Cowboy Like Me: Criminal Minds

Turbulence

The first light of dawn filtered through the thin hotel curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Sloane stirred, her senses gradually awakening to the warmth enveloping her. She became aware of Hotch's arm draped around her waist, his body pressed gently against her back. Her heart quickened, but she remained still, feigning sleep to prolong the unexpected intimacy.

Behind her, Hotch began to wake. She felt his breathing change, a subtle shift signaling his return to consciousness. His arm tightened momentarily around her before he carefully withdrew it, as if reluctant to break the contact. Sloane kept her eyes closed, her breathing steady, as he quietly slipped out of bed.

She listened to the soft rustle of clothing as he dressed, the faint clink of his belt buckle, the muted thud of his shoes on the carpet. The door clicked shut behind him, and she exhaled slowly, opening her eyes to the empty room. The space where he had lain was still warm, a lingering reminder of their closeness.

Sloane sat up, running a hand through her hair, her mind racing with the implications of their shared night. Before she could dwell too long, the door opened, and Hotch entered, balancing a tray laden with breakfast items.

"Good morning," he said, a hint of a smile softening his usual stoic expression. "I thought you might be hungry."

Sloane blinked in surprise, touched by the gesture. "Thank you, Hotch. This is... thoughtful."

He set the tray on the small table by the window, gesturing for her to join him. "We have a long day ahead. It's important to start with a good meal."

She nodded, slipping out of bed and padding over to the table. They sat across from each other, the morning light casting a gentle glow over the assortment of pastries, fruit, and coffee. The atmosphere was comfortable, a stark contrast to the tension of the previous days.

Descending to the hotel lobby, Sloane and Hotch found the rest of the team already gathered, their luggage neatly arranged beside them. Morgan glanced up, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Morning, you two. Sleep well?"

Sloane felt a flush creep up her neck but maintained her composure. "As well as can be expected," she replied smoothly.

Hotch gave a curt nod, his professional demeanor firmly in place. "Let's get to the airport. We have paperwork waiting back in D.C."

The team gathered their belongings and headed to the waiting SUVs. Sloane found herself assigned to ride with Hotch, a fact that didn't escape Morgan's notice. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

The drive was enveloped in an awkward silence. Hotch focused intently on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel a bit too tightly. Sloane stared out the window, her mind replaying the morning's events.

She knew Hotch was unaware that she had been awake during their intimate moment, and the knowledge created a tension she didn't know how to address. The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable.

Finally, Sloane cleared her throat, attempting to break the ice. "Thank you for breakfast earlier. It was thoughtful."

Hotch glanced at her briefly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "You're welcome. I thought it would be a good start to the day."

The conversation lapsed back into silence, the unspoken tension lingering between them.

On the plane, the team settled into their usual routine. Reid immersed himself in a thick tome, JJ and Prentiss discussed the case's aftermath, and Morgan caught up on sleep.

Sloane found herself seated across from Hotch, the confined space amplifying the awkwardness. The BAU jet hummed steadily as it cut through the evening sky, the cabin bathed in the soft glow of overhead lights. Sloane settled into her seat, her mind replaying the events of the past few days. The unexpected intimacy with Hotch lingered in her thoughts, creating a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

Hotch was engrossed in a case file, his brow furrowed in concentration. Sloane observed him discreetly, noting the tension in his posture. She wondered if he was as affected by their closeness as she was.

As if sensing her gaze, Hotch looked up, their eyes meeting briefly before he offered a small, almost imperceptible smile. Sloane's heart skipped a beat, and she returned the gesture, feeling a warmth spread through her.

The plane hit a pocket of turbulence, causing the cabin to jolt. Sloane's hand instinctively gripped the armrest, her knuckles whitening. Hotch noticed her discomfort and leaned across the aisle.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, forcing a smile. "Just not a fan of turbulence."

Hotch unbuckled his seatbelt and moved to the empty seat beside her. "May I?"

"Of course," she replied, her pulse quickening at his proximity.

He sat down, his presence a calming force. "It's normal to feel uneasy during turbulence. But remember, the plane is designed to handle it."

Sloane nodded, focusing on his words rather than the shaking cabin. "Thank you, Hotch. I appreciate it."

He offered a reassuring smile. "Anytime."

AN: Sorry this is a really short chapter but I am working on a big surprise for next chapter to celebrate 1k reads!!! TYSM it rly warms my heart that you all are reading my story.