the floorboards. His hair is falling into his face and the seatbelt has locked up to keep him from bending forward any further. The strap across his chest and stomach, digging in just a little, is oddly appealing. He's twirling one of the drawstrings attached to the hood of striped t-shirt around one finger, his legs splayed wide so he can reach the floor between them.

"You buy a lot of books," says Aaron. "Are these for school?"

"Yeah. I just finished my first year of uni. That's why my mates and I were out last night celebrating."

"N'aww," Aaron says and Robert shoves at his shoulder, smiling despite himself when Aaron laughs. "So you're off for the summer?"

"From school, yes. I start work next week."

"A car and a job? Be still my heart."

"A part-time job," Robert says. "And nothing glamorous. Honestly. I'll be cleaning bedpans and taking care of trouble patients at the hospital."

"That sounds…awful, honestly, mate, sorry. You're a medical student then?"

"Yeah," Robert admits sheepishly. "I'm not sure what I want to specialize in, but probably neurosurgery."

Aaron's smiling at him when he looks over, blue eyes crinkled at the corners. "Then you really will be Dr. Sugden."

"Not for a long time. But someday, hopefully. What about you? Do you work?"

"Of course I work."

"Well, where?"

Aaron grins at him mysteriously, flicks a few strands of hair out of his eyes. "Maybe I'll tell you, if tonight goes well."

"Oh?"

Aaron huffs a quiet laugh. "Whatever you're thinking, I promise it's less exciting."

The restaurant isn't far from Aaron's flat, and he pulls into the first parking spot he finds and turns the car off. Aaron is hunched over again, looking out the windshield to see where they are. Robert hopes he's never been here before. "Welcome to Alfredo's."

"What is this place?" Aaron asks.

"Italian," Robert replies.

"Thanks," Aaron says dryly. Robert wiggles his eyebrows at him, leans in to kiss him and Aaron laughs into his mouth, cups his cheek and kisses him back. "Spontaneous."

"See? It is very attractive."

He doesn't wait for Aaron to respond, just unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car and walks around to open Aaron's door for him after Aaron sends him a pleading look through the window, tugging at the door handle uselessly. He looks up at Robert with a frown. "You child safety locked me into your car."

"I know, I'm sorry," Robert says, offering him a hand to help him out. Aaron takes it, gracefully unfolds himself. Robert doesn't want to stop touching him, likes the way he feels up close, likes how soft his skin is. "My mate Ross…his sister and nieces were in town a few weekends back and we took them to get ice cream. The littlest one's started opening doors whenever she can."

"That's precious. What nice boys you must be."

"Wholesome, virtuous lads. We are."

"Right. I have a feeling you left your virtue behind you a long time ago."

"Oi! Not that long ago," Robert laughs, knocking his shoulder into Aaron's as they walk toward the restaurant entrance, fingers linked. "I was sixteen."

"That's still quite young."

"How old were you, then?"

Aaron just smirks and keeps his mouth closed, and Robert wants to crowd him against the wall and lick the answers out of him. "You have to tell me some things about yourself."

"I'm a Capricorn," Aaron says.

Robert sighs like he hears Ross sometimes do with Finn, and the thought makes something warm unravel nervous and intense in his chest. He herds Aaron into the restaurant and the hostess smiles at them. "Two?"

"Hi," Robert says, smiling his most charming smile at her. "Reservation is for Sugden?"

She looks at her appointment book and Aaron elbows Robert in the stomach lightly, muttering, "Overachiever" under his breath. Robert just winks at him, which makes Aaron actually laugh in a rather unflattering manner.

"I hear you don't put out without dinner first," Robert says once they're seated. "I had to make sure you'd get fed."

"I am both classy and proper, you blonde-haired slag."

"Straight for the solar plexus!" Robert groans, petting a hand over his hair lovingly.

"Glad to see your priorities are straight."

"Well, I am a bit of a manwhore," Robert says, shrugging. Pete teases him for it a lot, but Robert's young and adventurous and it's not as though he's stupid about it. Sex is nothing Robert's ever felt ashamed about. "My eyes are lovely though."

Aaron bats his eyelashes at him, leans across the table to push his hand through Robert's hair. There are other people staring at them, but Robert doesn't care. Aaron hooks his forefingers into one tightly-spun hair near Robert's forehead and pulls gently, lets it bounce back.

"They really are," he agrees, and Robert smiles at him dopily.

They share an appetizer of something deep fried and delicious, and Robert orders lasagna and Aaron chicken parmesan and they eat and talk and Robert hopes that the hearts in his eyes aren't too visible.. Aaron is funny and bright and loud and shameless, ungodly attractive and very sweet. Robert tells him a little about uni and his plans when asked, and he manages to dig out a few more details about Aaron. He has four half-sisters that he doesn't see very much and they're all much younger. He likes to watch comedy and romance films. He loves music and wishes he could play the guitar better than he currently can. It's little things, but Robert likes knowing them about him.

Robert pays for their meal and Aaron pays the tip despite Robert's protests, and on the way out it's Aaron that slots his hand into Robert's and intertwines their fingers.

"I like your hole in the wall Italian restaurant," he tells Robert once they're outside. It's drizzling a little bit. Aaron's high cheekbones are immediately a little damp with it. "And I like that you keep a fiver from your mum in your glove box for luck."

Robert doesn't know what to say, but he's smiling. He squeezes Aaron's hand and opens the door for him again when they get to the car. When he gets in on the other side, Aaron's leaned the seat back a bit and has an arm slung on the headrest above his head, his fingertips brushing his cheekbone. He parts his legs, just enough to make Robert notice, and hums contently.

"What're you doing?" Robert asks.

Aaron looks at him through heavy-lidded, lust-darkened blue eyes. "Resting. I've got a feeling it's going to be a very exhausting night."

"This is nice."

Robert grins, shutting the door behind him and twisting the lock into place. Aaron's already poking around the living room with a curious expression on his pretty face. Robert wants to strip him down and fuck him 'til he cries from how good it is. He drops his keys and wallet onto the small table just inside the door and steps into the kitchen to pour some wine. Aaron follows, leaning in the doorway. His eyes are heavy-lidded and his mouth is pink and lovely. His hand is small when it curls around the glass Robert hands him.

"My parents are paying for most of it," he admits. "All dependent on how well I do in school. I've been threatened with having to live in student housing if I don't do well."

"That would be tragic," Aaron sighs. Robert watches hi Adam's apple rise and fall as he takes a drink of wine, and rather classlessly drinks his own down in one go. Aaron quirks an eyebrow and Robert sets his glass down, takes Aaron's from him, and tugs him in by his belt loops, which makes Aaron complain noisily.

"Hauling me around all the time, Sugden."

"Hadn't we already decided that I'm a caveman? I like that you're smaller than me."

Aaron blinks, and then laughs, startled. "What?"

Robert takes both of Aaron's little hands, folds them into his own and brings them both up to graze his lips over the knuckles. "I like that you're smaller," he repeats, and kisses Aaron chastely before he can interrupt. "You fit just right against me. Can do this." And he picks Aaron up, grins at the little cry of surprise that Aaron makes and gets his arms under Aaron's bum to hold him, Aaron's knees gripping tightly at his waist, feet knocking against the side of Robert's knees. His lips are parted and his cheeks red.

"All right," he says weakly. "All right, I suppose there is something a bit hot about it."

Robert wets his lips, grins, walks Aaron backward to set him down on the counter next to the wine glasses. Aaron immediately wraps his legs around Robert's waist and Robert cups his neck in both hands, thumbs at the hinges of Aaron's jaw. Aaron curls his hands into Robert's shirt and tilts his head back and Robert's heart hurts at the sight of it, of how intrinsically submissive Aaron is, his body reacting beautifully to Robert's every touch. Robert trails his fingers up the side of Aaron's face, thumbs at his full bottom lip and brushes across the sweep of Aaron's long eyelashes.

"You look like you're going to eat me," Aaron drawls, and Robert kisses him, bites at his lip and sucks Aaron's tongue into his mouth, drags his fingers back through Aaron's hair, down his back and to his spectacular round arse.

"Want to do so many things to you," he whispers, lips at Aaron's ear, heart pounding and Aaron's knuckles digging into his sides.

Aaron tightens his legs. "We've got time."

And then they're kissing again, Aaron's mouth open and sweet with wine when Robert licks his way inside. He steps out of his own shoes, kicks them away across the kitchen floor and gropes around behind his back to get at Aaron's Toms and tug them off too. They hit the hardwood with a loud clunk. Aaron slides the tip of his tongue up the vein on the underside of Robert's and Robert groans picks Aaron up again.

"Fuck," Aaron breathes, breaking the kiss and clutching at Robert's shoulders and Robert wants to tell him that he won't drop him but Aaron's teeth sink into the side of his neck and he moans brokenly instead. "So fucking hot, Robert."

"See? I like that you're smaller than me, you like to be manhandled, it all works out."

"Our kinks align."

"Mm, like the stars."

"Jesus." Aaron is laughing at him, but Robert catches his mouth and shuts him up quite effectively, so it's all right. Aaron is squirmy and demanding, his hands on Robert's back and his tongue in Robert's mouth and his heels digging into Robert's arse. He clenches his fingers in Robert's hair, breaks the kiss to catch his breath and breathes hot and open-mouthed against Robert's cheek.

Robert nuzzles at Aaron's neck, pushes him back against the wall next to the kitchen light switch. Aaron drops his legs and Robert reluctantly lets him down, breath catching in his throat when Aaron smirks up at him and sinks to his knees, sitting back on his heels. He hooks two fingers into one of Robert's belt loops and palms the hard line of Robert's cock through his trousers with the other. Robert's so hard already and Aaron's hand is burning hot through the fabric. He tips his hips into it and Aaron's digs the heel of his hand into the base, slides his palm down and squeezes.

"Nn," Robert offers helpfully, carding his fingers through Aaron's hair.

"You're big," Aaron says, voice smooth and hot and the smirk on his face one of the filthiest things Robert's ever seen in his life. "You're really, really big."

"I am reasonably well-endowed, yes, can you—?"

He cuts off with a loud curse as Aaron leans forward and latches on his with his mouth, his kiss-bruised, swollen mouth open and painfully scorching through the layers of Robert's trousers and pants. When the flat of his tongue laps a long line over denim Robert pulls on Aaron's hair harshly and feels his eyes roll back at the sound Aaron makes, this desperate, guttural moan like nothing has ever felt better.

"Like to be manhandled and a bit of a masochist, too, are we?"

"I want you to fuck my mouth," Aaron replies. "Can we do that?"

Robert drops to his knees and pulls his hair again, forces Aaron's head back and crushes their mouths together. He gets his hand between Aaron's legs and rubs him roughly through his trousers, feels him thick and hot against his palm and Aaron's whole body shudders with it. Robert wants to see his face screwed up in ecstasy, wants to hear Aaron cry out for him in a voice rough from choking on Robert's cock.

"We can do that," Robert mumbles into his mouth and shoves one of his hands down the back of Aaron's trousers, squeezes his firm, round bum. "Take your clothes off."

But even as he orders it, Robert's tugging at Aaron's shirt before Aaron gets a chance to. Aaron stretches his arms up and Robert peels it off him, overwhelmingly endeared and aroused by the way Aaron's hair comes out all tousled. He stands up and hauls Aaron up too, shoves at his trousers as soon as Aaron gets them undone and grips Aaron's hand to steady him as he steps out of them. His briefs are wet with precome and obscenely tented and they stretch so nicely over the curve of Aaron's arse but he only has a second to appreciate it as Aaron shimmies out of those too.

Robert doesn't let himself look yet, gets an arm around Aaron's waist and hauls him in to kiss him again. It's wet and sloppy and violent, Aaron's teeth tugging at his lip, his hands clawed in Robert's hair. Robert palms his bare ass, dips his fingers into the cleft. Aaron is even smaller like this, completely bare in Robert's kitchen, against Robert's clothes. Aaron's stepping on his feet and Robert can feel his toes curl in, can feel Aaron grunt softly against his mouth when Robert's finger prods dry at the rim of his hole, just feeling, just pressure.

They make their way slowly through the living room, stumbling together. Aaron laughing when they knock into the bookshelf against the wall right by the bedroom doorway. Robert grins against his neck, a dark bruise already forming over Aaron's pulse point.

"Want you so bad," Robert growls, walking Aaron backwards through the threshold. It's dark, too dark to see and Robert wants to see everything. He picks Aaron up again and carries him the last few feet to the bed, more gentle as he eases him down onto his back and climbs up over him. Aaron's undoing Robert trousers and sucking a mark onto Robert's collarbone while Robert stretches past him to turn on the bedside lamp. He cradles the back of Aaron's head in his hand, fingers his soft hair as his eyes adjust.

"Tell me what you like, Dr. Sugden," Aaron says against his chest, smearing his lips back up, over Robert's throat where he nips at his Adam's apple and then to his chin. "Tell me what to do."

Robert's braced with his arm by Aaron's head on the mattress and Aaron's hand is in his trousers, under his boxer-briefs and on his cock. Robert's so turned on he feels like he might burst into flame at any minute. He looks down at Aaron's pink-flushed face and feels a thick pearl of pre-come blurt over Aaron's fingers. Aaron tilts his head back to see him better, tongue swiping across his lips.

"You're awfully mouthy."

"I have a beautiful voice."

Robert laughs, kisses Aaron's once before he sits up to get his trousers and pants off. Aaron is watching him hungrily, blue eyes Roby with want and breath coming in little pants, his gaze locked on Robert's cock as it's freed, bouncing up to slap wetly against Robert's belly. Robert wiggles around to get his legs free. When he turns back around Aaron is propped up against the pillows and his dick is pink and thick and hard, pooling precome on his stomach

"I like the idea you had earlier," Robert finally answers, crawling forward to straddle Aaron's chest. He hisses when Aaron grips his hips and nuzzles at his cock, his cheekbone getting wet. He strokes Aaron's hair, digs his fingers into the hinge of his jaw until Aaron's mouth opens. "About fucking your mouth."

Aaron groans hotly, laps at the head of Robert's cock. "You're so big, fucking huge."

"The eyes aren't my only selling point, love," Robert offers weakly. Aaron grins up at him so sweetly, eyes big and wide and Robert's pretty sure it's done on purpose but he's just so fucking pretty, Aaron is.

"Pull my hair," Aaron commands, his lips right at the head of Robert's dick, small hand wrapping around the base. "Pull my hair and let me taste you."

He asked so nicely. Robert bites his lip and rolls his hips a bit, nudges his cock against Aaron's lips and watches them part for it. Aaron opens right up, tongue lapping at the underside. Robert tries to go slow, teeth digging harder into his lip as he shoves in further, inch by inch, but Aaron is having none of it. His mouth is relaxed and tight and wet and he's so good at this, the way his tongue digs into the slit when he pulls up, the mouths his way back down, and he takes Robert in deeper than anyone ever has before, until his throat is fluttering around the head of Robert's cock and Robert can feel him swallow, feel the exhale from his nose in the curls at the base.

"Oh God, Aaron, look at you." He's just aware enough to be mildly shocked at how deep and rough his voice is. Aaron's eyes are barely open and his mouth is stretched so wide. Robert grips his hair and pull lightly and Aaron moans, the vibration shuddering up Robert's spine, his balls throbbing, heavy and full and nearly touching Aaron's chin. Aaron pulls back again, almost all the way off, sinks back down and up again and Robert can't bear it anymore. He grips Aaron's hair tight, pulls hard and fucks his hips forward, forces his cock into Aaron's throat, feels Aaron swallow and his throat go tight and he leans in to get his free hand around Aaron's neck, his grip loose, just want to feel.

Everything is blurry and intense and Robert's slowly losing his mind, driving into Aaron's throat again and again, pulling at Aaron's hair long enough that his own scalp stings in sympathy but all Aaron does is moan like a slut for it, pulling against the hold, cheeks hollowing as he sucks Robert. Robert's head is spinning, his chest aching and orgasm curling low and demanding in his belly. His thighs are aching with the strain and forces Aaron's head further back, leans over him to brace his arm on the wall above the headboard. Aaron's cups his balls, squeezes and that's it. Robert pulls back just far enough to keep Aaron from choking and comes with a shout, hips jerking and shuddering, pleasure overwhelming and so painfully hot and he can feel Aaron swallowing against his hand.

He collapses backwards after, breathing hard and barely able to see past the daze of how good it feels. Aaron climbs over top him, looking decidedly smug, and Robert pulls him down by the chin to kiss him and tastes himself in Aaron's mouth.

"I'm so glad I met you," Robert says. Aaron hums and straddles his lap and Robert pulls his knees up so Aaron can lean back against him. He has a scar on his chest, right over his sternum, long and sweeping up to one of his nipples. It looks old and Robert wonders where he got. He traces his fingers out it, then drops his hand down to Aaron's lap and the thick throb of his cock. Aaron makes a soft little ungh noise, rubs his arse back against Robert's cock and fucks into Robert's hand.

"Say something. Let me hear you."

"Robert," Aaron says, and his voice sounds like it's been fucked, sounds raw and hoarse. Robert surges up, wraps both arms tight around Aaron and kisses him stupid. He gets his hand around Aaron's cock and wanks him roughly, twisting at the tip, squeezing at the base. Aaron is babbling into his mouth, things like good and need and just like that. Robert kisses his way down Aaron's neck, tweaks his nipple with his free hand. Aaron buries his face in Robert's hair and ruts against him, rubbing into Robert's hand and against Robert's abs and when Robert lets go of his dick to reach two fingers back and rub them over his taint Aaron seizes up and spills hot and wet between them, cock jerking. Robert watches, his forehead against Aaron's shoulder. He watches Aaron's come spill out of his hand and groans into the feel of Aaron's blunt fingernails digging into his back.

He's nineteen, can feel arousal seeping in through his pores, his cock already fattening up again, Aaron's arse riding over it as he humps through the waves of his orgasm. Robert strokes his hands down Aaron's sweaty back, kisses his shoulder as he comes down. There's another scar on his inner thigh and it looks glossy under sweat and come. Robert thumbs over it, feels Aaron shiver. He smiles against Aaron's collarbone and only pulls back once Aaron lifts his head.

He's beautiful, expression serene and eyes still glazed. He fingers the hair at the back of Robert's neck and arches his back in a long, luxurious stretch. Robert wants to fuck him.

"On your belly," he tells Aaron, palming over Aaron's stomach. He lowers his knees so Aaron can slide off and Aaron is so warm and pliant and God, Robert doesn't know why he's so turned on by how much littler Aaron is but it's something breathtaking and hot, the way his hand can cover the entire expanse of Aaron's back, the way Aaron's shoulders fit into the frame of his own. Robert grips his arms, grinning when he tosses Aaron gracelessly onto his stomach and Aaron laughs breathily.

He digs around in his bedside table for a condom and lube, and it's not until he comes back that he notices the marks on Aaron's back and he feels something like dread threaten. Aaron's utterly boneless, head pillowed on his folded arms, blinking sleepily, his legs spread just a bit and his pelvis moving in tiny circles against the mattress, and Robert would tease him for it but his voice is stuck.

They're small and circular but nearly black, five of them all together, three between his shoulder blades, one right next to his spine further down and one on his side near his hip. There are others, too, scar tissue like paint strokes across his back, some jagged and oddly shaped, some just bright white lines on his tan skin, spread out over his entire back like confetti and this doesn't seem quite so much like Aaron might've been a clumsy kid anymore.

He wants to ask what they're from, but he's only known Aaron for a day, and it's really none of his business. They're old scars.

"Robert?" Aaron asks, lifting his head too look at Robert over his shoulder. Robert grins at him, leans over to kiss him.

"Just admiring the view," he rasps, and sits back to do just that, because Aaron's arse truly is something to appreciate. Possibly should be on display in the Louvre, the single most fantastic bum Robert has ever seen (and he's seen quite a lot). Suddenly all he wants is to get inside him. He cups each cheek in one hand, squeezes just to feel the give and Aaron moans and parts his thighs a bit more. Robert grabs the lube and slicks up his fingers and Aaron tucks his knees underneath him, presenting himself. Robert's mouth is unbearably dry.

"Can't wait to feel you in me," Aaron murmurs, half-blissed out and hard again. He tries to get a hand between his legs but Robert stops him, pins his wrists down on the pillow above his head. He's breathing hard and so fucking hot, cock aching. Aaron squirms against him, humping against thin air. "So fucking big, Rob, c'mon, c'mon."

Robert sinks one finger inside him without preamble, grins at Aaron's little cry, winces at how tight he is. He molds himself to Aaron's back and Aaron turns his head, opens his pretty swollen mouth and Robert presses his tongue inside. Aaron still tastes like his come and it makes something possessive and hungry rise up in Robert's chest. He hooks his finger, rubs the tip over Aaron's prostate and Aaron cries out, breaks the kiss and rocks back into Robert's hand. Robert presses against his rim with a second finger. Aaron mewls and Robert pushes two fingers of his other hand into Aaron's mouth, making soft, encouraging noises into Aaron ear.

Aaron's clenching around his fingers, riding them, moaning helplessly around Robert's fingers and driving his tongue up between them. Robert pulls them out and leaves a wet trail down Aaron's chest and to one of his nipples, which he pinches and tugs until Aaron is pressing into that, too. He pushes another finger inside, spreads them all out wide until Aaron's gasping for breath and then corkscrews them in, scraping his knuckles over Aaron's prostate again and again until Aaron is breathing in dry sobs and his hair is damp with sweat at the temples and fringe.

"Fuck me, Robert, Jesus you great bleeding tease just—" His voice dissolves when Robert adds a fourth finger and he turns his head and sinks his teeth into the meat of Robert's arm.

Robert withdraws his fingers and his hands are shaking with anticipation as he rolls the condom on. Aaron's looking over his shoulder again and he looks desperate and kind of wrecked and Robert wants to fuck him up some more, wants to rip him wide open so he's bare for Robert to see. Aaron's lying down with his arse in the air, his face red and the flush crawling all the way down his chest and back, his hole wet with lube and his cock hard between his legs and he's so fucking gorgeous.

When he lines up, Aaron goes tense and Robert plants a hand between his shoulder blades and uses his other to guide himself in. There's nothing but resistance at first as he pushes the head inside and the sight of Aaron's hole stretching around him wider and wider has him panting, grunting, teeth sunk into his lip. Once the head is all the way in though he just opens, pulling Robert's cock right in and it's so unbearably tight that it kind of hurts. He stops halfway, gasping, and folds down over Aaron's back again. Aaron's trembling, hands clenched in the sheets. Robert slots their fingers together, pins Aaron's hand down.

"Jesus," is all he can say. "Jesus, Aaron, so fucking—"

"Yes," Aaron groans tightly, voice all locked up and choked. "God, fuck, God."

"Poetic," Robert grins, and shoves in another inch, his eyes rolling back in his head as Aaron clenches so tight around him. Aaron turns his head and they get caught up in a sloppy, wet kiss. Once he's all the way in, balls pressed up tight to Aaron's ass, he stills, panting. Aaron nips at his chin and then lets his head drop, braced up on his elbows. Robert mouths at the dip of his neck and bites at the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck, pulls out a bit only to drive hard back in.

"Okay?" he asks.

"Fuck, yes, yes," Aaron gasps. "Just. Keep going."

Robert grinds his way back in, pulls out and does it again, Aaron's ass clutching at him, pulling him in, squeezing him. He covers Aaron's entire body like this. "Gonna make you come just like this," he growls into Aaron's ear, but his hand is gentle on Aaron's hip, thumb rubbing over smooth scar tissue at the base of his spine. "Gonna make you come on my cock just like this."

"Robert," is all Aaron says, a long, drawn-out moan of a sound that makes Robert thrust into him harder, so hard that Aaron cries out, clenches his hands in the sheets. Robert fucks him deep and Aaron's pushing back into every drive, filthy, hot noises ripped out of his throat, past his bitten lips. Robert licks the sweat from his neck, mouths at the hair just behind Aaron's ear. The clutch of Aaron's body almost hurts it's so good and he's not going to last much longer.

Aaron is chanting his name like a fucking prayer and Robert pulls almost all the way out and changes the angle when he thrust back in and Aaron cries out so loud it's startling and hot and Robert smirks. He keeps going like that, nailing Aaron's prostate each time until Aaron gulping for air and swearing into his hands, and then he works a hand between them, presses his fingers against Aaron's stretched hole and Aaron chokes and comes, sobbing with it, tightening like a vice around Robert's dick until Robert can't even move anymore. He can smell Aaron's come and feel it when he reaches down to jack him through it, licking Aaron's oversensitised cries out of his mouth as he pumps him. He lasts another thirty seconds of just grinding into Aaron as deep as he can before his orgasm catches him up in waves and throws him over the edge.

The world is kind of spinning by the time he opens his eyes, and Aaron is trembling under him. He kisses Aaron's back and pulls out carefully, smiles at the soft whine of protest. He gets rid of the condom and guides Aaron to roll back over. Aaron's shaky and smiley, breathing hard, hair a wreck. Robert kisses his mouth and his chest and his tummy, then grips his arse and buries his face between Aaron's legs, takes Aaron into his mouth and buries three fingers back inside him until Aaron writhing and begging and coming again, spilling down Robert's throat.

He has tears of exertion on his face, rolling back into his hair when Robert crawls back over him. Robert thumbs them away and kisses Aaron sweetly, pulls Aaron up into his arms and rolls onto his back, settling Aaron over him. He tucks Aaron's head into his neck and draws hapless shapes across his back, sleepy and sated and terribly pleased with himself.

After a while, Aaron lifts his head and looks down at Robert, a tired smile on his face.

"I think you'll be a very successful doctor," he says. His voice still sounds raw from Robert's cock in his throat. Robert feels the scars on his back, grins up at him.

"Stay here tonight."

Aaron makes a little smacking sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth and drops back down onto Robert's chest, smoothing his palms up and down Robert's sides. "Couldn't leave if I tried, mate. Gonna be walking funny for days. Your cock is obscene."

"I like the way you say 'cock'."

"You would."

Robert hugs Aaron in closer and buries his face in Aaron's messy hair, breathes him in, doesn't let him go.

He's unceremoniously woken up by a loud crash and strangled yelp coming from somewhere in the vicinity of the ensuite. He bolts upright in bed, wide-eyed and confused. The digital clock says that it's only six-thirty and there's a notably empty spot next to him.

"Aaron?" he calls, worried, untangling himself from the blankets as quickly as possible.

"Yeah, shit, sorry," Aaron calls back from the bathroom. Robert lets out a relieved breath and tugs the comforter off the bed, wrapping it around his shoulders to stave off the cold. He's rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when he gets to the bathroom door. Aaron is wearing a pair of Robert's boxers that hang indecently low on his hips and the shirt Robert was wearing last night. It hangs off of his shoulder and all but swallows him, the sleeves nearly down to his fingertips. He's soaked with water from the tap. The small shelf that Robert uses to keep clean towels in is upturned on the floor and the air conditioning is coming out of the vent in the floor full blast. His fringe plastered to his face and his skin goose pimpled, his teeth chattering a little. Robert feels everything in him go soft and fond and he opens his arms.

"I'm wet," Aaron says.

"C'mere, you're freezing," says Robert, and he pulls Aaron in anyway, catching him when he stumbles over a rolled towel and wrapping the comforter around both of them. Aaron immediately wraps around him and Robert hears a squeak come out of his mouth before he can stop it. "Christ, you're cold!"

"Shut up! God, you're so warm, lovely Robert. I'm sorry I broke your tap."

Robert grins, feeling sleepy and content. He presses his mouth to Aaron's temple and cheek and then neck, wraps him up tighter in the comforter. "You didn't. That little cover thing snapped off day before yesterday. Did the same thing to me. They're supposed to come fix it tomorrow. I forgot to warn you."

"You did it on purpose." Aaron burrows in closer, damp but warmer now with their body heat. His arms are around Robert's waist, his chin hooked over Robert's shoulder. Robert takes hold of the ends of the comforter with one hand so he can sweep his palm down Aaron's side and push the boxers down off his waist.

"I like you wearing my clothes."

Aaron grins sharply, making a hot, pleased sound in his throat when Robert shoves the damp cloth off his bum and grips his arse and squeezes. Arousal sweeps low and intense through Robert's belly, and Aaron is half-hard against him by the time he steps out of the boxers and kicks them out of the way. They're still all pressed together, both bare but for Robert's shirt on Aaron, Aaron slick with water.

"Mostly seems like you like me taking your clothes off."

"That too," Robert says. "But I like—"

"That I'm smaller than you, I know. You have a fetish."

Robert can't deny it. "Come back to bed," he murmurs against his mouth. "'s so early."

"I can't," Aaron answers, breath hitching. "Things to do today. Plans. Must keep to my schedule. God, you're good at this."

"Just a little bit longer," Robert whispers. "Just a couple hours. Let me fuck you in the shower and I'll make you breakfast before you go."

Aaron rests his head on Robert's shoulder, smiling against his skin, and says, "Okay."

"Robert's in loooooove," Pete sing-songs. Robert promptly sits on him, and Pete cackles and wraps around him octopus-like, pulling him further onto Ross and Finn's sofa. "Do I get to be the best man?"

"Shut up," Robert says primly. "I hardly know him."

"You are awfully smiley though, mate," Finn offers, settled into the armchair with a very superior look on his face. Robert tosses a bit of popcorn at him and frowns when it falls several feet short onto the coffee table.

"I had a good time, and I'm seeing him again tomorrow." Pete squeezes him tighter and Finn's lips pull into a soft smile and Robert rolls his eyes at them both. "I'm allowed to go on second dates!"

"Of course you are," Ross—sweet, wonderful Ross—says from his spot on the floor in front of the sofa. Robert reaches down and stokes his hair gratefully and Ross grins up at him. "So you like him, then?"

"Yeah, I do."

"And did you do more than fuck him senseless?" Pete asks.

"Yes," Robert pretends to sound scandalized. "So crude, Peteer."

"I'm looking out for your best interests. A relationship is built on more than a good shag."

"Great shag," Robert says. "Fucking phenomenal shag. And he's funny, too. And he can like…keep up, y'know? He has horrible taste in music and he refuses to give away too much about himself, but he's sweet and pretty and we had fun."

When he looks at his friends again, all three of them are staring at him with the same obnoxious smirk, and Robert untangles himself from Pete and crosses his arms over his chest. "Piss off, all of you."

Finn laughs and Pete pats Robert on the arm. "Anyway," he says loudly, looking at the three of them sternly. "He has to work tonight but I'm bringing him by the pub tomorrow, so you'll meet him then."

"Our little Robert," Ross says in a choked up voice. "Bringing someone to meet the family!"

Robert has several very foul responses to that, but at that moment his mobile vibrates in his pocket, and he pulls it out. 2 hrs free at 5. Early dinner at mine? Btw dinner = sex.

The others are making cooing sounds around him, but Robert can't keep the smile off his face to save his life. He types out a quick response—Yes. I expect dessert.—and sinks back into the cushy sofa, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"You're fuckin' adorable, Rob," says Finn.

At five, he spends two delicious hours with Aaron and a bowl of ice cream before Aaron is shoving him out the door so he can get back to wherever it is that he works. Robert can't stop touching him.

"I'm going to be late," Aaron complains, but he's smiling so fucking sweetly and he pushes his hands into the pockets of Robert's trousers and kisses him breathless. "Really. I have to go."

"You couldn't wait to see me," Robert says smugly, wrapping his arms around him, kissing his cheek.

"Well, you're a good fuck, aren't you?" Aaron says. He pulls away reluctantly and turns to lock the door to his flat.

"You like me," Robert says. "You like my sense of humor and my winsome blonde hair."

Aaron snorts. "I like your massive dick and your o-face."

"You can't stop thinking about me. I'm always on your mind. We had a date set for tomorrow and it was too long for you to be without me."

"I like it better when your mouth is otherwise occupied."

"Aaron."

Aaron looks around, pocketing his keys. "Mm?"

"I like you. I think you're beautiful and wonderful to be around and I like the sounds you make when you come and the way you look in my clothes and everything I know about you."

"Of course you do," Aaron says. "I'm like Mary Poppins."

"What?"

"Practically perfect in every way."

Robert laughs outright, tugs on Aaron's hands and presses their palms together, steps in so their arms are stretched out like airplane wings and their chests and the tips of their noses are touching.

"Ring me tonight when you get home."

Aaron goes cross-eyed and Robert grins. "Might be very late."

"I don't care."

"All right," Aaron says, after a long stretch of considering silence. Robert kisses him and then reluctantly lets him go, settling for simply holding Aaron's hand on the walk out. When they get to Robert's car Aaron waits until Robert's already buckled in to lean into the window and press a kiss to Robert's forehead.

"I do, you know."

"What?" Robert asks.

"Like you."

Robert positively beams at him and Aaron's smile is shy, soft. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and Robert has to use every ounce of willpower he has to keep from pulling him into the car and having awkwardly positioned sex right there in the car park.

He watches Aaron walk away toward the tube station and leans his head back against his seat once Aaron's out of sight. He thinks he might have found something, here. Something real and right and wonderful. He can't stop smiling. His heart is pounding, and his mouth still tastes like strawberry ice cream.

"How'd it go at the hospital?" Aaron asks Robert the next evening on the way to pub. They're walking, since it's just a few blocks away, and every other step their arms bump.

His first day of work went as smooth as it could be. His parents' old friend—an obstetrician who got Robert the internship in the first place—showed him around the hospital for a bit and then handed him off to woman named Amanda that will be his supervisor. She was nice, and she took him around to take a picture for his ID badge and then to fill out forms. The rest of his eight-hour shift was spent watching instruction films on what not to do and how not to act and general etiquette. Amanda let him go at six-thirty with a promise that the next shift will be actual work.

"It went well. A little boring orientation stuff, but I think it'll be good."

"Good," Aaron says, smiling at him. The wind is making him pink-cheeked. He's got a black beanie on to control his wild hair, though. "I'm sure you'll do well."

"Hopefully. I think I'll like it okay. It's a foot in the door, in any case. Take a right here."

He leads Aaron around the corner and then across the street, ignoring the car horn that blares angrily at them for jay walking. "Sorry, sorry. I always forget that there's a stoplight there now. Used to just be a sign so we always had the right of way."

Aaron waves a dismissive hand in the air and sidles in closer, winding his arm through Robert's. "So these friends of yours…"

"Ah, right. Well, Ross and Finn live across the hall from me and Pete is down the hall. We met on our way to the train our first day of Uni, turned out we all go to the same school. We kinda never looked back, you know? Best mates and whatnot."

"Are they all future doctors too?"

"No. Finn is engineering and Pete is law and Ross is music."

"Ross is the one who'll be singing tonight?"

"Yep!" Robert says proudly. It's hard not to be proud of Ross most of the time. "He's very good. Finn and our other friend Mary tend bar and Ross performs probably twice a week. We're all waiting for him to make it big."

Aaron looks thoughtful. "And Finn and Ross are a couple?"

Robert nods, squeezing in closer to Aaron when they pass by a huge group of girls walking too slow, also on their way to the pub. Ross tends to bring in a crowd. "Since they were sixteen or something like that. They're one of those destined in the stars, soulmate kind of couples. I used to find it very nauseating."

"Used to," Aaron repeats. Robert squeezes his hand and he blushes a bit and looks away, smiling. "You're a bit of a romantic."

"A bit," Robert agrees. "That bother you?"

"Not as much as it probably should," Aaron says, and Robert prods him sharply in the stomach where he knows Aaron is ticklish and Aaron steps on his foot.

"Why can't we all just get along?" Robert sobs, unlinking their arms to defend himself when Aaron tries to thwap him in the stomach.

They make it to the pub relatively unscathed, Aaron's beanie on Robert's head now and Aaron on his back, claiming terrible blisters from so much walking. There's already a crowd outside the pub, and Robert greets the few people he knows with a nod of his head as he sets Aaron back down on his feet and pulls him through the door. Ross's not on stage yet, but he sees Finn and Pete chatting at the bar.

"Robert!" Pete says as soon as he spots them. He's got a drink in his hand and there's a girl not too far away that's looking at him like she wants to eat him for breakfast. Robert just grins.

"Hey, Rob," Finn says without looking at him, his eyes locked to Robert's right. "You must be Aaron."

"Aaron, this is Finn," Robert says, pointing, "and that's Pete. Lads, this is Aaron."

Pete immediately wraps Aaron up in a hug, and Robert would kill him instantly except that Aaron laughs and pats him on the back. "Nice to meet you, mate!" Pete says enthusiastically. "We've heard so much about you."

"Ignore everything he ever says," Robert advises Aaron.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"How very dare you!" says Pete.

"Really," Finn tells Aaron, reaching out to shake his hand. Aaron accepts with a grin. "You should ignore everything he ever says. Crazy Irish bastard. Not to be trusted."

"I never," says Pete.

Aaron laughs, but then gets distracted by the footie jersey Pete's sporting and the two of them are off on a very passionate discussion about it. Robert quirks an eyebrow at Finn, who smiles lazily and shrugs. It feels a bit like approval.

They spend the next twenty minutes talking and it's like Aaron's been a part of the group his whole life. He gives Pete shit when Pete spills his drink all over the bar in his enthusiasm to tell a story about this one time in Soho, and he and Finn bond over clothes and lightweights. Finn's referring to him as 'Aaron' within a few minutes and Pete's standing with his arm around Aaron's shoulders and Robert didn't know how much it meant to him that his friends like Aaron until now that it's happened and the relief is a weight he didn't know he had off his shoulders.

The crowd inside starts to make a lot of noise all the sudden and Robert and Aaron both turn to see, pushing his way through people to get to them, "Ross," Aaron says.

"Yeah, that's…." But Robert trails off, because that didn't sound like a question and Aaron looks like he's going into shock. Robert's just about to ask him if he's all right when Ross stops a few feet in front of them and stares at Aaron, open-mouthed.

"Oh my god," he says.

Robert looks at Finn, who has an eyebrow raised and an expression on his face that's just as confused as Robert feels. And then Ross and Aaron both break into huge grins and when Ross opens his arms Aaron rushes into them and they hug like they've known each other their whole lives.

"Aaron Dingle is your Aaron?" Ross asks Robert over Aaron's shoulder.

"I. Yes?" Robert answers.

"I can't believe this!" Ross says, and it's as though he's read Robert's mind, though he sounds rather more happy than confused, which is what Robert is feeling in spades.

"I was thinking, when Robert was telling me about you," Aaron says once he and Ross have untangled, laughing a little. "I was thinking 'oh, hey, I used to know a Ross who liked to sing'." He turns and looks up at Robert and Robert's still completely nonplussed but he likes the way Aaron smiles and the ways Aaron tucks himself in against Robert's side. "Ross and I were in school together when we were lads."

"Aaron moved when I was fourteen, and I moved a year later."

"This feels like an episode of Friends," Pete says. "Long lost childhood friends meet-up at a pub."

Finn rolls his eyes and Ross laughs.

"We really only lived in the same neighborhood and had choir together at school," Aaron explains. "I was a year ahead of him, so we didn't have classes together or anything. He was the star, though. Robert said you're going to school for music. That's great!"

Ross grins and rubs at the back of his neck shyly, taking a seat at the bar and casually reaching out to swipe his thumb over the inside of Finn's wrist. Robert takes a seat himself and Aaron stays standing between his legs, gripping Robert's thigh. Robert likes to pretend that he's not a big believer in destiny, but he can't help feeling that all of this is a little strange. He wraps his arms around Aaron's waist, slots his thumbs into Aaron's belt loops, forearms crossed over his stomach. He hooks his chin on Aaron's shoulder and breathes in the scent of him, frilly soap and nice cologne.

"You met Finn then? Ross is saying. "And Pete?"

"Yeah, we've all been introduced."

"So you grew up in Wolverhampton?" Robert asks Aaron curiously. It feels strange that they haven't touched on this before.

"Until I was fifteen," Aaron says, and he and Ross look at each other carefully, and Ross can't hide anything to save his life, so the very real concern on his face almost makes Robert ask what's wrong, but Aaron looks up at him and is smiling. "When my parents split I moved to Doncaster. Moved to London not long after."

"I'd barely even traveled here before uni," Robert says. "This lot, too. Pete lived in Ireland his whole life and Ross and Finn met in Bradford. It was a bit overwhelming at first. And expensive."

"Robert your step-dad is like a trillionaire," Pete laughs, and Robert blushes faintly, especially when Aaron quirks a curious, slightly evil eyebrow.

"I still can appreciate how expensive something is!" he argues.

"it's all right love," Aaron says, reaching up to pat awkwardly at Robert's cheek. "You can't help it that you're young and rich and beautiful."

"Well," Robert flounders a little, buries his face in Aaron's hair and pretends that Ross and Pete aren't both laughing at him.

"Oi, look at that, will you?" Pete says suddenly, gesturing at the other end of the bar with the drink in his hand. Finn's over there filling orders and chatting with a couple of girls that are batting their eyes at him. "He gets the best tips," Pete says. "I'm too forward. So I get the best sex from this job, but Finn gets the best tips, because he's all mysterious and sexy."

"Sometimes Pete forgets that he's straight," Robert tells Aaron, who grins cheekily.

"He flirts without the follow-through," Pete goes on after a sharp tug on Robert's hair. "It's genius, really. I just don't have that kind of will power."

Robert smiles at that, and at the way Ross looks over at Finn with this expression on his face that's intense and soft and fond and so stupid in love that it would feel intrusive to look on if Robert didn't know them so well. Before Ross goes up on stage, Finn grips him by the collar of his jumper and tugs him close, kisses him rather possessively. Aaron tilts his head to watch, covering both of Robert's hands with his own at his waist, and Ross is panting a bit by the time Finn finally lets him go, but he looks pumped up and happy and they're really just absolutely disgusting, the two of them.

"Go make all these girls's knickers melt off," Finn says.

Ross grins bashfully and chuffs Finn gently under the chin with the side of his index finger, says a quick, "Be good," and then he's wading through the crowd again to take the stage. The noise is ridiculous, and Ross is adorable, rambling into the microphone. Robert's not really paying attention to him, though, is sliding off his stool to pull Aaron against him fully. Finn's got a crowd of people to make drinks for and Pete has faded into the corner with a group of girls. Aaron turns in Robert's arms, smiles slowly up at him.

"I like your friends."

"They like you too," says Robert. "S'weird that you already knew Ross though."

Aaron hums an agreement. "It's been ages since I've seen him. He looks just the same. Hotter, now, of course."

"Don't let Finn hear you say that. Possessive bastard."

"I noticed that."

"I'm not much better," Robert admits pointedly. Aaron quirks an eyebrow at him, smirking. "It's one of my few flaws."

"Your eyes make up for almost everything," Aaron says, ruffling them. "And what they can't cover your cock does."

Robert stifles a laugh, because Aaron said that quite loud and people are turning to look, but if nothing else in the last few days he's learned that Aaron is brash and loud and unapologetic and Robert finds it alarmingly attractive.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Robert asks him.

"Should I?"

"Mm. Doctor's orders."

"Ah," Aaron says, the sweet grin on his face at odds with the filthy look in his eyes. "I'm due for an examination, am I?"

"Very due," Robert agrees. "Overdue, in fact. You need extensive tests done. I'll be very thorough. It's all in your best interest."

"I suppose I can't skip out on that, can I?"

Ross sounds incredible, like he always does. Robert is pleasantly buzzed and Aaron slipping into drunk by the fifth song, and Aaron drags Robert closer to the stage so they're part of the crowd and Robert warps around him from behind, Aaron's back pressed all along his chest as they sway together. Ross's singing something a little too mainstream for Robert's tastes, something he hasn't heard before that's slow and pretty, Pete up on stage to accompany on guitar. Ross's gaze catches on them and he smiles as he sings and Robert presses his mouth to Aaron's ear.

"Why was he looking at you like that earlier? Like he was worried about you?"

Aaron doesn't ask what he means, just tilts his head up for a kiss before he answers. "My parents divorce was quite messy. Ross lived next door. I didn't get much of a chance to say goodbye before I moved. I'm a little shocked he still remembers me. It was a long time ago."

"You're very memorable," Robert tells him, and Aaron nods solemnly, biting his lip on a smile. Robert pushes his hair back, turns Aaron so they're facing each other. "I'm sorry your parents divorce was rough."

"You're sweet," says Aaron, cupping Robert's cheek. Robert turns his head to kiss his palm. He's happy. He's really, really very happy.

They help Finn close up at the end of the night, and the five of them plus Pete's on-again off-again girl Mary—another bartender at the pub—walk home together. Mary is the only one left sober, even Ross is stumbling more than he's walking and deteriorating into inexplicable fits of giggles. Robert has Aaron hitched on his back, and Aaron and Pete are singing the Canadian national anthem deafeningly, Aaron's legs squeezing at Robert's sides and his arms flailing above him. Finn and Ross are nearly in tears from laughing.

"The True North strong and freeeee!" Pete and Aaron shout. They both have quite lovely singing voices, Robert thinks.

"I can't believe I hang out with you lot," Mary says helplessly.

"I wish we didn't have to wear so many clothes all the time," Robert replies, which has nothing to do with what she said but he feels like someone should know, and he's frowning and feeling deeply affected by this. "I just. I would feel so much more without clothes on."

"The lot of us would, mate," Finn says, and then belches loudly. "Keep your kit on."

"O Canada! We stand on guard for thee!" Pete wails.

"Oh my God," Marry laughs. "Shut up! Robert, what have you brought into our ranks? This—" she points at Aaron, who is harmonizing with Pete, a hand on his chest, Robert thinks, because his elbow is kind of buried in Robert's hair. "This one is an instigator."

"I beg your pardon!" Aaron says, very offended.

She prods him in the side and he jerks and giggles, ticklish. "Look at him! Look at those cheekbones! He got Ross drunk!"

"I'm not drunk, surely," Ross says like it's a perfectly reasonable conclusion.

"You are, sweetheart," Finn nods, gripping Ross's arm tightly. "And don't call me Shirley."

Robert trips over a bump in the sidewalk, and yelps and he and Aaron go down flailing, which ends in both of them on the ground in a tangle of limbs and laughing so hard they can't breathe.

"Children. The lot of you." Mary says dryly. She's only a few years older than them. Robert wants to point that out but Aaron is squirming against him and kissing him and really, he'd rather do that anyway. "Hey, hey! You two wait until you're home, will you?"

And, just because Robert feels a bit bad for her, he complies.

It takes another twenty minutes to make it back to their flats, and Robert barely wishes the others a goodnight before he's closed the door and crowded Aaron up against it.

"Tell me what you want," Robert demands. He likes it when Aaron talks. He likes the sound of his voice.

"I want you to come on my face," Aaron answers immediately, like he's been thinking about it, and the few inhibitions he had before are out the window with the alcohol in his system. Robert moans out loud and ruts against the sharp wing of Aaron's hip. Aaron threads his fingers into his hair and bites at his earlobe. "Then I want you to fuck me. For the sake of my health. Dr. Sugden."

Robert bites at Aaron's neck and pulls him closer. "I'll give you all the doctoring you need, love."

He fucks Aaron on the living room floor until they've both got rug burn on their knees, and then again against the bedroom wall. They fall asleep tangled together, wake up in the middle of the night and Aaron is sleepy and soft and so, so sweet. Robert kisses him slow and deep and spreads him open. Aaron rolls another condom down over Robert's cock and Robert sinks into him easily and just stays buried there for a few, Aaron's legs around his waist, their chests together. They snog and fuck slow and lazy, all low-burning heat and intensity and Robert comes when Aaron does, trembling underneath him and gasping against his neck.

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" Robert asks him after they've both come down. Aaron still hasn't told him what he does. Every time Robert asks it's something new. Aaron doesn't give things up easily. Robert likes the challenge.

"No," Aaron answers. Robert goes to pull out but Aaron tightens his legs. "Stay in me a bit."

Robert's mouth goes dry. He bites his tongue and nods, easing back down, lacing their fingers together on the pillow next to Aaron's head.

"Stay over again. I only have to work a few hours in the morning. You can stay here, or hang with the lads. Be here when I get back, huh?"

"I s'pose I can do that, yeah," Aaron says. He kisses Robert very sweetly and Robert squeezes his hand. It's so late, nearly morning already. Robert has to be to work in four hours. After a bit he reluctantly disentangles himself from Aaron and gets rid of the condom. Aaron pulls him back into his arms and Robert goes willingly, eyes closing. Aaron hums quietly and plays with his hair, and Robert thinks he's never felt so content before. He thinks he might like Aaron quite a lot.

He thinks he might keep him.

The next two months pass by in a blur of summer and sex and friends and all things Aaron, who is adopted into their group so fast it's like they weren't really complete without him. They go on dates and spend days together if Robert's not working and nights together if Aaron isn't. When Robert's sister and mum visit he introduces them, and Aaron has them charmed in moments, has Robert's mum fawning all over him and Gemma halfway in love.

Robert works three to four days a week, and Aaron works a lot more than that since his job is full-time, but they don't go a day without seeing each other and Robert's having more sex than he's ever had in his life and it's hot and good and wonderful. They have clothes at each others' flats, and Robert has a head for Aaron's Sonicare toothbrush, and there's a Aaron-shaped imprint in Robert's mattress and Robert's pretty sure he's in love.

"I think things are going very well," Aaron says one morning, naked and sweaty and riding Robert's dick so fucking slow. Robert grips his hips, rocks up into him and Aaron makes a rough, punched-out noise and presses his hands harder into Robert's chest. Robert may very well kill him if he doesn't speed up, so he rolls them over, smirking at Aaron's startled yelp, and digs himself in as deep as he can, until Aaron's panting and his eyes are rolling back.

"Very well," Robert finally agrees, sucking bruises into Aaron's neck. Aaron's legs wrap around his waist and his abs contract as he rocks his hips to meet the thrust when Robert starts to drive in harder, faster.

"Fuck, babe, it's really hot when you throw me around like that."

Robert grins, nips at Aaron's swollen bottom lip and groans brokenly when Aaron clenches around him, moaning and needy. Robert lasts barely another few minutes, fucking Aaron hard enough for the headboard to bounce against the wall and Robert's neighbors probably hate it but he doesn't care. Aaron's loud and hot, voice all fucked out and filthy (fuck me Robert, harder, fill me up, so fucking big inside me feels so good gonna come on your cock gonna come make me come) and Robert's balls deep inside him and is only human. He flies over the edge, pleasure swallowing him up so sharp and sweet it makes his teeth hurt and his body throb and Aaron is spilling between them, into his own hand and all over their stomachs. Robert palms over Aaron's belly, fucking him through the waves, swallows Aaron's slurry, blissed words, licks them out of his mouth.

Later, after Robert can see straight again and he's sleepy and comfortable, head pillowed on Aaron's chest and Aaron's hands in his hair, Robert says, "It's going very well. I'm going to introduce you as my boyfriend from now on, mmkay?"

Aaron's hand stills in his hair and Robert holds his breath, exhales when it starts again, his hair twirling up around Aaron's fingers.

"Well all right then," says Aaron, and that's that.

Robert's good mate Nick has a few people around for drinks and lunch one afternoon, and a few turns into twenty or thirty which Robert is grateful for. Aaron and Nick don't really get along well. They tend to press each other's buttons and get snipey at each other, so Robert doesn't force them to spend too much time together, but Nick is a really good friend. Aaron is willing to bear his presence if it'll make Robert happy, and Robert is more than willing to abuse that. Especially at something like this, when the rest of the lads are here and Aaron can walk away when he gets annoyed.

Afternoon is curtailing into evening and Robert's tipsy, sitting in a very comfortable chair in Nick's living room. He grins lazily when Nick walks over and squeezes into the seat with him. He was one of Robert's professors at Uni. Robert did very well in that class.

"Young Harold!" Nick says solemnly. "You look very content."

Robert giggles drunkenly. "I am very content, Professor Grimshaw."

Nick smiles at him, and then gestures to the doors to the balcony, beyond which Robert spots an unmistakable quiff. "Your young man there looks awfully serious."

Robert tilts his head to see past the door frame and through the glass. Aaron is outside with Ross. They're standing quite close together, and Ross has his hand on Aaron's shoulder and is biting his bottom lip, big dark eyes worried. Ross worries about everything, but it's not the first time Robert's seen him look at Aaron like that. Aaron's face is kind of shadowed, but he's talking with his hands and he doesn't look upset or anything.

"Oo, menage a trois," Nick says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively when Finn walks up on Aaron's other side and ruffles his hair.

"Don't be a prick," Robert tells Nick. He watches Ross's lips move around the words I'm sorry and then Aaron wraps him in a hug and Ross squeezes him tightly, his hand huge on Aaron's back. Robert frowns thoughtfully, oddly concerned. When they pull away from each other, Finn says something and Aaron laughs and Ross launches himself at Finn and the world starts spinning again. Robert looks away from them just in time to brace himself for Pete dropping into his lap like a rock. Robert laughs and squeezes his arms around him.

"You five are the handsiest group of boys I've ever heard of," sniffs Nick. Robert elbows him hard enough to make him choke a bit on his wine and calls it a win.

One night near the end of August, Pete's brings Brittany to dinner, the girl he hooked up with the night Robert first met Aaron. She looks very pretty in her pale blue dress and she's very entertaining. They're at Pete's favorite restaurant, working their way through obscene amounts of Greek food, and Brittany is laughing at something Pete said and Finn is outside smoking. Ross's been at work all day long, unloading shipments of packages from other countries off of planes. It's apparently very trying manual labor, and he looks exhausted. Robert pats at his head consolingly when Ross yawns for the umpteenth time.

"There, there," he says, in a very comforting way.

Ross snorts and smiles, yawns again until his jaw cracks. "Where's Aaron tonight?"

"Working."

"Aaron?" Brittany asks curiously. She's hung out with them a few times over the last few months, though she and Pete are just friends. He doesn't think she's ever been around when Aaron's been with them, though.

"Aaron," Pete tells her, grinning. "Remember that bloke you and Ella pointed out that night? He's Rob's boyfriend now."

Brittany is the one who started the whole Aaron is a hooker rumor, but Robert's been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. She looks so puzzled for so long that Robert starts to get a bit nervous, a bit annoyed. "But, isn't he…?"

"No," Pete says sternly before Robert can, in a much nicer voice than Robert would've used. "I don't know where you got that idea, love, but he's most definitely not. He and Robert have been together for months now."

"But I saw him last night," Brittany says weakly, and something cold and tight worms its way into Robert's chest. "I saw him at a restaurant by the club."

It goes deathly silent very fast. Robert feels shockingly numb. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Brittany says, and her big brown eyes only look concerned. "I thought. I didn't realize that you two were so serious. I would've warned you before. Aaron isn't…I mean, I'm sure he's a perfectly wonderful person," she finishes lamely, all of them staring at her now.

"You saw him with someone?" Ross asks delicately. He's suddenly gripping Robert's hand quite tightly.

"Yes. An older man. They were holding hands on the table. Robert, I'm so sorry, really."

She's wrong, Robert thinks, even as he rises from the table and goes outside for some air. He almost knocks Finn over, apologizes hastily. He's breathing hard.

"Rob? You all right?" Finn asks.

"Robert." That's Ross, outside now too, and Finn is looking between them worriedly and Robert just wants Ross to tell him that Brittany is an awful human being who is lying. Ross grips him by the shoulders. "It might not be what you think. You need to talk to him first."

"She's making it up," Robert says at once, determined. "She's just. She's wanted to believe it from the beginning."

But he's thinking of all the times he's asked Aaron what he does for a living and all the damn cryptic smirks he gets as a response. He thinking about how Aaron works so many nights, and how even after all this time and how well he thinks that he knows Aaron, he still doesn't really know anything about him.

"You need to talk to him," Ross repeats. "Tomorrow, all right? Or he usually calls after work. Have him come by. Tell him you need to talk to him and it can't wait."

"I can't wait," Robert agrees. He's already digging his keys out of his pockets. "I'm going to. I'm going to his flat. I'm going to wait there for him. They all know me there. It'll be fine. I'll talk to him tonight."

Ross makes a face like he's going to say something Robert doesn't want to hear, so Robert shakes him off and crosses the car park to his car at a jog. Once he's inside he can see Ross and Finn talking, Ross's lips moving and Finn's eyes getting steadily wider until his brow furrows. As he pulls out onto the road, he calls Aaron twice, but both times go straight to voicemail. It's almost eleven o'clock at night. He's not sure what song is on, something Nick let him borrow, but it's screaming and raw and Robert shuts it off harshly. His palms are sweating.

He parks illegally in front of Aaron's building, and takes the stairs because the elevator is too slow. He'll feel better once he's there, even just sitting outside Aaron's door waiting for him. But Aaron's door isn't all the way closed when Robert gets there. Robert swallows hard, walks silently down the hallway and pushes it open, takes a single step in with Aaron's name on the tip of his tongue and stops dead.

There's a handsome man at least twice Aaron's age, and he's got Aaron wrapped up in his arms and he speaking into Aaron's ear in a whisper. It's an intimate hold, possessive, his hand on Aaron's back, and Robert feels like someone just reached into him and pulled all of his insides out, laid them bare on the floor. His foot slips on the tile, squeaks, and both Aaron and the man look around at him. Aaron's eyes widen and the color drains from his face, and Robert inexplicably wants to laugh. His eyes are burning.

"Robert," Aaron breathes. He steps away from the man but Robert takes a step back.

"This is why you wouldn't tell me," Robert says, his voice more broken than he wants it to come out. "This job of yours, the acrobat and the court jester and the pastry chef and the professional milkshake taster. And all this time it was this?"

"Robert," Aaron says again. He sounds horrified, his eyes still so wide. He's so fucking gorgeous and Robert can't stand to look at him.

"I have to go."

"No, Rob, wait—"

But Robert doesn't, is already slamming the door closed behind him. He knows Aaron's going to follow him, but he can't make himself look back, make himself stop. He can barely hear the pound of his own footsteps over the roar of blood in his ears. He's got tears on his cheeks and everything hurts.

Aaron catches up to him in the car park. He's barefoot and looks panicked. Robert jerks his arm out of his grip and whirls around and finds himself momentarily frozen at the look on Aaron's face. Aaron is livid.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demands. "I told you I have to work tonight! Why are you here?!"

Robert is caught somewhere between rage and all-encompassing grief. It takes full seconds of staring at Aaron with his mouth partially open before he's able to find his voice again. "Are you. Are you actually upset with me for this?"

"You can't just waltz into my flat whenever you bloody well feel like it!"

"The door was open!" Robert shouts. His insides are tight and crumbling and it hurts. "You were too busy humping that guy to close it!"

Aaron shakes his head firmly, mouth pressed into a tight line. His eyes are hard but his hands are shaking. "Jesus Christ, Robert. You can't just—"

"I came to see you!" Robert growls, because anger is so much safer right now, so much easier to deal with than the pain that's threatening to knock him down. "Because Pete's friend said she saw you last night with someone else and I wanted to talk to you about it. Your door was open!"

"I told you I was working!" Aaron yells, but he sounds more panicked than angry now.

"They told me," Robert spits. "They told me at that club, Pete's friend, she told me that you're famous there. A famous fucking whore that picks up business there!"

Aaron rakes his fingers through his hair, hands curled into claws that tug viciously. He's very pale. "It's not what you think," he chokes. "Robert, it's not. It's not—"

"So what was that then?!" Robert shouts. "Either you're cheating on me, which is…" Robert shakes his head, wipes his hand over his mouth. "Or you've been lying to me this whole time. Has it all just been made up? What the fuck were you—Why were you—" God, he can't even finish a sentence. "I thought you were just playing! I thought you just wanted to drive me crazy with the guessing! I didn't think you were hiding something! I didn't think you were hiding this."

"Robert…"

"What?! Is he related to you? Is he your uncle? Father? Because his hand on your arse makes me doubt that!"

"He's…He's a friend. He's just an old friend."

Robert laughs deliriously, choking on tears. It hurts to breathe. "Jesus Christ, Aaron. Where did you meet him? Where did he come from?"

Aaron looks away, looks down at his feet and Robert feels his heart crumble in his chest. He feels foolish and young and naïve. "You made me trust you. You made me believe you. I'm so fucking in love you with you that I can't even see straight and you're…"

Aaron head snaps up when Robert says it, and he looks ill under the streetlight. His eyes are wet too, but he doesn't say anything.

"You still can't even answer me," Robert groans. "You can't even explain. You'd rather keep your secrets than—" He cuts himself off again, gnawing on his bottom lip. Finally, hurt and scared and wrapping anger around him like a cloak of armor, he shakes his head and opens his car door.

"Robert…"

"Go back inside, Aaron. You have a client."

For a second, Robert sees something like anger flash in Aaron's eyes. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Aaron snaps.

"I really, really don't," Robert agrees brokenly. "That's sort of the problem."

"Robert, God, please, just…just wait, okay? Come back upstairs and we'll talk, all right?"

Robert shakes his head against that temptation, but he doesn't want to hear anything Aaron has to say right now. He wants to snap at him, to say Sorry, Aaron, I clearly can't afford you, but he can't. He's not that person. He doesn't want to be that person.

"I have to go," is all he says, and gets into his car. Aaron doesn't try to stop him again, and Robert leave him there hunched in on himself in the middle of the car park. Ahead of him, all Robert can see are bright lights and a beautiful London skyscape, blurred by the tears streaming down his cheeks, and all he can think is that he's nineteen years old. He supposes that it's about time he had his heart broken.

He spends that night sobbing into Finn's chest while Finn and Ross both wrap around him in their bed, unable to even tell them what happened he's such a wreck of snot and tears and hurt. Their home is lovely and their life is lovely and they're so in love and Robert lets it wrap around him, tucked between them, Ross's hand on his belly and Finn's fingers stroking his hair and being a part of it just for a minute makes it a bit easier to breathe.

The next two days after that, he calls into work and locks himself in his flat except to go to the gym, where he works himself into exhaustion and stumbles home and falls asleep, wakes up long enough to drink copious amounts of alcohol and then go back to sleep.

By the third day, he has over fifty missed calls from Aaron, over one hundred text messages. He hasn't looked at any of them. He feels sick and wrong and horrible, and all he wants to do is forget.

On the fourth day, he wakes up from an impromptu nap around seven in the evening to find Ross stretched out next to him on his bed, stroking his hair gently. He looks worried and warm and Robert's aching to be touched, so when Ross pulls him in he goes willingly. Ross hugs him close, rolls onto his back to settle Robert against his side and Robert rests his head over the steady beat of Ross's heart. He misses Aaron so much he feels sick with it.

For a long time, Ross just holds him, strokes his hair and the back of his neck, rubs his back and hums very quietly and it's so soothing that Robert is very nearly asleep when Ross starts talking.

"Rob, I didn't tell you this before because it really isn't my story to tell."

That sounds ominous. Robert sits up slowly, winds his blanket around his shoulders. Ross sits up too so they're facing each other. "What d'you mean?" Robert asks, his voice a rough croak of sound.

"I grew up next door to Aaron, you know that."

"Yeah. He said you were there to see how ugly his parents divorce got."

"Which is true," Ross says. "But he wouldn't have told you exactly how ugly it was."

"Christ, Ross, stop with the build up. I'm so fucking tired of talking in circles, just—"

"Aaron didn't move because his parents got divorced. He and his sisters were taken away from them."

"I don't understand," says Robert, dread like a rock in his stomach.

Ross sighs sadly. "You know. By the police. For their own safety."

Robert blinks, lips parting. "Oh." It's all he can think of to say. And then he thinks of Aaron's scars. He's seen them a million times since they first met. He's never asked. "He has. He has cigarette burns on his back."

Ross winces. "That's. That's not so surprising, really. I don't know many details. My parents kept me out of it as much as possible, but there were a lot of incidents. Aaron's been loud and a bit defiant and mischievous his whole life, so it was easy to write off some of the injuries as just accidents. But his parents fought all the time. His mother was addicted to pills and I don't know about his dad but at the least he was a very angry man. The night they came and took him and his sisters from them Aaron hadn't been to school in almost a week. We..."

He breaks off, scrubbing at his mouth. The guilt on his face is almost tangible. "Ross."

Ross shakes his head slowly. "He was. He was screaming. We could hear it from my house. My dad broke in and Aaron and his dad were in the living room and his dad was going at him with the buckle end of his belt. Dad and I had to haul him off him. There was. There was so much blood. I sat with Aaron while we waited for the police and ambulance and stuff. He was in a lot of pain, not all there. He just kept apologizing for interrupting our dinner. I don't know. It was horrible. There was so much blood."

Robert's covering his mouth with his hand, thinking of the mess of scars on Aaron's back. He can feel tears rolling down his cheeks and doesn't remember when he started crying. He feels like he might be sick. Ross is staring unseeing at the wall, haunted.

"Li," he croaks. It's all he can say. Ross takes his hand and squeezes it, composes himself, and Robert's breath hitches painfully. The looks Ross kept giving Aaron at the beginning make sense now. Robert almost wishes he didn't know.

"He didn't have it easy growing up, and he didn't exactly have anyone teaching him that keeping secrets isn't the way to go. He's been by every day looking for you, and he's a wreck, Rob. I know you love him. You should cut him some slack."

It's not fair, Robert thinks, that Ross came in here and told him these things and now there's guilt and horror and soul-deep concern wilting his insides. He doesn't know what to say.

"You have every right to be mad," Ross says sternly, forcing Robert to look at him and not his hands wringing in his lap. "Keeping this from you—at the very least that he was sleeping with other people—was wrong. Don't feel guilty for how you reacted when you saw what you did. But maybe don't cut him off so quickly. Maybe let him explain."

After Ross leaves, Robert takes a shower and spends a full thirty minutes pacing his living room before he finally picks up his mobile, chooses Aaron's number from his contacts and listens to it ring.

It barely gets to the second one before Aaron answers, and his voice sounds weak and wretched when he says Robert's name and Robert misses him so much.

"Yeah," he says. His voice is shaking. His hands are shaking. "Hi, Aaron."

Aaron makes a little choked noise. "I'm. Hi. How. How are you?"

Robert chokes out a quiet laugh. "I'm a bit shit, to be honest."

"Oh," says Aaron. "Me too."

Robert bites his lip. He's afraid and he's tired and he just…if nothing else he needs closure. "Can I come over?"

"Yes," Aaron says immediately. "God, yes. Of course. Please. I'm. I miss you."

Robert scrubs a hand over his face, feels himself smile, just a bit. "I miss you, too."

The drive to Aaron's is all of twenty minutes, twenty long, long minutes. The longest twenty minutes in the history of the universe. But when Robert gets there, it takes him another ten minutes to get the courage to get out of his car, and another five after that to work up the nerve to knock on Aaron's door.

And then it opens and Aaron is right there, looking impossibly small in the jumper he stole from Robert months ago. His eyes are red and he's got dark circles underneath them. His hair looks like he's been raking his fingers through it and he looks like he hasn't slept in days and he's so completely stunning that Robert has to stop himself from reaching for him.

"Hey," Aaron murmurs. He's holding a mug of tea in his hand, and Robert can see another one steaming on the coffee table. "Come in."

Robert tries to smile but it comes out as more of a grimace, and he follows Aaron inside, sitting down on the sofa while Aaron curls himself into the chair opposite. It's awkward for the first time it's ever been between them and Robert can't stand it. He opens his mouth to tell Aaron in a very mature and soothing way that he'd like to hear Aaron's side of the story, please, so that he can figure out how he's supposed to feel because right now he doesn't know.

What comes out instead is, "Ross told me about your parents."

Aaron blinks over his tea at him, startled, and Robert fights the urge to smack himself on the face. "Oh."

"Sorry," Robert says, waving a hand at him somewhat desperately. Aaron probably thinks he's lost his mind. "He seemed to think it was relevant."

"It is," Aaron says slowly, looking down at his tea for a few moments and then back at Robert. He just looks so tired. "What did he tell you?"

"Just that you and your sisters were taken from your parents for your own safety."

Aaron nods distractedly. His hands are shaking a bit when he sets his mug onto the coffee table and tugs the sleeves of Robert's jumper down over them so just his fingertips peek out. "Yes."

"Aaron you don't have to tell me anything. You really don't, and I don't want you to feel obligated to. You don't owe me anything." Aaron flinches like Robert's hit him and Robert bites his lip, desperate and hurting and uncertain. "I just…I just need to know who that man was. Why he was here. I don't know if that will help but I can't…I just want to understand."

Aaron takes a very deep breath and exhales it slowly. He looks away, out the window, a million miles away and Robert gives him all the time he needs, his heart throbbing.

"I'm afraid if I tell you that you'll hate me," Aaron finally says, very straightforward, and it should sound melodramatic but Aaron is looking at him so seriously, legitimately afraid. Robert makes a soft sound in his throat and shakes his head furiously, dread coiling in his guts.

"No," he says, helpless. "God, Aaron, no. Nothing you could tell me could make me hate you. Nothing. I'm so in love with you. I'm just scared, and I'm angry and I'm worried, and I miss you."

Aaron's looking at him, lips slightly parted, and he looks terrified and Robert doesn't know what to say or how to help him or how to help himself. He hates feeling this way. "Rob…"

"Just tell me that he was nothing and that he doesn't matter. Just tell me something."

It takes Aaron a long time to start talking. "Pete's friend wasn't wrong. About the. About the whoring," he rolls his eyes like that makes it less serious and Robert breath catches in his throat. Aaron looks ill, shoulders hunching a bit. "My sisters were able to stay together. They were adopted and live in Doncaster with a couple who couldn't have children of their own. It was kind of a fairy tale ending for them. They're happier than they ever would've been with my parents. I get to see them every once in a while. Their parents are good people."

"What about you?" Robert asks, shocked that his voice still works, rough as it is.

"I went through a couple of foster homes. I'm really…I'm sure you've noticed I'm rather a handful sometimes." He forces his lips to pull into a self-deprecating smile. He won't meet Robert's eyes for more than a few seconds. "The last one was….bad. I ran away to London within a couple of months. My mum had been sent to a rehab facility there, and I thought I might... When I found her she couldn't remember who I was, and it had only been half a year. She'd taken pills as long as I can remember, even back when I was quite little. I think her mind just kind of broke the night my dad kind of lost it."

"Aaron," Robert says weakly, feeling utterly useless. "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," Aaron says, smiling again, small but more sincere. "It's. I don't know. Shit happens, yeah? Anyway, I was here and alone and had nothing. After a few weeks on the streets I was getting desperate. One night a bloke in a bar offered me a hundred quid for a blow job. I was starving. I. I said yes."

"You were fifteen," is all that Robert can think of to say, and the visual is too clear in his mind, of Aaron six years younger and on his knees in some seedy alleyway. He has to swallow back the bile that rises to his throat.

"But the other night," Aaron goes on like Robert hasn't spoken and his eyes are so intense. "It wasn't like that. It hasn't been in almost a year, Robert, I promise."

Robert wants to reach across the table, take Aaron's hand, but Aaron's all tucked into himself now, arms around his middle, so Robert settles for tightening his grip on the warm mug in his hands.

"The man I was out to dinner with the other night, the one you saw me with. He's a doctor at the hospital where you've been working."

Robert blinks, lips parting and eyes going wide. "What?"

Aaron untangles one arm so he can tug nervously on his hair, watching Robert anxiously. "About ten months ago I was…hurt. A couple of blokes. I mean, they didn't seem like anything to worry about, but they injected me with something the second I was in the car and just. Things weren't consensual even by paying for it standards and they didn't use protection and just, y'know." He shrugs it off, like it's nothing, and Robert really doesn't know. Robert really doesn't want to know. "I'm the one that got in the car with them. I'm surprised it hadn't happened sooner, really. They left me in the motel room and I ended up in the hospital. I met Dr. Evans there. He and his wife took me in, helped me finish school and got me a job.

"I work at an emergency veterinary clinic, so a lot of my shifts are overnight. I only lied about it those two nights, because Dr. Evans came to visit and I didn't know how to explain. It was just a hug. He was hugging me goodbye, and you walked in. Fuck," Aaron laughs but it's dreadful and hurt. He scrubs his hand over his eyes and looks miserable. "I'd been trying so hard to keep all of it from you. When you walked in that night it was like the end of the world, you know? You were going to find out and you were going to leave as soon as you did and I was so mad at you for ruining it."

Robert's mind is spinning, his heart aching.

"I knew I wasn't going to be able to hide it forever," Aaron says, his voice very soft now. "I just…This has all been a bit like a dream. You're gorgeous and sweet and funny and I'm quite deeply in love with you. I didn't want it to end."

"But why did you think it would end?" Robert asks, shocked that his voice is still working.

Aaron grimaces, presses the pads of two fingers to his lips for a moment. "Because. Because you're future neurosurgeon Robert Sugden with this gorgeous life and these gorgeous friends and this gorgeous heart and your whole life ahead of you. And I'm this mess who's better at lying than telling the truth and who used to sell his arse for a living."

Robert wants to cry. His eyes are burning. Aaron looks so tiny. So tired. Robert thinks about the scars on his body and the way he smiles and of their first night together, wrapped in a comforter and soaking wet in the middle of Robert's bathroom. He wonders how much time Aaron's spent hating himself.

"Ross…"he starts, pauses to wet his dry lips and keeps his gaze locked on Aaron, whose blue eyes are wet. "Ross said that you didn't ever have anyone to teach you that keeping secrets is a bad thing."

Aaron swallows hard. "He was there, that night. He and his parents. I remember him sitting next to me when I was on the floor. It was really good to see him again. It's been good spending time together again. We were never like, close exacty, but he lived next door. We kind of grew up together. Small world, yeah?"

"Aaron, I don't. Why didn't you just tell me?" Because this is the part that Robert's having trouble getting past. "Not about all this, but about the job?"

"I don't really know," Aaron answers helplessly, like he's been expecting the question. "It's kind of the one question I avoided for so many years, the one thing I lied about more than anything else. I just. I don't know. I was afraid it would lead to more questions that I didn't want to answer. And this job with the clinic still feels new and real and it's mine, even if I didn't really earn my own way in. It's the first legitimate thing I've ever done. I think I just wanted to keep it mine for a while."

Robert's quiet for a long time, long enough that Aaron starts chewing on one of his fingernails and bouncing his leg nervously. Robert's mind is whirling. He feels like he's been pulled inside out. He needs to think.

"Can I stay here tonight?" he asks.

Aaron looks up at him, shocked. "Yes. God, yes, of course. I'm. You can have my room, if you want? Or I could make up the sofa?"

Robert gets up and walks around the coffee table, drops to his knees in front of Aaron's chair so he can see him better. Aaron looks terrified and hopeful and damaged. Robert takes his hands. "Wherever you're sleeping. If that's all right with you."

Aaron's smile is frail, watery. Robert stands up again and pulls him up too. They take care of their cold tea and get ready for bed in silence. Aaron takes a quick shower while Robert cleans his teeth and washes his face. He puts on a pair of his own scrubs that Aaron's stolen and taken to wearing around at home on lazy days. By the time Aaron emerges from the bathroom, Robert's lying on his usual side of Aaron's bed, waiting for him.

It's awkward for a couple of minutes. Aaron's dressed in pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt but he's never been more bare. Robert strokes his cheek and his heart hurts at the sight of tears in Aaron's eyes. He pulls him into his arms just seconds before Aaron loses it, whatever careful control he had breaking. Robert gathers him in close and squeezes his eyes shut. Aaron's crying, his shoulders shaking, and Robert can't stop the pictures running through his head, imagining the things that Aaron told him, that Ross told him.

He cradles the back of Aaron's head in his hand protectively, feels Aaron's tears on his neck and Aaron's trying to be quiet and stop crying but he's so tired. Robert wonders how long it's been since he's told anyone all of this. Robert's face is wet too, and when he slips his hand under Aaron's t-shirt and touches the pads of his fingers to one of the scars from his father's belt that Aaron has on his back, Aaron rambles in an almost manic, desperate whisper, "I deserved it, I deserved it. It felt like I deserved it."

Robert turns his face into Aaron's hair. "No, Aaron," he whispers back. "You didn't deserve it. You could never, ever deserve it."

Aaron cries himself out eventually, and in the wake he's lax and still against his Robert's chest, his mouth pressed against Robert's shoulder. Robert can feel him blinking sleepily, his eyelashes light on Robert's skin. He rubs slow circles up and down Aaron's arm until his breathing goes deep and even. Robert's hand shakes when he threads his fingers into the soft tangle of Aaron's hair. He stays awake for a long time, thinking about everything that's happened in the last few months, about what Aaron told him tonight, about how he feels and what he wants quite outside from that.

Aaron. He wants Aaron.

When Aaron wakes up the next morning, Robert's already sitting up, watching him with a fond expression on his face. Aaron blinks Robily, his eyes swollen from crying, his lips chapped. Robert coaxes him to sit up, kisses his forehead and eyelids and mouth. Aaron already looks wounded, bruised, shoulders hunching like he's waiting to be rejected. Robert cups Aaron's face in both hands.

"Robert?"

Robert strokes his thumbs under Aaron's eyes. He never knew anything could hurt like seeing Aaron in pain does.

"You can't lie to me. I can take anything but that, Aaron."

"I'm sorry," Aaron says brokenly. Robert shakes his head, kisses him.

"I love you. I love you and I think you're beautiful and brilliant and you mean everything to me."

"I'm not. I'm. I'm weird and too loud and-and used and—"

"You're lovely. You're not fucking used. You were abused and you were desperate and you were fifteen," Robert says. "Not a bit of it was ever your fault."

"I—"

Robert holds the pad of his thumb over Aaron's lips. "Don't lie to me and don't hide things from me because keeping it inside just makes it hurt more and there's nothing you could tell me that would make me any less utterly, ridiculously, stupidly in love with you."

"Robert."

"I don't care, Aaron," he says earnestly. "I mean, I care that it happened and I hate that you've been hurt and that you had to go through all that, but the only thing that matters to me is how you are now. I'm sorry I went mad at you. I just. The idea of losing you is. It's hard."

"Robert."

"It'll be okay. If you want it to be. If you still want me. I think it'll be okay. We'll be okay," Robert whispers. "Trust me. I'm going to be a doctor."

Aaron hiccups a little laugh. "I love you too," is all he says. Robert tugs on his hair until he lifts his head, and Aaron cups his cheek and leans in and they're kissing again. He can taste the salt from both their tears. Aaron says, "I love you so much. I just want to be with you all the time and I've been so happy it's a bit scary and I'm so, so sorry for everything and I—"

Robert kisses him again to shut him up. They have time to sort it out later, to talk through Aaron's abandonment issues and Robert's trust issues and maybe to research some, because Aaron clearly has a terribly unhealthy attitude about the shit he's been through and probably needs some kind of counseling and Robert's pretty sure he might too and they still have a lot to talk about. But the basics are covered. They're in love, and they're stronger together, and Robert thinks it's a pretty good Step One.

"I've got you," he breathes, their foreheads touching, Aaron's hands clutching at his back. "No matter what. I've got you."

And Aaron smiles a weak, sincere smile and says, "I know. I got you too."

Two weeks after the start of the summer hols between Robert's second and third year of Uni, the veterinary clinic where Aaron works hosts an adoption fair. It's a gorgeous Saturday morning. Robert's walking with Ross and Finn and Pete and Mary, who are currently on-again. They're still a block away and can already hear the barking.

"We're not getting a dog," Ross tells Finn, who looks mutinous. Finn opens his mouth and Ross points a finger at him before he can get a word out. "Or a cat."

"You two are precious," Mary says, as though it's disgusting. Robert likes Mary. He thinks that Pete probably loves her.

The tents come into view first, the majority of the car park taken up with white tents to help block out the sun and booths with dinky little games and pins and crates where the animals are frolicking about. There are a ton of volunteers and a few of them Robert recognizes as Aaron's co-workers, Matt and Aiden and Hannah and Stan. Aaron is crouched down in front of a little boy and his father, a fluffy ginger kitten in his arms.

"Shit," Robert sighs, and doesn't even care how much the hearts in his eyes show. He's so used to the sight of Aaron wearing his scrubs that the sight of him in ones that actually fit is always a bit strange. They're bright turquoise with cupcakes on them though, which makes the whole thing a bit more Aaron. He's also holding a fluffy ginger kitten. He's perfect.

Finn spots a pin of dogs for adoption within seconds and wanders casually that way. Ross watches with an unamused look on his face. Pete and Mary wander off to look at another pin of Border Collie puppies, and Robert makes his way to his other half, who looks up at him with bright blue eyes and a blinding smile as soon as he gets close. He carefully hands the ginger kitten off to the little boy and stands up to accept the hello kiss Robert gives him.

"'lo, love."

"I like you in my clothes better," Robert whispers in his ear, at which Aaron snorts and bats at him so that he can go back to getting poor fluffy animals adopted.

Robert watches him hand papers over to the boy's father and tell the boy very sternly about how important it is to take proper care of the kitten. The boy names the cat Andrew, and it fights against the boy's chubby arms until it slumps in defeat and look up at Aaron unhappily. Robert can sympathize with it. He'd hate to leave Aaron, too.

After the little family toddles off, Aaron sets his clipboard down on top of the crate full of more fluffy ginger kittens, and wastes no time in launching himself at Robert. Robert catches him with a quiet oof, getting his arms under Aaron's bum to hold him up when he wraps his legs around Robert's waist.

"Finn and Ross are going to get a dog," Robert whispers conspiratorially.

Aaron looks over Robert's shoulder for a second. "Does Ross know that?"

"Somewhere deep down, I think he knows he'll cave." Robert turns them around to find his friends. Finn is holding a small hound puppy and looking at it with adoring Bambi eyes. Ross looks both helplessly in love and highly disapproving.

"I think you should move in with me," Robert says abruptly.

Aaron blinks at him. Robert sets him back on his feet. "What?" says Aaron.

"I think it should be our flat, and our home, and I think we should split the rent and the bills and an address." Robert can't stop himself from smiling (which happens quite a lot around Aaron). It's been just over a year since they met. It's time.

"And you decide to come here, to my work place, and make a scene in front of all these people with this preposterous question?"

Robert looks around. No one is paying them any mind at all. Pete and Mary are watching Finn, who appears to have turned into a metaphorical pile of goo at the sight of Ross being licked in the face by the hound puppy. He looks at Aaron expectantly, and Aaron rolls his eyes. The smile that spreads over his face is like sunshine.

"Yeah, all right," he shrugs, like it's no big deal, and then squawks loudly when Robert picks him up and twirls him around, crying out in triumph and deliriously happy. People are looking at them now. Robert rather likes it. He sets Aaron down but just to waltz him into a dip so he can kiss him. Aaron is pliant and light, letting Robert take most of his weight so he can kick him in the ankle. He's used to being manhandled. Robert kisses the tip of his nose.

"I like that you're smaller than me," he murmurs, like it's a secret, when Robert tells him at least three times a week and usually twice on Sundays.

"I like that you carry me around when I don't want to walk anymore," Aaron shrugs, still hovering a few feet off the ground with Robert's hand on his back. "It all works out."

Robert beams at him, and Aaron smiles right back at him, and they don't move until Pete pelts Robert in the head with a plush dog toy.

They spend the rest of the day at the fair, and then the six of them walk back toward their flats side by side, Robert with his arm around Aaron's shoulders and Pete with his arm around Mary's and Ross and Finn's fingers linked between them, their new puppy leading the way home.

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