A.N.- Here's the actual final installment of "Sibling Rivalry." Thank you to anyone who came on this journey; I had a blast writing in this 'verse, and I don't see myself stopping anytime soon.

I know I said this was going to be a short chapter like the last, but Hotch attracts angst like a magnet.

Warnings: spanking, corner

He wanted to start a conversation to relieve the silence, but instead watched curiously as Aaron excused himself to go get something trivial from the kitchen- he did realize he was going to have to sit back down with the chance that Ashley would notice this time, right? And- as Hotch barely tried to conceal his wince when he sat before giving Seaver a conspiratorial grin- he realized that was his protege's intention all along. Ashley's eyes grew wide, and another small smile from Hotch was all the confirmation she needed. She shot him back a grin too, and Dave nearly groaned as he realized the two were likely to, at some point, raise hell.

How did anyone manage with two kids?

-o-o-o-o-o-

Hotch had been nervous to show Seaver he 'knew the feeling,' so to speak, but after the conspiratorial moment they shared, the tension melted and conversation resumed. Besides, at least now he didn't have to try and conceal his shifting around in his seat, which was a literal pain. Every so often one of them would catch the other's grimace or shift around, and they'd grin at each other. It was… nice, and he found the look of horror on Dave's face as he realized he now had conspiring children amusing. The atmosphere grew lighter, though the wine might have helped that more than his admission to the cadet.

It was a pleasant evening, all things considered. Which is why he was alarmed when, after clearing the table, his mentor instructed Seaver to go pick a movie for the three of them to watch, and then walked in the direction of Aaron's room, assuming correctly that his protege would follow. He racked his mind for what he had done wrong, but he couldn't think of any. That was bad, too; Hotch felt a small alarm as he trailed his mentor. It was a panic he had felt more than once during his days as the BAU rookie; it had taken a few years before he was able to trust that his mentor would never discipline him without a reason, and without explaining it to him first.

However, like the rest of his insecurities about his continued place in Dave's life that he thought had been (mostly) laid to rest years ago, this fear flared as well, and by the time they reached his bedroom, Aaron was incredibly tense. They entered the room, and he looked at his mentor, silently asking for instruction- he didn't want to risk doing anything else wrong. Dave looked at him for a moment, carefully, before he seemed to realize what Aaron was thinking.

"You're not in any trouble, Aaron," he declared, and while Hotch registered the words, he was still on edge, muscles tense as though he was ready to bolt at any moment. His mentor seemed to sense this, too, as he made his body language incredibly open, palms facing outwards. Like they're taught to do when approaching victims, and Aaron was flooded with embarrassment over needing this kind of caution, again and again. Clearly, he was unable to learn, and that thought kicked off a series of other bad thoughts.

Like the memory of his father, who used to love to combine harsh words with his unyielding belt. He frequently told Hotch that he was stupid and incapable of learning, and if he were able to learn, maybe he would be a better boy and require less punishment. It didn't matter how good Aaron was, though, he was never good enough to stop his father's beatings. He heard Rossi's voice, and struggled to hear his mentor over the demons haunting him. Slowly, he pulled himself out of the near-full flashback. He blinked, a little owlishly, as he reoriented himself to his surroundings.

Then, realizing what had just happened, he groaned and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed before dropping his head into his hands.

"Been a while since you've had one of those," Dave said as he sat next to him, being careful not to touch. Aaron appreciated it, he was still jumpy from the flashback, his skin still crawling.

"Yeah," he said, tone belying his self-condemnation.

"Wanna tell me what triggered it?" He asked, and Aaron knew that despite it being phrased as a question, it was a command.

"No," he said, "But when has that ever stopped you?" While the words sounded almost teasing, there was no levity in his tone.

"True. So, again," his mentor said, "What happened?"

"I thought I was in trouble," Hotch shrugged, "But I couldn't figure out any reason why I would be. And I think that, after today, my brain got stuck in the same place it was when I was a rookie." He didn't want to elaborate, and he knew he didn't have to- Dave would get what he was referring to. His mentor looked puzzled for a few seconds, putting the pieces together; soon enough, the older profiler made a sound of understanding.

"Sorry, Aaron-" he started before Aaron looked at him skeptically and cut him off.

"If anything, I should be the one apologizing for freaking out over nothing," he said, and then yelped as Dave popped his thigh once. It didn't actually hurt, Dave hadn't put much force behind it at all- it was just surprising. And, while he'd never admit it out loud, it helped quiet his nerves.

"Unless you want a more drawn out version of that, stop apologising for having emotions. You're human, Aaron, emotions are part of the ride," he paused for a moment, thinking, "And don't cut me off like that."

"Sorry about that," Hotch said, an arm snaking upwards to rub at his neck in one of his nervous tells. He figured Rossi would accept that apology, considering he was actually rude towards his mentor, though he had no reason to be. His head was all jumbled, though, half in the present day and half in the 90s, and he sort of knew his place in Dave's life but maybe not really?

Dave wrapped an arm around his protege's shoulders, and Hotch practically felt his mentor's eyebrows skyrocket as he leaned into the contact. As a rule, Hotch tended to avoid physical contact. There were times he welcomed it, like after a spanking, but even then he started to feel very awkward very quickly. There were too many limbs involved, which sounded absurd, but seriously- what was one supposed to do with their arms when another person hugged them? Hug back, he supposed, but that still felt exceedingly awkward. Generally speaking, though, this meant that a litmus test of Hotch's inner turmoil was whether or not he welcomed touch- typically, the only time he did that wasn't immediately following a spanking was when he felt truly and completely terrible. So he understood why his mentor's concern ticked up a notch as he welcomed the half-hug.

Tentatively, so tentatively, Dave shifted to pull Hotch closer to him in a proper embrace, and Hotch let him. Gathered close to his mentor, he felt safe, as absurd as that sounded (he was a grown man, for god's sake.) That feeling of safety proved to be his undoing, as the emotions he had tamped down on previously came flooding to the surface; with the emotions came the rest of his tears as well, and he clung to Rossi as he cried himself out properly this time. His mentor held him close, murmuring words in a low, soft tone, though Aaron couldn't make out the words over the sound of his own ragged breaths.

All too soon, he reminded himself of the time, and the fact that Seaver was waiting for the two men to return. Once again, he tried to stifle the flow of tears, tried to push the emotions back into the mental lockbox that he ordinarily kept them jailed in. He sat up, resisting the urge to fidget as Rossi looked at him, seeming like he was searching for something, though what exactly, Hotch didn't know.

"Aaron, we're not going back downstairs until you stop trying to repress your emotions."

"I'm not trying to repress my emotions," Hotch argued, purely on principle considering that he was, in fact, doing that exact act. Dave clearly saw through his argument, though, he realized as he found himself over his mentor's lap that day. Again. He didn't even struggle or protest this time, it was going to happen regardless and he knew that. It had been a long day.

"Don't lie to me, Aaron," his mentor chided gently, landing a flurry of swats to his rear. Still, he forced himself to remain stoic. He could outlast his mentor. A moment later, he realized that he was foolish for having ever thought that would work. He should have just been thankful he still had his pants on, really.

"But… time…" Aaron said through clenched teeth, and immediately realized that he had all but outright confessed, and hadn't been truthful to his mentor about it.

"The time doesn't matter, Aaron," his mentor said as he continued swatting; on top of the other spanking he had received, it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to remain stoic.

"You matter," his mentor continued, and it was those words that proved to be his undoing as he gave in to the jumbled mess of feelings inside himself and sobbed, resigned to his position over Rossi's lap. He didn't know when, but at some point he realized that Dave was no longer spanking him but was, instead, rubbing circles on his back.

He tried to stop his sobbing, wanting the ordeal to be over with, but his mentor made a disapproving noise. "Aaron," he said in warning; their 'conversation' minutes had been a warning, but Hotch had never done anything by halves. Once again, he felt a stinging across his rear and the sound of the swats filled the room for the… technically fourth time that day, and realizing that made his self-loathing increase slightly. He took too much time, and effort; clearly, he was incapable of learning from Dave's discipline.

"Sorry," he gasped, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Aaron, just let go." Truly, he didn't even know why he was fighting it so hard; all he knew was that he couldn't bring himself to stop. So instead of giving into the tears just below the surface, he clenched his fists tight so that his fingernails dug into his palms. It was a different pain to focus on, a reprieve from the emotions.

Dave stopped for a moment, which confused Aaron, until he received the quiet order to put his hands behind his back; the older man had apparently caught on to his distraction technique. However, Aaron did not like the directive issued by his mentor- it felt too restraining. He tensed and made to stand up, but his mentor's hand on his back kept him in position.

"No, Dave, please," he gasped, slightly panicked, and gradually relaxed as his mentor rubbed circles onto his back. Once he was breathing relatively stably, he continued, "It makes me feel restrained and… I just can't, Dave," he pleaded, and resisted the urge to keep begging, waiting anxiously to see if this was it- if this was the last act of disobedience Rossi could tolerate, the straw that broke the camel's back and prompted the older man to leave, to give up on him. In a much quieter voice he added, "I'm sorry." Once again, his distress was met with Rossi's soothing nature as the older man waited until his panic died down,

"Alright, then hands open and palms face down on the bed, and don't move them from that position." Hotch could have cried in relief; that was something he could do, and he reached in front of him, resting his open palms downwards towards the bed. Only a moment later, he found himself once again on the receiving end of Rossi's hard swats.

"Stop holding back, Aaron," his mentor said emphatically, "Just. Let. Yourself. Feel." The last few words were punctuated with particularly hard swats that almost had him crying out.

He didn't want his mentor to have to keep spanking him, and he didn't want to keep being swatted. He also didn't want to disobey the older man any longer; the sooner he got it over with, the quicker they could return to the living room. That was his primary motive, really, but he found that as hard as he tried, he couldn't open the floodgates his emotions were locked behind.

"I can't," he cried out, "I'm sorry, I'm trying, I promise, but I can't." He was near hysterical, but still not crying. If anything, he was increasingly annoyed at himself for failing at the one thing his mentor was asking of him. Once again, he felt Rossi's gentle hand on his back as he regained some of his composure; the man seemed to be deep in thought.

"Do you trust me, Aaron?" He asked rather suddenly.

"What kind of question is that Dave, of course I trust you!" His vocal tone, however, was nearly sardonic. His mentor didn't seem too impressed with his tone, either, if the hard swat to the thigh said anything about it. "I wasn't lying!" he protested.

"I know," his mentor said simply, and Hotch found his irritation rising.

"Then what?"

"Do you trust me?" he asked again.

"Yes," he spoke the truth quietly but sincerely.

"Corner, then," Dave said, helping his protege up off his lap and into the corner. He stayed there with him for a minute, probably trying to see how emotionally compromised Aaron was. Hotch guessed he passed whatever criteria Rossi was monitoring, because the older man then departed the corner, saying "I'll be right back- don't move."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Well, this night was not going as planned, and it wasn't near over yet. Fortunately, he had found his opening to leave Hotch be for a moment and go check on his other troublemaker in the living room. He also needed to be creative with a solution for Hotch, and fast. The younger man's emotions were cycling so rapidly that Dave knew his protege would feel like absolute crap the next day. They'd take a half-day tomorrow, he decided.

First, though, he checked on Ashley. She looked up at him as she heard his approach, and then furrowed her brow in confusion, asking "Where's Hotch?"

"We needed to take care of something case related," he said, still wanting to be discreet, though Hotch's openness at the table had been shocking and, once again, a moment where Rossi was exceptionally proud of his surrogate son. "Still do, really," he continued, "I just wanted to give you the heads up. Have you picked a movie yet?" he asked. At her shrug and small head shake he said, "You go do that, we'll be back soon."

With that settled, he was left to think about what he was going to do with Hotch, and fast. Whatever he was doing clearly wasn't enough for Hotch to fully let go, and he had committed himself to seeing this through as soon as he told his protege that they wouldn't stop until he stopped restraining his emotions. He didn't want to use the physical pain of a spanking to push the younger man over the edge; that felt cruel, especially considering Aaron's background. So then what would get through to the other profiler?

An idea slowly formed in his mind, and the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like an appropriate route to get Hotch to truly let go. He knew that what he was planning would be hard for Hotch, and he felt like an ass for it, but the younger man was going to remain feeling unstable until they saw this though. Strengthening his resolve, he stopped by his study on the way back to his protege's room. He also, having realized how bad his mentee's knuckles looked when he had the man lay his hands down flat, stopped to grab a bandage as well.

Hotch jumped a little at the sound of the door, betraying how truly on-edge he was in that moment. Still, he remained in the corner. Going to the desk in the room, Dave set down the pad of paper he had grabbed and scribbled a statement at the top, then sat down on the bed and called Aaron over.

"So, here's how it's gonna go," he started. "You need to let go of that iron grip you have on your emotions, kiddo," the gentleness in his tone, he hoped, would make Hotch less twitchy. "It's gonna hurt you if you don't, and I really don't like standing by and watching my people get hurt," he continued, and Aaron sucked in a shaky breath. "And I'm not going to spank you until you can't stop crying, because that's practically abuse," and he watched as his surrogate son relaxed minutely, "So, I came up with another plan."

Standing back up, he guided his surrogate son towards the desk in the room, and indicated he should sit. Hotch's eyes pleaded with him, knowing that sitting would be unpleasant, but Dave held firm and after a moment, the younger profiler acquiesced. Squeezing his shoulder gently, Dave indicated the pad of paper on the desk.

"I want you to copy that," he said, "I think fifty times would be a good start." He hoped he wasn't over or underestimating his prediction of Hotch's response to the task. "We're going back to how this started today," he explained, "because I'm not sure it ever got through to you."

"I'll be over on the bed," he said, though didn't make to move until Aaron had written down the statement a few times. It didn't take long for him to notice the tell-tale signs of the task affecting Hotch, who had to stop every few minutes to grimace and flex his hands. He truly hoped that this would push the younger man into realizing that his place in Dave's life wasn't provisional, and he could take all the time he needed to cry himself out without having to worry about Dave thinking he was a burden or an inconvenience.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Leave it to Dave to find a task that would shake him so deeply; he wasn't sure what he expected would happen when Dave came back to the room, but it certainly wasn't this. Generally, he knew his mentor thought that writing lines was a waste of time- if he had Hotch write anything, it was typically a self-reflection about why he did whatever he had done, and how he was going to avoid it in the future. His mentor claimed that it was a more productive activity. Therefore, when Dave sat him down and told him he'd be writing lines, he knew that whatever his mentor had planned would be memorable.

He just wasn't expecting it to be so painful. There was a reason why he wasn't a big fan of emotionally charged situations, and a large part of that dislike stemmed from the fact that they were often physically painful; overwhelming emotions typically manifested in somatic pain and, occasionally, queasiness.

It was thoroughly unpleasant.

Dave's prescribed activity for him evoked that pain response; after the fifth time he had to shake out his hand from idiopathic, and possibly imaginary, pain he started to wonder if he would have preferred a spanking. Shifting around on the hard desk chair as he continued to feel his earlier punishment, Hotch was increasingly convinced his mentor was a sadist. He said as much, though his mentor's silence conveyed his lack of amusement, and he continued with the tedious task.

About halfway through, he started to feel his tenuous hold on his emotions break as the statement his mentor was forcing him to write stared at him, inescapable.

I am a valuable and irreplaceable member of this family.

By the 40th time copying the statement, he couldn't stop the tears coming to his eyes and by the last time he copied the statement, he was silently weeping. He tried to stop, and found that he couldn't- an unsettling realization for the normally composed man.

He didn't alert his mentor as to his completion of the activity, but merely sat and wept, exhausted. It didn't take long for his mentor to realize he had stopped writing and drift over to where the pad of paper was, some of the sentences smudged or had words blotted out from his falling tears. He didn't comment about the state of the assignment, however, after it had achieved its purpose. His mentor gently tugged him up and into a hug that Hotch practically fell into, still sobbing. He could have sworn he heard his mentor grumble that he was too light, but everything felt far away. Rossi held him, a hand at the nape of his neck tucking his head under his mentor's chin, and they stood like that for a while.

After a few moments. Hotch tried again to prematurely regain his composure. However, his mentor seemed to take notice of it, and again warned "Aaron" in a low tone. The younger profiler had barely started to pull himself together, and his mentor's warning tone was enough to force his precarious hold over his emotions to loosen. It was then that he truly gave up, resigned to the fact that he'd have to experience his emotional turmoil fully. At least he knew that Rossi would hold him safe until he had cried himself out, and with that he gave himself permission to weep.

The intensity of his sobs shook his body; he had bottled up more than just the last case- in all his effort to help his teammates after hard cases, he had shoved his own feelings to the back of his mind, and now all those feelings were returning with incredible force. When he stopped crying, that time, it was because he was out of tears and not because he thought they were out of time, because he truthfully didn't know how much time had elapsed. Eventually, he was composed enough to pull away, and felt his mentor's concerned look.

"How are you feeling?" his mentor asked, and he groaned.

"Like hell," was his truthful answer- his face felt stuffy from crying, his eyes were itchy, and he overall felt exhausted. Idly, he realized that work would be awful tomorrow since the physical exhaustion he associated with fully experiencing emotions would linger for at least the next day.

His mentor procured a bottle of water from somewhere and handed it to him, his instructions to drink were unnecessary as Hotch realized how thirsty his crying episode had left him; within seconds, he had drained the entire bottle.

"Hand," he said, holding out his own and Hotch didn't argue as he let his mentor examine the bruised limb. He stayed still and waited patiently for Dave to deftly wrap it with an ace bandage to prevent further swelling, wincing as even small movements signalled his body's displeasure. Finally, his wrist was properly wrapped and he gratefully accepted a new bottle of water and some NSAID painkillers.

"You wanna get cleaned up and then meet us downstairs?" Rossi asked, and Hotch was glad that the older profiler was willing to give him the space and time to collect himself before he rejoined the 'family bonding' activities. Once Dave left the room, Aaron set about trying to restore his emotional integrity.

His skin still felt weirdly crawly, and he stretched trying to relieve the tension from his muscles. He went to wash his face, removing any traces of tears and then changed into another pair of flannel sleep pants. As was often the case when he felt emotionally raw, he pulled on an old FBI sweatshirt of Dave's that he had 'borrowed' years ago and never returned; the old grey fabric was both incredibly soft and absurdly comforting. Finally feeling better, he made his way to the living room, where his surrogate father and new 'sister' were.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Agent Rossi and Hotch had gone off a while ago after the older man had given her instructions to pick a movie for them to watch together; Dave checked up on her once, but the two men were gone for a pretty long time. It was just as well, considering she was having a hard time picking a movie. Not for lack of choices- Rossi had an expansive DVD collection, she had learned- but because she couldn't find one movie out of the hundreds the veteran profiler owned that she wanted to watch in that moment. None of the popular franchises like Star Wars, Fast and Furious, or Terminator, or any other appealed to her, she didn't really want to watch a slasher, and she wondered why Rossi owned so many rom-coms (not that she wanted to watch any of those, either.)

While she was searching for a movie, though, she happened upon what she thought would be a much better activity. Cards were better than a movie, you could talk while playing cards. It wouldn't just be sitting quietly, squirming because her behind still hurt a surprising amount. They wouldn't accidentally happen upon a scene too close to a case they worked in the past, putting haunted looks on their faces. Plus, she wanted to test her theory about Rossi's poker face.

When Rossi reappeared again, it was still sans Hotch, and she couldn't help but worry a little bit about the unit chief. They had all had long days, and to have to still be working on the case after it concluded for everyone else seemed exhausting. She was about to inquire as to Hotch's presence but Dave, having anticipated her question, spoke before she could even ask.

"He's alright, just finishing something up and then he'll be back down. Did you pick a movie?"

"Uhh," she said, wishing she had followed instructions better. While she didn't want to watch a movie, Agent Rossi seemed a little tired and she felt bad for subjecting him to more of her not listening to him.

"I thought I told you to pick a movie," he asked, though not impatiently. Instead, his tone was warm and patient.

"You did," she sounded small, and hoped he wouldn't mind her change of plans. "I just… I found cards while I was looking for a movie and I thought it might be fun." She laughed a little, nervously, "I wanted to see if my theory about your poker face is true." Shaking his head fondly, Rossi sat down next to her and indicated that she should deal first hand, telling her that Hotch was finishing up some work really quickly before he rejoined them.

It took Aaron a little while to appear, and she could have sworn his eyes looked more red than they did at dinner. He was shifting around in his seat more too, maybe, and she had the inkling that the BAU unit chief hadn't been finishing up a case report when he disappeared upstairs with Agent Rossi. She wasn't going to bring attention to it, though; it didn't impede his ability to play cards, clearly, considering he was kicking her butt at poker. She never claimed to have a good poker face, and she found the two men gently teasing her about it every time it was particularly obvious. Agent Rossi was right, too- he had a good poker face, and was really just a giant softie when it came to his 'kids.' Seaver felt the remainder of the stress from the last case slowly drain from her body as she relaxed into the admittedly domestic scene.

Too soon for her liking, she felt her eyes start to droop- glancing at the clock, she realized it was way too early in the night for her to feel that tired. After the third time she had fallen asleep sitting up, Rossi chuckled.

"I think it's bedtime, kiddo," he said to her gently after they had finished another round of poker, ignoring her whines of protest. She didn't want to leave the safety of being surrounded by company, and she wasn't looking forward to the likely return of her earlier nightmares. He tried nudging her up, but she refused to stand; he didn't look particularly impressed with her tactic, and before she knew it, he had picked her up off the ground and set her on her feet. She glared at him, and was rewarded with a swat to her behind. Instinctively, her eyes darted to Hotch, who was reading the back of the card box. She appreciated that he at least pretended he wasn't witness to her getting smacked like an errant child, though she supposed he had been where she was on more than one occasion.

Rossi wrapped an arm around her shoulders, starting to propel her out of the room. Still she was dragging her feet out of the room when Agent Rossi stopped, spun her around, and looked at her carefully. She didn't know what she was expecting- would he tell her off for not listening or behaving well? Her slight frame trembled slightly as Rossi critically looked at her, and what must have been only a few seconds felt to her like hours. Finally, the older man looked over her head at Hotch, asking some silent question, before he seemed to come to a conclusion.

"I think we're going to switch the room you're sleeping in," he said gently, "to one closer to my bedroom and Hotch's," he continued to explain as he guided her out the door, calling over his shoulder "You too Aaron, bed," and, a moment later, "Don't roll your eyes at me." Rossi didn't make a big deal of it, though, and the two headed towards the room she had napped in earlier. It didn't take long for her to shove her study materials back into her bag, and once she had all her belongings, he led her to a different part of the house.

-o-o-o-o-o-

As Dave approached where Hotch's room was, he mumbled under his breath "Aaron, you better have followed instructions or so help me god." His voice was too quiet for his youngest charge to pick out any of his words, though, as he led her to where she'd be sleeping. Now that he didn't have to worry about total discretion in his disciplinary methods, it would be easier to have them all sleep in the general same location of the mansion; plus, Ashley's nightmare before concerned him- having her sleep closer to his bedroom meant that, should she have another, there was a far better likelihood of him noticing and therefore he might actually get to her before she woke naturally from the terror. His kids were prone to nightmares, so sue him for trying to be close by to help if they needed.

As he led Seaver to the room he was pretty sure he'd be calling 'Ashley's room' from here on out, he pointed out various doors to closets, his room, and Aaron's room before steering her into another guest room.

"Go brush your teeth," he instructed her, "I'll be back in a moment." Leaving her to it, he made his way to his own bedroom, stopping to poke his head into Aaron's room to see if his protege needed anything. Once the younger man assured him he was fine, Dave told him that he'd be by soon to say goodnight before continuing to his bedroom.

It was starting to get a little cold, and he was worried that his old t-shirt and sweats he had given the cadet earlier weren't enough to keep her warm. Going to the back of his closet, he pulled out a well-worn sweatshirt, not unlike the one Aaron was wearing, though this one was navy with white lettering and Hotch's was grey with navy lettering. Seaver would look like she was swimming in the oversized garment, but he knew that it would keep her warm and. Hopefully, she would also find it comforting- the veteran profiler had noticed that his protege typically wore his old sweatshirt when he was feeling emotionally raw. He also grabbed two pairs of thick, warm socks, because it was getting cold out, and he was worried that both his too-thin kids would get chilled.

Dave knocked when he got back to Ashley's room, entering when she indicated it was okay to do so. He handed her the socks first, then the sweatshirt, which she donned immediately. Though she had napped earlier that evening, she still looked exhausted and he ushered her into bed, pulling back the covers for her then sitting on the edge of the bed. Smoothing back some blonde strands that had escaped her ponytail, the two sat silently for a moment. He wasn't sure what to say, the enormity of the choice he made that night setting in as he smiled indulgently at his newest charge. A big decision, yes, and it would certainly change things- but it felt innately right, and he knew he wouldn't regret opening his family to the cadet.

He realized that, as it turned out, he didn't need to worry about saying anything- the young agent's eyes started fluttering shut as soon as her head hit the pillow. Watching her fall into a peaceful sleep, with no nightmares (yet, at least,) he leaned over to press a gentle kiss to her forehead and whispered a 'good night.'

Quietly, he rose from the bed and switched on a nightlight, then headed back into the hallway, gently pulling the door shut behind him. He was on his way to Aaron's room when an idea hit him; circling back to the kitchen, he made two mugs of a favored herbal tea blend. Hotch hadn't been displaying his typical tired mannerisms, which meant that despite his obvious sleep deficit he likely wasn't feeling very tired yet.

His suspicion proved to be correct as he knocked on Hotch's bedroom door and waited for the younger man to open the door for him given that his hands were occupied with mugs. Hotch's eyebrow raised curiously, and Dave handed him one of the mugs in his hand.

"Go on, into bed," he urged. Aaron rolled his eyes but complied; still, Dave wasn't a big fan of all the eye rolling that night, "If you weren't holding a mug with hot contents I would have smacked you there," he warned. Hotch set his mug down on the nightstand as he climbed into the bed and sat up against the headboard and Dave, carrying his own mug, sat on the edge of the bed.

Dave privately thought that it was adorably endearing to see his kids wearing too-big clothing that used to belong to him, before being repurposed as comfort items. The domesticity of the evening was accentuated by it; his too miscreants squirming at the dinner table in 'dad's' old clothing. A warm content settled deep into his bones as he thought about the two younger agents. Yeah, those were his kids, alright.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Hotch frequently hated that, when it came to Rossi, he often felt like a child- and an errant child, at that. As much as he loathed to admit it, however, there were times where he couldn't be bothered to be annoyed by it and instead just accepted the feeling of safety and security that came from an overprotective mentor. This was especially true after trying days, and his day certainly classified as such. It had been long, he had been spanked like four times, and he cried an embarrassing number of times as well; he was ready for the day to end, but his brain wouldn't shut down quite yet.

Rossi pressed a mug into his hands, having picked it up from the bedside table, and gave Hotch a quiet order to drink. Aaron, for his part, sipped at the proffered tea, recognizing immediately the chamomile mint blend that was one of Dave's go-tos when Hotch couldn't sleep. He appreciated the not-so-subtle gesture, though, as his body hurt from tiredness yet his mind was too alert to succumb to sleep. He also would begrudgingly admit that it felt nice that his mentor was spending time with him after the day they had, assuring Aaron through his actions that he wasn't angry, annoyed, or any other negative emotion that Hotch feared his mentor would feel towards him.

He didn't bother to speak, never one to mind the quiet, as he steadily sipped at his tea. The quiet combined with the warm beverage calmed his nervous system, and he felt like he was being lulled into sleep as he finished the last bit of his tea. Before he knew it, he was laying down in bed- on his stomach, of course- and Dave had shut off the lights before taking his perch on the side of the bed once more. He smoothed Aaron's hair back and mumbled words of goodnight, and Hotch sleepily reciprocated the message as he fought to stay awake long enough to ask about something that had been bothering him for half the night.

"Dave?" he mumbled, stirring slightly.

"Yeah?" the older man asked, stopping on his trajectory to the door to look at this protege.

"Earlier, before I freaked out?" Hotch stated, voice nearly slurred with exhaustion.

"Mmhmm?"

"Why did you want to talk to me then, anyways?" His mentor paused, likely thinking, before the older man chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess we never did get to that," he said, and Aaron waited patiently for him to continue. His mentor made his way back over to the bed once more and sat down on the side of it, speaking quietly. "Downstairs, letting Seaver know, that was… it was big, Aaron- I know how embarrassing you find it and how concerned you were with discretion. I'm proud of you, son," he concluded as Hotch was hit with a tidal wave of feelings for the umpteenth time that night.

He couldn't help the small whine at the back of his throat as he turned and pressed his face into the pillow, neck burning in embarrassment. A warm hand gently squeezed the back of his neck as he heard his mentor chuckle quietly.

"We'll work on it," he promised, and the implication that he'd be staying around for a long while wasn't lost on Aaron, "now sleep."

"Not tired," he argued, though the yawn that immediately followed that statement would have suggested otherwise.

"Uh huh," his mentor said, looking unconvinced as he stood up, "sleep, Aaron," he commanded quietly as he made his way out the door. Hotch had every intention of obeying his mentor, he just needed to send a quick text or two first…

-o-o-o-o-o-

Dave's day had been more eventful than he would have ever anticipated; once he made sure his two wards were ready for sleep he poured himself a scotch as a nightcap. He had only taken a sip, though, before the ringing of his cell commanded his attention. The caller ID said that it was his old friend from the Academy, Ness, calling; this too was surprising.

He picked up the phone, slightly alarmed- while the two talked often now about anything and everything, there was a period where they almost never talked barring emergencies. Not because of any falling out, but simply the ebb and flow of the very busy lives of two FBI agents.

"Is everything okay?" he asked as soon as he picked up, worried that one of Ness's family got themselves hurt.

"Geez, Dave, breathe. Everything and everyone is fine. Can't I just talk to an old friend?"

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, "I think I might have gotten my brain a little stuck in the 1990s when Aaron's did." Then he realized how odd that likely sounded, "nevermind, it's been a night; long story."

"Since when have I not had time for those?" she asked in her southern drawl, "Besides, I hear I have a new niece?" Dave groaned, he should have guessed that Ness had ulterior motives to the call. Namely, she was constantly nagging him to visit with Aaron, and now that there was a new 'family' member, he was practically obligated to.

"I know, I know," he said, "You want to meet her, and we don't visit you nearly as often as we should. I've heard it before, Ness."

"What's with the tone, Dave?"

"Sorry," he said reflexively, feeling very sorry for Mads anytime she was in trouble- Ness was effective at scolding, that was for sure, "I told you, it's been a night."

"So I heard, and I'm waiting to hear the details," she warned. Ness could be scary when she wanted, and any time there were 'family' happenings, she was particularly aggressive in her efforts to elucidate the story from Dave.

"Calm down," he stressed the second word, "I was gonna call you anyways, later tonight, to tell you."

"To tell me about my new niece, or to tell me what's troubling you about Aaron?"

"Both," he said, "I could use a friend. I guess Aaron texted Mads that she has a new cousin?" Maddy, Ness's protege, and Aaron were close friends; way back when, everyone used to tell the two that they should date. However, she felt too much like family for Aaron to ever date, and Mads seemed resolutely disinterested in any romantic endeavours- her choice. There were stretches of time where they'd text each other constantly, and Dave and Ness would worry that they were planning something; sometimes, what they were planning was nice, like Ness's birthday celebration. More often than not, though, their plans involved poorly thought through hijinks that landed them both in trouble, like that time with the Gnome. It had taken considerable effort to untangle their miscreants from that one.

"Yes, and I'm assuming she's part of your hard night?"

"I should go confiscate his phone," he mumbled, mostly to himself, before addressing his friend's question, "She's worth it. They're worth it," he said, almost defensively.

"Never said they weren't, Dave. You're a little on edge tonight."

"Ugh, sorry," he said, apologizing yet again, "I don't mean to keep biting your head off." After a moment, he groaned, adding, "How does anyone manage with two kids?" His friend's chuckle was heard over the line, and he could tell Ness was waiting for him to elaborate. Somewhat wearily, he started recounting the events of that night. By the time he was done, Ness let out a long, low, whistle.

"I know."

"So, what're you going to do?" He wasn't sure exactly which part of the story prompted that question, but regardless of her actual question, his answer was the same.

"Keep loving them. And learn to parent two kids, I guess."

-o-o-o-o-o-

A.N.- I wasn't planning to write Hotch angst, but when there's a will, there's a way. I conceptualize Hotch as generally uncomfortable with emotions, especially when he's the one emoting. Sometimes, people who find their own feelings puzzling will have a somatic manifestation of those feelings, such as psychosomatic pain. Because I'm incapable of not hurting Hotch, this seemed a great idea.

For anyone wondering who the hell Ness and Co. are, they're OCs introduced in "If you get lost." Ness is an old friend of Dave's from the FBI Academy, and Mads is her surrogate child; Ness was the one who prompted Dave to try this particular flavor of discipline with Hotch over a decade before this story takes place.

The logical continuation of this story is the subsequent half-day of work and the subsequent 'family bonding' weekend; in all honesty, I'll probably start writing that very soon, but I wanted to end this story here and so any continuation will be its own new story. Thanks for coming on this journey with me! Until next time…

-lms