The hot sun beat down upon Aaron with a ferocity that seemed to perturb the male, but instead, he had ignored it easily. His shirt clinging to his skin reminded him that he was thirsty. So, he had decided to make a u-turn and head into a small cafe which served a delicious lemonade. Take a seat he ordered a small meal and an ice cold lemonade, all the while he waited he had read his new excerpt that flowed on his lean arm.

It was very well written and it inspired the next painting that he was going to do for his set right now.

Aaron thanked the waitress before sipping from his drink. He closed his eyes and imagined the scene before him. A dark stormy night that held a large knight before it's doors. My, it would draw everyone's eyes to the dark windows which only held the small orange glow from a single candle. A perfect picture… now he just had to figure out who writes these magnificent scripts.

As he thought about who he thought was writing the works, a young, brown haired, man bumped into his table. He quickly started to apologize.

Aaron's eyes shot to the male calmly. He nodded his head and cleared his throat silently.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it." His voice was deep and smooth as he dealt with the situation in a calm, quaint matter.

"But," the man stammered.

"Don't worry. It was an accident, you didn't do it on purpose. Did you?" He looked the other dead in the eye while questioning him firmly.

"N-no," the man was flushed red in embarrassment. He looked over at Aaron and flushed redder.

Aaron couldn't help but chuckle softly. This strange male was slightly cute, he wouldn't say that he wasn't, but still stranger nonetheless.

"Would you like a drink? I can buy."

"Um… water please," the man stammered.

Nodding his head he pulled the seat opposite to him out before nodding to his waitress and getting the other water.

"So, what brings you here?" He almost mumbled the question.

"I'm looking for a new publisher," he answered.

"Ahhh, there's a few around here…" Looking at the other he examined his clothing trying to estimate his character. "An author then?"

"Yes," he says before finishing his drink and leaving.

Aaron watched him leave quickly. Taking a drink of his own, he had watched the other before classifying that meeting as an odd one.

He left to go to the art gallery opening that had his last set in it.

Glancing at his watch, Aaron had sighed before finishing his meal and leaving a tip. He knew that the art showing would soon begin, and his art would be part of the viewing. Debating about time he assumed that he'd be able to make it there within ten to fifteen minutes so he could take his time getting there.

When he did he looked around at the young man without realizing it. It was still a while before it would open and he would have to change into a suit before it opened. David Rossi came over to him and handed him a suit.

David was his old friend and kept him from going crazy at openings. Though he was likely to try to get a date. The man had never had any writing on his body that wasn't his own doing.

"Thanks," Aaron mumbled taking the outfit, as he was doing so he had realized that more writing was appearing on his skin. Instead of a story, though, it was more of just notes being taken. One of them was *Find the artist. 'What an odd note.'

He left the bathroom and looked over at the other artists that were gathered around. A lot of them were gathered around his set of paintings.

"...Another day…" Mumbling, yet again, he smiled and walked over to the group of viewers. He was respectful as he explained the background behind the images, and on some of them, he even explained how he read something that influenced him on the striking pieces of art, though he couldn't truly explain where he read the excerpts without seeming crazy to his viewers.

"Aaron come here," David said pulling him away from the other artists. He looked at the Dave and he noticed that more writing had shown up on his left arm like it always did. It was the writing that he was used to seeing.

"Yeah, is something wrong, David?" He glanced at his arm quickly before pulling his sleeves down. Being slightly selfish, he truly didn't want to share those little excerpts. They were kind of special to him. Why? Well, he truly couldn't explain though he felt as if he wanted to.

"Aaron, you have always hidden you dominant arm behind bandages, why?" Dave asked corning him in the corner.

Glancing around Aaron knew he was trapped behind David. Though David's his best friend, and he trust him, he still would prefer to keep the writing his own little secret.

"Nothing. Don't worry David. It's nothing bad." Laughing softly he tried to joke his way out of this situation.

"Aaron you are lying to me. The writings mean a lot to you. Why?" Dave asked.

A frown soon took over his lips as he placed his hand on David's shoulder.

"Please, leave it be David." His voice was hard as he spoke softly. "How did you know there were words on my arm?" Aaron knew he hid them well enough, but how does David know about them?

"The words are close to being on your palm. I could see it when you waved your hand," Dave said as he let Aaron out of the corner. In the time that they had been talking the gallery opened to the public.

Hearing that had annoyed the other ever so slightly. He'd have to start bandaging his hands if it became even longer.

As the gallery got fuller he saw the young man from before. He walked over to him and kept his left hand down by his side.

"Hello again," Aaron said tapping the other's back with his right hand. "You left so suddenly that I didn't get your name. I'm Aaron Hotchner. And you are?" While speaking he held his hand out for the other to grasp in a handshake.

"Um. Spencer Reid. I don't shake hands. Too many germs," Spencer said.

Nodding his head he moved his hand back to his side understanding completely about his phobia, or concern, whichever he wanted to call it.

"Sir, is this your art?" Hearing him being called back to his work he had nodded his head and left to leave to answer the older women's questions about his little village in France.

Spencer followed and looked at the art that he said was his. It looked like the art that had always been on his arms.

Helping the elderly women, Aaron looked back at the other with curious eyes. He was eyeing his artwork as if he had seen it before.

"Is there something I can help you with?" He finally asked after seeing the other examine it quite thoroughly.

"I've seen this work before. I never knew the name associated with it," Spencer explained as he looked around. A lot of the works looked somewhat like something that he had seen on his arm in the past few months.

Aaron stuffed his hands into his hands into his pockets while watching the other move between his pictures.

"Do you like it?" He questioned gently.

"Yes," Spencer breathed.

Chuckling softly, Aaron leaned against the wall and smiled softly. This man… he's quite interesting.

"Thank you."

"Your welcome," Spencer said as he wandered off to look at other art. He left the gallery before it ended and thought about the man he had met. Aaron Hotchner was likely his soulmate or knew him if he had the habit of drawing on himself or others.

Aaron was even more curious about that male, but he let him go without talking more to him, he decided to let the poor man go for the day. Within an hour the art gallery was closed, his artwork was driven to his house, and he was on a train reading the new story which formed on his arm.