Criminal Minds One-Shots

Not Again (2 of 2)

Aaron Hotchner x male reader

The time had come.

In a few seconds, Aaron would have to pull himself together and leave the comfort of his car, with its lingering smells of Y/N's cologne and the safe feeling of him, and make his way into the cold, distant halls of a hospital mostly reserved for the most injured soldiers the front lines for war have to offer That fact alone made Aaron edgy when preparing to enter to look for his husband.

Aaron never particularly feared hospitals, having been a patient at many over his career. But he feared those he loved being in them. Especially his husband, who despised even the notion of a doctor's visit, and went into a panic attack at the mere mention of needing to go to the hospital. And we aren't talking crying and screaming about not wanting to go. We are talking downplaying broken bones and fevers of a hundred and four. We are talking Aaron showing up to the ER with scratches on him from forcing Y/N to come in. Y/N has had to show up to the ER dosed out of his mind on Xanax just to be calm enough to get a proper blood pressure reading. And to avoid a misdiagnosis of hypertension based on his anxiety surrounding the institution. His husband's fear if hospitals was this close to being officially diagnosed as a phobia. So Aaron was quite used to trying to patch him up at home, or have the ever-talented Sue do it for him as she actually knew what she was doing.

The last time Y/N had to go to the hospital was an ER trip after he nearly crushed his hand in the preheated oven, after closing it too quickly as the kids came running into the kitchen not paying any mind to him putting supper in the bake. Not only did the lasagna he had been working on all day spill into the bottom of the oven, but he both burnt himself and broke a couple of the bones in his hand.

But this was a whole new ballgame. Y/N wasn't here thanks to his own over-excited or overprotective nature. He had been targeted. His car had been blow up by a bomb strapped into his fuel lines. And, if his condition were similar to when the call dropped halfway here, he was in dire straights.

"Sir! Sir, you can't park there!" A young security guard, barely old enough to be out of school, chastised as he ran with his go bag and Y/N's emergency bag through the emergency room entrance, completely ignoring his surroundings as the gun still strapped to his hip made the metal detector just inside the sliding glass double doors go nuts.

The 'there' in which he couldn't park was the hospital's fire lane. Not caring for pleasantries or wanting to lose time with you by being held up explaining, Aaron offered a flash of his badge and a rushed half-truth. "Aaron Hotchner, FBI. My unit was assigned the bombing that came in a few hours ago." And with that, he simply walked around the halls that he knew a little too well in search of the intensive care unit.

After getting turned around quite a few times, Aaron finally found his way to the locked, secured doors that separated the ICU from the rest of the third floor. His hands trembled as he hit the call button to be let in. Not fear for himself, obviously. But fear of what state he would find Y/N in.

"ICU, how can I help you?" A soft, feminine voice responded through the speaker box on the wall. "Aaron Hotchner. Here to see Y/N Hotchner." There was a pause, likely the nurse looking over Y/N's files to see if he was fit for visitors. "Room number?" She asked. "I'm not entirely sure." Aaron admitted. "Last I talked to his sister, the room number was ---." Aaron paused, at once all too aware of the fact he hadn't retained the information presented him.

"I'm sorry." He quickly apologized. "I don't remember the room number. Is their any other way for me to prove I know him and be let in." He must have sounded every bit as desperate as he was feeling. And the nurse must have taken pity on him because of it. Because, within moments, an alternative was presented.