"I'm a cow."
Hotch looked up from the reports he was filing at his desk as his Section Chief strode into his office with a glass of Garcia's homemade eggnog in her hand.
"What?"
"I said, 'I'm a cow'."
Hotch blinked, and then sighed.
"No you're not, Erin."
If there was one thing every year that reminded SSA Aaron Hotchner of the Christmas Eve party happening in the bullpen below his office, this was it. The night before Christmas, every year without fail, Strauss would march into the room after an early start with Garcia's eggnog ("knock-out eggnog", as the team had ceremoniously named it), and would proceed to enlighten Hotch of the reasons everyone hated her.
He leant back in his chair, knowing almost word-for-word the conversation that would follow.
"Yes, I am." Strauss sighed and ungracefully plonked herself down in the chair opposite to Hotch's.
"I'm a self-righteous cow who has nothing better to do with her time than to seek enjoyment through making others lives miserable."
The woman sighed again and took a swig from her glass.
"I've always had it out for you, Aaron. Always. Since the day you walked into the BAU, I've treated you with less respect than the termites that eat away at my front porch."
Hotch raised an eyebrow. This was definitely a side of Erin Strauss that only emerged once a year.
"Erin-"
"No, Aaron, let me finish."
He nodded, allowing her to continue.
"Do you know why that is, Aaron? Do you?"
Hotch shook his head, knowing very well the reason she was about to give.
Strauss looked around, eyes wide, as if looking for anyone who might be listening to their conversation, before leaning in and whispering –
"Because you're a threat to me." The inebriated woman sat back and nodded seriously, as if she was a thirteen year old girl at a sleepover who had just revealed a secret.
Hotch rolled his eyes. He figured that as his boss would most likely not remember this the next day, he replied:
"I'm no threat to you. I've got far too much practical experience for your position."
Strauss sent a stern look Hotch's way at the subtle insult. They both remembered the time during Hotch's suspension that she had gone out into the field and had almost experienced a breakdown after treading on the hair of the young victim. After that it was an unspoken rule that the Section Chief would not be joining the team on cases from then on.
While Strauss began rambling off the list of qualities that did indeed make him a threat to her, Hotch glanced down at his watch and realised that now it was probably too late to call Jack at Jessica's house and say goodnight. Although, he did acknowledge that Jack would possibly be too preoccupied with the fact that it was Christmas Eve and that "Santa is coming!" to even notice that his father had failed to call.
Hearing Strauss' on-the-verge-of-hysterical voice in his ear, Hotch suppressed a yawn. His eyes wandered out the window to the bullpen below, where the party was very much in full swing. JJ and Will were talking quietly in the far corner of the room, taking advantage of the fact that they had a night where they didn't need to look after Henry. Garcia and Emily were standing not-so-casually by the drinks table, giggling as they poured the contents of a flask into several of the punch bowls. Hotch rolled his eyes at that, reminding himself to give them a stern talking to later. Morgan was standing in the middle of the room surrounded by a couple of younger agents from the unit below theirs, showing off his muscles and undoubtedly telling an impressive story that, for some reason, the rest of the team wouldn't remember if they were asked. Aaron's eyes moved to the sight of Rossi and Reid on the walkway just outside his door. The boy genius was talking animatedly, his eyes lighting up and hands gesturing wildly, while the older man was leaning on the railing, a disinterested look in his eye as he glanced sorrowfully down at his empty glass. Hotch would swear on his job that Reid was enlightening Rossi as to the facts and fiction of the Christmas tradition.
The Unit Chief snapped back to attention when he realised the room was silent. Glancing ahead, he saw the Section Chief slumped sideways in her chair, with deep, shallow breaths coming from her. Standing and stretching, he sighed in relief and moved towards Strauss, removing the glass from her slackened hand and sitting it on his desk.
He walked over to the small dresser in his office, removing his suit jacket to reveal the gaudy Santa Claus costume beneath. Pulling on his fake beard and ridiculously pointy hat, he grabbed the red sack of Secret Santa presents that had been previously arranged and collected (thanks to one Penelope Garcia), and made his way to the door of the room.
It was time for his entrance.
This was going to be a long night.
Thank you for reading my very first story, I would love to hear your thoughts!