Wildcard (A.H. x Reader x S.R.)

Chapter 2 - Bad Blood

"If there's no one to blame, blame it on me.

Storm in the sky,

Fire in the street,

If there's nothin' but pain, put it on me..."

-Put It On Me – Matt Maeson

You click off the call quickly, letting out a roar of laughter at Hotchner's facial expression when you hit him with that last comment. It was hard not to laugh. The man was so rigid and professional and domineering that he couldn't even take small hits. He was already losing it. Already. You felt a warm tear slide down your cheek from how hard you had laughed, your finger coming up and wiping it away. You take in a deep breath, trying to quash the rest of your hilarious amusement and get back to work. You pull yourself back towards your desk, going to work and typing away, searching through records to catch your unsub.

***

The ringing of the phone in the headset in your ear pulls you away from the computer screen. You smack the button to answer the call on your phone, answering with a "yes?"

Derek's voice comes through the other end, although he sounded exhausted and kind of frustrated. "Hey baby girl. Please give me some good news," he greeted, making you bite your bottom lip to contain your laughter. You were definitely not Garcia.

"Well, I can give you good news, but I am not your baby girl. Sorry Derek. I can call you Derek, right?" you greet, your tone thoroughly amused.

"Oh, shit. My bad man. I forgot Garcia was out and I am exhausted. Thanks for putting Hotch in such a bad mood, by the way," Derek retorted, although he was also very amused. This team probably didn't see people push Hotchner's buttons very often. While Hotchner was probably pissed off now, you knew the rest of the team was enjoying how you were getting under his skin. They found it to be funny and that made it even more worth it to you.

"I apologize for making your lives harder but not for pissing him off," you snort, making Derek chuckle.

"Got a bone to pick, huh?" Derek mused.

"Hey, man. He called me at two in morning. This is what he gets," you say, throwing your hands up.

"Ah, so that's what it is," Derek laughed, "alright, man, what news do you have for me? Hit me with it."

You crack your knuckles emphatically, "alright, you asked me to narrow down a list of people with in a fifteen mile radius of all the crime scenes that fit the description of white male, 30-40s, with religious backgrounds, and some sort of stressor. I have four names for you that fit that description. I have a Patrick Evans, 33. Lawrence Ashley, 35. Lewis Seymour 37. And finally, Frank Ryland, 41. I have already sent you their records, addresses, and employers."

Derek whistled, making you grin. "Good job, kid. I'm gonna put you on speaker real fast," Derek announced. A second later you heard other people in the room and Derek was updating them on everything you had told him. "Y/l/n has four names for us. Anyway, we could narrow this down further?"

"Hey Y/n?" Spencer asked.

"Hey genius?" you replied back.

"Do any of the names have previous criminal records or anything on their record involving sexual assault, assaulting a minor, rape... anything? The case probably would have been dropped," Spencer said, rapid fire. You narrowed the list down, coming up with two names now.