❝ you're the best of us. ❞
in which the ex-agent with a therapy license decides to get back in the game.
CRIMINAL MINDS SEASON 4
OC X AARON HOTCHNER
TRIGGER WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ABUSE AND ISSUES SURROUND...
unedited and in my defence i was unsupervised when i wrote this
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NINE. THE ROAD TRIP, PART ONE
HARDLY AN HOUR HAD PASSED AND THE TWO AGENTS WERE IN A HEATED ARGUMENT. With Daisy behind the wheel and Hotch in the passenger seat, what began as bickering about the radio station ended up being yelling about why Strauss had placed her in the BAU.
"I'm here because it's what I'm good at," she was gripping the steering wheel so tight her hands were paling in colour. The scars on her knuckles turned a spotty red while the bruising thinned out into a gross yellow, but she didn't care. Her hands had never been her best feature, anyway. "Just because you hate Strauss doesn't mean you have to hate me too."
"I never said I hated you," Hotch's voice had remained in its usual monotone, though that had only managed to piss Daisy off further. Did he not have any sort of emotion?
Daisy gritted her teeth as a silence ensued.
"We didn't need another agent. Strauss decided she knew what was best for the team, and she was wrong," Hotch grumbled, staring out the window like a pouting schoolgirl. He'd been making snide comments the entire time, commenting on every little choice Daisy made; he was the most frustrating backseat driver she'd ever been with. "Get in the other lane."
Daisy didn't change lanes, and lifted her foot off the gas slightly, knowing it would annoy him. He wasn't planning on stretching it out as long as Rossi had suggested. He'd already been sifting through every single shred of paperwork he had with him, trying to find ways to avoid conversation. From what she could tell about him, he was a workaholic robot who didn't know how to relax - she told him this.
"I'm not a workaholic," Hotch had said as he texted JJ about their next possible case. "And I'm not a robot."
"That's exactly what a robot would say," Daisy retorted, before she gasped and pulled over to the side of the road. Hotch grabbed the handle above the window and swore at the sudden movement. "Look, cows!"
"Alvarez, get back on the road," he ordered, but she didn't listen. Instead, she took the keys out of the ignition and dug around in her bag for her cellphone.
"C'mon, Hotch," she grinned over at him as she opened the door. "I need proof that you had fun with your newest profiler!"
"No," Hotch glared at her from the passenger seat. "And I'm not having fun."
"It's Friday, for God's sake," Daisy huffed, crossing her arms as she stood in knee-high grass, cows grazing behind her. She was definitely more suited to the countryside than Hotch was - she didn't mind if the mud squelched under her sneakers or grass clippings flew through her hair. She would have looked rather pretty if the heavy wind weren't nearly knocking her off her feet. "After this we should stop at a bar and pick up some one night stands."
