Summary: After FBI cadet Seaver royally messed up her first case with the BAU, Rossi wants to handle things off-record. Hotch… isn't so sure how he feels about that.
A.N.- Would you believe me if I told you that this started out being a story about Rossi and Seaver, with a little bit of "big brother" Hotch cuteness thrown in? Hotch seemed to have other ideas, though. Fine by me. I really was going to hold off and wait to post this until it was done as one-shot, but it's been sitting in my WIP folder for far too long and is long enough to be a multi-chapter anyways. Maybe this will spur me to complete it. Anyways, that's all from me, sit back and enjoy the show!
Warning: This story contains semi-consensual discipline of adults, including the use of spanking and corner time.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, as per usual.
-o-o-o-o-o-
"Our siblings push buttons that cast us in roles we felt sure we had let go of long ago – the baby, the peacekeeper, the caretaker, the avoider…It doesn't seem to matter how much time has elapsed or how far we've traveled."
- Jane Mersky Leder
-o-o-o-o-o-
Aaron Hotchner finished pouring two drinks before handing one to his mentor and waiting to see what the older man had to say. The two men stood quietly in the back of the jet after a case that could have ended in tragedy for a young FBI cadet- Ashley Seaver, the child of an unsub in a case Hotch and Rossi had worked back when she was only 10. Now she boasted incredible academy scores, and it made both men feel a little old. Not to mention the fact that they both felt like they had aged years when the unsub had the young agent hostage, when she had gone off despite knowing she wasn't to do anything by herself. Which brought them to the current matter at hand- Hotch needed to figure out what he was going to do about Seaver's insubordination, and the look in Rossi's eye promised that the Italian had thoughts about it.
"I just don't think we have to go through official channels here," Dave protested to Hotch, "Don't kill her career before she's even out of the academy, you know?"
"I know, Dave," Hotch said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "But I can't just let this slide- surely you know that."
The corners of Rossi's mouth quirked upwards in a small, wry smile. "Who said anything about letting this slide?"
For the life of him, Aaron had no idea why his mentor looked so amused, and it was starting to irritate him. "Who?" he said, in a tone that could only be described as snappy and which got him a sharp look from Rossi, though he paid that no heed as he continued, "You just said-"
"That this doesn't need to go through official channels," Dave cut him off to finish the sentence, stressing the word "official," and it dawned on Hotch.
"You're saying…?" He ventured hesitantly, not wanting to jump to incorrect conclusions about what Rossi was implying.
Dave confirmed his suspicions with a small nod, "I am."
Hotch briefly thought it over. As the unit chief, this decision fell squarely on his shoulders, and though Rossi had informed him of his opinion, he was fairly certain the older profiler wouldn't fight him, whatever he was to decide. Still, he saw the merit in Rossi's point- Seaver was an intelligent young agent with a unique background she could bring to cases; no doubt she'd one day be an asset to the FBI. Hell, she was already an asset in this past case, barring when she almost got killed by the unsub. He nodded slowly, "Fine, but I want to talk to her first, get her motives. If she did it for the right reasons, I'll let you handle it. If she was trying to be a hotshot show off with no regard for the well-being of her team, I'll take it through official channels."
"I can live with that," Rossi agreed easily, finishing the last sip of his drink, setting down the glass, and making a small jerking motion with his head towards the cabin of the plane. Hotch nodded and downed the last sip of his drink as well before turning towards Dave, a small, almost mischievous smile playing on his face.
"What?" Dave asked in a tone thats affection belied the exasperated note.
"Does this mean I'm getting a little sister?" Hotch asked innocently, managing to keep a straight face for all of thirty seconds before a small smile broke onto his face.
Dave looked like he barely resisted rolling his eyes at Hotch, though he gave a small chuckle. "We'll see, son," he said, emphasising the familial term of affection that he frequently casually used, especially appropriate in this situation, "we'll see."
-o-o-o-o-o-
FBI academy cadet Ashley Seaver looked up and swallowed nervously as she saw the stern countenances of the BAU unit chief and senior agent approach, and internally flinched as they made their way to where she was sitting before turning their attention towards her. Hotch demanded an explanation for her admittedly poor decision-making; she knew she wasn't supposed to go off by herself but she did anyway, trying to prove… well, she didn't quite know what she was aiming for, there. Maybe closure that she had long since written off as impossible?
Regardless, she wasn't impressed with her own reasons, and neither was Hotch it appeared. With a cold dismissal of disapproval for her explanation, and a reassurance that she wouldn't have the chance to mess up with the BAU again, he gave Dave a meaningful look before stalking off to an open seat and starting on his report. With nervous eyes, Seaver followed his every move; it was only once Rossi asked her what was on her mind that she realized the older profiler hadn't moved with Hotch's dismissal as well.
She didn't want to lie to Rossi, but she also couldn't explain the myriad of emotions she was feeling to herself, much less to someone else. So, she went with the first thing on her mind- embarrassingly, it was about her lack of childhood pets. Still, Dave patiently listened, offering his opinion where appropriate, and while the guilt of screwing up wasn't fully alleviated, his company provided a nice distraction.
Before long, the conversation lulled though; both agents were remarkably tired, and Ashley was starting to experience the exhaustion that follows an adrenaline rush. The rest of the trip was spent in silence as Seaver drifted off, missing the meaningful look that passed between Hotch and Rossi moments before she closed her eyes.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Dave Rossi privately smiled indulgently as he glanced over the sleeping forms of his teammates in the cabin of the jet. When he had first come back, he wasn't sold on the whole "team" thing. When he was last at the BAU, cases were worked individually, sometimes in pairs- his most frequent partner in those sorts of investigations was now the unit chief of the BAU. That same partner had recently nodded off, half-written report still open in front of him. There were also Morgan and Prentiss, both long asleep with headphones on, occupying adjacent booths and effectively dead to the would. Adjacent to Morgan was Reid, who had a harder time falling asleep and occasionally stirred or made a small sound, but otherwise didn't wake. Then, directly across from him, an FBI cadet whose youth was exaggerated in her innocent expression while sleeping- an FBI cadet who had very quickly worked her way into his heart, and who he was privately furious at for risking her life.
Hotch may have had a point in saying that he had a new younger sister, Rossi supposed, given how paternal he felt towards the cadet. It was part of why he requested Hotch let him handle things away from official channels. Besides, he was the one who suggested they bring Seaver onto this case- she wouldn't have had the opportunity to mess up in such a spectacular fashion as to jeopardize her career, otherwise. Though, he had to admit that his primary motivation in wanting to handle things off-book had nothing to do with his role in the incident- she was more than capable enough of knowing what was right versus wrong behavior. No, somehow, much like Hotch had over a decade before, the moment he saw the young agent he knew that the kid would rapidly become his kid.
He was the only one awake as the plane began its descent, though it didn't take long for Hotch to stir as he subconsciously responded to the altitude change. The younger man glanced over to him, an eyebrow raised in clear question, and Rossi again nodded his affirmative that his plan had not changed. Hotch nodded back his understanding, before starting to pack his report away in his briefcase for landing; no doubt it would immediately reappear the second the team hit the office.
Slowly, everyone else started to quietly stir, packing up their belongings in preparation for disembarkment from the jet. Still sitting across from him, Seaver blinked sleepily and looked at him curiously, "You're still sitting here?" She asked, a note of surprise in her voice.
Dave briefly wondered as to the origin of the surprise- watch him have acquired two kids who couldn't believe anyone wanted them- but pushed that thought to the side to be potentially revisited later instead preferring to shrug with an easy "sure, why not?" She seemed to accept that answer easily enough with a small nod, then glanced down at her phone as the plane touched ground.
After a long flight, the entire team was eager to stretch their legs, clamoring to get off the plane. Morgan and Reid pushed their way off first, roughhousing as per usual. Prentiss was close behind, rolling her eyes at the antics of her teammates, Hotch followed with a fond expression. Seaver looked a little unsure as to what to do, no doubt wanting to be on her best behavior after the dressing down she had gotten from Hotch near the start of the flight.
Tilting his head towards the door of the jet, Rossi indicated that she should disembark like the rest of the team, following her off the aircraft. Once they had hit the tarmac, Dave slung an arm around the cadet's shoulders and pitched his voice low- the kid had already been chewed out loudly in front of the rest of the team once that night- instructing her that she'd be in his car on the way back to the office.
With a noticeable gulp, the young cadet nodded, and Rossi gave her a reassuring smile. "Relax kiddo," he said easily, "We're not going to feed you to the sharks." After a moment's hesitation, he added, "Or Strauss" with a small smirk, hoping to lighten the mood. Based on the poorly concealed grin that answered him, he thought he was successful in doing so.
Always the gentleman, and feeling perhaps a tad bit overprotective after the way things had gone down on the case, Rossi opened the passenger door to his government-issued SUV for Seaver and waited for her to get in and get buckled before he shut the door and entered the driver's side. He decided not to talk, waiting to see if the silence would prompt the cadet into revealing her thoughts. He wasn't disappointed, as after only a few beats of silence passed before he saw her stir from the corner of his eye, with a look that suggested she was gearing up to say something.
Sure enough, after a half-beat, he heard an uncharacteristically timid "what's going to happen to me?" Come from the passenger seat occupant.
Humming softly, he acknowledged that he heard her question, thinking about what he wanted to say next. Evidently, she was not in possession of enough patience to wait for his answer, as a rushed, "Will I be bounced from the Academy?" joined Seaver's first question.
"Do you think you should be bounced from the Academy?" Rossi asked, in part honestly curious.
"No!" she blurted, before quickly backtracking, "I mean, I don't want to be bounced, I just don't know of any other consequence for a cadet. We could be dismissed at any second, they make that clear."
Rossi nodded, knowing that she had definitely heard a statement like that more than once. It was a particular favorite threat issued by academy instructors- because, like she said, it was really the only threat they could issue to Academy cadets. He didn't know how he wanted to break the news of his plan to her, but this wasn't it- that much, he did know. Still, he wasn't willing to let the rapidly paling younger agent worry about termination for much longer.
"No," he said gently, "We're not gonna bounce you from the Academy."
He watched as the look of relief on Seaver's face was replaced with one of apprehension.
"Then what's going to happen to me?" She asked, pushing forward, "Agent Hotchner made it clear that my actions were unbecoming of an FBI agent."
Briefly, Dave thought it was interesting how she fell back on formality, saying "At ease, cadet;" he waited for her to relax somewhat before continuing, "I'll explain everything in a minute, okay?" He started, "But know that I don't want to end your career before it starts, and neither does Hotch."
He had originally intended on waiting until they were back at the office to have this discussion with Ashley, but given that they were the only two who had ended up in his SUV, the location of the car was better for privacy.
Sighing internally, he hoped that this wouldn't be a battle; realistically, he knew it was going to and would always be a battle- one couldn't just simply suggest what he was about to with no reaction from the other party. "Hear me out here, okay?" he prefaced, holding up a hand when it looked like Seaver was about to start to object, "Just hear me out. You trust me, right?"
He waited until she answered in the form of a short nod, "Okay, so I know this is unconventional to say the least, but when I was a rookie in the Bureau, my boss preferred to deal with our transgressions off-book." He could feel Seaver's curious gaze on him as he preferred to stare ahead, paying too much attention to the road. "It's a method that I used myself, when I was the boss," he continued, omitting the fact that he still used that very same method on the-rookie-he-used-to-be-the-boss-of-but-who-grew-up-to-be-an-excellent-BAU-unit-chief. "And," he concluded, "it's how I would like to handle your… infraction, with your permission."
"Permission?" Ashley repeated, mostly to herself, sounding incredulous, "I'm pretty sure that disciplinary measures don't care about permission."
"Yeah, well, they normally don't," he admitted, "This is less traditional all around," he added by means of vague explanation.
He could feel her eyes boring into him, trying to figure out what he was alluding to before admitting defeat. "So?" she prompted, "What is this less traditional way?"
Deciding to be bluntly direct about it, Rossi gave a small shrug, "A spanking."
-o-o-o-o-o-
"A… a what?!" Ashley Seaver thought she might very well be going insane, there was no possible way that famous formerly-retired profiler and bestselling author David Rossi would have just suggested corporal punishment as an alternative to traditional workplace discipline.
Yet the older profiler didn't flinch as he simply repeated, "You'd receive a spanking for your screw-up. After that, clean slate."
She stared at him incredulously, but he didn't flinch or look away from the road in front of him. Knowing the kind of man he was, she had a hard time seeing this as some weird practical joke. No, she concluded, he was very likely serious about this proposal.
Which meant she should also very likely give it some serious thought. The magnitude of her screw-up would follow her, she knew, if it were handled through official channels. Either she'd struggle being internally promoted, struggle with finding a unit that wanted her… if she wasn't immediately terminated by the FBI itself, of course. From a purely tactical standpoint, she was pretty sure that no amount of spanking would devastate her life to the same extent. And it wasn't like she didn't trust Rossi- she knew that he was more than fair. She liked him, always had, even when they were both over a decade younger and he was the FBI agent in charge of the team trying to find her father. Back then, he had been warm and gentle- that never changed about him.
It was just… well, she had never actually been spanked before. Ever. She was a well behaved child, for the most part (okay, she was good at never getting caught, but still.) When her parents did handle her infractions, it was typically in the response of a time out when she was younger, or, after she had grown some, her mother would ground her. Despite the fact that her father was a literal serial killer, he never raised a hand to her.
To his credit, Rossi never seemed like he was getting impatient waiting for her response, which was fortunate, because she had a ton to sort through in her head. What would it feel like? Realistically, she knew what option she would choose. It wasn't worth the blow to her career to avoid a few taps to her backside, and, while he didn't seem mad, she knew her actions had disappointed Hotch and Rossi, and if this could help her get back on the same footing with at least one of them…
Making her choice, she spoke to her lap in a rush, before she could wimp out, "I'll… I'll take the off-book consequence," she said, then inhaled deeply, "It's just… well…"
-o-o-o-o-o-
Rossi snorted, "Never been spanked before?" he filled in for the stammering young agent, not unsympathetically, finally breaking his eyes off the road and redirecting his gaze to his passenger, who kept her eyes trained down as she flushed deeply and nodded her head jerkily. Dave briefly entertained the idea of starting the "verbal answers only" rule he frequently employed when Hotch found himself in hot water, but refrained- the agents still had to write their reports, and he preferred to not mete out punishment until they were in a more controlled setting. While he probably wouldn't have hesitated if it had been Hotch in trouble, this routine was unfamiliar to Ashely entirely and unfamiliar to Rossi with regards to the miscreant in question. No, he decided, he'd wait until he was home to start being in strict-boss mode. For now, Hotch could solely occupy that role.
He waited a moment to see if she would respond beyond nodding, but after a pause, he determined he was good to continue. "That's okay," he said, somewhat soothingly, "It hurts, it sucks, then it's over and, while you might feel like sitting on a pillow for a little while after, when it's over it's over and we'll never talk about it again unless you want to." He once again broke his gaze from the road to see if the young cadet understood- he assumed her nod meant that she did, and so he continued to lay out the plan for the evening for her in a quiet, gentle tone meant to avoid spooking the cadet.
"Right now, we're on our way back to the office. You will get whatever you need from your desk, then you're gonna write your report in my office, where I can keep an eye on you." She had the good grace to flush at that, obviously assuming Rossi thought she couldn't be trusted- in reality, he didn't want her nerves to wind her up and land her in more trouble, though she didn't need to know his true reasoning- he hoped that the perceived mild censure would keep her on her best behavior, at the very least, and would hopefully curtail any arguments about being effectively babysat. To his relief, he seemed to have accomplished that end- Seaver looked like she was resigned to her fate.
"After both our reports are submitted, I'll drive you back to my house. We'll take care of any unpleasantries, eat dinner, and you'll stay with me tonight. Tomorrow, I'll drive you into work and, provided you manage to behave," he added with a small smirk and an air of teasing, "You can grab your car then." Again, he directed his sight towards her until she nodded her assent, then pivoted his gaze back towards the road. He didn't have anything more to say, but kept an ear open while he drove, in case the cadet had any questions. She didn't, and the short while left on the trip back to the office was spent in companionable, if a little nervous, silence.
Rossi used the time to think through the smaller parts of the night's itinerary. He needed to make sure the air was clear between Hotch and Seaver- he knew that the younger man would forgive her without reservation, having been in her place many times before, but Ashley didn't know that and Hotch wasn't exactly open about his feelings- the cadet would likely extrapolate that Hotch's customary terseness meant he was still angry at her, nevermind that was his normal state which she had never responded to unfavorably before. Now that Seaver knew Hotch was upset, she'd likely read into every action of his for clues of his continual displeasure in her. Deciding that family dinner was in order, provided everything went as planned with no major complications, the few minutes back to the office was spent trying to decide on what he could make for the kids. His kitchen would be fully stocked, he knew- he had just gotten groceries immediately prior to wheels up on this last case. Feeling more paternal than usual, he decided on chicken cacciatore, one of Hotch's known favorites. If the night's unpleasantries weren't looming, he'd be almost jovially planning- it had been a while since he'd had Hotch over for a good meal that wasn't immediately prefaced by the younger man in trouble.
No, this time it was prefaced with a different young agent in trouble, and Dave wondered how he managed to have a penchant for adopting FBI agents with disturbing childhood backgrounds who, despite their best intentions, frequently found themselves in trouble in the field.
With that thought, Rossi smiled fondly to himself as he pulled into the office parking garage.
-o-o-o-o-o-
To say Ashley Seaver was a bundle of nerves would be a gross, gross understatement. She even felt vaguely queasy, and not even from Rossi's, at imes, questionable driving. No, it was her fate later in the evening which concerned her. She trusted Rossi, liked him, and his declaration, she was surprised to find, didn't change her opinion of the man at all. No, her nervousness came from the magnitude of the calamity of her actions, which were starting to catch up with her.
All she wanted was to do the right thing, to finally get to tell a family that was hurt by acts like her father's that she was sorry for their loss, sorry that their loved one took someone else's life. No one had ever let her apologize as a child, and she always felt terrible about it. This, she thought, would have righted some of those old wrongs… except the family member she decided to apologize to turned out to be the unsub himself, who then very nearly killed her. All in all, it had decidedly not gone according to plan, and now she felt guilty for the worry she put the BAU through trying to assuage old guilt that she knew, realistically, she would just have to live with. And wasn't that a depressing reality by itself.
She was so lost in thought that she didn't realize they had reached their destination or that the car had stopped until a soft, warm hand settled on her knee and an equally soft, warm voice told her the obvious, they were there, before repeating the instructions that she was to get what she needed from her desk before completing her report in his office.
Nodding softly, she found she couldn't find any reason to argue or disobey and instead preferred to remain quiet and do as she was told- it's not like she needed to be in more trouble than she already was, anyways. The ride in the elevator was quiet, and as they stepped off, Rossi once again softly reminded her, "get what you need for your report, then come work in my office." She nodded her assent as the two split ways, heading for her own temporarily designated desk as Rossi made his way to his office.
It took her a minute to realize that she and Rossi were the last of the team to arrive back at the office; she hadn't put much on the desk, knowing she was only there to work the single case, but regardless grabbed a few forms and a thumb drive that she knew she would need to complete her report. Prentiss looked up at her questioningly as she put the few items in her bag, then stood up again to make her way to Rossi's office. Not wanting to explain, Ashley hoped she didn't blush as she shrugged, trying to write off the abnormality as something casual. Apparently accepting of that, Prentiss shrugged before looking back at her own report in front of her, and Seaver released the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding before making her way up the few stairs to where the offices were.
Rossi's office door was cracked, and she peered her head in to make sure this was, in fact, where she was supposed to be. Rossi looked up at the sound of the door squeaking as it opened slightly, and crooked his fingers in a "come here" gesture. Feeling relieved, though she wasn't quite sure as to why, she entered the office. Inside the doorway she paused, weighing on her feet, uncertain.
"Feel free to take one of the chairs," Rossi said softly, "You might prefer the couch, though, the coffee table might be useful." Nodding, Ashley decided that he was right- the coffee table would be useful seeing as she could spread out files and notes, and she quickly got situated on the sofa. For a long time, there was very little noise between the two agents as both worked on their recollections of the case.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Hotch had beaten the rest of the team back to the office to get a start on the paperwork- he needed to carefully construct his narrative if he wanted to keep Seaver fully out of any official trouble. He wasn't sure how he felt about Rossi's offer, though he had taken the man up on it- he wasn't about to let his own insecurities jeopardize a young agent's career before it already started, but those very insecurities were currently gnawing at him and making it hard for him to concentrate on his report. After he realized he was accomplishing nothing in his current state, he stood, intending to go talk to Dave. Would he bring up his feelings? Hell no, though he knew Dave wouldn't mind; hell, Dave would probably encourage him to share his feelings. But those were shameful feelings, ones that Hotch was loath to admit to. No, Dave's typical casual nature was, however, usually excellent in reassuring some of the younger man's more trivial worries. Realistically, he knew that his current feelings could hardly be considered trivial, but he didn't care to admit that to himself.
As it turns out, it didn't matter- Hotch was making his way purposefully towards Dave's office when he realized he couldn't seek comfort from a conversation, given that the older man had yet to return from the tarmac. Slightly flustered, he looked around at the bullpen… and quickly decided he was going to get coffee, after making eye contact with Morgan, who was talking to Reid. No, he couldn't just turn around and go back into his office; he wasn't quite sure what that would give the appearance of- weakness because he was disappointed in not finding his mentor, maybe- but he fully intended to make it appear as if getting coffee was his goal all along.
It was only when he was standing in the kitchenette, waiting for the pot to brew, that he fished his phone out of his pocket. First, he checked his texts to see if Rossi had told him he wasn't coming back to the office that day. Finding nothing, he felt his ire rise, and briefly thought about calling Rossi to ask the man if he ever intended to return to the office that day, and tell him that giving Hotch a head's-up was customary if he wasn't planning on coming back with the rest of the team, in a tone that always got a reaction from Dave, if sometimes getting a negative reaction.
The voice of his mentor, originating somewhere near the elevators, made Hotch bristle for a moment before he silently thanked the universe for letting him avoid being told off for something like "attitude," which he was sure would happen if he were to have made that phone call. A sudden sound of beeping made him jump- a true testament to his stress levels- before he realized that it was the coffee machine signalling the end of its brew. Hotch took a second to breathe, to try to relax a moment, and thought he was relatively successful as he poured a large mug of coffee.
Well, he was successful up until he made his way back to his office; as he passed Rossi's office on the way to his own, he opted not to have the conversation he had originally left his office intent on having, especially once he realized that Seaver was sitting in his mentor's office working on her own report. There was no way he'd go talk to Dave now- the older man had an unnerving talent of making Hotch spill his emotional secrets, and there was no way he was going to admit to any of his current feelings, or any feelings really, in front of Ashley. Seething quietly as he re-entered his office, he set his mug down with perhaps a little too much force, some of the liquid splashing over and onto a stack of already completed forms.
Groaning, Hotch sent them to the printer once more before depositing the soggy mess in the trash and returning to his desk. He figured he should resign himself to the fact that he was having a bad day, and that didn't seem to be changing anytime soon. Redirecting his attention to his desktop, where his half-complete report lay waiting, he forced himself to complete the mundane task as efficiently as he could, anger still clouding his mind.
Dave had never had him work in his office before.
The grown-up, rational part of Hotch's mind that knew he should be relieved by that fact, instead of bothered by it. It was really too bad that the childish part seemed to have taken the forefront, and instead, he found himself jealous of the attention his mentor was giving this new cadet. Shaking his head, trying to clear his thoughts, he hated himself a little for his jealousy- why the hell was he envious of a rookie cadet who had just made a nearly career-ending mistake?
Because it didn't end her career, his mind supplied helpfully, and he groaned to himself. He really didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he was jealous Rossi would handle things in such a personal manner with another agent. Or, well, Hotch thought it was a personal manner, but turns out that was just Rossi's casual way of handling discipline. He didn't know which prospect he was more upset by, actually: either Rossi used off-books discipline for everyone he thought showed an inkling of promise as an agent, or he had found a new rookie agent to take under his wing, and thus he would no longer treat Hotch as he once did.
Dropping his head into his hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to get his raging emotions under control. He was momentarily relieved with the sound of a small ping! indicating he had just received a text- he silently thanked the welcome distraction as he picked the device up off his desk.
Come over for dinner at 8.
Hotch glared at the text from Dave, resisting the urge to lob his phone at a wall. He didn't like that it was phrased as an order, not an invitation. He didn't like the implication that Seaver would be there, and he would have to eat with his replacement. At that very moment, everything was grating on the man's nerves, and he quickly decided to finish his report at home- Jack's smiles always made him feel better, at least.
He dropped his phone into his pocket, not caring enough to respond to Dave's text, and packed up everything he'd need to finish his report at home before heading out to the bullpen.
"I'm taking an early night," he announced to the team, uncaring that Rossi wasn't present- either the older profiler would hear him from his office, or he could ask a teammate if he really wanted to know Hotch's whereabouts that badly. "I just… I'd like to see Jack," he admitted quietly, knowing that the entire team would understand despite none of them being parents themselves. "Please, have a good evening," he said, before adding, "try to relax," with a small smile (or at least what passed for a smile, when it came to Hotch, who rarely expressively emoted.)
He held it together until he reached the parking garage, making it all the way to his car before spinning and slamming his fist into a column of concrete next to where he had parked. Frustrated, he didn't even realize what he was doing until after he had slammed his hand into concrete twice more- it was only the smell of blood that made him realize he had damaged his knuckles. He shook himself, trying to get his wits together- he didn't need to be driving in such a discombobulated state.
Opening his car door, he dropped into the driver's seat and slumped over, resting his head against the steering wheel with closed eyes. He didn't know how long he stayed that way, the stinging from his knuckles finally dragging his attention elsewhere. Wincing to himself, he surveyed the damage he had done to his hand- he was going to need to stop at the grocery store on the way back home and get a bag of frozen peas. Smiling, he decided that he'd also get ice cream- he and Jack could make ice cream sundaes for a snack. Maybe his day was starting to look up, after all.
-o-o-o-o-o-
At first, Rossi was irritated when his protege didn't return his text, confirming dinner plans. He felt his irritation climb a little higher when he went looking for the younger man, finding his office locked with his lights out. His irritation increased even more when Morgan gave him a funny look and asked "Hotch didn't tell you he was taking an early evening?"
That was when his irritation turned into concern- Hotch simply didn't do early evenings. Heavens knows that the two men had had enough conversations about Hotch's propensity to overwork himself- the amount of overtime he took was more than a little concerning at times. Sighing, he took his phone out of his pocket, hoping that he had some message from Aaron letting him know that his protege was, in fact, fine, and Rossi could return to being annoyed that the younger profiler hadn't confirmed his dinner plans and hadn't bothered to inform Rossi that he was leaving the office early. It wasn't required of him to do so, Rossi supposed, but still Hotch had always given him that courtesy. For him to have forgotten, or intentionally abstained from informing Rossi of his plans, meant that something was wrong.
He felt the familiar weight of worry settle into his gut when the small device showed him no recent texts or calls from Hotch, and he quickly shot off a message to the man he considered to be a son, asking if he felt okay.
His worry only increased as the minutes ticked by with no response.
After an hour without a response, he tried again to send a text.
And again, his worry increased as Hotch didn't respond.
Truthfully, he didn't know how he was going to handle this- he still had Ashley to deal with, and couldn't leave her to go check on Aaron. He didn't want to send anyone in his place, either, knowing how the younger profiler tried to keep displays of emotion and vulnerable conversations away from his teammates.
He doubted Aaron would answer a call, but he decided he may as well try. When Hotch still didn't answer, he sighed, walking towards Morgan's office.
He knocked gently on the doorframe, waiting for Derek to look up. Of the entire team, other than Hotch of course, Dave trusted Morgan and Prentiss the most. It wasn't that he disliked Reid or Garcia- truthfully, he loved them like the rest of the team, and was maybe even softer on them than he'd care to admit. They were just both painfully young- Derek and Emily, at least, behaved like they had some life experience. He'd never understand how Reid could firsthand see and experience the many horrors he did as part of the job yet still retain an air of naivety. Prentiss, though, presented herself as a competent adult, and Dave often found himself having personal conversations with her; sometimes, Dave would share a drink with her and Hotch in one of the mens' offices. Morgan was beyond competent as an agent, and Rossi knew that his loyalty to the team and fierce drive to keep his family safe was why he didn't follow any of the leadership opportunities that were offered to him. Other than being an extremely competent agent, though, he was also one of the least emotionally damaged team members (and wasn't that a sad fact, too.) Both those traits, plus his maturity, in addition to the fact that he had his own office were what made Rossi feel like Derek was particularly suited to what he was about to ask.
"Hey," he said once Derek had looked up, "You said Hotch told the team he was taking an early night?" he asked, easing into it.
"Yes…?" Derek responded, confusion evident in his voice.
"Did he say anything else? Did he seem okay?" Dave let some of his worry show in the pushy nature of his questions and the genuine expression he wore, watching as Derek no doubt thought back to earlier in the evening.
"He said he wanted to see Jack," he said, after a moment's thought. "He seemed a little off, I guess? Sorry man, that's all I can remember, though."
Rossi nodded, mentally inventorying the information. "Thanks," he said easily, "Do you mind if I ask you a favor?"
"Not at all," the other agent said, and Dave was thankful for Derek's relatively easy going nature outside of cases.
"Listen, I have Seaver working in my office right now. I really need to go check on Hotch, I have a feeling he's less okay than he's letting on. Could Seaver work on her report here in the meanwhile?"
He watched Derek's face as the man started to form a question- likely about why Seaver had to be babysat writing a report- before shrugging. "Sure," he agreed easily, "I'll be here."
With a small, genuine smile, Rossi said "thanks" to Derek before turning around and heading back to his office.
How anyone managed to raise more than one kid, he'd never know.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Ashley was so engrossed in her writing her report, laptop carefully balanced atop folded knees, that she didn't realize Rossi had left his office, or came back, or taken a seat across her on the coffee table until his soft voice commanded her attention.
"How's the report coming along?" he asked.
She nodded, "Good, I think."
"How close are you to being done?" he asked, pausing for a second before raising both his hands in a "whoa" gesture and adding, "No rush, I just have to go check on Hotch." At her curious look, he added, "he took an early evening, I just want to be sure he feels okay."
Truth be told, she didn't quite understand how the two were related, as she barely knew Hotch. Rossi's care for the younger man was evident, though, and had been even back then. A long-lost memory floated to her mind, from when she was 10 and had first met the two men.
They didn't realize anyone was watching their conversation- they were standing out on the porch, and she had just slipped away from her mother, who was being interviewed by some agent named Gideon. Delightedly, she spied on the agents around her house from the doorway. Yet, the two on the porch drew her attention, for the sole reason of it being completely audible to her.
"Dave, please," the younger agent said, rolling his eyes. "I'm fine, okay? You don't need to worry if I'm wearing my coat, or if I'm eating enough, or if I'm sleeping enough. I'm. A. Grown. Man." His voice by the end of the statement was a growl as he ground out the last words with clear emphasis.
The other agent rolled his eyes too, "Doesn't matter, I care about you, regardless of how grown you are." He dropped his voice, then, and Ashley strained to hear the rest.
"I suggest if you want to avoid spending some time in the corner, you shape up now." That was a little disturbing to the young girl, who very rarely encountered time-outs by herself. She thought that once she was an adult, like her sister who was a whole 13 years old, she would be spared any further time-outs. Her sister only got grounded now, at least, but she pulled her attention away from her own thoughts and back towards the two audible agents.
Holding back a giggle, knowing it would give away her position, Ashley watched the first agent open and close his mouth without saying anything, looking like a fish.
Briefly reflecting upon that memory, Seaver wondered if Rossi ever spanked Hotch. She couldn't imagine it, but then again, she had a hard time seeing the BAU unit chief as anything other than completely and totally in control of a situation. She was pretty sure he didn't mess up, ever, despite her decade-old memory suggesting otherwise.
"Ashley?" a concerned voice brought her out of her reverie.
"Yeah? Huh?" She said instinctively before the situation caught up with her, "Sorry, I was just thinking about an old memory." The profiler gave her a sad smile at that, no doubt assuming that it was one of the memories from a tragic childhood, and she didn't bother correcting him. He didn't need to know that she was just wondering if Hotch's ass had ever met the same fate hers was going to later that evening.
"I said, Morgan said you can work in his office until I get back. That okay?"
"Oh," she said, his question catching up with her, "yeah, of course." Without being told, she started packing away what she'd need to work on her report from Derek's office.
She was rewarded with a small smile and a genuine "thanks" as she followed him out of his office and to Derek's. Pausing outside the door, he said to her, somewhat teasingly, "Alright, don't give Morgan any trouble. I'll be back soon."
She nodded, then ventured, "Agent Rossi?"
"Yeah?"
"I hope Hotch is okay."
Her statement got a small sigh in response, "Me too, kid," he said, with a hint of sadness, "me too."
And, though she didn't want to admit it, that response was almost worrying. Yet she trusted Dave to help Hotch, and that was only bolstered by her long-lost memory. With that knowledge, she headed into the office of SSA Derek Morgan and, after a lazy hand indicated where she should set up, began working on her report once more.
-o-o-o-o-o-
As Hotch walked into an empty apartment, with all the making of ice cream sundaes in hand, he remembered that he had told Jack he could sleep over at a friend's after school and realized that his day wasn't looking up, after all. Sudden, crushing loneliness swept over him, and he staggered over to the couch. He didn't quite understand why he was so unokay, but he couldn't deny the fact, even to himself.
He let himself feel self-pity for a minute, before remembering that most of his groceries were refrigerated or frozen, and really ought to be put away. Almost on autopilot, he put away the groceries, only realizing that he had bought the bag of frozen peas for his smarting hand when he was halfway through putting said bag away. Keeping the peas out, he put away the rest of the groceries before resigning himself to starting work on his report once more. He clumsily typed with one hand- his non-dominant right hand, nonetheless- and kept the bag of peas on his injured limb. The mundane work numbed his emotions, just as the ice numbed his hand.
He wasn't sure how long he had been working on his report for- the clumsy typing led to a lot of typos, so the whole process was more tedious and frustrating than it usually even was- when a knock on his door startled him. Minimizing the screen, he made his way over to the door and looked through the peephole. When he saw the figure on the other side, all his emotional turmoil came flooding back.
"Go away," he said without thinking, before flinching at how immature it sounded.
"Not gonna happen," the voice of his mentor floated through the door, "So let me in, kid."
Grumbling, Hotch forced himself to be mature as he stepped back, unlatched the chain, unlocked the deadbolt, and let his mentor into his apartment… and then abandoned all maturity as he said "I swear, Dave, what do you want?!" in a tone that, based on the older profiler's raised eyebrow, his mentor wasn't impressed with.
Dave said nothing, just looked at him with that quirked eyebrow, and Hotch tried to resist squirming as the older man seemed to see right through him.
"Daaavveeee?" He tried again, though it inadvertently sounded like a whine. Really, he was impressed that the mere presence of the older man was enough to turn his former anger into hesitance and self-insecurity.
Still, Rossi said nothing, just looked at him curiously. Hotch couldn't figure out why, and his hesitance quickly morphed back into anger.
"Dammit, Dave! Spit it out!" He said, boiling once more, and confused by his sudden shift in emotions.
-o-o-o-o-o-
The tortured, conflicted look in the kid's desperate eyes was enough to pain him, but he tried to shove those thoughts away as he focused on the most immediately concerning matter. "Aaron," he said, "your hand."
Following Dave's gaze with his own, Aaron looked sheepish as he realized his battered hand was in full view. "Oh. Uh, yeah. It's fine," he said, and Rossi snorted. He was pretty sure that there was a good chance that, after being stabbed repeatedly in the abdomen on a case the two worked when Hotch was only a rookie, he had also insisted then that he was fine. Rossi suspected it was a product of his upbringing- being fine directed the least amount of attention towards him, which was likely the safest means of existence for Aaron's childhood self.
"It doesn't look fine," Dave said pointedly, "Let me see." He held out his hand expectantly, though he didn't have very high hopes- Aaron rarely did things the easy way, and by that he meant the way he instructed his protege to. "C'mon," he prompted again, hoping that this wouldn't turn into an argument; Hotch was clearly an emotional maelstrom at the moment, and he had never handled those moments well. There were too many times to count where Hotch reacted to strong emotions within himself with outward anger, which is what Rossi was pretty sure had happened to the younger man's hand.
Hotch looked like he was debating whether or not to start arguing, and Dave internally rolled his eyes as he stepped forward and took the choice away from his protege as he instead grabbed the man's hand himself. He gently moved around the younger man's hand, making sure his wrist still had full range of motion, before bending and extending the knuckles of the injured hand to ensure that they too still functioned despite Hotch's obvious grimacing. Then, he carefully felt over the bones of Hotch's hand, quickly lightening pressure when the man hissed in pain. "Well, you certainly did a number on your hand," he chose to state the obvious, looking at the abused limb in concern.
"I know," Hotch mumbled softly, also looking at his hand; though, Dave suspected, that was more to avoid looking at Dave himself.
"What's going on?" He asked genuinely, leading Hotch over to the couch and gently pushing the man down onto it before taking a seat himself, because the younger man seemed to be a little numb and would probably be content with having the entire conversation standing in the doorway, otherwise.
"It's nothing," Hotch mumbled.
"Like hell it's nothing."
"I'm fine, Dave," Hotch said, though the way he stressed the word "fine" made it seem like he was trying to convince himself of the fact.
"Sure."
"It's nothing," he ground out.
"I'm not buyin' it."
"You should."
"You're forgetting that I know you, Aaron."
"Do you?!" That one actually caught Rossi off-guard, he'd admit. Though that was largely because of how incredibly preposterous it was.
"Yes I do! Of course I know you!"
"Then you should know why I'm upset."
Dave rolled his eyes, "No, I shouldn't, because I'm not a damn mind reader, Aaron. You have to talk to me."
"It doesn't matter, anyways," Hotch mumbled.
"Of course it matters! You matter!"
Hotch's head shot up at that, eyes wide in surprise. As fast as he showed genuine emotion, though, he slid his failing mask back in place.
"What is it, Aaron, because clearly I'm missing something here!" Rossi realized his voice was climbing, nearing a shout, and made a concerted effort to tone it down. Hotch's childhood had left him incredibly sensitive to yelling, and Dave didn't want to spook the younger man.
"It's nothing, Dave," the younger man continued to insist.
"Aaron, you're hurting. I want to help you, let me help you. What's wrong?" He made sure to keep his voice gentle, inviting, and watched hopefully as Aaron's eyes flicked up shyly before returning to staring at his hand resolutely. Dave could tell Hotch wanted to talk, and thought that a little silence would push the younger man over the edge. So instead of continuing to press, he changed tactics.
"I hope you had ice on that," he said with a small gesture to Hotch's injured hand.
"Oh," Hotch said after a beat, sounding surprised, "I- yeah, I left it on the table when I answered the door." Still seeming numb, he made no move to stand up and return the ice to his hand, so Rossi decided to instead. He found the thawed bag of peas on the table, and held it up with distaste.
"I'm going to toss this and get you something actually frozen for your hand," he said, with no expected response from Hotch- not like the younger man was feeling big on speaking at the moment, based on his actions.
He made his way into his protege's kitchen and momentarily stopped in surprise as he realized that the counter held every non-perishable needed for ice cream sundaes. He poked his head back out into the living room, inquiring, "Aaron, what's with the ice cream sundae buffet?"
Hotch gave a small smile, saying, "I thought Jack and I could have a fun snack." He paused for a second, and when he spoke again he was unable to prevent the bitterness from creeping into his voice, "Then I realized that he's over at a friend's house tonight." He shrugged, trying to pretend that it was casually okay, but Rossi could tell his protege was hurting. Normally, such a thing wouldn't bother Hotch singularly- clearly, there was something else going on.
Not wanting to interrogate the man, Rossi returned to the kitchen. It seemed a shame to waste the ice cream ingredients… Deciding that he would try to coax the younger man into talking by means of ice cream, he grabbed two bowls. Fortunately, he remembered Hotch's ice cream choice- chocolate and vanilla, with strawberry syrup, butterscotch sauce, and rainbow sprinkles. He didn't have Dave's favorite rocky road, so instead he fixed his chocolate and strawberry ice cream with fudge topping, caramel, and chocolate sprinkles. Finding a bag of frozen corn in the freezer that would do as an ice pack, he balanced spoons, bowls, and the bag of corn in his hands as he made his way back to where Aaron was sitting.
Dave handed Aaron the ice pack and then the bowl of ice cream, and was rewarded when, after a moment, Hotch's lips quirked upward in a small smile. "I- thanks," he said, taking a spoonful of his ice cream.
Dave sat, and after a spoonful of his own ice cream, gave Aaron a prompting look. "So," he said casually, "talk."
Hotch grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, dislodging the ice pack. He seemed content to ignore it until Dave gave it a long look, then sheepishly replaced it. "It's… embarrassing," he admitted.
"So?" Dave said, prompting.
"So it's embarrassing!" Hotch protested.
"Since when have I ever cared about that?"
"...Never."
"That's right, never. So, what's going on, Aaron?"
"I…" Hotch paused, looking pained. Rossi gave him a gentle look, but the kid seemed dead-set on keeping his motives a secret.
"Aaron," Dave said, playing his trump card, "We're already going to have a talk about you being unreachable," he said, with a particular emphasis on the word that he knew Hotch would correctly interpret, "if you want to have one before that about being uncooperative, that's your choice. But let me phrase it this way- one way or the other, you are going to tell me what has you upset. So take the easy way." He fixed Aaron with a look, waiting. And really, he should have expected the outcome, because when faced with an easier path, Aaron always, always, chose to take the harder way.
So, after a moment Dave determined that Aaron wasn't going to speak without external motivation, and before Aaron could realize what was happening both bowls of ice cream were abandoned on the coffee table and the younger profiler found himself upended over his mentor's lap. Not intending to be particularly severe- he could tell Aaron wanted to talk, just needed an incentive to do so- he didn't bother divesting his surrogate son of any layers nor did he find an implement other than his hand, and without preamble he landed a dosen heavy smacks to the unit chief's upturned backside. As soon as it started, though, it was over, and Dave rubbed Aaron's back soothingly before asking, "Okay, you ready to talk now?"
It looked like Aaron was honestly debating his response, so Rossi was thankful when after a moment's hesitation, the younger profiler bobbed his head in a nod. "Verbal answer," Dave reminded, not unkindly- he often loathed playing the role of strict disciplinarian, especially when he felt like he was being overly dictatorial, but he had learned very early on in his relationship with Hotch that loosening boundaries situationally, especially when he changed the consistency of his firmness when Hotch was in trouble, just led to the younger man becoming confused, tortured by his thoughts, and prompted further devolution of his behavior. So Rossi had learned to retain the same, at times insufferable even to himself, level of strictness when dealing with Hotch in trouble. Upon hearing the younger man's verbal affirmative, Rossi helped him up and handed him the bowl of ice cream once more as Hotch settled on the couch with a small wince and a sheepish look.
"It's embarrassing," he once again reiterated, and the pained look on his face clued Dave in to just how badly Hotch wanted to avoid sharing his motives.
"Shhh," Dave soothed, setting a comforting hand on Hotch's shoulder, "It's okay Aaron, it really is. Nothing you say is gonna make me hate you, if that's what you're worried about."
"I hate profilers."
"You're forgetting we've had this conversation more than once, kid. Remember, I know you, Aaron."
"I… I know that, really."
"So what's up?"
Hotch shot him a desperate 'please don't make me talk about this' look, and Dave softened again. He knew Hotch struggled with emotions normally, and everything he had witnessed pointed to the fact that his protege's emotions were entirely too much for him to deal with alone. Usually, he didn't like playing 20 questions in figuring out his underling's motives, but in this case he'd make an exception; he could tell Hotch wasn't being purposefully belligerent, and really his embarrassment translated into fear.
"Was it something I did?" he asked, watching as Hotch's head flew up and the man opened and closed his mouth several times before lowering his gaze once more, words lost on him. Bingo. In a way, that actually made it easier for him to work backwards- he could retrace his own steps to see when Hotch's behavior had shifted, and he knew he wouldn't be missing an inciting event if the two men's timelines overlapped at that point. Hotch had seemed fine on the plane when they had talked about how Rossi wanted to handle Seaver's disciplinary action…
Oh.
"Is it something related to me handling Seaver's discipline off-book?" He asked, preferring not to beat around the bush. He wasn't really sure what he would do if Aaron answered in the affirmative; as much as he'd do anything to soothe his surrogate son's turmoil, he had already offered Ashley the option of unofficial disciplinary measures, and he couldn't go back on that offer now and harm her career after promising the alternative.
"I… I didn't want my insecurities to jeopardize her entire career," Hotch offered in a soft tone after a small sigh, "it's just.."
"Yeah?" Dave prompted, but sat patiently and waited for Hotch to find the words, knowing that now the younger man began, he wasn't likely to stop and return to his belligerance.
"It's just…" the younger man trailed off again, lifting his eyes to look at Rossi with a beseeching expression. Dave just angled his head, indicating he was listening, and waited for Hotch to continue. Eventually, the younger profiler did.
"Do you… casually offer… that… option to everyone?" Hotch finally managed to stammer out, and it took Rossi a half-second to figure out what the younger profiler was referring to, "Is it… is it not personal for you?"
The pieces were slowly starting to click into place, but Rossi found himself still unable to grasp what was truly at the heart of the matter. "Of course it's personal for me," he started, "And I certainly don't offer it as an option to everyone, you know that. I was the boss to more than just you, you know," he said with a hint of levity, a small smile appearing on his face.
Hotch nodded, then paused again, likely trying to verbalize his thoughts before seeming to hit a mental brick wall.
"Aaron."
"It's embarrassing," and the tortured tone of voice was back. Dave was actually beginning to worry- discussing emotions with Hotch was frequently like pulling teeth, but rarely ever did the younger man balk to quite this extent. He racked his mind, trying to find the answer himself. He knew that it had something to do with his offer to discipline Ashley off-books, and Hotch was displaying signs of feeling inadequate.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Suddenly, everything shifted, and Hotch realized that his attitude undoubtably wasn't going to keep Dave from replacing him- if anything, his belligerent would just drive the older man away even further, reinforce the fact that Hotch wasn't desirable and he was doing the correct thing in finding a new protege.
"Listen, Dave, I'm sorry," he blurted suddenly, but genuinely. "I don't mean to be difficult, I promise. I just… it's hard." The next part followed, less genuine, "I just really wanted to see Jack, and when he wasn't home I just… felt lonely, I guess?" It was close enough to the truth, though he conveniently forgot that he had already told Rossi that his turmoil was partly due to the older man's arrangement with Seaver.
"Not buyin' it," Dave said, and Aaron frowned- what gave him the right to question that?! "You already said it had something to do with Seaver," the older man added softly, "Remember?" Hotch quietly cursed himself- he had totally forgotten about that.
Sighing, he stared at the ground. "Really, I'm okay, Dave. It was just a long case, and then when I got back to the office, I managed to spill coffee over half my report. It's been a long day, but I'm okay."
"That still doesn't address what you've already started to tell me is wrong."
Aaron felt his irritation rise, why did Dave always have to make things like this so damn difficult?
"Dave, really, it's nothing," he ground out, "And if you don't mind, I really need to be getting back to my report. Thanks for stopping by." He stood up to go deposit his bowl in the kitchen sink before returning to his report, but a stinging pain across his backside alerted him that Dave had decided to take advantage of his behind being unprotected to make a point. Aaron just turned and glared.
"Cut the attitude, Aaron," he said, "I'm here to help you."
"Yeah, well, you can help me by leaving, that way I can get to finishing my report." The sentence was only halfway out of his mouth, each word increasing in volume and desperation, when he felt Dave's hand on his arm, and before he could register what was happening, he was being positioned in a corner of his living room.
"You need to calm down," Rossi's voice sounded from behind him, retreating to the kitchen, "I'm going to put the bowls in the sink; when I come back, I want you to have given serious thought to what's actually bothering you here. I can't help you if I don't know, Aaron."
"I know, Dave," Hotch said sincerely, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry." He hoped his tone conveyed the sincerity of his message. Regardless, actions spoke louder than words, and so he decided that he'd stand in the corner without fighting, standing perfectly upright and not daring to move an inch.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Dave wondered when he started dreading compliance from the kid- as nice as it was in the moment, it was almost always motivated by emotional hurt that he preferred his child be spared. He saw a flash of it, earlier, when Hotch seemed ready to tell him what was wrong before shutting down once more. Yet that hadn't seemed to have held, and within moments the fleeting compliance was gone. However, the taught lines and quivering muscles in Hotch's back present upon the older profiler's return from the kitchen, a sure sign of Aaron's trying too hard to remain completely still, suggested that Hotch had fallen back onto one of his old defense mechanisms- he had a tendency to try and be perfectly behaved when he felt like he was easily replaced and wanted to prove his worth.
Oh.
Oh.
Rossi understood what he had been missing, and what Hotch's question hadn't got at. He asked if Dave offered every agent in trouble the option of off-books discipline- what was the opposite? That he only gave that option to one agent. Hotch thought that he was being replaced, Dave would wager. It wasn't a concern that had never arisen in the past, and Dave cursed himself for not foreseeing it.
Standing behind Hotch, Dave softly laid a hand on the minutely vibrating shoulder of his protege, using gentle pressure behind his thumb to rub a knot. After a moment, letting Aaron register his presence, he spoke softly, "You think you're being replaced?"
Hotch tensed, then dropped his head and slumped his shoulders miserably. "I don't know," he said, "Am I?"
"Hell no," Dave said, "You. Are. Not. Replaceable." He stressed the words individually, because this wasn't the first time this conversation had been warranted. His palm itched, but he would rather try being gentle first. He knew it was wishful thinking, seeing as Hotch was battling with feelings that had, in the past, caused Hotch to do something that Rossi's friend (it wasn't like he thought of spanking his agents out of the blue, for gosh sake, it was… recommended to him) would call "pushing."
So he had one kid who was nervously anticipating her first spanking, and another kid who seemed to be begging for his millionth. Dave internally resigned himself to the fact of a long night ahead of him.
-o-o-o-o-o-
A.N.- I'm still working on "If you get lost," but I was re-watching the series and this idea wouldn't leave me alone. I know a lot of people seem to hate Seaver, but I always found her relationship with Rossi really interesting given how paternally he acts towards her (such as him looking out over her while she's studying in "Coda," which incidentally might be my favorite episode in the entire series, but I digress…) Anyways, I sort of like the idea of building a series wherein Seaver and Hotch cause Rossi to go prematurely grey. ;) I'd ask for thoughts on that, but most realistically I'm going to do it regardless. I'd still love to hear thoughts or ideas! Until next time…
~ lms