"Make it a rule of life never to regret and never to look back. Regret is an appalling waste of energy, you can't build on it it's only good for wallowing in."
Katherine Mansfield
Before he even opened his eyes, Aaron Hotchner knew he was hung over. He could feel the vicious dull throb behind his eyes that he knew would get worse when he exposed his retinas to light.
He drifted in and out of sleep, feeling Hayley stir in his arms and ran his hand along her side. As he did, alarm set in. Hayley didn't have hips like that. Who the hell was he sleeping with?! Forcing his eyes open, he discovered that his bed mate was none other than Lisa O'Reilly.
She slept, her arm draped across his chest, her head on his shoulder, a soft smile on her face. A growing sense of dread enveloped him when he realized that beneath the blankets, they were both naked.
"Shit," he quietly said, causing her to stir.
Her eyes opened and after taking a moment to focus, she smiled. "So that wasn't a dream, huh?"
"No," he said, his tone short. "Not from the looks of it."
She rolled back on the pillows and stretched, causing the blanket to slip and reveal her naked breasts.
"Oh shit," he repeated, massaging his temples. "What did we do?"
Lisa laughed, "I know it's been a while, Hotch, but if I have to explain it…"
"That's not what I mean." He sat up, looking at her. Damn, she looked good laying there, her dark red hair all messy from sex, a dreamy smile on her face. It was her face that he kept his eyes trained on, trying desperately to avoid looking at her breasts.
She reached out and touched his arm, "Hey, relax."
"Relax?" he repeated, shaking his head, "Do you realize the implications of what we did last night?"
She sat up, "Yes, I know we had unprotected sex, but I've been tested, I'm on the pill, and you said you haven't been with anyone since Hayley…"
"That's not what I mean!" he repeated, trying to remain calm.
"Hotch; we had sex," she said quietly, "Amazing sex, but sex all the same. It's not like we plotted to overthrow the government or something."
"Exactly," he agreed, "We had sex."
XXXXX
Lisa studied him. He was clearly alarmed but she saw a great deal of guilt as well.
"Aaron," she softly said, calling him by his given name, something she very rarely did. "It's okay."
"No, it isn't. I was a drunken asshole last night," he said, "I'm sorry, Lisa. I never should have had that much to drink, let alone let you drink as much as you did."
"Stop," she went on, voice still soft. "You didn't get me drunk and take advantage of me. I hope you remember enough of the night to remember that at least."
"I remember all of it," he said.
"Then you remember that I pretty much instigated it."
A smile formed on his lips, but was quickly replaced by his omnipresent grimace. "That's beside the point. I took you out, got you drunk and had sex with you."
"Oh yes, and poor little naïve me had no idea what big bad Aaron Hotchner had in store for me when I left Quantico with him." Lisa rolled her eyes. "Get over it. We went out with the intention of getting drunk. I don't know when we both got it into our heads that we had to have sex, but somewhere along the line, we both made it our mission."
"You just don't screw your best friend of twenty years," he said, more to himself.
"Why not?" she countered. "Who better to have sex with than a friend?"
"And that's what we are now, friends with benefits?"
She thought for a moment, "I don't know. I didn't think that far."
"Yeah, me either," he agreed, relaxing slightly. "I thought about as far as getting into your pants and that's where I stopped thinking."
Lisa laughed. "Look, Hotch, it happened, we can't change that."
"I know," he agreed, lying back on the pillows.
She leaned over him. Looking down, she found him looking right back at her. "Look at me. Do I look any different this morning?"
He smiled. "You do."
Lisa raised a brow, surprised by his answer. "In what way?"
"You look relaxed, pleased, and absolutely beautiful," he decided.
It was Lisa's turn to laugh. "Beautiful? When's your next physical? You definitely need your eyes checked."
"I've got 20/20 vision, Lisa," he softly said, "And once my head stops pounding, I'll prove it to you."
"Poor baby," she playfully said, wanting to change the subject, if only for a while. Her head was pounding and although she knew they needed to discuss it, now was not the time. "If you play your cards right, I'll go down stairs and get you a huge bottle of water and some orange juice."
"How about some coffee?" he asked, hopefully, but she shook her head. "Don't even try it, O'Reilly. I know damn well you're going for coffee, don't deprive me."
Lisa was grateful to hear him sounding normal. "Let me grab a shower, then while you shower, I'll go get coffee, okay?"
XXXXX
A shower and coffee did wonders and by 10 am, Hotch almost felt human again. Lisa had also brought back bagels with cream cheese and some fresh fruit, which they ate sitting at the small table and chairs in the hotel room. While eating, they laughed about their adventures during the previous evening, steering clear of the evening's end.
Despite the morning's relaxed attitude, he still felt a strange feeling of loss, as if something had changed in their comfortable relationship. Watching her carefully, he knew she was feeling a bit of it herself.
"I guess we should head back to Quantico to get my car, huh?" she said, standing up and throwing away her Styrofoam coffee cup.
"We probably should," he agreed, then, before his brain could stop his mouth, he said, "Will you have dinner with me tonight?"
"Sure, where do you want to go?" she asked, clearly not getting his intent.
"La Papillion? I'll call for reservations when I get home…"
"La Papillion? Hotch, that's a bit out of our range, isn't it? I mean, come on, it's a great place to impress a date, but this is us…"
"This is us, going on a date," he seriously said, watching as a true smile formed on her lips.
"A date?"
He nodded. "I'm not a one night stand kinda guy," he explained.
"A date to an expensive restaurant," she clarified, "That will change things, we'll be trying to impress each other and shit."
"Who says? Why can't you and I just go to a nice restaurant for dinner?"
"A nice, romantic restaurant…"
"Well, if we're going to do the dating thing, I thought you might want romance," he shrugged. "I'd be fine with the Texas Roadhouse."
"Well, since we've already taken our relationship down Sex Avenue. I guess we owe it to ourselves to see if we want to try to do the normal dating thing to go with it. And I guess romance should have something to do with it, huh?" She grinned wickedly, "And maybe we can try the sex part again? Sober this time?"
"I'm not sure how much of the wild child's going to come out without the aid of alcohol, but I'll give it my best shot," he smiled, then, impulsively pulled her into his arms.
She wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head on his shoulder. Quietly, she said, "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I'm not sure of anything these days, Lisa," he honestly said, "But I do know that last night I felt more alive than I have in months."
"That was just because you got laid," she gently teased.
"Partly, yes, but even before that," he held her back and looked at her, "Are you sure that you want to do this? Knowing me like you do…"
"We both know each other that well, there won't be too many surprises," she rationalized.
"Then I will pick you up for dinner at 7," he said, kissing her softly. "Now, let's go home."
Much as we may wish to make a new beginning, some part of us resists doing so as though we were making the first step toward disaster.William Bridges
American Author
Many times during the hours leading up to their date, Aaron Hotchner questioned his sanity. Sure, he and Lisa had gone out, had way too much to drink and ended the night in bed. Sure, they enjoyed it and were still friends when they woke up. But, did either of them really want to change their relationship because of it?
His brain hurt, from the alcohol and thinking too much and he desperately wanted to take a nap when he got home. But no matter how much pain his brain was dealing with, it would not shot down long enough to allow sleep. Instead, he stretched out on the couch, absently watching the Orioles game and debating if he should just cancel the reservations at La Papillion and just take her to the Pub. They were familiar with the Pub; it was comfortable and relaxing and would make it easier to talk. On the other hand, even though she dismissed his guilt over last night, he still felt as if he needed to do something to make up for it. Getting up to take a shower, he decided to man up, put on a suit and take her to La Papillion.
When he arrived at her Woodbridge, VA condo, he wondered why in the hell he even thought of the Pub. She'd answered the door, dressed for dinner, in a black and white patterned silk dress that stopped above the knee and showed off just enough cleavage to be sexy, yet tasteful. She'd done her hair all full and curly and her make up was more dramatic than he could ever recall seeing. She looked incredible and he told her as he entered her apartment.
She blushed and told him he looked very handsome and that he was wearing her favorite charcoal grey pin striped suit. They stood awkwardly for a moment before she picked up her black cashmere wrap and her purse and suggested they head to the restaurant.
Once they were in the car, the awkwardness faded quickly and they talked and laughed like they usually did, carrying on a running conversation until they were seated at a candle lit table for two, holding large leather-bound menus.
"I think," Lisa began, looking at the menu, "That I'm finally hungry."
"Ah," he laughed, looking over the top of his menu, "Hangover stomach, aye?
She nodded, "I guess I wasn't drunk enough to get sick, though."
"We'll have to try harder next time," he simply said, returning his eyes to the menu as she laughed.
"Another drink and the night would have had a much less attractive outcome," she smartly said, peeking over her menu. "I would have been romancing the throne instead of you."
He looked up and shook his head, "Nice conversation we're having."
"I know, right? That's us, true class," she said with a laugh.
"Just figure out what you want to eat before they throw us out of here, okay?"
"Oooh, now wouldn't that make a great first date story?" she mused, closing her menu and setting it down on the table. She looked at him with an expectant smile.
Feeling her eyes on him, he looked up, "Can I help you?" he asked, trying not to smile at her expression.
"I'm ready to order," She smartly said, "Do you need some help reading the menu?"
"No, thank you, I can handle it," he returned, pulling his eyes from her and lifting the menu in front of his face. Safe behind the menu, he smiled. Things felt normal between them and that made him very happy. Closing the menu, he set it down and matched her stare, "See, I've decided."
"Took ya long enough," she returned in kind.
He fixed her with a faux pointed stare, "This was supposed to be a romantic meal."
"Guess we need to learn how to do that, huh?" she said, head tilted in a flirty manner, "Be romantic with each other, I mean."
Even though it was said playfully, her statement stuck in his head. He was so concerned with things not changing that he forgot about trying to be romantic.
XXXXX
Lisa watched as his brows furrowed. Before she could say something about it, the waiter returned and took their order. Once he walked off, she spoke.
"I've been thinking," she began, watching as, despite his carefully controlled neutral expression, his jaw clenched. "Relax; it's not a bad thing."
"I am relaxed," he dismissed, "Go on. You were thinking?"
"Okay, if you say you're relaxed, you're relaxed," she laughed, then, "So, I was thinking. Why does our relationship have to change that much? I mean, why can't we be friends who are dating? Do we have to try to be one of those mushy Harlequin Romance Novel couples?
"No," he agreed, "I just assumed you would want something different."
"Hotch; it's me we're talking about here. Remember me? Lisa O'Reilly? Red head, beer drinker? Smokes cigars and plays pool with the guys? Where in God's name would you get the idea that I wanted some guy to be all chivalrous and overly romantic?"
"Honestly? From watching you and Dave when you were together," he admitted, with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.
She raised a brow and he continued.
"Come on, Lisa. You told me far more than you probably should have about that relationship."
"I did," she agreed, "But that doesn't mean I want to recreate it. Besides, you're not David Rossi."
His expression told her that he wasn't sure whether her last statement was a compliment or a dig at him.
"What I mean," she said, reaching across the table and taking his hand, "Is that you and I have a whole different relationship than Dave and I did before our affair. I fell for Dave when I joined the BAU. He was older, more experienced; he took me under his wing and taught me so much. I had one hell of a hero worship crush thing going. When we got together, I was perfectly content to let him be in control, let him lead the way. But you and I? We're friends, equals," she shrugged, hoping he understood. "I'm not saying that I won't appreciate romantic gestures. Trust me, I will. But I don't want you to force things or be anything but yourself."
He gave her a smile, "That's a relief. I was contemplating calling Dave for Casanova Lessons."
Lisa laughed at the image, and then thought about his statement. He was totally serious and it touched her deeply, "Aw… you would do that for me?"
His expression grew more serious, "If you really wanted that? I'd do my best to give it to you."
His earnest expression tugged at her heart and at that moment, she knew that this budding relationship wasn't just a figment of her imagination. "So," she softly said, "We're really going to do this relationship thing, huh?"
"I'd like to give it a try," he said, "I've felt differently about you for some time," he admitted. "But I tried to blow it off as backlash from my divorce. It's not."
"Do you think our friendship is strong enough to survive this?"
"We survived last night, didn't we? If we can survive a drunken hook up, we can survive anything."
"I'm hurt," she laughed, "A drunken hook up?"
"You know that's what it was," he gently reminded.
"No, that's what it started out as," she corrected, "But it ended up being the start of something special."
