Say It (Hotch x Reader)// ✔

People, I've been...

Summary:

A dinner with the BAU team where everyone confesses to everything (even those meant to be kept secret)

Notes:

hey all, idk wwhat this chapter is lmao
but i had fun writing is so i hope u have fun reeading it!!

(if u see errors no u didn't lmao. had no time to edit this)

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"You know when you said dinner" you shuffle in your seat, holding Hotch's eyes as he smiles, knowing already what you're about to say, "I was expecting something a bit more..." you check again that the table is empty apart from you two, "romantic"

Hotch tilts his cup of coffee to his lips, his expression steeled. "Are you saying this isn't romantic?"

You roll your eyes, then look pointedly at the counter where Penelope, Spencer and Emily are arguing about the order.

"We need to hash out your definition of romance." you resign, sounding a bit like a judge making a decision in court, "Before it's too late"

"Too late?" Hotch asks with a flick of his brow. "Is that a warning?"

You shuffle again, feeling heated.

Ok, so maybe you have been in an actual...drought, for lack of a better word, ever since getting back together with Hotch. Every date has been cut short, and every time you made a suggestion (blunt, shameless, bold suggestion) he'd pretend he didn't know what you were talking about.

"Are you punishing me?" you voice out as soon as the idea pops in your head. "Is this some kind of punishment, you sicko?"

A drop of coffee spills out of his mouth at your words, and he tries not to laugh.

"Because I didn't tell you about Martins? Or because I joined the CIA out of pettiness? Which one is it?"

Hotch shakes his head, and you bunch up the napkins on the table to dab them over the coffee he spilled over his hand.

"I'm not doing anything"

You lean back against your seat and cross your arms over your chest, while you study his face. Hotch's got that expression that borders between unit chief and unit chief who's out for drinks with his colleagues. Stern face, brown eyes with a twinkle of amusement in them, and a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. On a good moment, and with a small joke, a dimple or two will show at the corner of his mouth. On an especially great moment, it will be a double dimple. He's wearing a navy sweater and God, jogging really does wonders for him, because he fills that flimsy material so well. You feel your mouth water just from looking at him so you glance away.

"Sicko" you mumble to yourself and he has the audacity to smile at your reaction.

"So" Emily says cheerfully joining your table, "I ordered you a large plate of fries, a cheeseburger and a large milkshake."

"I'm not twelve" you reply frowning.

"Sure, you're not" She pats your head, countering her words with her actions. You scoot over and she plants herself on your left.

Penelope and Spencer make a big fuss of talking aloud as they return too. She sits on the other side of the booth, next to Hotch and Spencer follows suit.

"What did you guys order?"

"Slow simmered burgundy beef stew" Penelope recites, like those words stringed together are supposed to bring an image to your head.