Title: Taken
Author: wildwordwomyn
Word Count: 1,120
Fandom/Pairing: Criminal Minds slash featuring Rossi/Hotch, mention of Hotch's sister-in-law
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Continuation of "Wager".
Disclaimers/Warnings: No spoilers. No own. No harm intended.
Summary: Dave Rossi takes Hotch out to dinner, with surprising results.
"You need a break," Rossi says. He's standing in the doorway of Hotch's office, leaning against the frame, looking relaxed. He isn't though. On the inside he's actually extremely nervous. He's about to do something he's never done before. "Come to dinner with me."
"Dave, I can't. I'm supposed to pick up Jack tonight. Jessica said-."
"Didn't she say you needed to get out more?" Hotch frowns. He hates when words are turned back on him, but it's the truth. She's forever telling him to 'live a little', whatever that means. "It's just dinner, Aaron. An hour, maybe two if you're lucky..." The smile Rossi throws at him is genuine enough to hide the fear he feels.
The unit chief can't help smiling back. "Alright, but it has to be an actual restaurant. The last time we went to a bar you got me drunk."
"Everyone has to experience it sometime, you included." The look he gives him seems to disagree. "Okay, okay. No bars. And no getting you drunk. You have my word."
An hour later they're at an Italian place down the street from the BAU. Rossi's sipping at his glass of Chianti when he wants to chug it. The dinner is going as usual. They laugh and talk and have a good time. But it doesn't look like a date at all, which is what it would've been if he'd ever had a chance. If Hotch had ever considered it. If...But there's no point in thinking that way. Rossi loves him too much to lose him completely, and his friendship is better than nothing.
"Dave?" Hotch interrupts a dirty joke about a priest, a nun and a banana before it can get to the best part.
"Yes?"
He leans over the table as if whatever he wants to say is private so Rossi leans in as well. "Why didn't you tell me this was supposed to be a date?"
"What?" he sputters. He drains the last of his Chianti and without hesitation asks the server for another. Once it comes he drains it too. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The other man's eyebrows narrow. "Dave, I've known you too long. And you forget I've seen you on dates. This is exactly how you act." Rossi drops his gaze. "Should I not have said anything?" Hotch sits back heavily. Disappointed maybe?
"No, I..." He always knows what to say, he always knows how to say it. And yet... "...I thought we weren't supposed to profile each other?" he counters to stall for time.
"It's what we're trained to do. How can we not profile each other? And that doesn't answer my question."
"Aaron," he sighs. "Let it go."
Hotch watches him closely, reading things in his expression that he doesn't have enough energy to hide. "This isn't just about a date, is it?"
He looks over at the mural of Italy on the far wall of the restaurant before answering. "That doesn't matter. We're friends and that's enough for me."
"You don't mean that. You just wish you did," Hotch responds easily. There's no doubt in his voice, no hesitation.
Rossi turns back to catch Hotch's stare. "You've been taken from the day we met, Aaron. And I've been exactly what you don't need. It's that simple."
He's surprised by the unHotch-like chuckle that follows that last statement. "I hate to break it to you but nothing with you is ever simple." He detects a note of indulgent affection in his tone. He just doesn't know what to do with it. "And I'm not taken anymore," he says more soberly.
"What are you saying?" This time Rossi leans forward of his own accord.
"The last time we went out after work I had a date with a woman Jessica set me up with. I canceled it. I didn't want to go out with some random person. I wanted to be with you."
"But I'm not a woman," he reminds him softly, cautiously.
"That doesn't matter," Hotch tells him with a half-smile.
"Don't be too sure about that."
It's automatic the way Rossi tries to protect him, even from himself. He doesn't need to. The younger man is perfectly capable of doing it himself. But he can't help it.
"Dave, now would be a good time to remain silent."
The rest of dinner is quiet. Hotch stays relaxed throughout, smiling at him from across the table now and again, looking almost bashful. There are even a couple moments where Rossi swears that, if he didn't know the man better, he would think Hotch was actually flirting with him. But that can't be true. The man has never let his guard down far enough to flirt with anyone. Yet there was that one smile before dessert and that playful comment about chocolate and sex during coffee that can't be seen as anything else. When the bill comes Hotch gets to it first and pulls out his credit card. They leave soon after and head to Rossi's SUV.
"Do I get a kiss goodnight? I paid for dinner, after all..." Hotch asks innocently once they're back in the BAU parking lot.
"Aaron-."
"Isn't that how dates usually end? A kiss? I know it's been a while since I've done this but I think I do remember that part."
The thing is Rossi likes the way the words roll off his tongue. He sounds lighter than the Hotch he usually interacts with, freer. He sounds like how Rossi imagines he would during a date gone well.
He finally decides to ask the question. "Are you flirting with me?" He looks over at his friend in the passenger seat who's turned to face him, his face half hidden in darkness.
"That depends."
Depends? He quirks an eyebrow in confusion. "On?"
"If I say yes will you ask me out again? Officially?"
He grins when he hears that. "Yes."
"Then, yes."
The gift of that one sentence fills his chest with something he has no idea how to define. He's not positive but he thinks maybe it feels like happiness. Before he knows it he's moving toward the other man to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. When he sits back he's still grinning. Hotch grins as well.
"Aaron, would you like to go out with me on a official date tomorrow night?"
He doesn't speak. Just lays his palm on Rossi's hand on the gear shift and nods.
The End