Aaron Hotchner One-Shots

In Your Head

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Dave Rossi, Derek Morgan, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Spencer Reid

Words: 2K

Summary: After Aaron's run-in with Mr. Scratch you know he's not okay, but what will it take for him to admit that to himself

Warnings: angst, hurt comfort, lots of crying, mentions of blood, mentions of death

A/N: Okay so like not even minutes after I watched the Mr. Scratch episode I knew I had to write something based on the aftermath because we all know the writers hate us and don't like to show Hotch processing so I thought it was in everyone's best interest to cry it out over some vulnerable!Hotch

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"Take it. Take it," Hotch's voice was hazy, pushing the gun into your hands as he wobbled on his knees. There was blood on his face, a small streak of it, and you could see his dilated eyes were not at all alright.

He had been drugged.

"Hotch you need to sit down,"

"I'm fine,"

He was dismissive, but it was different from when he normally insisted that he would be alright. Like he knew he didn't believe it; he knew he couldn't be convincing even if he tried.

"Hotch, you need to go see a medic,"

"I'm fine,"

Again, but it was shakier this time. As if saying it would make him feel more fine.

When you walked up behind him, he stopped. No longer limping towards the door, waiting for you to say or do something. All you did was lay a hand on his shoulder, a light squeeze.

"I'm fine... I'm fine... I'm fine," he repeated the phrase slowly, but it didn't make you believe him anymore. If anything, it convinced you he needed help. He needed to see a doctor and make sure there wasn't anything going on. That was the first crack.

He made me see things.

That's all he had said when you first came in.

No one dared ask what he made him see, but someone needed to.

"Let me get you cleaned up at least," you whispered. "You've got a little blood right here," you tilted your head as you looked up at him and brushed your thumb across his cheek.

He wordlessly nodded his head and led the way to the back of one of the ambulances, lights shining that electric blue and red. The colours of his nightmares.

Once he sat down and you grabbed a few alcohol wipes from one of the paramedics he let himself get checked out, probably because he was still not there. You could sense it, he had that far-off look in his eyes. You'd only seen it once or twice, most notably at Haley's funeral. That look was never a good sign.

"I can do it," he reached for your hand as you lifted it up to wipe away the blood on his cheek, but you shook your head.

"Take a minute, Hotch," you said softly. "I got this,"

His nod was small and his exhale wavered, but you still continued what you were doing, holding his face carefully with one hand and wiping away the blood with the other.

The cold antiseptic was almost sobering, the strong striking smell helping him come out of his daze and just as you finished up Dave walked up to where he was sitting.

"I'll give you two a minute," you mumbled and placed the now bloodied wipe down next to Hotch before walking away to the SUVs where Derek, JJ, and Spencer were standing.