"Grief drives men into habits of serious reflection, sharpens the understanding, and softens the heart."

John Adams

Chapter 6 – Unexpected Advances

Hotch woke up the next day tired and disoriented. For one absolutely heart rending moment, he thought he was back in Michael's bed, and then he saw Dave and was able to relax again.

"You okay?" His friend asked quietly a few moments later.

"I've had better nights," he admitted in a low voice.

He felt raw, both inside and outside. His throat still hurt, his head was pounding, and his stomach felt uneasy.

Oh yes, I'm just the epitome of good health right now, he thought sarcastically. Between this, the nightmares and my insomnia, I'm just fucking wonderful.

"Not much better than being hung over, huh," Dave said, giving him a sympathetic smile.

"Got a lot of experience with crying yourself to sleep, Dave?" Hotch asked, a touch more bitterly than he had planned.

"Not a lot, but enough to be memorable," Dave answered with a slight shrug that Hotch could feel from where he was still resting against his upper body.

He didn't know what to say to that. The whole conversation was making him uncomfortable. And if that wasn't bad enough—damn. He rolled over, trying to make it less obvious that he was sporting an erection while sharing a bed with one of his best male friends.

Fuck fuck fuck, he thought wildly.

"Problem, Hotch?" Dave had a knowing smile on his face, and Hotch thought he could easily punch him just for that.

"Nothing, just need to take a piss," he answered, lying straight through his teeth to one of the founders of the BAU. Not one of my smarter moves.

Dave seemed to consider his answer carefully, staring at him with an analyzing expression, before shaking his head and moving closer. Hotch barely dared breathe as Dave moved his body right up next to his.

There's absolutely no chance that he doesn't know, was his more than desperate thought.

"You're going to have a problem with that, I think," Dave pointed out, touching his calloused hand to his face gently.

"Dave, I—ah—I," he stammered uselessly, his eyes wide and unsure.

He felt Dave's hand move around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until their faces were less than a hand width apart.

"Dave, what—?" He tried again, only to be effectively cut off by the feel of his friend's lips settling down on his own.

Kissing Dave was nothing like having his mouth taken control of by Michael. Dave's facial hair tickled, but not unbearably so. It was a simple lip to lip experience, completely closed mouthed. As far as kisses went, it hardly could be considered exciting or daring, but somehow it was.

"Is this okay?" Dave whispered when he finally pulled away from Hotch's stunned face.

He nodded, not trusting his voice, let alone his brain, to say anything remotely intelligent at present. Dave smiled gently and then repeated the process, moving his fingers into Hotch's hair this time.

His lips were warm, warmer than the rest of him even, and they quite literally took his breath away. Hotch had little basis of comparison for the sensations coursing through his body now. Kissing Haley had been sweet and soft, but their kisses had never had the underlying current of electricity that he could feel with Dave.

And Michael, well there wasn't even any point in mentioning the difference between his kisses and Dave's. Michael had made him feel horrible just from being in his presence. His touch had done far worse things to Hotch's psyche altogether, making him feel as though his heart was being turned inside out every time he had felt the unsub's fingers on his skin.

But Dave was safe. He knew Dave wouldn't hurt him. More importantly, Dave wouldn't let him be hurt.

. . .

Hotch tentatively made his way into the kitchen where Dave was making breakfast. His hair was still wet from his shower, but thankfully his insistent erection was gone. He had gotten rid of it himself, not quite sure what this thing was between him and Dave was yet, and therefore not quite at ease at the idea of allowing his friend to touch him there.

And it's not as though Dave offered or anything, he thought with mild amusement.

"Waffles okay with you?" Dave asked upon seeing him.

"Sure," he answered with a small grin.

Breakfast with Dave was just breakfast. The other man didn't say anything smart about his shower, and he didn't offer any information either. With Haley, breakfast time had usually been full of painful guilt ridden silences as he prepared himself to go back to the job she hated. By the end of their marriage, he had given up on breakfast, and was usually out of the house before sunrise.

He blew on his coffee and looked over at Dave to see how the man was faring on his own meal. Dave tended to eat slower than anyone Hotch knew, but this morning they had somehow managed to eat at the same speed. His friend seemed relaxed, seemingly unconcerned about those electrifying nerve tingling kisses that they had engaged in earlier that morning.

Does that mean that they were just some kind of accident? Do I even care?

Funny thing was he did care. He had never felt that way before—regardless of gender—and the idea that it might be over before it had begun bothered him. Whatever "it" is, he silently added.

"You're worrying. Stop it," Dave said out of nowhere, not even bothering to look up from his coffee at him.

"Dave, I think we should talk," was his slowly spoken reply.

His friend looked up; warm eyes staring unthreateningly back at him.

"Come on then," Dave stood, offering his hand to Hotch. After a split second of indecision, he took it, not letting go until they were seated on the sofa, the next room over.

For a moment, they just sat and stared at one another. Dave seemed to be perfectly at ease with letting him make the first move, and as much as he appreciated that, he wasn't exactly sure where he should start.

Might as well go with the familiar.

"Dave, when you said you would have gladly hurt my father, did you mean it?"

"I did," his friend answered in a serious voice. "The bastard hurt you."

Dave wasn't asking him. He knew already.

"And that's not okay?" He responded with a teasing smile.

"It's not," Dave replied gruffly, reaching out and laying his hand on Hotch's shoulder. "How would you feel if someone hurt Jack?"

Hotch's lighthearted mood evaporated as those words sunk in.

"I'd take them down," he answered in a low voice. The memory of Foyet threatening his family popped into his mind and he shivered.

"Then you understand something of how I feel," Dave shrugged, looking at him thoughtfully. A moment later, the older man scooted closer to him and wrapped his arm around Hotch's shoulders.

He froze, not sure how he should react to that.

Dave's just a friend. This is him comforting you again.

But he wasn't just a friend—not anymore.

"Calm down," Dave whispered in his ear, his goatee tickling the side of his face. And remarkably, Hotch managed to do exactly that, leaning slightly into the other man's embrace as he did.

It wasn't at all the same thing as Michael telling him to "relax." That memory still gave him chills when he thought about it.

"I won't hurt you—I can't," was the next thing Dave added, his voice still soft. "I've been thinking about this for a long time."

"This?" Hotch got caught on that word.

"I want you to be happy, Hotch. Excuse me if this if this is too presumptuous for you," Dave smiled broader before continuing, "But I think I can help you with that."

He looked down at his hands which were still in his lap. They were clasped together, a clear sign that he was nervous. What exactly did Dave want from him? And why?

"Why would you want to?" Hotch asked, turning his dark eyes to look more closely at Dave's warm ones.

"I like you Hotch. I've always liked you," Dave let out a semi-exasperated sigh. "This conversation makes me feel like I'm thirteen all over again," he groused.

Dave likes me. The realization, however simply put, still made him blink.

"What do you want from me?"

"Nothing that you don't want also," Dave answered adamantly, moving his face closer to his own.

"What if I'm only comfortable with kissing?" He whispered, not entirely sure that he had said the words out loud until Dave reached out and laid his other hand on Hotch's cheek. Dave's hand was hot, even a touch sweaty, as though his friend was just as nervous about this as he was. Of all things, that put him most at ease about the entire scenario.

"Does that mean I can kiss you again?" Dave responded in a voice that was half whisper, half growl.

He wants me. It was an alluring thought, maybe even arousing.

Dave's lips touched his own once more and he surprised them both by kissing back. He felt his hands relax in time to reach out and grab the front of Dave's shirt with one and brace himself with the other.

"Is this okay?" Hotch was the one to ask when they stopped briefly a few heated moments later. Unconsciously, he found himself licking his lips, unaware that Dave's eye had caught on the motion and was watching with a mesmerized expression.

"Yes," Dave answered throatily before reaching in and kissing him again.

This time, Hotch relaxed a little bit more, opening his mouth and tentatively swiping at Dave's lips with his tongue. Dave let out a moan against his mouth and he soon felt the answering heat of his friend's tongue touching his own. Distantly, he felt Dave's hand burying itself in his hair, and he felt his body respond with fervor to the simple touch. Their tongues still flitting around one another, Hotch suddenly readjusted himself by moving up to straddle Dave's lap. In turn, the kiss deepened, and he found himself stroking the front of Dave's shirt with one hand, and holding on with dear life to the back of the couch with the other.

Their bodies were hot from being pressed chest to chest, and he could feel his groin beginning to wake up too. Not quite sure that he wanted it to progress that far, he finally made himself break up their kiss and look down into the face of the man who wanted him.

It was strange to think that both Dave and Michael had wanted him, but for completely different purposes. Michael wanted his body; Dave wanted him. More importantly, Dave knew what kind of man he was, good and bad, and yet he still wanted him.

"You like me," he whispered into Dave's face. "You want me."

Dave nodded energetically, reaching out and cupping his face gently as he did so. Hotch felt tears pinprick his eyes and abruptly found himself blinking hard.

"It's okay," Dave murmured, pulling him down into another embrace, letting Hotch rest his head on his shoulder. "I've got you, Hotch. That's right, let it out. Don't try to keep it in," he felt Dave's hand begin petting his head and back, and he whimpered softly as his emotions rolled over him threateningly.

"Even with what happened? Even with what Michael did?" He whispered out with difficulty into Dave's nearby ear.

"I still want you, yes," was Dave's rough response.

That's all it took to undo his final control, and suddenly Hotch found himself sobbing out loud on his friend's shoulder once more; the memories of pain and degradation flowing wildly through him as he did so.