Romantic Office Relations are a No-No.
Aaron Hotchner couldn't tare his gaze away from the lithe little form of his agent. He was younger, a good ten years beneath him - he looked so innocent laughing or frowning at something Morgan said. He looked so innocent period in his sweater vests and button ups - he looked more like a professor or a student than an FBI field agent. He was good at his job though, smart too. Genius. Twenty-seven years and already has three Ph.D's, an eidetic memory and can read more than 2000 words a minute. He was a good agent, a very good agent. He eyed the clunky gun resting at the edge of Spencer Reid's desk from his perch in his office. The young agent replying to something Prentiss said. Spencer was a genius, but he could only hit the broad side of a barn. Intellectually capable, Physically capable to a degree. He passed all physicals with flying colors, but it wasn't news that it wasn't what got him into the academy or the agency. His brains got him there. His brains got him placed on Aaron's team - the best stationed at Quantico.
Hotch sighed, and turned to glance around his office. His life. Work, work, work. Well, not all work - he smiled sadly at the picture of his ex-wife and son on his desk. Jack was his life beyond work now. His ex-wife, Haley, murdered. He may not have loved her anymore, but he cared in a different way. He often blamed himself for her death, if it weren't for him, perhaps she'd still be alive. But what if's weren't ever good. He turned back to gaze at his team. Derek laughing, Emily laughing, David standing above them a little ways off leaning against the banister staring into the bull-pen a small smile curving his lips, and Spencer pouting.
He found that Spencer was a good distraction, or often the only distraction that took him away from the darkness that clouded his job. He watched as the twenty-seven year old agent pulled the bottom lip between his teeth and gnawed. Hotch didn't fight the thought running through his mind. He wanted to be the one to gnaw on it, nibble, capture, dominate. Oh, this wasn't the first time similar thoughts crossed his mind. It's been months, a year approximately. Months of watching, pinning, wishing, and denying. He watched the slender curve of his neck, the way his hair glinted beneath the light, the way his shirt and vest stretched across his shoulders and back as he reached for the pencil Derek snatched from his elegant, pianist hands.
Yes, Aaron Hotchner had it bad for Spencer Reid.
Reid was not the first man Aaron had been attracted to, but he is the first one he wanted for more than a jaunt in between the sheets. He wanted him for seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years. And Jack liked him. But then again, Jack liked the whole team.
Reid turned and glanced up towards Hotch, waved and smiled. Hotch felt the heat coil in the pit of his core, it fluttered and spread encasing him in its warmth. Those chocolate brown eyes turned away and it left Hotch feeling cold. He breathed out and turned away. He had work to do and he couldn't spend hours watching Reid in hopes that the young man will smile and gaze at him again and again (hoping against hope that Spencer held any inkling of receptive feelings for him), even if that is what he wanted to do. He frowned at the paper work scattered across his desk. After case reports, files from cold cases. Sometimes, he wished he was back in the bull-pen instead of team leader.
The paper work might have been more bearable and he wouldn't have Strauss on his case at least once a week complaining he wasn't doing his job right. It won't be for hours before Hotch can venture out from his office and head home to relieve Haley's sister of Jack.
By the time he does emerge from his quaint office, the bull-pen and the outer offices are dark except for the lone light on at the desk of one Spencer Reid. He frowned. Spencer never really stayed late, in fact he was usually the first one gone, reports neat and to the point and finished. His coat rested on the elbow of his left arm, while his left hand gripped the handle of his overnight bag (it needed to be refreshed). Walking towards the cubicle that held the boy-wonder, or pretty-boy by Derek. Spencer certainly was a pretty boy. All angles and elbows, but boyishly cute and incredibly attractive. Just thinking about the young man had Hotch's body on alert and ready for action. And not the professional kind.
Reid lay slumped over his desk, back arched as his arms folded and cushioned his head. A soft snore drifted up to Aaron's ears. He watched as the light and the shadows of the office played off of Spencer's face making him look soft and mysterious. The sharp edge of his jaw looked softened and his cheek bones looked feminine as thick eye lashes kissed their slight rosy hue. The eyes flickered rapidly in REM beneath the eyelids. Aaron couldn't help but wonder what the young agent was dreaming about as said agent released a soft sigh and shifted slightly, his head snuggling deeper into his arms. A piece of chestnut brown hair rested against pale skin and Hotchner's right hand itched to remove it.
He did not deny himself the instinct. Because he wanted to feel if that lock of hair was as soft as it looked. It was. It was like water against the calluses of Aaron's finger tips. Calluses from handling his firearm for years. He pulled that rebellious lock and gently placed it behind the young man's ear. His fingers grazing the sharp curve of Reid's cheek as he withdrew his hand. He hated what he was about to do. He looked so peaceful, contented, but it must be done. Taking a breath that rattled in his chest from the feelings that whirled beneath his skin, he reached out and cupped Spencer's shoulder and shook him.
"Reid," he softly called the young man's name. Said young man grumbled lightly and turned away. Hotch's smile was small and affectionate. That was entirely too cute. He had to stop that, it was inappropriate and if he kept on the track he was going the young man would notice (with help from other's of course, he was too innocent and unused to such things on his own). He couldn't have that. And the thought of it, brought an uneasy feeling to him. One of losing him. He didn't want to think it. Better to have him close, than not have him at all.
"Reid," he said louder and firmer. He watched almost entranced as those beautiful eyes fluttered and looked at him. He's hooded and half-mast with sleep. Many would have called those bedroom eyes, but Hotch knew Reid was too innocent to have anything called bed-room eyes. A lazy smile curved those pink, supple lips. Pliable and soft, he bet.
"Hotch," he breathed out. And Hotch froze, his eyes staring into the hauntingly beautiful image before him. His blood sizzled from that breathy sigh of his name and he could feel his arousal intensifying. Dear God, the man had no idea how enticing he could be - how sexy without even trying. And said man questioned why he couldn't get a date.
And all too soon that one moment that would be burned within Hotch's memory for as long as he lived was over and he watched those sleepy eyes become alert and a flush of embarrassment and mortification cross Spencer's face.
"Hotch!" he said straightening, one elegant hand straightening his clothes the other fiddling with his wayward, sleep tousled locks. He coughed reaching out and straightening the papers that became disorganized from his little nap.
Hotch watched amused slightly, another part disappointed, and large part too aroused to concentrate on anything else then the thoughts foggy his mind.
"You can finish that tomorrow if your not done, but get home and get some rest Reid. We'll need you rested encase we get another case." Hotch said disguising his tone. Or at least he hoped he was disguising it - he prayed it didn't come out as husky as it sounded.
"Of course. Umm," Reid stalled as he stood up, pulling his coat on and his bag over his shoulder. He pulled that plump bottom lip in between his teeth. His hands fiddled with the strap. All motions pertaining to him being nervous. Nervous he didn't know.
"Yes, Reid." Hotch questioned his eyes locked and intense on the young man. Reid fidgeted beneath the intense gaze for reasons he wouldn't think about until later.
"When I was sleeping, I didn't say anything weird?" He said. One black eyebrow rose and Reid breathed a sigh of relief when Hotch nodded his head in the negative. "Okay, well, Goodnight Hotch, see you tomorrow."
"Good night Reid." He said watching the young man scurry towards the elevator. His eyes involuntary drifted south and he watched fascinated as those corduroy's cupped a very shapely ass that Aaron wanted to just grab a handful of. He didn't look away until Reid was in the elevator and even then he stared at the metal doors. He glanced down and sighed. His pants tight, his body tense, his breath heavy with arousal. Dammit. He wanted him badly. He didn't know how much longer he could hold off on these emotions. They were intense.
Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner was in love with Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid. And he couldn't have him.
Because relationships in the sexual sense between team members was a big no-no that could get them fired.
It was a very dejected and aroused Aaron Hotchner that went home alone that night.
FINI