"That guy Reid's with, huh?" Rossi made the mention casually, leaning against SSA Aaron Hotchner's desk with an aura of nonchalance perfected only after years of practice. "What do you think of him?" He watched the look on his chief's face as it shifted out of neutral. The pain in his expression caught the light for just a moment- Rossi knew that had he blinked, he would have missed it- before slipping back into a calm mask.
"I haven't really met him." Aaron replied coolly, continuing on his overview of a murder case file. "I'm sure he's fine." He said fine in such an ironic way- as if barely adequate, just blithely suitable. In earnest, Hotch- as he was called by his team- loathed that unnamed son of a bitch with a passion he figured Dave could never understand. Little did he know how naked his feelings were in the presence of a much perceptive eye.
"Really? He came into the office just yesterday- to bring Reid lunch, I presume. He was introduced to JJ and Morgan; I thought perhaps you had the pleasure as well." Dave played this game well. He watched, a gambler betting on Hotch's next move, as his confidant was aroused into a sardonic scoff.
"Can't say that I have." Aaron stood, collecting his papers, "I think I'll take a working lunch. If you need me, just give me a call- but not to talk about anyone's love life." In fact, if he had to hear one more word about Reid, he might have just shot himself.
Hotch couldn't pinpoint when it was that he developed feelings for Spencer Reid. For as long as the young genius worked there, some tumultuous infatuation existed for him. He tried to picture a specific incident against the throbbing headache that had manifested between his temples.
"I hope you're settling in alright, Doctor Reid." It was the first week that Spencer had been employed with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, after his introductory case into the business. Hotch had the best intentions, of course, just to stop by the young man's desk to see if he was okay after it all- to ensure he wasn't having any second thoughts. "I'm sorry everything came on so quickly- it's as if the day you were hired, you were in the field. Usually, there's a longer training period in office."
Reid glanced up, revealing a pair of soft brown eyes- a bit too large for his slender face- behind a lock of hair. He seemed distracted for a mere second, his pupils going out of focus before circling back in step. "Oh, no. Don't be sorry- I've basically lived for this since I joined the academy. You know, I always knew I wanted to be a profiler-" He trailed off awkwardly, realizing, it appeared, just how eager he seemed. He put his hands in between his knees and twitched his lips.
It hit Hotch then. Right then. The boy was beautiful in his own right. In his strange way, there was something alluring in his youthful vigor, nearly overzealousness. In the way his too-big eyes caught the light in just the right way, making it appear as if they were liquid amber. The way he smiled- or, almost smiled- as if he didn't want to commit to his own excitement.
Aaron caught himself and cleared his throat out of nerves. "Right. Well, I hope it's everything you imagined."
"Way more than that." Reid admitted. They walked out together, the superior conscious of his own nervous breathing.
"Hey, Hotch." Being so lost in thought, Aaron hadn't even noticed the object of his affection as he fell in step. "Are you going to go eat? 'dreallyliketohearaboutit- It's fascinating!" Reid had a tendency to just blurt everything out in one breath. Aaron smiled in spite of himself.
"I am, but you are more than welcome to come along. Tell me about this case." He knew he shouldn't do it. He knew he shouldn't have invited the doctor to lunch; lunch was one step closer to a date, which was too dangerous a tantalizing prospect to focus on. "If you're not-" He went to try to save himself but was cut off.
"Whatever you're about to say- I'm not! I think you'll really want to hear about this." As they headed to the parking garage, Reid went on rapidly, waving his hands energetically as he spoke. Hotch couldn't help but watch them, the way they delicately cut the air; pristine, marked only by ink- impermanent, unlike his own scarred counterparts. "And then the son killed him with a slingshot. A slingshot- can you imagine the force it must've taken- I did the calculations just now, and it would literally take- Are you listening?"
"What? Yes. Of course I am. The boy killed his father with a slingshot, which would take an insurmountable amount of force. How old did you say he was?" Reid often had to check to make sure Hotch was listening.
"Seven. That's- so young." Spencer murmured the last part, a reverential second dedicated to a childhood lost. Aaron observed the moment as well, through the recoil of thoughtfulness that tugged against his coworker's once bright demeanor. "So, where are we going for lunch?"