AN: Daily Prompt fic with strict word count limits
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Chapter One: Old Feelings
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Your character sees/interacts with something from their childhood and it stirs up old feelings.
300 Words.
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One minute, he's a recently separated man with enough brains to know that this is a terrible idea—the next, he's stumbling drunk through a park wondering how this is his life. There's a warm hand on his arm and, when he looks down, he's dressed to impress with his shoes streaked from the wet grass they're tripping over. The hand isn't slim or dainty; instead, it's long with slight callouses on one finger where it would rest upon a trigger. There's a watch looped strangely over the arm of his suit and his nails are blunt and clean. It's a nice hand. It's not a woman's hand.
"Careful," Spencer says quietly as Hotch stumbles over the edge of the lawn. "You should have told me about Haley."
Rossi, Hotch remembers. Rossi did this. Got him drunk and… this. Just all of this.
What is this?
"Didn't tell anyone," Hotch replies, looking around. Where are they? There's a rotunda ahead—Hotch recognises it. He remembers why he's here, and why Spencer is here with him. Spencer right now, not Reid, because Hotch would never call Reid in the middle of the night because he's drunk off his ass in the park where he got his first kiss. "Didn't think it was… professional."
And he's looking at that rotunda with some distant point of his mind pointing out that it's not really professional that he's summoned the prettiest, and least equipped to deal with breakdowns, member of his team to the park where Hotch had kissed his best friend at the tender age of eighteen. Not Haley. It wasn't Haley.
And hadn't she always hated that he'd kissed a man first?
"Come on," is all Spencer says, his hand still steady, still there, even now Haley isn't. "Let's get you home."