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

Chapter 9 - Deals and First Dates

"I'm not sure if I should show you what I've found,

Has it gone for good?

Or is it coming back around?

Isn't it hard to make up your mind?

When you're losing and your fuse is fireside."

-Fireside – Arctic Monkeys

The shower was nice after getting the living daylights fucked out of you. Hotchner had joined you, taking the time to wash you and tending to you before himself. The water felt nice on your sticky skin, sweat and arousal washing off you as you stood beneath the spray of the shower. Hotchner was using the complimentary products that came with the room, yours left in the bottom of your bag in a smaller toiletry bag that you carried into hotels religiously.

"Just for future knowledge, I bring my own toiletries. They are way nicer than these," you commented quietly.

"Do you prefer showering alone?" Hotchner asked softly, his hands working the soap into your back.

You shook your head, "I don't care either way. If I need to shower alone, I'll tell you."

He just nodded that time, humming as he washed you. Once he finished, you went to reciprocate but he stopped you instead, a small smile on his face. "This was for you. No need to clean me up," he murmured, waving you off as he started lathering his hair with the honey-vanilla shampoo. You didn't bother arguing, stepping out of the shower and letting him have his space. You threw on the clothes he had grabbed: a pair of boxers, some sweats, and a plain gray t-shirt. You threw yourself down on the bed, closing your eyes and trying to get some sleep. It was hard, though, your mind buzzing from the thoughts of your job. It was difficult. Sometimes you wondered if the work was even worth it.

The sound of the water suddenly stopping drew your attention away from your thoughts for a split second. You were quickly swept away by your exhaustion however, tiredness taking you away from any solid thoughts, leaving you with lingering guilt. Hotchner exited the bathroom while you were still lost in thought. "Still thinking," he said, his tone making it more of a statement rather than a question.

"Yep," you replied shortly, rolling your head to look at him. He was still putting his shirt on, scars that littered his stomach and abdomen shining in the light for a moment before being hidden away by his white t-shirt. You didn't ask about them, you just quietly stored the image in the back of your mind in a little box of things you were probably never going to discuss. Talking about them would be uncomfortable for the both of you, and it would mean... more. You don't get scars like that on accident and talking about where they came from would mean leaping into something more. This was a relationship that was just about sex. No need to get personal about it besides sex and kink interests.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, opening the small fridge by the desk, and pulling out another bottle of water and uncapping it, guzzling the contents, his eyes never leaving yours. You studied him for a few moments, silent. You watched his eyes, looking for any sign of disinterest or any flicker of frustration. He didn't strike you as the type that would fake interests or responses, but you didn't know him that well. Everyone had a dark side. You knew that from years of experience with all kinds of people.

You sighed, shrugging. "Not much. You don't want to hear it. It's stupid," you throw out, trying to divert the subject to something different. You wished you could sleep. Sleep was needed but you also knew that your sleep would be plagued with stomach-twisting images and ideas.