A/N: This totally came from a very shallow place. That place of course being, the fact that Thomas Gibson and Melina Kanakaredes would look so pretty together.
This story doesn't follow the canon storyline for Stella Bonasera of CSI: New York. Aaron Hotchner's storyline remains the same IE: he still lost his ex-wife Haley to the hands of George Foyett.
Lonely Now
Stella Bonasera and Aaron Hotchner
CSI: New York/Criminal Minds crossover
I was thinking if you were lonely
Maybe we could leave here and no one would know
"Back 2 Good" by Matchbox 20
After the suspect – or UnSub – depending on which unit you talked to (behavioral analysis or CSI), was apprehended and the case was closed, the two teams went out for a drink.
Both of the teams leaders – Hotchner and Taylor – had protested, citing mountains of paperwork that were overwhelming their desks, but their subordinates weren't buying their usual excuses. Not tonight, they sure as hell weren't.
Not after what all of them had seen and would surely take with them into their dreams when they tried to sleep later that night. Shots of whiskey in the office just weren't going to cut it tonight...They needed stories to tell, laughs to be had and to be so drunk, the images of this case wouldn't seep into their dreams – turning into nightmares that haunted them forevermore.
Of course "just drinks" had a way of turning into more than "just drinks." In this instance, the implied one or two drinks had easily turned into diner...As everyone hung on the words of the grizzled Dave Rossi and the unflappable Mac Taylor as they traded Marine Corps stories, that eventually had the whole table in stitches.
Even the ever stoic, unemotional SSA Aaron Hotchner, something that more than surprised Stella Bonasera.
Her green eyes met his onyx across the table and a shiver rushed through her, making her quickly turn away, but leaving her with the feeling that those eyes – so deep, so intense – could see right through her.
At around midnight the large group began to drift away in singles and pairs. And so it wasn't long before it was just Hotch and Stella that were left, and being the consummate profiler, that he was he couldn't stop himself from examining the crime scene analyst beside him.
She was beautiful – with spiral curls tumbling down her back in glossy shades of honey, caramel and gold, her skin was a flawless caramel with peach undertones, smooth lips were bathed in a natural shade of gloss and judging from her striking features – most notably her high cheekbones – she was of Greek or Italian decent.
Then there was the temperament she displayed during the case – passion, a willingness to never back down, strong convictions – and all of that simmering underneath the surface of a cool – nearly cold – demeanor, told him from the moment they shook hands, that she would be nothing but an asset as far as catching the UnSub was concerned.
And he was right. She had played a vital role in nailing that sick son of a bitch and while he hadn't told her so, he was proud to have worked with someone so dedicated.
The bar was slowly quieting down and the four glasses of white wine, had sent Stella's head in a state of pleasant buzzing. She had kept control of her drinking, but it was still nice to sit back and relax, something she hadn't done in far too long. And she couldn't resist keeping a steady eye on Agent Hotchner, seeing the same control, mixed with this relief that seemed to fill his whole body, that everyone he cared about (his team) had made it safely through another day.
"I hear you feebs fly around in your own private jet." She teased, examining the last few drops of wine in her glass. "So what time are you flying out of here?"
"Feebs?" He arched a pointed brow, a deep chuckle escaping his lips. "My team and I leave at eight. Or should I say myself and the rest of the feebs, leave at eight. Which means I should be headed back to the hotel right about now."
But neither made a move to leave.
A flush colored Stella's high cheekbones as she murmured, "You ...And your team – you guys did a good job on the case. We were lucky to have you."
The strong vibrato of his voice, that left his throat in a raspy tone, had her blushing even deeper. "Don't sell yourself or the rest of your team short, Ms. Bonasera. This was definitely a collective effort."
"Compliments aside, I'm sure you're anxious to get back to D.C., though."
His onyx eyes captured her green briefly before they stared at the rack of various glasses behind the bar. "It's home." He murmured, finishing off the last of his burbon.
She glanced at him sideways. "That's not the same thing." She noted softly, a distant tone coloring her musical voice.
This is something that he never would have allowed to happen in the light of day. But the bar was dark and the alcohol was buzzing through his veins, making him feel loose. And as his onyx eyes captured her green – the swirling blues and teals – so vibrant, but at the same time ...Their vibrancy was haunted by a pain, he thought he only saw in the mirror everyday when he looked at his own eyes.
But that wasn't the case tonight. Tonight he was looking at someone who seemed to understand the pain he was hiding underneath his shield of stoicism.
Sure, his team – Prentiss, Morgan, Reid, JJ, Dave – they all understood pain. They had gone through hard times. But he found it hard to believe that any of them could comprehend that ache, the one that resonated deep inside your veins – coursing through, day after day in a never ending cycle – that tainted every good thing you ever had.
She didn't seem surprised when he leaned forward and kissed her. On the contrary, one delicate hand with slender fingers tangled in the thickness of his hair, demanding that his lips part and taking everything from him that she could.
Even though Stella had control over the kiss, when they pulled away, she found herself being controlled. Something that normally wouldn't sit well with her. Control was something that she needed – something that she liked, but as Hotch pulled away from her and reached for his money, he was continuously touching her at the same time.
Throwing the money on the counter, he grabbed his jacket and lead her out the door, his hand either fingering the curls that lingered against her back or simply resting against the small of her back, even as he hailed a taxi.
They didn't turn the lights on as they moved into her apartment. As soon as they were through the door, Hotch was dragging Stella back to him, his arms and scent surrounding every inch of her. Every line of his body was hard, and she knew he was like her. People like them, they didn't break. They just took hit after hit, and struggled with the weight of countless memories, until they finally and privately shattered into a million tiny pieces.
In the dark, she couldn't see him, but she didn't need to. He never moved away from her, never stopped touching her as they found their way to her bedroom. It felt as though he had a hundred hands, and each one was on her, teasing her, comforting her.
It was like she was sharing her bed with four or five lovers, but all of them were Aaron Hotchner, and he simply surrounded her, touching her everywhere at once.
He even touched her in her sleep. She got the feeling, he got even less sleep than she did, but as they both drifted off – his hand across her stomach, arm strewn across her slim hip – holding her to him, letting both of them know that for the time being, they were safe.
It was over before it even started, morning coming far too fast, but neither believed it was to be anything more than a stolen night.
A moment of brief reprieve amongst the memories and pain that they had been settled in for so long. And after they had gotten dressed, they were standing at her doorway.
Green eyes boring into onyx. To ease the tension, to alleviate the intensity that burned inside her to reach for him and slip the jacket from his toned shoulders and the tie from his neck, she smiled softly and said, "I'll bring you to the airport."
The sight of the small dimple in his left cheek, was nearly too much to take. Just like the way his sharp features looked so relaxed, giving his classic archetype of tall, dark and handsome, a little something extra, had her shivering and second thoughts running through her head.
But then the stoicism she had seen all throughout the case, returned and she just nodded, when he said, "I'll take a cab. But thank you for the offer."
Leaning against her door frame, he was nearly a step out into the hallway, when she grabbed his wrist. Hovering over his ear, she murmured, "Goodbye, Agent Hotchner."
That small dimple appeared as he turned his head toward hers. His warm breath ghosted across her cheek, sending her knees quivering as his strong voice washed over her, "Goodbye, Stella."
Everyone here
Gets caught up in the pleasure of the pain, everyone hides
Shades of shame, but looking inside we're the same, we're
The same
And we're all grown now, but we don't know how
To get it back too good
- (Matchbox 20)
End Note: Song used at the beginning and the end "Back 2 Good" by Matchbox 20. Lyrics by Matthew Serletic and Rob Thomas.
BTW, if you didn't know...Stella Bonasera is played by Melina Kanakaredes and Aaron Hotchner is played by Thomas Gibson.