Title: Right Kind of Wrong.
Disclaimer: FRT
Pairing: Hotch/Reid
Prompt: Reid is eighteen he's in college and he's having problems (it's up to the filler decide if he's being abused or if he's having troubles with his mom or dad or whatever you want). He meets Aaron Hotchner, college professor who takes care of him. The two of them fell in love and... Summary: Spencer know's what he had to do, but he's glad he doesn't have to do it alone.
"Mom, please stop." Spencer was crying. He was humiliated by the fact, but he was.
"You are not my son! What have you done with him?" She was trying to push her way into his bedroom, while Spencer was trying desperately to close the door on the latch without hurting her so he could lock it.
Trying not to let his voice hitch, he pleaded with his frantic parent, "Mom, it's me. I swear it's me. You're having an episode."
"TELL ME WHERE HE IS!" She was screaming now, hysterical. It was frightening at painful to see her this way, but her mania also caused her to falter and for a moment, just a moment, she let go of the door. It was enough and Spencer pushed it closed, turning the lock.
He walked backwards away from the door, away from the pounding and screaming, and put a hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle back the sobs. He stumbled over the chest at the foot of his bed and crumpled to the floor. Laying face down, head buried in his hands smearing tears and blood from his busted lip on his sleeves, Spencer Reid allowed himself to weep.
"Crap, crap, crap, crap." Spencer chanted to himself while running through the halls. His mom had kept him up until 3am before she finally calmed down enough to take her sedatives. As a result he had over-slept and now he was late for class. When he reached the closed doors of the lecture hall, he paused and breathed deeply, trying to compose himself. When he was as together as he was likely to get, he opened the door just a crack and slipped in. Everyone turned to him of course, including the professor, Aaron Hotchner. The mocking eyes of the other students was enough to make him lower his eyes and apologize, he knew the professor wouldn't mind but it was the polite thing to do.
Professor Hotchner frowned at him before saying, "That's fine Spencer, we just started. Take a seat."
The professor's frown confused Spencer for a second before one of the students oh, so helpfully explained why he looked troubled.
"What, did you get into a fight over your D&D characters?" Scotty asked. God he hated Scotty. Typical frat boy.
Self-consciously licking the cut on his lip, he ignored the jibe and made his way to his seat near the front. The lecture was enjoyable, as where all of Professor Hotchner's lectures, and much to his relief it seemed to be over rather quickly.
Eager to get away from the other students, he hurried to the library. There was one section, the 16th century literature, where nobody ever went. It was his haven, comfort drawn from both the solitude and the familiarity he had with virtually every book in this section thanks to his mom.
Thinking about her caused him to remember last night, but he quickly pushed those thoughts aside. Here, now, was not the time for negativity. This was his one reprieve in life. No pressure to remain invisible when surrounded by his 'peer's', no fear that his mom was suddenly going to start screaming and tearing her hair out or trying to kill him for being an impostor. Just him, solitude and Emily Bronte.
"Hi." Spencer just about jumped out of his skin when he heard his name being spoken. The voice had been quiet, as expected in a library, but it had succeeded in startling him.
"Oh, Professor Hotchner. Hi." He said, unsure how the older man had found him.
He walked forward and gestured to the patch of carpet directly across form where Spencer was sat cross-legged, "Mind if I sit?"
Spencer shook his head and watched as the professor managed to lower himself rather gracefully given his outfit of a fitted suit. He was starting to feel like the kid in kindergarten who needed a special talk after eating the toy soldiers heads.
"You okay?" The professor asked, getting right to the point.
Nodding rapidly, he gestured up to his lip and laughed, "Yeah, I erm, I slipped in the shower. Clumsy." He hoped that by making fun of himself, the man would let it go.
No such luck.
"Spencer," He began, looking as though he was trying to say something he really didn't want to say, "I've read your file. I know about your mom."
The bottom fell out of Spencer's stomach, he didn't want to talk about this, "It's fine." He said, looking down.
He felt a warm hand against his arm and almost jumped, he wasn't used to being touched, at least not in any way that wasn't painful, "You know you don't have to do this alone. I understand that being a seventeen year old amongst the other adult post grad students must make you feel pressured to act more mature but, you can always talk to me. It's okay and perfectly adult to need help. Even if it's just a sympathetic ear."
Spencer felt his breath hitch, he knew it was foolish and he had no tangible reason to believe Professor Hotchner wouldn't use the information against him. It was just that, he wasn't that kind of man.
All of a sudden, it was as though the burden he'd carried of taking care of his mother alone for all these years became too much to bear, "She's getting worse, I can't get through to her anymore. Last night she thought I was an impostor made to look like her son to trick her. She attacked me. I just ... I don't know if she can wait another three weeks."
When he dared look back up, he saw nothing but sympathy and sorrow on the man's face, "What happens in three weeks?" He asked.
Wiping at his eyes before the tears building up could fall, he answered, "I turn eighteen and I can have her committed without risking being put in care." Spencer's breath left his body, "Oh, god. How selfish is that?"
Professor Hotchner moved to sit next to him and placed an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into a hug. Spencer couldn't remember the last time he'd been hugged.
"It's not selfish at all Spencer. Your mother wouldn't want you to loose everything. By doing it this way you're helping her too."
Spencer knew it was foolish to believe what the professor was saying, that it was gullible, but for once Spencer allowed himself to be comforted and assured. It felt good to be held and told you're not wrong. It was a rare luxury for him.
Sniffing, Spencer wiped his eyes and his nose on his sleeve and said, "Thank you." and reluctantly left the warmth of the embrace to grab his bag and leave before he embarrassed himself more.
"I didn't do anything." The man replied, also standing.
"Yes, you did." He mumbled the words, almost afraid to say them aloud before straightening and saying formally, "See you tomorrow Professor Hotchner."
As he was leaving he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder, he turned.
"Call me Hotch. It's what my friends call me." The elder man said with a warm smile.
Spencer couldn't help but smile back.
The next three weeks were made a lot easier for Spencer because Professor Hotchner, Hotch, had taken it upon himself to sit with him each lunch. He had, of course, protested, insisting the professor go and enjoy his break, but Hotch insisted that he did enjoy their time together.
He enjoyed spending time with the man too, he was incredibly intelligent and they could discuss random things most other people would find boring. It was a relief. And if, every now and then, Spencer woke up flustered and in need of a new pair of boxers after dreaming about him well, that was just stress.
He'd actually become proud of his self-deceiving abilities.
There were times, moments, when Spencer was sure the look in Hotch's eyes showed interest beyond simple friendship but he quickly shut down those thoughts as soon as they begun. Those kind of thoughts could only lead to heartache.
On the day of his eighteenth birthday, Hotch drove him to the care home he'd selected months ago. He insisted on staying and was a comforting presence by his side as he explained her condition, presented medical forms detailing the diagnosis and narrated a list of the treatments she'd received so far. It was a gruelling meeting but it could have been a lot worse.
When they arrived back at Spencer's house that night, the nurses where due to arrive within the hour. Spencer was physically shaking, he was so scared, so sorry, but he knew this was the way it had to be. His mother needed more help than Spencer could give her.
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Hotch asked when as he pulled up.
Spencer smiled but shook his head, "She'll probably be upset enough, anybody else there she doesn't know'll just ... make her more reluctant." He was aware his voice sounded distant. He couldn't stop picturing all the possible scenario's that were about to unfold and he was left cold by each of them.
A warm hand on his forearm pulled him back to reality, "Spencer. No matter how she reacts, deep down or one day, she will understand why you're doing this. That it's all because you love her."
Spencer nodded even as he could feel his eyes sting, he was close to losing it and he didn't want Hotch to see him cry so he quickly unfastened his seat belt and said goodbye. The other man had looked like he wanted to say more but instead just smiled sadly and let him leave.
Spencer was somewhat touched that Hotch remained parked outside until he was inside the house, it was nice to know that someone out there cared. Or at least that they wouldn't forget to care. It something so small and yet so significant to Spencer, that it gave him the strength to do this.
Because he had too.
Aaron had started the engine, pulled the car out of park, and tried to drive away. He really had. But he couldn't, he couldn't leave Spencer to deal with this on his own, he just couldn't.
So instead he drove out of sight of the house and waited, what he was waiting for he didn't know, but he knew he had to. He ignored the voice in his head telling him he was acting like some pervy stalker, an easy feat since he'd been unwisely ignoring it for weeks.
He tried to tell himself that it was just a lie, that it was sympathy or something, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that he had feelings for Spencer. His student who'd only that day turned legal. Aaron was sickened with himself but he couldn't help how he felt and he refused to let it get in the way of being there for Spencer. He needed a friend.
He didn't have to think about why he was so drawn to the young man. He had one of the most diverse intellects Aaron had ever encountered, he was incredibly wise and his emotional maturity was so far beyond that even of the other, much older, students in his class, much less his own age. Aaron, while appropriately disturbed by the vast age difference, never once let himself believe he was attracted to his youth but rather his lack of it in all the ways that his devious mind tried to tell him mattered most. Late at night and a few scotches in, he could convince himself that it could work. That the two of them could ignore what people thought, that Aaron could get another job as he doubted the university would approve, and they could sit up late and discuss everything from chaucer to star wars; of which they both rather fervent fans.
The fact that he so easily considered leaving his job for Spencer when he had refused to leave it for his wife, who'd subsequently left him for a man with more ambition, was something Aaron very deliberately did not think about.
Soon enough he saw the car pull up, two male nurses got out and headed up to the house. Aaron almost chanted out loud for it to go well, for her to understand and go easily. He was remarkably unsurprised but extremely saddened when he saw a slim, blond woman being almost dragged from the house, crying, fighting and calling back for her son. He cringed at the thought of how hard this had to be for Spencer and as soon as the car left, he didn't hesitate to rush to the house.
What he found broke his heart, Spencer was leaned against a desk, hugging a book to his chest, head down and sobbing.
"Spencer." The young man looked up and his face crumpled even more. Aaron walked forward and pulled him into a hug, "It's okay."
Spencer was clinging to him. Aaron could feel the tension in his body from trying not to loose control, "She didn't want to go."
"I know, it's okay." He wish he knew what to say. He was a literature professor and yet he had no words to help this good person broken by grief. I ate away at him.
He held the crying young man for what felt like hours and, given how dark it had gotten outside, it may very well have been. When Spencer finally pulled away, his eyes were swollen and blotchy and he was biting his lip. Aaron knew he was about to apologize so he reached out a hand and stroked his cheek. The voice in the back of his mind was like an energy buzzing through his entire body telling him this was a bad idea, but the second his fingers made contact with the smooth skin of Spencer's beautiful face, that same sense of depravity became just another source of temptation.
Spencer was looking at him with an anguished pain in his eyes and it occurred to him that they were stood a lot closer together than they should be. Spencer's eyebrows twitched slightly but it was enough to show how much pain he was in.
When Spencer leaned in slightly, Aaron felt as though he were caught in a trance he couldn't escape. The worst part was he didn't think he wanted to.
Spencer's lips were soft and full beneath his, and they were so warm. It had been a long time since Aaron kissed someone, and before he realized it, he was running a hand through Spencer's long hair and pulling him closer.
'Wrong, wrong, wrong, STOP!' The litany was repeating over and over in his mind but he ignored it, this was too good for him to stop. Instead, he stroked his tongue along Spencer's bottom lip and, when the young man gasped at the sensation, took his chance to taste him. The feel of Spencer's rough tongue against his drew a deep groan from him and he walked him backwards until Spencer's back hit the wall. Aaron pulled back from the kiss to trail his lips down Spencer's neck.
The student gasped and hesitantly ran his fingers through Aaron's shorn locks, pulling him in. Aaron sucked on the curve of his shoulder, encouraged by Spencer's eagerness. He kissed along the sharp jaw, across a defined cheekbone and back to moist lips.
Spencer pulled away again, breathless and flushed. His lips were swollen beautifully, "Are you just doing this because you feel sorry for me? You don't have to comfort me."
Aaron was amazed, here he was afraid that he was taking advantage of a vulnerable young man and said young man was worried he was doing the same. Of course in Aaron's case, it was actually true.
"No." He said simply, leaning back in for another kiss. This time Spencer reacted with much more enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around Aaron's shoulders to pull him close and arching his body into the touch. In response, Aaron pressed his body firmly against Spencer's pinning him against the wall and grinding their hips together.
Spencer was moving his clothed erection firmly against Aaron's and he had to pull back to gasp. They were looking into each others eyes as they moved, taking large, shallow breaths with the occasional moans. The look of sorrow had been replaced in Spencer's eyes by sheer heat. Aaron kissed him again, harder this time. He thrust his tongue in sync with his hips and eventually Spencer was jerking against him and moaning loudly. He could tell he was close as Aaron himself was, so he moved faster and harder, pushing them over the edge together. His climax was explosive, mind numbing and so wrong.
Almost as soon as the cloud of arousal cleared from his mind he felt sick with shame. What the hell had he just done. Spencer was a student, he was a kid.
"I'm not a kid, I'm eighteen." Spencer said, hurt. Aaron frowned, had he said that out loud.
"I'm sorry." Aaron was shaking his head, he needed to get out of here. He started for the door but Spencer grabbed his arm.
"No. No, you can't go." Spencer's voice was hard and strong, "I've spent years alone, miserable. I've just lost the only person who ever mattered to me, I'm not losing you too because of your misguided sense of morality."
"It's not misguided Spencer. I took advantage of you." Aaron yelled back, unable to look him in the eyes.
"No, You didn't. I kissed you because I wanted you. Because I wanted to feel something good for a change. And I did in knowing you'd respond." Spencer had a look of pure honesty and determination on his face. It made Aaron question whether or not he might be right.
Spencer must have seen this flash of doubt because at that moment he moved forward and placed his hands on either side of Aaron's face, "I know we can't be a regular couple with dates and shopping trips. But I want to be whatever we can. I don't want you to go."
Aaron was struggling to remind himself he shouldn't be here. The idea of this being wrong was fading more and more each second, only to be replaced with the fantasy of all the ways it could work.
Holding onto what shred of control he had left, he murmured, "It's wrong." Appalled at how little conviction there was in his words.
Spencer moved his hands around to his shoulders and pulled him close, "Why don't you tell me if this feels wrong." He whispered before leaning in and kissing him. It wasn't rushed and anguished like it had been before, instead it was sweet, slow and perfect. Aaron instinctively wrapped his arms around Spencer's waist and pulled him close.
This didn't feel wrong, not at all. It felt completely natural and ... right. They couldn't be a normal couple, Spencer was right about that, but that didn't have to mean they couldn't be anything.
In fact, Aaron had the sense they could be something great.