Aaron Hotchner X OC

Hostile Hostess.

The sixth floor was busier than usual one day and then empty the next as the team were called to another case. It involved a family annihilator, and the team were in an unfortunate situation. He was somewhere in the house. Cecile had her gun trained in front of her as she used the light from the night sky to walk through the house. The team were clearing downstairs when she got to the top floor, and Hotch followed closely behind. It had been a matter of days since Cecile's birthday, and she still felt her throat constrict at the thought Hotch put into her presents. They were what she loved, and they showed that he had been paying attention to what she said. Cecile was pissed. His mixed signals had her up at night while she thought.

Turning one corner, an open door was noticed as a dark figure loomed over a large bed, but as she watched his hand rise, all safety protocol flew out the window as she launched herself at the shadow and jumped, kicking his back, making him lurch forward and hit his head against the bedside table.

Screams echoed from the large bed as Hotch flicked the main lights on and watched as Cecile pinned the man down, throwing the knife away from him as she pushed a set of cuffs on his wrists. The man was easily twice the size of her, and she was taller than most women, standing at around five eleven. However, the man dressed in black was broad and large. His complaints were muffled by the carpet as he tried to protest. 'Carpet muncher,' she grumbled before standing up and pushing him towards the police; as she turned her attention to the two parents who were screaming and crying in their bed still.

Despite expectations, neither of them sought comfort from each other. As a result, Cecile held the man as he cried the loudest as Hotch followed the woman, watching her check on the children, who had been startled awake by the sudden loud noise. By the time police managed to take them all out, their recollection of events was recorded as Cecile stood in the room, staring at the knife. 'That was a good decision you made. It was risky, but the profile told us that there was only one UnSub,' Hotch mentioned as he relaxed against the frame into the room.

Pushing past him, Cecile left the room. However, as she walked, Hotch grabbed her hand, and she stopped for a moment. 'I would sell your soul for a sausage roll,' she grumbled before snatching her hand back and almost running down the stairs to find the rest of the team.

As it was late, they decided to return to the hotel. But as the morning came, Cecile was pacing around the outside of the jet. The team watched her talk as they watched the minutes pass. They had agreed to fly out at eight; she had half an hour before she would make them late, and she knew it, regularly checking her watch as she spoke on the phone to someone. Two minutes before they were cleared for take-off, Cecile quickly ran up the steps while saying goodbye to the other person on the phone before she found her seat beside the window.

'That looked intense,' Morgan mentioned while setting his headphones on the table. 'Anything interesting?'

Sniffing angrily, Cecile tilted her head and puckered her lips in thought, contemplating whether she should answer truthfully, lie, or dismiss him. 'My family are flying over to California and are stopping off to see me for a few hours. They're bringing the rat,' she hesitantly replied.

'Okay, bet. Is the rat a child or a rodent?' Prentiss asked from beside Morgan. 

Hotch slunk into the chair beside Cecile while reading his file and sipping a fresh coffee. 'It's a kid,' JJ chimed as she walked across the jet to talk to Reid.

'Worse,' Cecile replied while crossing her leg over the other, placing as much space between her and Hotch as she could.

'A new boyfriend?' Prentiss asked.

'No, a chihuahua,' Cecile quipped while messaging someone.

'Thoughts and prayers,' Prentiss comfortingly replied before turning to Morgan and picking up their conversation from the start of the case, debating the best bars to dance in.