A.N.- Before anything else, I wanted to thank everyone who has favorited, subscribed to, and/or commented on both this fic and "If you get lost." Without going into too much detail, life is dragging right now- writing fanfiction and interacting with readers is one of the things I look forward to most. That's also why it took so long for me to get the new chapter out, but that doesn't matter now because here it is!

This story is actually starting to wrap up, I expect one more chapter (maybe two if I get really carried away with the eventual fluff.) For now, some Hotch angst, because I'm incapable of treating that boy nicely :)

Warnings: there's spanking in this chapter.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Hotch nodded and looked down, his hands clenched into fists by his sides in an attempt to follow Dave's instructions. Dave pulled him over his lap, then, and maneuvered him into the position best suited for his upcoming task. Once again he paused, rubbing Hotch's back until his small trembling subsided again.

Then, in one swift motion, Aaron's flannels and boxers were around his knees as he whined quietly.

Because this wasn't about Dave and Aaron's flannels, or Dave and Aaron's boxers- it was about Dave and Aaron.

He rested his hand on Hotch's backside, having elected not to use any implement. It was an unusual choice, but the emotionally charged situation meant that it wasn't about severity, really.

It also wasn't about a hairbrush and Aaron, or a wooden spoon and Aaron- it was about Dave and Aaron.

With a determined look in his eye, Dave raised his hand to deliver the first of many stinging swats. By the end of this, he was determined that Aaron would be reassured of his place in his old mentor's life.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Hotch really hated being spanked. The pain was uncomfortable, sure, but it was excruciating to know that he had let Dave down so much that his mentor thought he needed a tail-warming. This entire experience was shaping up to be difficult for Hotch to handle, the emotional intensity proving to be too much for the younger profiler. It happened, sometimes. Aaron could hardly be considered emotional, and while he did show care for the emotions of his fellow BAU team members, he wouldn't honor his own. He had learned long, long ago that being emotionally blank was better- safer- than the alternatives. If he was upset, or some other 'negative' emotion, it was safer not to show it, lest his father beat him for being 'ungrateful.' He found it hard to let himself feel any 'positive' emotion too, knowing that a smile could mean that his father wanted to 'wipe that smirk off your face.' Even a feeling of internal happiness, without an external manifestation, was dangerous to his psyche- it was safer to go from blank to feeling upset than to go from happy to upset; the latter felt far more devastating.

Eventually, he became aware that he was no longer being swatted, but Dave was rubbing his back and trying to coax him back into a calm state.

"There's no way that's over," he accidentally voiced his internal thought, only realizing he had spoken when he heard a sad chuckle from Dave. It was only when he tried to speak that he noticed that his breathing felt labored, his fingertips inexplicably tingling.

"Afraid not, kiddo," Dave said, continuing to rub his protege's back while the younger man regained some of his composure, "want to tell me what that was about?" He kept his voice gentle, soft, never breaking the contact between his hand and Hotch's back. Aaron knew he should be offended by the fact that his mentor was talking to him in the same tone he often used with the victims they encountered at work but, emotions still frayed from his brief foray into childhood memories, he could only be thankful that the veteran profiler's presence was soothing.

Hotch would have preferred that they had this conversation when he wasn't bare-assed over his mentor's knee, but he wasn't about to pitch the idea to Dave, who'd clearly decided on Aaron's fate; arguing would only get a raised eyebrow or, worse, some scolding. No, it was a better idea to keep his mouth shut; he was suddenly glad that he had learned some sense of self-preservation since the time he was a mouthy rookie. Instead, he shrugged.

"That's not an answer, Aaron," Dave gently chided, but Hotch flinched regardless. Picking up on that response, Rossi seemed to put his protege's actions together- "one of those times?" he asked, sympathetically. Hotch's childhood memories resurfacing to shake his calm was not a new phenomenon; and he suddenly felt worse when he remembered that Dave once told him that the only reason he went through with disciplining Aaron after something spooked him was because he asked for it- otherwise, he would prefer to just call it a day. Though, Hotch very briefly mused, Dave seemed to have lost the same reluctance that colored Hotch's early years. Still, he knew logically that every time he did this freaking out thing, he shook his mentor too. That proved to be too much to handle as Aaron found apologies tumbling from his lips at a rate that was nearly unintelligible.

"Whoa," his mentor said, and before he even had time to blink, Hotch found himself clothed and upright, drawn into Dave's strong embrace. "Not mad, kiddo," he murmured, "just a little… concerned." Hotch winced at that too, hating for anyone to have to feel concerned for him- it made his skin crawl. "I know," Dave said gently after Hotch (embarrassingly) whined, and it was the truth; Dave knew that those types of statements made his protege uncomfortable, but he refused to stop. It was the same way when his mentor said he was proud of Aaron- it made him horribly uncomfortable, but Dave insisted he needed to hear it anyways. Something about 'letting other people in, Aaron, and allowing yourself to receive the same care you freely show the team.' It was slightly less painful than it had been when he was a rookie, and such statements caused him psychosomatic pain. Dave's strong hand on the back of Aaron's neck was comforting so much as it was restraining, Hotch knew his mentor was trying to keep him close- he typically balked at physical contact despite finding it incredibly comforting. Dave had picked up on this years ago, and took the choice away from Hotch- he was going to receive comfort whether he felt he deserved it or not. He begrudgingly admitted that it did help him calm down.

"I know," Dave repeated softly, tightening his hug for a moment and running his hand over Hotch's hair. He insisted they stay like that for a moment before he finally released Hotch, who didn't really want to leave the embrace but he didn't want to anger or annoy his mentor more. He stepped back, keeping his eyes downcast and suddenly missing the feeling of his mentor's physical display of care. He'd never ask for a hug, though. That was… uncomfortable, and a sign of weakness to boot.

Dave pulled him down so they were both sitting on the edge of the bed, and wrapped his arm around Aaron in a half-hug. The younger profiler wondered if Rossi did that intentionally, somehow sensing that Aaron still wanted comfort- probably, because Aaron wasn't able to sneak anything past his old mentor. They sat in silence for a moment, and for once the silence wasn't able to rattle him by making his thoughts race, the embrace of Dave seeming to chase the anxieties away. Not that he'd ever admit that, though.

Hotch cleared his throat to speak, noticing that his mouth had somehow become impossibly dry. "Too much… emotion," he finally croaked out. His mentor looked at him appraisingly, and Aaron had to stop himself from squirming; it was almost funny- almost- that his mentor could still make him feel like the rookie kid he was over a decade ago.

"You need water, Aaron-" his mentor finally declared, though Hotch snorted and cut him off before his mentor could finish his statement.

"No shit, Sherlock," as soon as it was out of his mouth, he regretted it. "Dave, I'm-" his apology was cut off by Dave quickly tipping him over his knee and delivering a dozen stinging swats.

"Attitude, Aaron," Rossi chided, helping Hotch sit back up on the bed and continuing to keep his arm wrapped around his protege. He blushed, chagrined that his mentor had to reprimand him like a mouthy kid.

"Sorry," he murmured, finally finishing his apology despite how hard it was to form the words when his mouth was as dry as the Sahara.

"I know," his mentor replied in a gentle tone, probably aiming to soothe some of Aaron's nerves. After looking at him a moment longer, he tried again, "You need water, Aaron." At that, he paused and looked disapprovingly at Aaron, seeing if the younger man would come up with another retort. Hotch just blushed, squirmed, and dropped his gaze. "I'm not feeling too good about leaving you alone right now, so you're coming with me to the kitchen and I'll get you a glass of water," Hotch nearly groaned, familiar with this 'one-on-one' tactic where Rossi would hardly let him leave his sight. He silently cursed whoever gave his mentor that idea (he knew exactly who it was, too- his mentor's friend, Ness, had a brother that worked with traumatized children- actual children, not just FBI agents who somehow found themselves acting like children. He had once compared notes with Mads, and both younger agents agreed that one-on-one was particularly awful.)

Still, he was determined to behave, and Hotch found himself trailing after his mentor like a naughty child. Before they stepped out into the hallway, though, he stopped, slightly panicked once he remembered that it wasn't just the two men. "Seaver can't see me like this," he argued.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Dave nearly rolled his eyes, but decided to humor his protege, asking "see you like what?"

"This. All… weak and sniffly."

"First, you're not weak. I'm going to get that through your head one of these days."

"Sorry-" Hotch began another apology, looking up at Dave, who instantly realized the look of panic in his protege's eyes.

"Hey, it's okay," he soothed, once again deciding to envelop Aaron in a hug, "I don't mind repeating myself for important things like that," he continued, "it's okay." Still holding Aaron, he said, "and secondly, Ashley is asleep, in a room that's pretty far from the kitchen." He was always glad for his mansion, though sometimes he was more glad than others- this was one of those times, as he found it hard to even conceptualize the logistics of trying to spank his kids in the apartments and townhouse he had resided in during Aaron's rookie days at the BAU (his kids, he nearly smiled as he caught the way he automatically referred to them in his head.) Everyone always said the jump from one kid to two was dramatic, but he had never put much stock in it; now, he wondered how anyone managed to juggle two kids without going insane. Granted, he thought it might be slightly easier to wrangle a 5 year old than it was to wrangle an adult, and an adult FBI agent no less. Though, he mused, both his kids were too thin, and he was pretty sure he could pick them both up. A 5 year old was just slightly easier to tote around.

Before Aaron had time to think about that, Dave was already leading them to the kitchen. Releasing Aaron so he could get the younger man a glass of water, he noticed that Hotch was shifting on his feet in the doorway like he didn't know what to do; he looked so young, recreating a scene so familiar to Rossi that he nearly choked on his breath. It was something that had happened a lot in the earlier days of their arrangement- Hotch wouldn't enter a room fully because he was unsure as to what he was supposed to be doing; doing nothing had been better than doing the wrong thing as a child, Hotch had admitted once. He knew how to handle that, at least.

"Sit," he instructed, indicating one of the barstools and keeping his voice pitched low, hoping it would be soothing. The kid looked awful; frazzled, which was a rarity for Hotch, and exhausted, which was Hotch's constant, but it seemed especially pronounced now. His protege had probably been quietly hurting over any number of things, but bottled up those feelings as he had a tendency to do. Giving Hotch a glass of water, which the man quickly downed, Rossi got him a refill which he sipped at a less desperate pace. Dave found himself suddenly extremely grateful that he had waited to dole out Hotch's spanking until he had dealt with Seaver's- he thought he might have needed more time, given the nature of the situation and Hotch's aversion to strong emotion- or any emotion at all, really. Turns out he really needed the time, and he was happy to devote it towards untangling the mess of feelings that was his protege currently.

"Aw hell, kid," he said, after giving Hotch, with downcast eyes, a once-over. He fought the urge to hug his surrogate son there and then, "Okay, that's it. You're staying the night," he declared, "and the weekend. You desperately need to relax, and you're gonna catch up on sleep."

"But Jack-"

"I called Jessica already," Dave cut off Hotch's protest, and continued before the man could argue. "It's taken care of. Don't worry, she thinks that this is some team trust-building retreat," after all, the best lies were those closest to the truth, and he was working on trust-building- in a sense.

"Is…" Aaron trailed off, sounding unsure

"Ashley gonna be here too," Rossi filled in Hotch's unsaid words, and a short nod was his confirmation that he understood correctly.

"Tonight, yes. This weekend," he shrugged. "Up to you and her, I guess, but you're coming over regardless. Whether you invite Seaver to come too is up to you, and if you do, whether she comes or not is up to her." He figured that was the easiest way to handle the situation, and the least likely to make him seem overbearing and stifling. If Hotch decided not to invite Seaver for the weekend, though, Dave would have some sleuthing to do to figure out why. After all, doesn't every parent want their kids to get along?

Hotch nodded, looking up for a moment to flash an expression of gratitude, then dropped his gaze again, staring into his glass of water like it held the answer to every secret in the world. After a moment of quiet, and Hotch's continued staring at the beverage, instead of drinking it, Rossi quietly spoke again.

"You done with that?" The answer was apparently yes, as Aaron handed over the glass to him though still staying quiet. "We have some unfinished business," he said, and Aaron broke his silence.

"I know," he whispered, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"All of this. Needing water, being too emotional, wasting your time with this break…" he trailed off, then in a very quiet voice, added "plus, you likely want to go check on Seaver."

"Okay first, of all the things you said you're sorry for, you didn't hit the reason why I'm spanking you. You don't need to apologize for needing water, Aaron," he said, trying not to sound completely appalled. Aaron's chagrined small smile meant that he likely was unable to keep all dismay from his voice, but at least his protege seemed to accept that he really didn't need to apologize for requiring one of the basic needs of life.

"As for Ashley?" He continued, "She's sleeping right now, but even if she weren't, you're my priority right now. Not Seaver, not the rest of the BAU, but you, Aaron." If the small flush creeping up the younger profiler's neck said anything, his words hit as they intended. He didn't need a response, and truth be told, he wasn't expecting one. Hotch had a tendency to become quietly uncomfortable in response to being told that he was cared about,

"C'mon now," he coaxed, "Let's just get this over with, yeah?" He didn't wait for a response before once again wrapping an arm around Hotch and guiding him back towards his bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he guided a fidgety Aaron to stand to his side.

"Pants, kiddo," he reminded and once again, Hotch immediately went to comply, though he looked like he wanted to argue. And, also like the first time that evening, his protege's hands were too shaky to effectively loosen the drawstring. Rossi reached out to do it for the kid, who didn't bother trying to argue this time. In no time at all he had Hotch's pants and boxers whisked down to his knees, and the younger man positioned across his lap so that his torso was supported by the bed.

"Why are we actually here, Aaron?" he started, after making sure that the nerves weren't affecting Hotch's breathing, "And it's not any of the things you apologized for, downstairs, either."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Hotch had always been academically inclined, which meant that when he didn't know something, it frustrated him- he could only imagine how Reid must feel when he didn't know an answer. This was one of those times where he truly didn't know the answer, and he instead stayed silent- giving the wrong answer was worse than giving no answer at all.

"Aaron, it wasn't an optional question," he said, and Hotch supposed his mentor was trying to make a point with the half dozen swats his silence provoked.

"I don't know," he whispered quietly, dismayed. Frustrated at himself, he added, "I don't fucking know, Dave. Why can't you just let me think?!" Aaron's sense of self preservation seemed to object to his choice of tone and the fact that he just swore at the mentor who was about to spank him; he was right as his response elicited another few hard swats.

Geez, by the time they finally got around to the main event his ass would probably be a bright red.

Aaron felt Dave's hand once again return to the small of his back, and wondered if the older man knew he was rubbing small, soothing circles with his hand or if he was doing it without even realizing. Regardless of the reason, he found it comforting.

"Don't take that tone with me, and reevaluate your word choice," Rossi scolded, but then in a softer voice said, "It's okay, I'll wait. I'm not going to punish you if you don't know what you did wrong, that defeats the entire purpose." Well, that was decidedly not how things in the Hotchner household had proceeded when he was a kid- it was far, far better.

Which left Hotch alone with his thoughts once more as he tried to focus on Rossi's question. The entire day seemed like a blur, now, and it was going to take him a minute to pick through the jumbled memories.

"I was… belligerent," maybe that word made the act of disobedience sound better, "about what was really bothering me and I was rude to you when you were trying to help." He was pretty proud of the fact that, despite his head remaining a jumbled mess, he came up with what he hoped was the correct answer.

"I'm proud of you for trying to come to me, Aaron," the words made his heart plummet still as he fought to keep still instead of twisting away from the older man. "The biggest thing that earned you this spanking was being rude and disrespectful, earlier." Laid out like that, Aaron felt terrible; he didn't realize he whined in embarrassment until the circles on his back became more pronounced. "Shhh," he soothed, "It's alright Aaron, I'm not mad." At this rate, Hotch would embarrassingly cry without even having the spanking to blame it on.

One thing was nudging at his brain, though: usually disrespect or rudeness meant a few swats or some time in the corner, sometimes both. Not anything of this… scale. Which is why he wasn't surprised when Dave nudged him for the other reason, once he had suitably calmed down. This one, he truly didn't know.

"I'm not trying to be difficult, Dave-"

"I know."

"Let me finish," he said in a tone that invited another swat, but Dave gave him the space to talk. "I'm not trying to be difficult, Dave, but I truly don't know."

"What things always get you spanked?" Everything, Hotch thought as a knee-jerk reaction- at least his brain caught up fast enough that he didn't say it this time, though. This, though, this was okay. This was a question that he knew the answer to, he wouldn't have to guess and worry about getting it wrong.

"Putting myself in danger, being unreachable for long periods of time," he started to count off, "harming myself unnecessarily," because sometimes you just had to provoke an unsub to punch you in the face for the job. He was about to continue- there were a few more things that basically guaranteed a trip across his mentor's knee- but Rossi stopped him there.

"Bingo," he said, and Hotch's forehead furrowed as he thought about how he could have possibly broken that rule, because he didn't recall any instances, but his mentor seemed certain. Dave, likely sensing his protege's confusion, decided to take mercy on Hotch and tell him outright. "Your hand, Aaron," his mentor said, and the younger profiler realized that he had totally forgotten about the pain in his hand- the pain strong emotions brought was actually harsher, and less willing to be ignored.

"Oh. Right," he said, unhelpfully, and heard his mentor's quiet snort.

"Right, so are you ready to finish this?" he asked.

"Please," Aaron said. He didn't like being spanked, of course, but he didn't like being bare assed over his mentor's knee answering questions any more. This was dragging out, not unlike many spankings Hotch received when he was a younger agent. Believe it or not, his ability to handle emotions had improved since he was a BAU rookie. He wanted to apologize for that, for taking too much time, but before he could he felt his mentor's hand connect with his behind.

Rossi was never one to hold back when the disobedience being addressed was related to Hotch harming himself. Getting beat up unnecessarily, getting drunk at a bar alone (or once, with friends, as they got drunker and stupider, but that's another story,) hell, even mouthing off to the Assistant Director fell under that category since he was harming himself when it came to future employment and promotions. This was no different, and Hotch very quickly found himself squirming- the swats he had received throughout the day really didn't help him stay stoic for as long as possible. Usually, Dave lectured when he spanked. However, it seemed like this time, Hotch would be spared- he guessed that his mentor didn't feel like he needed to reiterate given that they had talked about this extensively, already.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Dave's hand was stinging, which really he should have expected given that this was the second spanking he was handing out today. Truly, how did anyone manage with two kids? He didn't really care, though- his kids were more important than some minor stinging in his hand. Besides, he thought with some satisfaction, the stinging of his palm was nothing compared to the sting his spankings left behind, and would fade long before the miscreants were able to sit comfortably. He didn't enjoy punishing Hotch, and he learned very quickly that punishing Ashley was just as unpleasant. Maybe less, because he didn't really worry about giving her a flashback like he did Hotch, but regardless, he hated it. He did it for them, though, for sparing them workplace consequences but, more importantly, showing them that someone cared about them. It was much better than a suspension for curbing Hotch's habit of entering a location alone, practically using himself as bait to catch the unsub.

Still, for the next swats, he cupped his hand- the noise would act on his surrogate son's psyche, making him perceive the swat from his hand as more painful than it would actually be. He hated himself when the elicited response showed that Hotch had hit the point where he could no longer remain stoic.

Truthfully, for being disrespectful and punching a wall, Dave wouldn't ordinarily spank Aaron so hard or so long. He didn't like disrespect, but in his mind, it didn't warrant that much of a spanking. Harming oneself did elicit a larger response, though usually it was a response to something like intentionally, and unnecessarily, goading the unsub into a fight. Punching walls wasn't all that bad in Dave's book, though he wanted to check Hotch's hand once more to ensure he didn't do more damage than Dave initially saw.

No, the magnitude of this spanking was so that Aaron knew that Dave still cared about his behavior, a lot, and also to prove to him that Dave wouldn't half-ass things even with two kids. So, despite feeling like if you looked up "tool" in the dictionary, you'd find a picture of him, he continued.

Aaron's responses only got more pronounced, but he wasn't letting go just yet. As much as he hated himself for it, Dave needed to get his protege to fully let go for two reasons: first, he needed to know that Dave would continue to see things through to the end with him, no matter how unpleasant, and second, he needed the outlet for emotions. A long, hard spanking would do that, no matter how much Dave wished he didn't have to. Aaron was worth his discomfort, and in the long run, he knew that this was good for his protege. It didn't mean that watching his protege cry over his lap was a pleasant activity, though, and Dave set about ending the punishment.

As was typical for him, nearing the end of the spanking, he dropped one knee slightly. It changed Aaron's position minutely, but enough that he had access to the part of his protege's behind where spanks hurt the most- the junction between ass and thigh was a patch of particularly sensitive skin. Which, of course, made it the most effective target.

With a renewed effort, Rossi set about driving his point home. For the first time during the spanking itself, he spoke in between swats, though he wasn't sure if Aaron could actually hear him over his tears and the sound of the spanking.

"Hurting yourself has never been okay, Aaron, and that's not gonna stop," he said, lightening the swats and spacing them out so that his protege might hear, "disrespect was not ever okay, and it will continue to be not okay. You're better than that, Aaron." He assumed the now-penitent agent heard him given that his final statement seemed to elucidate further sobbing, the body over his knee not fighting to squirm away anymore; instead, Aaron let himself cry fully, without trying to hide or stifle his emotions.

Finally, finally, he could bring the distasteful task to an end and switch from being the hardass with the unyielding hand to being gentle and comforting, instead of punishing. It was a welcome break, especially after the long day. He idly wondered if Seaver was awake, before rationalizing that if she had woken, she would have stayed in her room to study more; though he doubted that she'd wake up without prompting or another few hours of sleep. His kids needed bedtimes, apparently, he thought wryly as he put thoughts of Ashley on the backburner to focus on Hotch, as he promised he would be able to do even with two miscreants.

However, even with a comforting hand, Hotch still sobbed. Dave knew that it was because he had been holding back, and needed to process a number of emotions and events, but he still felt like a jerk as he saw his surrogate son's back heaving for breaths as he cried. He gently replaced Hotch's boxers and flannels, which elicited harder crying for a moment- the kid's backside was undoubtedly hot, a crimson color that made Dave feel a little queasy, and even the soft material of Aaron's flannels seemed to greatly hurt.

Eventually, Dave watched Aaron try to stifle his crying; his eyes darting towards the clock made it clear that he was worried he took too much time. He made a move to stand soon after and, though Rossi would have preferred Hotch work through his emotions, it was clear that the younger man was going to devote no more energy to the act. Helping Hotch up, he pulled his protege into a tight hug- sooner than he would have preferred, his protege squirmed away, and pointedly looked at the clock.

"I think I'll just lay down now, thanks," he said, somewhat abruptly. Dave wasn't stupid- he knew this was the calm before the storm. It always had been with Aaron, and the older profiler would undoubtedly have to pull his surrogate son across his knee again far sooner than he'd like. It could be this weekend, but Hotch never did anything by halves, and he had a feeling he'd be learning how to juggle two kids when only one was in trouble that night.

"One-on-one kid, or did you forget?"

"Dave, can't I sleep? I'm not going to get into trouble sleeping," Aaron groaned.

"Sure you can sleep. On the couch, while I make dinner."

"But Seaver-"

"Aaron, plenty of people take naps on the couch. She's not going to suspect anything odd." He gently grasped Aaron's bicep and steered him out of the room.

"Dave I'm fine," Hotch said, sounding frustrated as he evaded his mentor's grip on his arm. Rossi let him, but made sure the younger man was leading the way to the kitchen so he couldn't get 'lost' in the house. Once they reached the kitchen, Dave nudged Aaron towards the couch in the adjacent room, thanking whoever designed this house with an open floor plan. He trailed his mentee, watching as Hotch gingerly laid down on his stomach. He quickly ruffled Hotch's hair after pulling a blanket over him, issuing a quiet command.

"Sleep, Aaron."

Hotch didn't need to be told twice, clearly exhausted he almost immediately fell asleep. Dave stayed for a moment, to make sure Hotch was truly asleep, before making his way to the kitchen. He had dinner to make for two kids.

-o-o-o-o-o-

It wasn't all that much later when Aaron woke up and realized Rossi's house smelled like chicken cacciatore, his favorite. He gingerly stood up from the couch, making sure his bottom didn't come into contact with any objects, and after a quick look around to make sure no one could see, snaked his hands back to rub some of the sting from his butt.

He took a moment to steady himself; he was SSA Hotchner, unit chief of the BAU, not Aaron, Rossi's protege and surrogate son. It was odd, because normally he was Aaron at his mentor's home; now, though, he had appearances to maintain- one of which was a strong, in control unit chief and not the sniveling mess that he turned into over his mentor's knee.

Thinking very dignified thoughts of adulthood, and decidedly not thinking about how much his ass hurt, Aaron made his way into the adjoining room. He had always been quiet on his feet, having learned the skill early in his childhood, and now he had a tendency to accidentally creep up on people. Even veteran FBI agents, apparently, as his mentor seemed too engrossed in his cooking to notice Aaron's sudden presence.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," Dave said; Aaron really should have expected that, given that he'd never once been able to sneak up on his mentor before. It was a game he invented as a rookie when he was bored in the office once, and since then he always saw it as a fun challenge, despite feeling like it was a little immature for him now.

"I woke up," he said, unintentionally hostile, then winced once he realized his tone, "sorry." Dave just waved off the apology, still focused on sauteing vegetables.

"You need more sleep," his mentor said. That had often been 'discussed' over the years; if Hotch's team said they thought he lived at the office now, they should have seen his early years at the BAU.

"So you've said," where was his sudden attitude coming from? If the look on Dave's face as he turned away from the stove to give Hotch a long, disproving look was any indication, he was also surprised at Aaron's demeanor. He silently hated himself as he once again was hit by the aroma of Rossi's cooking- his mentor was nice enough to make his favorite dinner, and still he was disrespectful?

"Do you want a repeat performance already?"

"No," he said quietly, looking down. Obviously not, his rear was still hurting from the first spanking, and he didn't think he could handle another highly emotional situation. He hadn't even been able to handle the first, having tamped off his emotions long before he had worked through all of them. He just didn't want to waste any more of Dave's time on him.

Then it dawned on him that they might not be alone, and he jerked his head up to make sure Seaver hadn't somehow woken up and found her way to the kitchen where she could have overheard the interaction and thinly veiled threat. He started to look around the room cautiously, but stopped when he heard the voice of his mentor.

"We're alone, Aaron. I'd never intentionally embarrass you like that." Hotch knew that was true; he was sure that there had been more than one occasion where his mentor wanted to haul him over his knee but had to wait because they were still in the presence of- or at least within the hearing range of- his team. "Can you cut the tomatoes?" His mentor rather abruptly changed topics, pushing a large bowl of tomatoes towards him. He was glad for the escape from conversation- if he was quiet, and he couldn't stick his foot in his mouth, at least. He was also glad that Dave had given him a task he could do standing up, his behind still hurting from their earlier 'conversation.'

So he threw himself into the task, putting far more concentration into cutting the tomatoes than strictly necessary.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Dave watched as Aaron diced tomatoes with the intensity of someone about to be judged by Emeril Lagasse. His earlier concern that Hotch had cut off his emotions earlier, thinking he was taking too much time, had only increased after the younger man woke up. It was unlike Hotch to have that sort of attitude so soon after a spanking; normally, he tried to behave for at least a couple of days.

He knew, just knew, that he'd end up pulling Aaron over his knee again sooner rather than later. Idly, he wondered what he had done wrong. Maybe he did the kid a disservice in letting him stifle his feelings once more, but what was he supposed to do? The punishment had already been over and done with, and he didn't think he could bear spanking more than he already had once Hotch had let go. Apparently, he'd misjudged and thought Aaron had had enough prematurely.

"Dave?" his protege asked, though Rossi barely registered that he was speaking through his mental castigation, though he made a humming sound of acknowledgement. Aaron took that as a sign to continue, "I'm fine, really." Dave, having dragged his attention from his own rumination to Hotch's words, snorted quietly in response.

"You're fine, Aaron? How many times have I heard that from you?" The kid had the good grace to duck his head sheepishly.

"It's true, though." At Dave's long, skeptical look, he sighed and amended his statement, "mostly true." He finished with the last of the tomatoes, handing off the cutting board to Rossi to add to the sauce simmering on the stove. "At any rate, you didn't do anything wrong, Dave, I promise." It was spoken so earnestly that Dave almost believed him, though he still regarded Aaron's claim of being 'fine' skeptically.

He couldn't shake the gut feeling he had about Aaron finding trouble, and soon. He had never met anyone who managed to inadvertently attract trouble the way his protege did- well, until he met Reid. And, despite how often he had since replayed the event in his head, he didn't know what he should have done differently in punishing his protege.

As he started to add the chicken back into the sauce on the stove, Aaron asked a question, raising a good point that Rossi didn't foresee. "How are you planning on doing one-on-one with two kids," he smirked, no doubt thinking he'd get out of the dreaded situation. It took only a moment for Rossi to think of the answer, giving his own smirk.

"Family bonding."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Yes, the next chapter will be shameless fluff, probably. That's my plan, at least- sometimes the characters practically write themselves, and Hotch has a tendency to be ornery :) My plan is to end this story on a fluffy note after this next chapter. I know I alluded to Hotch's unresolved feelings, and I intend on leaving it open for possible exploration in the future. Maybe at some point I'll write a fic about the weekend after this story takes place, with Hotch (and potentially Seaver) staying over at Rossi's.

The friend, Ness, that I briefly mentioned in this chapter is an OC who I properly introduced in my other Criminal Minds story "If you get lost."

Okay, pretty sure that's all from me for now! Let me know how you're liking this story if you're so inclined, and I'll see you soon. Until then…

-lms