Criminal Minds x Reader

Like You Used to [A.H]

The late-night quiet of your apartment feels heavy, almost oppressive, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards. You sit cross-legged on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs and a half-empty glass of wine on the coffee table. The case had been long and grueling, leaving you both emotionally and physically drained.

You glance at the clock. It's past midnight, but you can't seem to make yourself go to bed. Not yet. Not when your mind is buzzing with memories you can't quite shake, images you wish you could forget.

A knock at the door startles you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You frown, your heart skipping for just a moment before you remind yourself that you live in a secure building. It's late, though, and unexpected. You approach cautiously, your steps silent as you peer through the peephole.

It's Aaron.

He stands on the other side, his tie loosened and his jacket folded over his arm. His shoulders look heavier than usual, weighed down by more than the hours of travel and the darkness of the case.

You open the door without hesitation, your hand trembling slightly on the handle.

"Hotch?" you say, your voice soft but surprised. You rarely call him by his first name at work, but here, now, the formality feels like a barrier you don't want. "What are you doing here?"

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see something raw in his expression, something unguarded. He's always been so careful, so measured, but tonight he looks tired in a way that has nothing to do with sleep.

"I didn't want to go home" he admits quietly, his voice steady but low.

You step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him as he walks into your small living room. He sets his jacket on the back of a chair and turns to face you, his hands in his pockets, his posture still so perfectly controlled.

You watch him for a moment, your heart twisting at the sight of him like this. Aaron Hotchner, the unshakable leader, the man who bears the weight of the world on his shoulders, standing here in your living room, looking like he's barely holding himself together.

"Do you want something to drink?" you ask, moving toward the kitchen instinctively, needing to do something with your hands.

"No, thank you" he says, but his voice lacks its usual firmness.

You pause, turning back to him. "Aaron," you say softly, and his name feels unfamiliar on your tongue, like you're testing the waters, "What's going on?"

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he looks around your apartment, his gaze lingering on the small details. Your bookshelves, the photos on the wall, the throw blanket you'd wrapped around yourself earlier. It's not the first time he's been here, but there's something different about the way he's seeing it now, as if he's trying to memorize it.

Finally, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It's just... Everything" he says, and you can hear the weariness in his voice. "The case, the team, Jack... You"

"Me?" you ask, your chest tightening at the mention of his son's name and then again when his eyes meet yours.

He nods, his jaw tightening briefly before he speaks. "I've been thinking about us. About how things used to be before... Before everything"

You know what he means. Before the job consumed every waking moment, before the distance started to feel insurmountable, before you began to wonder if you were both just too broken to make this work.

"Aaron" you begin, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

"I know I haven't been the man you deserve," he says, his voice steady but filled with regret, "I know I've been distant, that I've let the job take too much from us."

You step closer to him, your bare feet silent on the floor. "You haven't-"

"I have" he interrupts, his tone firm but not harsh. "And I hate it. I hate that I've let it get to this point"

You look up at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his expression. This is a side of him that few people ever see, the side he keeps hidden behind walls of professionalism and quiet strength.

"I miss you" he says, his voice breaking just slightly, and it's like a punch to the chest. "I miss us. Like we used to be"

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you take another step closer. "Aaron..."

"I'm sorry" he says, his voice barely above a whisper now. "For everything. For not being here when you needed me. For making you feel like you were alone in this"

Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them away, refusing to let them fall. "You're not the only one who let the job get in the way" you admit, your voice shaking slightly. "I could've tried harder, too. I could've-"

"Don't" he says quickly, taking a step closer and reaching for your hand. His touch is warm, grounding. "Don't blame yourself for this. This is on me"

You shake your head, squeezing his hand. "It's on both of us, Aaron. But we're here now. That has to mean something, doesn't it?"

He looks at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if he's trying to find the answer in them. Then he nods, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly.

"It does," he says, his voice steady again, "It means everything"

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches between you, not heavy like before but filled with something fragile and precious.

Finally, you break the silence, your voice soft but firm. "We can't change what's happened. But we can try to move forward. Together"

He nods again, his expression softening. "I want that," he says simply, "More than anything"

You reach up, cupping his cheek with your free hand. His eyes close briefly at the touch, and when he opens them again, they're filled with a quiet determination that makes your chest ache.

"I love you" he says, the words coming out like a vow.

"I love you, too" you reply, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall.

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away. It's just you and him, standing in the middle of your living room, holding on to each other like a lifeline.

As the night stretches on, you find yourselves on the couch, talking in hushed tones about everything and nothing. You remind each other of the little things you used to do, the moments that made you fall in love in the first place. And as the first light of dawn filters through the window, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you can find your way back to what you used to be. Stronger, together.