Say It (Hotch x Reader)// ✔

Rest in Pieces Peace of Mind

Notes:

TW: ~SPICE~ ahead
writing this made me go thru an existential crisis lol !  - i did my first ever trial of writing something ~spicy
In italics: flashbacks

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You should have gone for a beer or a martini instead. Even a whiskey, like David Rossi had ordered, would have been better instead of the glass of wine. Not because you're worried about the hangover, but because red wine always put you in a whole different mood. And you ended up thinking about Hotch.

-

He leads you outside, his hand clasped firmly around yours. Its gentle but still aggressive – both of you caught with that same urgency to leave the bar. When you both make it into his car, he's back to being too gentle, too sweet – his hands securing the seatbelt for you, as if making sure you stay put and keep your hands to yourself until you're in a more private setting. The ignition is on and he turns, hand over the shoulder of your seat, watching the back of the car as he reverses out of the parking spot. He's too calm and you're a mess. It takes far too long (for you) until he drives away, and his hand is back over your knee.

"My place" you say and he grants you a small smile.

Hotch's self-control is monumental, you think. Yours, not so much. You cup his hand over your leg, and unabashedly move it slowly up your thigh, towards where you need it most.

He lets out a low chuckle, "we have all the time in the world" his words are reassuring but his voice has dropped a pitch, the low rumble contributing to the heat in your stomach.

"Fine" you rebuff, and you still, waiting for his cue (and impatiently for your house to appear in the horizon).

-

Rossi drops at the seat beside you, another triple whiskey in hand and lets out a small huff. It shakes off your distant memories.

"Fairly certain this was not a good idea" he says, "not when we have to be up tomorrow at the crack of dawn"

You don't know what to say to that – mostly because being here together with them is better than spending your time alone at home, dwelling on the meaning behind Hotch's actions, or Martins recent shift in leadership.

"I think we need to let go of a little steam" Derek says, joining the small table you're huddled around with David Rossi and Spencer Reid. "It's instrumental to doing a good job in the days to come"

You flinch at that. Days to come – granted Reus doesn't escape again from your clutches.

"I'm not opposing it" David says, "I'm here, aren't I?"

He winks at you with that last sentence and you give him a small smile.

"You're sure you're not here to make sure we pay you back for all the drinks you bought us over the years?" you ask. He shakes his head, raising his glass to your eye level.

"This is my last drink. I don't want a hangover on a plane ride"

Spencer and you both had the same idea – both still nursing the one glass you'd gotten when you all first met. He has a beer though.

"You guys are no fun" Derek says, but he's also on glass number two – an unusual sight for him.

You take another sip of your red wine and the smell of it takes you back once again.

-

His lips taste like wine, and they're soft and warm against yours. You've chucked your jacket in the living room floor, and his hands graze every inch of your body as you both stumble in the hallway, making your way to the bedroom.