Your fingers twisted in your dark jeans as the SUV left the airport and the surroundings started to become more familiar.

You were back.

You had finally turned eighteen, gotten two jobs and a college scholarship, and moved to Virginia—only to be brought right back to the town you grew up in.

"You okay there?"

Your head jerked up to meet Morgan's eyes; he was looking at you with concern.

You flashed a tight smile, forcibly relaxing your fist and nodding.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just nervous. I used to live here."

Derek grinned, putting an arm around your shoulders in the confinement of the car. "Heyyy, you should be excited! This is great, I didn't know you lived here. Got any hot sisters?"

That actually did make you smile, though it was small and vanished quickly.

"None for you, Morgan."

"Really, cuz I thought you mentioned you had at least one sister, and as long as we're here I might as well meet her. Y'know, my sisters never let me meet any of their friends, and..."

You tuned him out, smiling and nodding at intervals to make it seem like you were paying attention. At least Reid knew you were faking, and you were pretty sure Hotch did too—even though he was driving—but Morgan was too caught up in his story to realize, and they didn't mention it.

You glanced up at the rear-view mirror, briefly meeting Hotch's eyes, and he raised his eyebrows, as though asking if you were alright; he always could tell when you were lying, even when you weren't saying anything.

You grimaced, shrugging at him in the mirror and turning away to look at the mirror.

It didn't matter that much, not enough to bother Hotchner with. You were part of the BAU, and you were on a case, so you would just have to push your issues aside or deal with them yourself.

You could do that. Right?

—

That mindset worked well for about a week, and you were so close to closing the case and finding the unsub when it finally fell apart.

You were split into pairs, going house to house to try and scope if any of the owners matched your profile. You knew they lived in this neighborhood, so it was only a matter of time before you found them and could go back to Quantico.

You were with SSA Hotchner, a situation that wasn't great for your already tingling nerves.

Why was he so attractive?

But you had managed to get past that thought and coherently do your job—after all, you did it every day when you showed up to work and his unfairly handsome face was there.

Your facade was starting to crack again when you made your way down the street however. Number 1312. 1315.

1317.

Your hands were shaking as you followed Hotch up the familiar concrete steps, making your FBI i.d. flutter against your leg.

When you drew level with Hotch, his finger was hovering over the doorbell. It faltered as he noticed you though, pausing and turning.

"Are you alright?"

"Hmm?" You turned, chin raising slightly to meet his gaze. "Uhh, ye-"

He raised one eyebrow. You sighed.

"Okay no. This is my family's house. We were never really...on good terms."

He nodded, expression indiscernible (although it was pretty much always that way).

"Do you need to take a step back?"

Do you need me to handle this?

You sighed, forcing a smile and shaking your head.

"Nah. I'll be fine, this is my job. Plus, they might still be the killers," you joked.

Hotch could tell your smile was fake, strained, and that you were nervous, but he let it go. If it did get out of hand he would make you take a step back.

He pressed the doorbell.

There was a tense ten seconds before the door was opened by a young brunette woman with blue eyes. They flitted to Hotch and then you, widening.

"Y/n?"

You grimaced, nodding and letting Hotch take control of the conversation.

"I'm Agent Hotchner with the FBI, we'd like to ask the homeowner a few ques-"

"MOM! Y/n's home!"

Her head craned back as she yelled, and you winced as you felt Hotch still beside you. You could practically feel what was going through his mind.

"Maybe I should go," you muttered, sensing more than seeing him shake his head.

"We need you."

He was about to open his mouth and speak again when someone else pushed into the doorframe: a short, bleached blonde, pinched-face woman holding a feather duster.

"Y/n! You're here, and without any warning too. And who is that? You can't just bring men home without telling your father and I! Speaking of which, you haven't called in a year, I'm disappoin-"

"Mother."

Your cold tone stopped her from rambling on, though it was hard to hear through your gritted teeth.

"This is SSA Hotchner of the FBI, we're here investigating some murders. Would you happen to know anything?"

"The FBI?! What are you doing with the FBI? I never thought you'd catch one of those police types, you know your sister was always more-"

"He's not my boyfriend, mom, I'm in the FBI. Remember?"

There was a beat of silence, where you awkwardly fumed and Hotch stood there stiffly, as always. Why did this have to happen in front of him? Why him?

"Really? I never thought you had the brains for something like that, you were always more of an artsy type so-"

"Well you were wrong." Your teeth were grinding almost painfully against each other now, glare chilling the air around you. "I graduated top of my class, and—for your very inaccurate record—I suck at art. Sir," you turned to Hotch, who was looking more than annoyed by now. "I'm going to check in with Morgan and Reid."

You didn't wait for his confirmation or reply, spinning on your heel and stalking off to the car, pulling out your phone and dialing Morgan's number.

You heard the faintest, "Well I never, to speak to me like that," as you leaned against the car, but tuned it out, taking a deep breath as the phone rang.

—

You looked up as the door shut, seeing Hotch buckle his seatbelt and turn the key in the ignition without acknowledging you.

"Hotch, I-"

"Not now, agent."

You snapped your mouth shut, turning to look out the windshield and cringing.

That was definitely Hotch's pissed off voice.

—

The rest of the case went as smoothly as it could, you supposed.

JJ and Prentiss had stumbled upon the house with the killer, a young IT manager with an unfair ex-girlfriend and blood under his fingernails.

You spent the time leading up to the flight home avoiding Hotch, and being wary when you absolutely had to interact.

He had calmed down somewhat, but he hadn't spoken to you outside of necessity, and you were sure he was still royally ticked off.

He had a right to be though. You let emotions get the better of you in the field, on a dangerous search. Someone could've gotten hurt.

That's why it wasn't a great surprise when Hotch moved seats on the jet, sitting across from you once everyone else had fallen asleep.

"I'm not mad at you."

"I understand Hotch, I let my emotions take control and- what?"

"I'm not mad at you," he repeated, and you stared.

"But- I left an investigation- you were pissed...right?"

You were starting to doubt yourself. After all, Hotch was a hard guy to read, even for a profiler. But you were sure...

"I was mad," he responded, looking slightly amused at your antics. "But not at you. No one has the right to speak to one of my team like that, no matter their relationship."

You stared at him—you were doing that a lot today (not necessarily a bad thing though).

"I lost control, and my anger was expressed towards you because I was concerned."

There was a stretch of silence.

"Wait, los- lost control?"

"..."

"Bro, what's your in control face?"

He chuckled at that, a warm sound that made your stomach do flips. You were glad it was dark.

"...concerned? About me?"

He nodded, looking uncomfortable and flicking his gaze away.

"Y/n, you are one of the smartest people I know, and you're one of the best at your job. You are, however, not great at hiding your emotions. I saw your mother's words were getting to you and...yes, I was worried."

You started to feel pressure behind your eyes and blinked, voice hoarse when you spoke.

"The worst part is that you know me so well. She's supposed to know me, not my ridiculously attractive boss-man."

He laughed again, but you were too tired to care that you had just practically outed yourself as in love with him.

Your eyesight was blurry but you saw him stand and retake his seat next to you, putting an arm around your shoulders much like Morgan had that week ago.

"I know y/n. I know. But until you get that, we're here for you." He nodded his head around at the sleeping agents around them. "I'm here for you."

You sighed, promoting a hiccup, and rested your forehead against his shoulder.

"Thank you Hotch."

"Aaron."

You sighed again, breathing calming.

"Aaron."

There was a long beat of silence before,

"So you think I'm ridiculously attractive?"