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Something was comforting about strangers – it seemed like they would exist forever as the same, unknowable mass. – Megan Boyle
Years later, when they tell the official story of how Spencer Reid met Aaron Hotchner, it will go a little like this: Once upon a time, Jason Gideon plucked a rising star named Spencer Reid out of the FBI Academy and introduced him to Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. They were both impressed by the other, and upon joining the team, worked very well together.
The unofficial story, of course, will be saved for private recollection, and it will go a little like this: Once upon a time, Spencer Reid hired a man to introduce him to the finer points of sexual intercourse, and that man was Aaron Hotchner.
Spencer is expecting many things when he sits down at the coffee shop and carefully readjusts his purple tie. He’s done a lot of research, after all, because when he doesn’t understand something, he researches. Unfortunately, this has had the unintended side effect where now there are too many variables floating around in his head, but he’s still fairly certain that with all the research he can handle almost anything that comes up during the testing of his hypotheses.
What he is not expecting is for a very well dressed man in a tailored suit to slide into the seat across from him, a drink in each other.
“A large coffee with more sugar than coffee?” the man says.
And that is Spencer’s order, carefully detailed in the messages they had exchanged, but –
“Aaron?”
Aaron blinks, slow and confident like a lazy cat, and takes a sip of his own coffee. It smells dark and sin, and probably has no sugar in it at all. “Were you expecting someone else?”
He is wearing the black tie Aaron said he would, and he does have Spencer’s exact order, and they are sitting at the table near the back wall they agreed they would. But still, it bears repeating: he is not at all what Spencer had expected.
Then again – Spencer’s not really sure what he had expected.
“I – No, no, I wasn’t.” Spencer pulls his drink towards him. It’s too hot to drink, but at least it gives him something to do with his hands. “I’m Spencer,” he says lamely, for want of anything better to say.
“I know,” Aaron says with a smile. “Your purple tie really is purple.”
It had been Aaron’s suggestion, when Spencer had questioned how they would recognize each other. It had been the only purple accessory Spencer owned, but he was stuck with it after he had foolishly opted for the color without thinking. It’s also not knotted correctly, so Spencer guilty picks at the mess he made.
Aaron senses his anxiety, or perhaps he just has a routine, because he folds his hands neatly on the table and says, “So. Here’s how it’s going to go.”
Direction. A plan. Yes. Spencer seizes it with everything he has and nods, not trusting his voice.
“We are going to order something to eat, and we are going to get to know each other. Then we are going to go on a short walk and discuss details. And then, if you are still agreeable . . . we’ll see where the walk takes us.”
Spencer did not know, up until that point, just how much casual conversation could make his heart race while calming his racing thoughts. It must be something in Aaron’s voice, he reasons, something about his steady tone and deep pitch. Or perhaps it is something in his body language; he projects such confidence and calm that others mirror it before they realize and calm down themselves.
About two minutes into his new hypothesis, Spencer abruptly realizes Aaron is still waiting for a response. The good thing about having an eidetic memory is that all he has to do is rewind and process what he remembers, so he doesn’t have to awkwardly ask Aaron to repeat himself.
“Yes, that – that sounds good.”
“Hmm. You looked about a thousand miles away. Are you sure?”
“You just have a very calming voice,” Spencer tries to explain. “I was just theorizing on whether it was your cadence or your pitch. Um. I didn’t. I didn’t mean that in a bad way. Or in a stalker way.”
Aaron looks even more amused at that. Perhaps he deals with gibbering idiots all the time. He’s certainly handsome enough: broad shoulders, sharp jaw, dark eyes. He looks like the poster boy for tall men in fine suits. Spencer wouldn’t have ever approached him if they met in the wild, for sure. And with looks like that, Aaron certainly wouldn’t have even given him a second glance.
It’s that thought that sobers Spencer. This is a business transaction, he reminds himself. Services exchanged for money. Be professional.
Spencer clears his throat. “So, what do you want to order?”
“I hear their croissants are very good.”
“Hear? You – ”
“ – don’t bring all my dates here to vet them?” Aaron smiles. “Sometimes it’s nice to try new things. And it’s not every day I get to eat brunch with a gorgeous man like you.”
“No need for flattery,” Spencer mumbles, but he can already feel the blush heating up his cheeks. It’s probably just practiced charm, but Aaron just oozes charisma and authenticity. A small part of Spencer wants to believe him, but the logical part reins that in and reminds him that this “date” is paid for.
Oh, for sure, Aaron likely can choose who he accepts and who he denies, and if something about Spencer truly was unsuitable he probably could have turned him down, but that by no means indicates that Aaron actually thinks he’s gorgeous. He’s probably just bland and inexperienced enough to not be offensive. It’s the best thing he can hope for in most situations.
On the bright side, hopefully by the end of the meal they can remedy that inexperience.
“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Aaron shoots back. “Chocolate croissant? You seem like a chocolate person to me, given how much sugar is in your coffee.”
Attentive to detail, charming, and kind – Spencer is going to die before they even take their clothes off.
Somehow, Spencer gets through their meal without embarrassing himself. The conversation starts off bland enough, just chit chat about the weather and commute, but when Spencer slips and mentions a class he’s taking, suddenly the casual conversation transforms into anything but. They actually end up in a fierce debate over ethics in law, and it’s devastating for Spencer to find out that Aaron is actually even more handsome when he’s constructing entire lectures in three seconds without being fazed by Spencer’s obscure knowledge. He even adapts to Spencer’s wild tangents.
“Are you aiming to become a lawyer or something?” Spencer asks, as they get refills of their drinks. “Only because if you aren’t, I think you should consider that career path. I think you could dazzle a lot of juries.”
“Is that your polite way of saying I’m manipulative?”
“Well, there is that,” Spencer admits. “But I think you could also command a courtroom, if you wanted.”
“Yes, courtroom domination, you have deduced my five year plan to success,” Aaron laughs. He sprawls back in his chair, looking entirely at home, and Spencer has no idea how he can make something so casual look so hot. “And where do your career dreams lead?”
Spencer shrugs. He’s got more than a few universities courting him, not to mention some more alphabet soup government agencies will come calling. So far none have appealed to him though, and it seems kind of youthfully arrogant to say he has no idea, given his intelligence and academic achievements.
Then he realizes: Aaron has no idea that he has an IQ of 187, or that he entered college at 14, or that he’s on track to his second PhD. He can be honest. He’ll probably never see Aaron again after today, after all.
“Are you going to find it painfully naïve if I say I want to make a difference?” Spencer asks. “I mean, I have a possible track awaiting me in academia but . . . I want to help people.”
Something touches his hand from where it’s curled besides his plate, and Spencer jumps. When he looks up, he finds that Aaron has covered his hand with his own. It’s strange, since Spencer usually hates being touched, but right now he isn’t thinking about possible contamination or bacteria; he’s just thinking about how warm Aaron’s hand is, how gentle it is, and how his thumb sweeps across Spencer’s skin and sends tingles up his spine.
“I think that’s an excellent career goal,” Aaron tells him, and his voice is somehow deeper, warmer, tinged with affection like coffee sweetened by sugar. It’s almost like Aaron actually likes him. “Helping people should never be dismissed as a naïve idea.”
“Really?”
“You should have more confidence in yourself,” Aaron says. “You’ve got the brains, Spencer. You just need to believe that other people can see it too.”
“See what?”
“Your true value.” Aaron pushes his chair back and stands up; Spencer mourns the loss of warmth for 2.3 seconds until: “Do you want to go on a walk?”
We are going to order something to eat, and we are going to get to know each other. Then we are going to go on a short walk and discuss details. And then, if you are still agreeable . . . we’ll see where the walk takes us.
Spencer shoots to his feet so quickly that he bangs his knee against the table. Through his wincing, he says, “Yes.”
“Excellent,” Aaron says, and helps Spencer into his coat.
There is apparently a small pond not far from the coffee shop, so they walk in silence until they enter the park and begin the circuit around the water. There are a few kids running about, but most families seem to have settled in for a proper lunch at the various surrounding restaurants and Aaron and Spencer have the path mostly to themselves.
“I’m pretty sure I know the answer,” Aaron says after a few moments, hands tucked into his pockets, “but I have to ask. Do you have any experience at all?”
“A girl kissed me once.”
Aaron looks sideways at him. “That doesn’t sound very consensual.”
“I didn’t kiss her against her will, if that’s what you were thinking.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Aaron says, and Spencer realizes too late that Aaron was concerned for him. “You said ‘a girl kissed me’. You didn’t say ‘I kissed a girl’. Did you want it?”
“Yes.”
Aaron gives him a look.
“ . . . Not really,” Spencer admits. He tucks his chin against his neck and scruffs his foot against the ground. He had been curious what kissing was like and why everyone was so crazy about it, but he hadn’t exactly been asking to be kissed either. “I, uh. I pushed her away. When I realized.”
“Hmm. I’m guessing she didn’t like the rejection?”
“She didn’t do anything,” Spencer says carefully, because he’s learned that he needs to watch his words around Aaron. It’s the truth, anyways; she never did a thing to him. The boys who had wanted to date her, though – that was a completely different story, and it had ended with him tied naked to a goalpost while they hurled physical and verbal abuse at him. He doesn’t like to think about that story.
Aaron must sense something in between the words of what he is saying, because his face is a hard mask of . . . well, Spencer’s not really sure, but it doesn’t look happy. After a few moments, though, he looks away and takes a deep breath, and his face has smoothed out when Spencer glances his way.
“So, that covers kissing,” Aaron says lightly. “What about touching? Any spots I should avoid?”
“Not that I know of?”
“And what about marks? Nothing where anyone can see, I’m guessing.”
“Yes. And nothing permanent.”
Aaron laughs. “Don’t worry, I save that for second dates. Sometimes thirds.” He pauses. “Have you ever had intercourse before?”
Spencer has to look away before he answers. He knows logically that he’s still young, that virginity is a social concept, that Aaron surely must have met others, but it’s still embarrassing to choke out a “No.”
“Okay, so we’ll take it slow,” Aaron says, and wonder of wonders, he does not sound fazed or judgmental. “Do you know if you would like to give or receive?”
“I’m sorry?”
Aaron touches him on the shoulder. It’s light, but enough to let Spencer know he wants them to stop. Aaron leans close and slips an arm around his waist, like a lover, and Spencer is startled enough by that to let Aaron nuzzle his temple and whisper words in his ear.
“To give,” Aaron says, “as in for me to spread my legs for you. Or to receive, as in for me to slip some fingers inside you before I stretch you open with my – ”
Spencer did a lot of research, he did, and it’s very unhelpful to have Aaron’s deep voice in his ear when pornographic pictures are flashing behind his eyelids.
“I, uh, I don’t – I don’t know. What I want,” he stutters, feeling a little bit like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin.
“Then I guess it’s time to find out. My hotel room is only a block away. Are you ready?”
Is Spencer ready? Is Spencer ready? Is he ready for the hottest man he’s ever met who actually listens to his rambles, who actually challenges him intellectually, who doesn’t mind that he’s awkward and inexperienced and naïve to take him to bed?
“Yes.”
Aaron walks as confidently as he talks, so the staff doesn’t seem to think anything is strange or suspicious about how Spencer follows Aaron across the foyer and into the elevator. Then again, dressed like that, they probably think he’s a regular upstanding citizen just visiting their city. Aaron could probably murder someone and walk away and blend right in.
Not a helpful thought, given that no one knows where Spencer is right now, but well, he did calculate the risks, and the probability of Aaron slitting his throat and dumping his body has been going down with each passing minute of conversation.
A few other hotel guests enter the elevator with them. It’s a small elevator, so Spencer shies away and into the corner, taking comfort in the cold, solid wall behind him. Aaron, to his surprise, presses close to him until their sides glued from hip to shoulder, and it is both novel and highly distracting.
The way Aaron smirks when Spencer looks at him says everything about that.
The hotel room, when they enter it, is comfortable but not large. It has an enormous king sized bed, a bureau with drawers, a closet with an inlaid mirror, a desk with a chair, and a television. It probably also has remnants of the last guests, but, well, it’s not like Spencer could ask Aaron to come back to his place, which would be clean.
Aaron must see something in his face, though, because he pauses while taking his shoes off. “Have you changed your mind? We can stop, you know. You dictate the pace.”
“I’ve come this far. Might as well keep going.”
“Spencer,” Aaron chides. He drops his shoe and walks across the carpet, but it’s casual, not the heated prowl Spencer is sure Aaron is capable of. When he walks like that and takes Spencer’s hands in his, Spencer could almost pretend they are friends about to try sex, and not random strangers who have exchanged money. “There’s no shame in not wanting to have sex.”
“Tell that to every sex-obsessed classmate I wander past every day on campus,” Spencer mutters.
Aaron shrugs. “I imagine you’re absolutely destroying them on the academic front. And ten years down the road when they’re spotlighting famous graduates, I bet everyone will be too busy being jealous of you to try and lord over the drunken one night stands they had while you were studying.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of having sex?”
“I’m trying to make sure it’s what you want.” Aaron sweeps a thumb over the back of his hand, looking as sincere as one can be with only one shoe and half his jacket on. “You should want it, Spencer, for yourself. Not to impress or be equal to anyone else. Because down that road lies regrets.”
Spencer looks down at their intertwined hands. Aaron raises a good point, he has to concede that. Spencer knows that trying to match pace with his classmates is futile, he knows this, he does. How many times has he learned that lesson?
“Maybe I started this out that way,” Spencer confesses, and he holds on tight when Aaron tries to pull back, “but, uh. I want it now.”
“Are you sure?”
“You’re really hot. Also I’m pretty sure that my pants are feeling tight not because I ate too much at lunch, but because your voice is amazing.”
That startles a laugh out of Aaron. A genuine laugh, where he throws his head back and his shoulders relax. Spencer really likes Aaron’s laugh. He, for once, is glad for his eidetic memory, because he can replay that laugh for the rest of his life if he questions whether he could actually make someone laugh.
“I’m still sensing a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence, even though it is very flattering,” Aaron says, when he’s recovered.
“Um. Can we just. Can we shower first? I’m not – I’m not calling you dirty, it’s just that café was really crowded, and I bet no one has sanitized that elevator – ”
Aaron fortunately does not mock him for this. Instead, his eyes light up and he starts towing Spencer towards the bathroom door. “That’s an excellent idea, a shower can do wonders to put us in the mood.”
Spencer is about to protest that cleanliness hardly seems like a path to an aroused mood when Aaron strips out of his shirt and tosses it on the ground. The sight of all that skin, toned and tan, is enough to make all thoughts of picking up Aaron’s shirt and folding it neatly on the counter make a hasty exit. Probably through his open mouth.
“Are you going to stare at me, or are you going to strip?” Aaron teases as he works at his belt. “I mean, it’s flattering, but I’d like to see you too, you know.”
“Right, right, clothes – um, clothes off,” Spencer says dumbly.
Steam starts to fill the bathroom as the hot water finally kicks in. It’s enough to fog up the mirror, which at this point Spencer is grateful for. He doesn’t need to see what his pale skin and thin figure look like next to Aaron, who looks like a runner who actually sees the sun instead of hiding from it surrounded by books in the library.
Spencer is just folding up his pants when a hand touches his shoulder. It makes him jump, even though the bathroom door is shut and it isn’t like anyone else is in there with them.
“Hey, it’s just me,” Aaron says soothingly.
His hand skims down Spencer’s side, but it comes to a stop and stays respectfully above Spencer’s waist. It also makes Spencer kind of want to fold his arms around himself like a blushing schoolgirl; he gives into the impulse, if only out of long habit from years of making himself a smaller target in locker rooms.
“The water will be warm,” Aaron tells him, probably misinterpreting his shiver. “Are you okay if I kiss you?”
Or maybe not.
Spencer remembers Aaron’s face when he had confessed about his first kiss. He kind of hopes he can get a better one now.
“Yes,” Spencer whispers.
Aaron steps close, crowding him against the sink. It’s incredibly distracting, that long and toned runner’s body against his, the unfamiliar sensation of hairy legs against his own, the heat of hands at his waist. But Spencer doesn’t feel afraid or wary; somehow, someway, he trusts Aaron not to hurt him.
The kiss, when it comes, is gentle, but it is also searing. Spencer feels it like a brand in the pit of his stomach, a spark that lights a roaring fire he didn’t know existed.
When they part, Aaron cups his cheek with one hand. “Did you like that?” he says, their faces so close together that their breath mingles.
“Y – Yeah.”
“Good. That’s all sex is, Spencer. Just finding out what you like.”
“Can we do it again?”
They can, in fact, do it again, and Spencer finds that maybe it isn’t as ridiculous as he thought that some of his classmates would spend minutes pressed together and locking lips. Aaron certainly is a significant piece of evidence that Spencer cannot discount in the favor of kissing for minutes on end.
A frisson of pain runs up his spine; he breaks the kiss to find that Aaron’s hand has climbed into his hair and is now tangled among his waves. Aaron seems apologetic when he realizes what has happened, but –
“Wait, no, I think I liked that,” Spencer says, throwing caution to the wind.
Aaron’s gaze turns heated and sly. He tucks his face into Spencer’s neck and presses kisses there, following the curve up to his ear, and pulls gently but firmly on his hair.
It’s painful, but not agonizing. Spencer would put it on par with getting a static shock; surprising but electric, making his heart race before his mind catches up to his body and realizes he is not in any danger. And Aaron keeps moving his hand, pulling on new sections of hair, varying his grip and his strength so that Spencer is, quite literally, on his toes with anticipation.
“So, we know you like being kissed and having your hair pulled,” Aaron says, sounding as satisfied as a cat that’s got the canary. “Let’s see if you like shower sex.”
Spencer wrinkles his nose. “That sounds . . . hazardous. What if we fall?”
“I won’t let you fall.”
The tone is playful, but the words are serious. Spencer swallows hard, statistics rattling around in his brain about the kind of damage that can be done through a slip and fall in a tub, even or especially to a young person. The probability for brain damage alone . . .
Then again, Aaron’s proven himself trustworthy so far.
“Are you ready?” Aaron asks.
Spencer takes his hand. “Yes,” he says, and gets tugged into the shower.
Some Years Later
The picture on his visitor badge is awful; Spencer wants to shove it deep into a pocket and never let anyone see it. Unfortunately, he is at the BAU headquarters in Quantico, so he has to wear the badge or risk getting tackled and escorted out by security. He clips it to his vest with a sigh and hurries after Gideon, who is marching forwards like he doesn’t even notice the way everyone parts for his passage.
Spencer, who can’t even walk to the library without getting bumped, exhales in jealousy and hurries after him.
Then again, it isn’t surprising. Jason Gideon radiates an aura of control, and his reputation is enough to keep everyone at bay. It’s why Spencer had been so surprised that Gideon had latched onto him with laser focus when Spencer had attended a rare in person lecture; normally, from what Spencer has heard or read, Gideon shuns the spotlight and shuns company even more.
But Gideon had kept popping up, throwing questions at Spencer and seeming alternately surprised and pleased at his answers. He’s pretty sure Gideon has read his file too, given what he’s asked.
This is the first time Gideon has taken him somewhere, though. Usually they just meet at the chess tables in the park.
“Sir,” Spencer says once he’s caught up, “um, is there a reason I’m here?”
“We have an opening on my team,” Gideon replies, his words as quick and efficient as his strides. “I want your help in filling it.”
“Oh. Do you want me to read the prospective candidates’ files?”
Spencer knows his reading rate is fast, but he’ll never understand why people get so amazed at how much information he can intake in a short period of time. Every time, he feels a little bit like a circus show. But if Gideon wants help, he can give it. It’ll be a unique insight into what the team is looking for, and Spencer won’t turn that down. Behavioral analysis is fairly new to him, but he’s devoured everything on the subject since attending Gideon’s frankly very fascinating lecture.
“No.”
Spencer casts about for another way to help. “I can compile cases for the candidates to read and analyze as part of the interview?”
“No.”
“Then – ”
Gideon pulls open the doors emblazoned with the BAU logo. They are clear and show an area bustling with people and activity. Files are everywhere, and it makes Spencer itch to read them. He tucks his hands into his pockets instead.
“This is the bullpen,” Gideon says, waving at the open area. He points to a small alcove. “Coffee machine, fridge, sink. Those stairs lead to the conference room, and those lead to the bathroom. Remember that.”
Spencer bites back his immediate response. It gets annoying, sometimes, to remind people that he has an eidetic memory.
But then again, if they had one too, he wouldn’t have to remind them.
“Yes, sir,” Spencer says dutifully instead.
Gideon marches up another set of stairs that leads to a small landing overlooking the bullpen. There are two doors there that bracket windows; Spencer assumes they are offices, and sure enough, he can see door plates with neatly printed names if he squints.
By the time Spencer has made it up the stairs, Gideon has stopped in front of one of the offices.
“Straighten your tie,” he orders. “And maybe your hair too. Make a good impression, please, I’ve said a lot of good things about you and it would be nice if you could look like them.”
“Sir?”
Gideon ignores him and knocks on the door. When Spencer looks up, he sees the name Aaron Hotchner etched into the name plate. The name rings a faint bell – Spencer remembers Gideon talking about his team members during the introduction to his lecture. Explosives and obsessive crimes expert Derek Morgan, media liaison Jennifer Jareau, tech analyst Penelope Garcia, and unit chief Aaron Hotchner. A young unit chief too, from what Spencer has heard, and a rising star in the FBI.
Spencer doesn’t hear anything, but Gideon opens the door anyways. Perhaps Agent Hotchner just knows Gideon well enough.
“Hotch,” Gideon says, gesturing at Spencer to come inside. “This is Dr. Spencer Reid, he’s the interesting young man who came to my lecture the other day. Dr. Reid, this is the BAU Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner. I thought it was time you two meet.”
Spencer clutches tight to his messenger bag and steps inside and –
It’s like a memory made flesh, rising out of the shadowed halls of his mind. It’s Aaron slowly standing out of the chair, still as dark-haired and tall and sharply dressed as Spencer remembers him, although the years have added shadows to his eyes and more muscle to his body. Spencer even recognizes the same polite half-smile Aaron once wore to greet him in the café, all those years ago.
A bit hysterically, Spencer wonders if he looks like a ghost out of Aaron’s past come to life.
“Dr. Reid. I’ve heard so many good things about you,” Aaron says, putting down the pen and smoothing his tie. He comes around the desk, still with that polite smile, and holds out his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Or maybe not.
Spencer shakes the hand on habit. He tries to ignore Gideon’s raised eyebrow, because Gideon has seen him refuse to shake hands, and hopes Gideon puts it down to nerves and wanting to blend in.
“Agent Hotchner,” Spencer manages to stutter out. “Um. It’s nice to, uh, meet you too.”
Aaron looks at him, and then looks at Gideon. “Gideon, did you kidnap an FBI trainee again?”
“No.”
“He didn’t tell you that you were coming to the BAU, did he?” Aaron says, tilting his head back at Spencer.
“Um, no, sir.”
“Hmm. Well, I suppose in the interest of fairness, I should let you know that Agent Gideon has expressed his belief that you would be an invaluable asset to the BAU, and after reading your file, I’m inclined to agree. Today’s meeting was meant to be interview to join our team. Are you ready?”
The words are as much of a jolt as the sight of Aaron was. Spencer’s eyes snap upwards without his permission, and oh.
Yes, there are the dark eyes Spencer remembers so vividly, just as commanding and soul-piercing as they were all those years ago. Aaron clearly hasn’t lost his touch; if anything, it’s been refined and molded into something stronger, better, and even more arousing.
“Yes, sir,” Spencer says, not breaking eye contact.
Aaron twitches. It’s a tiny movement, barely noticeable. It could have just been Aaron breathing in, honestly.
But Spencer doesn’t think so.
“Well,” Gideon says, blissfully unaware of the conversation buried inside the conversation, “let’s begin.”
Spencer walks out of the interview with a job offer, a pile of cases to familiarize himself with, and a pressing need to jerk off in the nearest bathroom.
Spencer returns to Quantico later that night. His visitor badge still works, luckily, and his eidetic memory gets him right back to the BAU bullpen. There are a few agents still milling around, but his fast pace and the messenger bag in his hands seems to keep people from questioning if he’s too young to be wandering around so late at night.
The burst of impulsivity gets him up the elevator, through the bullpen, and up the stairs. Then it dies out, like the last spark of a fire giving up under a strong wind, and Spencer comes to a halt on the stairs and questions what exactly he is doing.
They weren’t lovers, back then. They weren’t even friends. Spencer can’t ask why, that’s too rude. Spencer can’t even ask if he’s still doing it, because they’re about to become not just colleagues, but superior and subordinate. Aaron is about to his boss, and Spencer knows enough about him to know he’ll take that seriously. Spencer will probably be lucky if Aaron gives him a second glance in front of the team.
And yet, and yet, Aaron’s hand had lingered on his when they shook hands, and Spencer had definitely felt Aaron staring at him as Gideon led him away afterwards.
Maybe they hadn’t been friends then.
Maybe they can be now.
Spencer raises his hand and knocks on the door.
“Come in,” comes Aaron’s voice.
When Spencer pushes inside, Aaron’s head is bent over paperwork. He has an enormous stack on his right and even bigger stack on his left. He looks completely focused and professional, not a single hair out of place even though most people in the FBI are at home in bed at this late hour.
“I’m almost done, JJ, just one last – oh. You are not . . . JJ.”
“No, sir,” Spencer says. “Can we. Can we talk?”
Aaron tenses. Spencer can read it in the way his eyes tighten and his fingers clench around his pen. It’s strange, seeing someone be wary of him. No one has been wary of Spencer perhaps ever.
“Do you have questions about joining the team?” Aaron asks, still painfully polite.
“No.”
“Then I’m not sure why you’re here, Dr. Reid.”
Spencer wants to shake him. He wants to demand Aaron drop the act, demand to know if Aaron remembers him, demand to know if Aaron felt anything like what Spencer felt. He wants to push him away from the desk and kiss him, because no one’s kisses have ever felt as good as Aaron’s did.
Instead he says, “It’s Spencer, right now. Do you want to go on a walk?”
Aaron has clearly mastered the mask Spencer only caught glimpses of when they first met. He can’t even begin to guess at what thoughts are going through Aaron’s mind.
“I have a lot of work to do, Dr. Reid.”
Spencer throws caution to the wind. It’s what got him into this mess, after all. “I just want to talk, Aaron. That’s all.”
Aaron stares at him. It’s like he’s trying to peel apart Spencer with his eyes and prepare defenses against an inevitable attack. Spencer can see why he earned a reputation as a vicious prosecutor and an excellent profiler.
He can also see the moment Aaron gives in.
“Just to talk,” Aaron echoes, and stands to grab his coat.
They don’t go for a walk, because it’s dark outside and this conversation definitely needs to be off the record. Instead they drive to a nearby hotel, and Spencer tries not to squirm uncomfortably as Aaron rents them a room and they trek upstairs. It’s almost like last time, except now Aaron has a briefcase and a worn expression and Spencer has a messenger bag and a nervous one.
“I assume you have questions,” Aaron says the second they’re inside the room. “I don’t intend to answer them. I don’t need to justify myself to you.”
Spencer sits on the bed. He’d be rattled by Aaron’s preemptive attack – if he was seeking justification. Since he’s not, he just lets it roll off him.
“I was only looking for one answer, and you just gave it to me,” Spencer replies calmly.
Aaron scrubs a hand over his face. It’s almost like they’ve exchanged positions; now Spencer is the strangely calm one, and Aaron the anxious worked up one. And certainly Aaron has a lot more to lose now, but, well.
“Do you really think that badly of me?” Spencer questions.
Aaron sighs heavily. Finally, he concedes to sit on the couch, so that they can be eye to eye again. “No. I don’t. But I didn’t get to where I am by trusting everyone.”
“You got to where you are because you’re an excellent agent,” Spencer points out. “Gideon respects you, I can see that. And I hear only good things about you at the Academy.”
“Define good.”
“Trust me, they’re good.”
A flicker of a smile flashes over Aaron’s face. It makes him look younger and less worn down. Spencer wants to see it again, in its full glory.
“So why did you want to talk, then, if not to blackmail me?”
“I wanted,” Spencer says carefully, “to make sure.”
“Of?”
“Whether you’d be okay. You know, with me on your team.”
“Your file is exemplary,” Aaron says, sounding surprised. “I mean, I’m shocked some other government agency hasn’t scooped you up. Gideon is right, you will be a truly extraordinary and invaluable asset to the team. Are you having doubts about a path in behavioral analysis or the FBI?”
“No. His lecture was very interesting.”
“Then?”
“I just wasn’t sure if you’d be okay given our, well. Our history.”
Aaron’s gaze sharpens, as if he’s a hawk who has just spotted a mouse. He leans forward, hands clasped over his legs. “We’re both adults, Dr. Reid,” Aaron says, and Spencer has never hated his title more than he does in that moment. “We were two consenting adults who met years ago, and as long as we can be professional, I don’t see any problems with that. Unless you see a problem.”
Yes. Spencer swallows against the surge of memories threatening to rise up: the taste of Aaron’s skin, the feel of his fingers on Spencer’s hip, the powerful thrusts that had rocked the bed into the wall like a cheap erotica.
“No.”
“Then, I don’t think we have anything else to discuss.”
Silence falls then, but it’s more comfortable. Aaron must have decided they are on neutral ground now, because he leans back on the couch in a relaxed sprawl. His eyes are still sharp, no question about it, but Spencer no longer feels like he’s about to get tackled and arrested.
Then Aaron speaks again. “You had more doubts than just our history.”
“I’m pretty sure I failed my firearms qualification.”
“Profilers aren’t required to carry.”
“The rumor mill says you carry two guns.”
“What matters is what you carry up here,” Aaron counters, tapping at his temple. “And from what I see, you carry a lot up there. You should have more confidence in yourself.”
”You should have more confidence in yourself. You’ve got the brains, Spencer. You just need to believe that other people can see it too.”
“See what?”
“Your true value.”
Spencer looks at Aaron with narrowed eyes. Aaron doesn’t move, but there’s just something about the incredibly casual way he’s sprawled against the couch, almost like he’s trying a bit too hard. Almost like he’s hiding something.
Spencer leans forward. “Okay, so what if I do have a problem?”
“With?”
“With being professional.”
“Then I think you should be very careful about what you’re about to say next.”
Aaron’s words are as sharp as knives and as cold as ice. They’re dangerous, a threat, a warning. A reminder that Aaron could destroy Spencer just as easily, if he wanted to. Spencer may know Aaron’s weak spot, but Aaron isn’t exactly unarmed in this battle either.
Aaron says nothing when Spencer slides in his lap. He doesn’t even move.
“I thought you said I should be confident,” Spencer tells him, right before he kisses him.
For a long, terrifying moment, nothing happens.
Then suddenly it’s like a light has switched on: Aaron comes to life underneath him. His hands snap to Spencer’s hips and clutch so tightly they’re likely to leave bruises. He surges upwards, pressing their chests together like he’s trying to mold them into one being. And he kisses back, fervently and passionately as he did all those years ago.
It’s different, of course. They’ve grown since then, and the positioning is awkward, and Aaron’s end of day stubble scrapes against Spencer’s cheek.
It’s still amazing.
“This is,” Aaron says between gasps when they part, “incredibly unprofessional.”
“You kissed me back,” Spencer points out.
“A moment of weakness,” Aaron protests, but his fingers are still so tight on Spencer’s hips, it’s almost like he never wants to let Spencer go.
“Do you want this?”
“Spencer, I – ”
“Do you want me?”
Aaron collapses, then. He bows his head forward until it bumps against Spencer’s chest, like Atlas bending under the pressure of the world. “Yes,” he whispers, as though saying it any louder will have the entire FBI bursting into the room. “Yes, God help me, but I do. Do you know how many times I’ve – ”
“Probably as many times as I have.”
Aaron takes a deep breath. “This is – if we do this. If. We will need to file paperwork. I can’t – I can’t be your direct superior for evaluations. There are rules.”
A rush of affection warms Spencer from his head to his toes. How like the Aaron Spencer remembers, kind and protective to the last. “Aaron,” Spencer says, half a joke, “I just wanted to ask if you’d like to go on a date.”
“I like to be prepared.”
Spencer closes his eyes. With Aaron showing his cards, it’s only right for Spencer to do the same. “I spent the last hour reading up on the fraternization rules of the FBI,” he confesses, as soft as Aaron’s. “There’s surprisingly quite a lot. Did something happen?”
“Hmm. Remind me to tell you about an old friend named David Rossi once.”
“The bestselling crime author?”
“And one of the founding members of the BAU.” Aaron kisses him again, warm and affectionate. “You nearly gave me a heart attack this morning.”
“You have no excuse,” Spencer says sternly. “I didn’t see your file, but I know you’ve definitely seen mine. And mine has a picture attached.”
“You had bangs and also were looking at the ground. And you had hunched your shoulders. You looked like a completely different person.”
“Well, I kind of am. When we met, I had been on track for tenure.”
“What happened?”
Spencer smiles. “Someone told me that if I wanted to help people, I should, because it wasn’t a naïve idea.”
“I think your eidetic memory is going to get the both of us in deep trouble one day,” Aaron sighs.
“You have a law degree, I’m counting on you to get us out of it.”
“If it’s against the rules to date my subordinate, it’s most definitely against the rules to date my client.”
“We haven’t actually been on a date.”
“Shall we change that?”
“Aaron, it’s 11:37 at night.”
Aaron blinks. “You didn’t even glance at the clock.”
“Your watch is very loud,” Spencer says, before he realizes that normal people don’t say that kind of thing, or keep track of time by counting the ticks of watch. He hunches in on himself without thinking.
But Aaron, wonderful Aaron, he just laughs. “You’re going to make my life very interesting, aren’t you,” he says, clearly amused. “Well, I’m sure we can get some kind of food delivered, even at this hour.”
“What if I want something else?”
“We need to go into work tomorrow, Spencer, we can’t get drunk.”
Spencer leans close, until his mouth is right next to Aaron’s ear. Just for his own knowledge, he kisses Aaron’s cheek and relishes the way Aaron shudders.
“I want to find out if I still like having my hair pulled,” he confesses. “And I want to find out if you still like it when I suck your – ”
“Spencer..”
Spencer climbs off Aaron’s lap and holds out his hand. Aaron looks at him helplessly, like a starving man who’s been without food for so long that he’s now scared to actually partake of any. His hair is mussed and his tie is askew and his lips are swollen, and he’s still the most handsome thing Spencer has ever seen.
“Are you ready?” Spencer asks.
Aaron takes his hand. “Yes,” he says, and follows Spencer into the bathroom.
FINIS