If eight months had led to this moment, and this moment only, then Hotch just wanted to suspend it in time. He had gotten the news just an hour ago, after three days of presuming Kate to be dead. He'd texted the team, and promised to send word as soon as he knew for sure.
And here she was, walking down the steps of the Interpol offices, looking smaller than usual, shoulders down, and arms pulled in tight to her sides. Until she saw him.
He knew she had feelings for him, there was nothing else that could explain the change once her eyes lit upon him. "Hang on," he said, holding up his phone. "I promised Garcia I'd send a picture." Every fiber of her seemed to stand up straighter, smile, and then, to his shock, she was running to him, tumbling down the steps, and he ran the last few steps to catch her in his arms, fold himself around her.
The kiss came naturally; if the team had come, as they'd wanted, Hotch had known there would have been no possibility of this scene happening. As it was, she was wrapped around him, and he was pushing her against the side of the SUV, cradling her face in his hands, and kissing her over and over. He couldn't believe she was okay, he could barely believe she was here, and this was real.
Once in the car they got awkward again. Hotch asked what had happened, Kate told him the parts that she was able. He processed it, shook his head, and she asked after the team. She got so quiet when he talked about all they'd put on the line to get her back, and to no avail.
"Easter was the one who got you back, plain and simple," Hotch said. "As much as I wished it were us. They'd already put those steps in place."
"You did get me back," she corrected, and lay her hand over his. "Hotch, you called him."
"I just hate feeling so…" He shook his head. "Never mind."
"Powerless?" Kate asked softly, and he just nodded. Her hand squeezed, and Hotch briefly turned to face her, as if to affirm that she was still there by his side.
He didn't want to label this, but there were words stirring in his heart, words that had been floating around for a while now. He shoved them back down. She'd just gotten out of a very bad situation, and he didn't want to overwhelm her, or make this about him.
"We're here," he said, pulling into the parking garage, and up three levels to his reserved spot.
He jumped out, running around to open her door for her, and once he had, the two just looked at each other. He just wanted to kiss her again, hold her close, but she had such a vulnerable look in her eyes that he wasn't sure what she expected from him. So he held back, just smiling at her, acting like he brought her back to his apartment every day.
They walked in silence down the corridor to his apartment, and after he'd unlocked the door, the two again didn't know what to say. "Bathroom's in there," he finally settled on. "I'm assuming you'll want a shower."
"That would be amazing," she said softly. "Where are your guest towels?"
He stepped in front of her, going to the hall closet, and pulling one out. "Here you go," he said. "I'll leave a pair of my pajamas on the bed for you to wear."
"Thanks," she replied, holding the towel to herself, hugging tight as if uncomfortable. There was really only one reason why women slept over at men's apartments, and he wondered if she was feeling as tense about it as he was. Because he wanted to do it, but he would never put her in the position of feeling like she couldn't say no. Even after the kiss at the car, and knowing that there was chemistry, she'd had such an ordeal. He wasn't going to force her into anything before she was ready.
As Kate stepped into the bathroom, she wondered if she'd imagined their kiss at the car twenty minutes ago. It had been so passionate, so intense, and then Hotch had reverted back to his stone cold, poker face self. She wondered if he regretted it, and shook her head as she turned on the water. Of course he did. She was so much younger than he was, not to mention his subordinate, so he was probably regretting every moment. She couldn't very well blame him. They'd gotten caught up in the moment, and earth had crashed around their ears.
She unbuttoned her jeans, slid off her sweater, finally walking nude under the jets in his shower. The hot water was a balm, washing away all of the shit she'd been through, all of the stress that still clung to her like an ill fitting suit. She was so done worrying about these things, she was going to let herself have one night of just living. She could worry tomorrow.
She lathered up, and almost moaned, since the scent of his soap was bringing back so many memories. She'd always loved how he smelled; he didn't wear cologne, but his body wash had a distinct scent, and she'd always lingered when near him. Washing with this was almost too much. She felt enveloped by him, and she closed her eyes, letting her mind take her away.
In this vision, Hotch walked into the bathroom, silently stripped, and then got into the shower with her. He leaned down, kissed her passionately, and then proceeded to shove her against the wall and fuck her until she couldn't breathe. "I love you, Kate," he moaned, and Kate's eyes snapped open.
Love? That was the first time she'd ever let any sentimentality slip into these visions. And she knew that Hotch couldn't, not after what had happened to Haley. She was sure he was...fond...but love? No. It couldn't be.
She finished washing her hair and rinsed, reluctantly stepping from the shower once she was done, and turning off the water. He'd directed her to the guest bathroom, not the master, and there was a small basket of toiletries there; probably used by Jessica if she ever slept over with Jack. There was a travel toothbrush still in the plastic so she used that to brush her teeth while toweling her hair dry, while reflecting on this fact. If he'd meant for this to be intimate, he'd have directed her to his bathroom.
She stepped into the guest bedroom, and indeed, there were pajamas on the bed. They looked vaguely expensive, and definitely never worn. She remembered what he'd worn at the hotel, and doubted that he'd ever worn these which probably meant...they'd been a gift.
From Jack for Christmas?
Or from an old flame?
She didn't have the energy to be picky, so she slipped into them. They were warm and soft, with sleeves and pants that far exceeded her petite frame, and she folded up the legs more than a few times before they wouldn't trip her.
When she finally emerged, a while later, Penelope Garcia was in the living room, and Kate almost cried to see her. "He didn't want to let me in but I couldn't wait," Garcia exclaimed, standing up and throwing her arms out. Kate rushed to her friend, and couldn't help but cry, since Garcia was as well.
After a very long hug, then Kate noticed that she could smell food cooking, and her stomach growled. "I brought you guys chinese," Garcia said. "Don't worry, I'm not planning on staying. I just had to see you."
Kate pulled away, and she could see Hotch standing in the door to the kitchen, just gazing at them. His arms were folded, but not rigidly, and though he was still fully dressed, he'd lost the jacket. The sleeves on his dress shirt were rolled up, and his tie was considerably loosened.
"I'm so glad you're okay," Garcia finished. "I missed you, I was worried, and I worked my tail off trying to get you back."
"I know you did," Kate said, face softening. "I don't know what I would do without you guys."
"Let's not think about that," Garcia said, and pulled Kate into another hug.
They asked Garcia to stay for dinner; after all, she'd brought the food, but she insisted on leaving them alone. She made a few pointed hints, which made Kate blush, and Hotch raise his eyebrows.
He had definitely noticed when Kate ran to Garcia, and he was rethinking everything he'd done. He had been the one to kiss her, and he was beginning to censure himself for it. She'd been so overwhelmed, he wasn't surprised she'd kissed back.
He was a terrible person, wasn't he? He'd taken advantage of her, and he was her superior, for god's sake. He should have known better.
For this reason, he'd quieted even more. After Garcia left, he and Kate basically tiptoed around each other, eating the food, talking briefly about what their game plan was, and then falling silent again. She insisted on helping with the dishes, however, and they found themselves together in an admittedly small kitchen.
Hotch felt keenly aware of how close she was, and he couldn't help staring when she wasn't looking. Even after the night in the hotel, he'd never seen her so intimately dressed. His pajamas were so big on her that the top neckline formed a deep v on her, hinting at her generous cleavage. Being taller than her also gave him the direct view down her shirt, and he had to physically restrain himself from looking. He almost collided with her more than once, and finally he walked to the living room, wiping his damp hands on his dress pants.
He sat in his chair, and he'd never felt so awkward in his whole life. He knew what he wanted, and he was deadset against letting that happen unless she indicated somehow that she was open to it.
Kate, however, when she finally emerged from the kitchen, settled onto the couch, tucking her legs underneath her, and pulling the blanket over her lap.
"So will work be business as usual?" She asked, since they still hadn't fully talked about it.
"You'll have a few hectic weeks," Hotch said. "There will be a lot of questions for you, and they might have you undergo a psych eval just to cover all the bases. You might be asked to stay behind on our first few cases."
She nodded, but he'd seen her face fall when he said she might have to stay behind, and he wondered why that meant so much to her. Because she'd feel like she was sidelined or because it would take the team away from her? Would take Hotch away from her?
"You'll be good to work Monday?" He questioned. "You can take time off if you need it."
"Is my apartment accessible?" She wondered.
"Probably not, there will have been agents all over it," he said. "But we can go over there tomorrow, see how much work it will take."
"Thank you," she said, and he shook his head.
"I just feel like this whole thing was my fault," he said, and she tilted her head. "Cantor targeted you solely to get to me."
Her mouth parted, and her cheeks seemed to flush. "Well, to hurt the BAU."
He met her eyes, finally admitting it again. "No, specifically to hurt me." He looked straight at her, unwavering. "He knew that losing you would be a blow."
She stared at him, eyes wide, and he wished he could take back his words, make it less tense. The air around him felt heavy, and he just wanted to climb out of his chair and join her on the couch. To hold her close, kiss her, and just reassure his tired body that she was really here.
"It wasn't your fault," she finally said. "We aren't responsible for the actions of others."
She seemed to be on the verge of adding something else, and then paused. "I guess I'm going to bed," she said. "I haven't really been sleeping."
"Of course," he said, and stood up as she did. Once he was up, he wasn't sure what to do. Was he escorting her to the room? Were they going to embrace?
"Good night, Hotch," she said, and the fact that she didn't use Aaron seemed to be the final nail in the proverbial coffin. Forgetting their kiss was honestly just best for everyone.
Kate hovered over him, and Hotch's eyes fluttered open. His tired mind said that this must be a dream, but he didn't care. He pulled her into his arms, rolling her onto the bed, and they kissed. It was languid, slow. Then the door burst open, and gunmen came in. Hotch wasn't armed, and they took Kate from him.
He was still shouting when he woke up.
He lay in the bed for a long moment, panting, beyond terrified. He'd had many nightmares over the years, and this was no real difference, but there was a worry that he couldn't shake.
He stood up, throwing the blankets back, and threw his bedroom door open, heading down the hall through the living room. He paused outside of Kate's room, hand poised to knock, knowing that he was being ridiculous but fuck, he had to be sure. He knocked, and waited. He tried again, and waited.
He knew it probably meant she was asleep but he had to be sure.
He twisted his hand around the doorknob and pushed to open.