Jouska (18+) [Aaron Hotchner x Reader]

Chapter 2

"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all." - Oscar Wilde

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You curse yourself as you walk down the concrete path, leading the way for Hotch to follow behind you. Spring in Virginia is unreliable and you suddenly find yourself cold and underdressed in your skirt and turtleneck.

The cold is harsh and you hug your arms close to your body, your teeth chattering slightly. Your father advised that maybe it would be best if you and Agent Hotchner got to know one another better, and where better than right here on your father's sprawling estate, where he could make sure you were safe.

You hear rustling behind you as Hotch catches up. "Here, ma'am. Let me."

You do a double take to see Hotch shrugging off his suit blazer, his shoulders broad and arms strong, gun holstered on his hip. You hold out your arms as he slips the oversized blazer through your arms from behind you, unconsciously rubbing your arm as he does. You steal a quick glance up at him, he stands over you, and you find he's already watching you intently, his gaze flitting to your lips again.

You tear your eyes away from him, breathing in the fresh air. "Aren't you cold?"

He shrugs.

A chuckle escapes him and rubs a pensive hand over his beard. "I tend to run a little hot anyway. Besides, my mother would kill me if she knew I hadn't offered a lady my jacket in the cold." He finds himself staring at you unwittingly, taken by the sight of his too-big blazer wrapped around your body.

You raise your eyebrows in amusement and laugh. "Ah, so he's a gentleman?" You tease.

You cross the blazer over your body and bury your face in the collar, inhaling his scent, something citrusy and musk. It's warm. Comforting. You feel butterflies in your stomach as you look back up at him and nudge him.

"Thank you. You're sweet." You smile.

You both find your stride as you start to walk together, down the concrete steps and towards the grounds. "So. FBI huh? My father tells me you're a profiler?" You inquire as you look up at him.

His dimples peek through when he smiles gently, his hands in his pockets now, more relaxed. "Ah not quite. I'm training to be a profiler and I had the requisite training to be on a security detail, so here I am." He explains. "Your father told me you were supposed to head off to Yale this summer? What's your major?"

"Poli-Sci." You lament. "Family tradition, but I'd love to do something like criminology or psychology." He nods his understanding as you continue. "Ultimately, I know Dad wants me to do whatever makes me happy, but the thought of breaking tradition? It's scary, you know?"

"Yeah-" He stops himself. You look up at him as he shakes his head. "Never mind." You raise your eyebrows and ask for him to go on but he declines by saying it would be breaking protocol.

You stop walking and stare at him a moment and he breaks. "Look it's okay, I know the feeling. My father, he was a lawyer. His father too. But if you know your heart's somewhere else, maybe it's best to go with that."

"Wow." You nod and resume walking. "So. Gentleman, full of wisdom," you tease, counting on your fingers. "What else you got?"

You fall into a comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other, his stride in keeping with yours, bodies just close enough to touch. You pass a row of kept maple trees and down to an old black gazebo where you remember spending your childhood, sheltering yourself from the rain, or playing hostess with your late mother. You perch yourself on the ledge, swinging your legs as Hotch maintains a distance from you.