A.N.- I originally wrote this a month ago (or longer,) but thought I should finish it and post it as a one-shot instead of a multi-chapter story. Then I noticed how many pages it already was, and how I had finished on what I think was a good break-point. And, well, I wanted an incentive to write the rest of this. I'm sad I only found CM after it ended, the team-as-family vibes of the show was everything I wanted and more. Anyways, I hope some folks out there still want to read about the misadventures of the BAU family- in particular I fell in love with Hotch, who I love as a leader but whose interactions with Rossi I always found to be interesting. And, well, I love to torture my favorite characters, as fanfiction authors do. So this is the first installment of this fic. Title from Phillip Phillip's song "Home."
Warning- will contain references to and the act of corporal punishment between consenting adults; there are also references to (and potentially flashbacks of) child abuse.
Disclaimer- I was looking through some of my old writing and saw I had once posted a "broke college student woohoo" disclaimer a while back. Fear not, for I am still broke, but hey I'm in grad school now! I own nothing, if that wasn't abundantly obvious.
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"There's nothing that makes you more insane than family. Or more happy, or more exasperated, or more secure."
-Jim Butcher
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Aaron Hotchner liked to think of himself as a rational man, which is why he had no idea what possessed him to behave the way he did on this last case. Based on the number of pointed looks Rossi had given him over the course of the investigation, he too was wondering what the hell Hotch was thinking. After they had apprehended the Unsub, the different team members were sent off to various tasks to wrap up the case, and so Hotch had managed to evade Rossi's censure for the moment. Not like it was making him feel any better; no, the guilt was eating at him and had been since the first reckless decision he had made on this case.
Despite that guilt, he proceeded to make several other reckless decisions; the final being when they finally apprehended the Unsub and Hotch decided that he should go talk the man down from inside the house, without a vest or weapon, completely ignoring any attempt at protests from his fellow BAU team members. Completely ignoring Rossi's attempts to get him to remain a safe distance from the hostage situation, really; while the others did voice their dissent with Hotch's choice to enter the house, he could feel somewhat justified in deciding to act the way he did. He was, afterall, Unit Chief, and sometimes he had to make unilateral executive decisions in the field. While technically Dave was his subordinate, the formal structure of leadership in the BAU didn't quite reflect matters outside the office. Dave followed his lead, yes, but truly most times they saw each other more as equals, and knew the rest of the team tended to view them that way as well. That, however, never stopped David Rossi from stepping in when he thought Hotch needed a… he was loath to call it a 'grown up's influence,' but he wasn't quite able to voice what it was in other terms. But Dave had been the one to recruit him to the BAU after they worked a case together in Seattle, impressed with the young man's potential as a profiler and a leader. He took on Hotch's training as his responsibility within the BAU, and Hotch had always looked up to him- despite their technical pecking order, that had never changed. He took on Hotch as his responsibility, really; a fact that sometimes the younger man fleetingly wished weren't true, though truly he never stopped being pleased, at the very least deep down, that Rossi actually cared about him.
Now, however, was one of the times where the thought of Rossi not being as involved in his life was appealing for a moment; he screwed up, and he knew he would have to answer to the older man. And he just really wasn't looking forward to that, because the look in Rossi's eye let him know in no uncertain terms exactly how he planned to discuss the matter with Hotch. Namely, with a hand to Hotch's backside. Or at least that was what that look meant in the past; Hotch had no idea if it meant the same thing now, and he was afraid to know the answer, afraid to learn that Rossi didn't care about his well being like he once used to, like that, a fact which Hotch supposed he should find relieving but instead made his chest constrict painfully.
Informal punishment wasn't standard in the FBI per se, but some agents employed the use of in-house discipline, preferring to keep transgressions off any formal record. It was best that way for all involved, really- the miscreant wouldn't have to worry about having a black mark on their record impeding their future chances within the Bureau, and the lack of formal reprimands gave the higher ups no excuse to scrutinize the team's cases, choices, and behavior. When Rossi had recruited Hotch to the BAU he took on the role of mentor, and part of that was addressing when Hotch messed up. He had given Hotch a choice the first time, between a formal reprimand or something less conventional that would keep Hotch out of any official trouble, making it clear that whatever Hotch chose then was going to be the case for the entirety of his tutelage (and beyond, though Hotch hadn't known it then.) He presented the choice to Hotch openly, and Hotch had chosen to accept Rossi's personal punishment over a professional slap on the wrist. He was hesitant, while he trusted Rossi he wasn't exactly sure that there was a difference between a beating and a spanking, but the goal-oriented young agent was reluctant to accumulate marks on his record that would impede his future chances at being a leader within the Bureau. The first time he had to submit himself to discipline was difficult, and the entire ordeal took too long because Aaron had freaked out about it, and Rossi spent a considerable amount of time trying to calm the young agent down. He eventually got more used to it, though- a good thing considering how often trouble seemed to find him during his early days working in the BAU (and if sometimes he seemed to lose all that progress in getting used to it, and returned to the scared young agent he had been the first time, he wasn't about to admit that.)
But then he had 'grown up,' Rossi had retired, and while the man had made it clear that Hotch's life was still his business, things were very different once they had stopped working together every day. Hotch got away with far more, for starters, without his mentor there to monitor his smaller blunders. In the beginning, the new leeway he found himself with made him panic and spin out, and Jason Gideon (of all people, Gideon) was the one who had to rein him in. But slowly he had gotten used to it, and as he progressed through the ranks he found himself in trouble less frequently.
And then Rossi had come back, and Hotch seemed to throw sensibility out the window. If he stopped to profile himself, he'd be able to identify the complex mixture of emotions that he had been bombarded with this last case- Rossi's second case back, because somehow Hotch managed to keep it together through the man's first case back. There was uncertainty- would their dynamic be the same as it was, or was Hotch forever free of Rossi's censure? He felt like he should be elated at the chance that he'd never again be disciplined by the older agent, but in reality that thought made him feel nearly ill for reasons that eluded him. There was shame, because he was feeling wrong, damn it, he shouldn't want to still be subject to his mentor's discipline. There was confusion, because he had no idea why he felt that way, and it was mildly distressing. And, above all else, there was fear- fear that Rossi wouldn't give a damn anymore and fear that the only positive father figure he had had in his life would suddenly abandon that role, leaving Hotch alone and without anyone to answer to when he spun out.
If he had stopped to profile himself, he'd be able to identify those emotions and his inability to process them as the cause of his reckless actions on the last case; actions that would have gotten him in trouble with Rossi, in the past. He'd be able to figure out that he had been pushing Rossi subconsciously with his poor decision making skills, trying to see if the other man would still care in the way he used to. It appears like he very well might, if all the looks Rossi had given Hotch over the past 72 hours were indicative of the man's feelings towards the younger man's behavior as of late, but Roosi hadn't said anything yet- the only proof Hotch really had were the looks Rossi had given him, he wasn't pulled aside or reprimanded (and he conveniently chose to forget the look Rossi had that suggested the older profiler wanted nothing more than to berate him multiple times during the last case.) So really, he didn't know if things would be similar between the two men, and then he did increasingly more stupid things, subconsiously testing the boundary and then, not finding it, panicking to restore it. Now, they were about to head home, and Hotch was pulled out of his reverie by the alarm on his phone alerting him to the fact that he had to finish packing fast, because the team was leaving for the jet soon. Shakily, he forced himself to pack, trying incredibly hard to not think about what was going to happen when he saw Rossi on the plane. What would the older man say, what would he do?
The answer turned out to be nothing, apparently. He wasn't chilly towards Hotch, but the warm affection that used to dictate most of their interactions wasn't present; even if their relationship was the same as years ago, Hotch mused, he wouldn't be getting warm affection, not after what he pulled. He glanced over to Hotch more than once, which Hotch noticed in addition to noticing that the man seemed like he wanted to say something, but couldn't decide if he should. That made Hotch nervous, too. The fear that he had lost the only decent relationship approaching paternal in his life made him furtively sneak glances at Rossi, who was so deep in thought he didn't notice. The younger man wrung his hands, not sure what to do with himself- the rest of the team, barring himself and Rossi, were asleep, yet his anxiety kept him awake.
Then it was his turn to be so deep in thought about his anxieties that he didn't notice Rossi approaching him, or even sitting down across from him. Hotch actually jumped, embarrassingly enough, when Rossi had quietly cleared his throat to get his attention. The startle response probably kicked off the chain reaction, Hotch would think later. His anxiety multiplied, exponentially, and he fought to hold onto his emotions he really did, but he was confused about what he felt and that confusion was making him anxious, even agitated, and he didn't know what Rossi was planning to say nor did he know what he wanted Rossi to say. All he knew is that there was no room in his head to entertain the notion that Rossi would still care about him the same way, and instead many worst-case scenarios rapidly assaulted his psyche.
He sort of felt his fingers digging into his arm as he hugged himself, but it felt far away, and the sounds of the jet felt far away as a ringing in his ears was obscuring other sounds. He felt his face start to get tingly, though he wasn't quite sure why until he registered Rossi's presence in front of him, crouched in front of him, palms out, trying to be nonthreatening and Hotch realized that he was breathing erratically. He wanted to run to the bathroom, to hide. He didn't want to face his fear, which had taken root in his psyche rapidly, degrading his confidence in himself. He felt like he was spiralling, sort of, this entire last case, not sure why exactly he was choosing to behave in the way he did, feeling helpless to his emotions. Those anxieties were all compounding, but Hotch couldn't identify one anxiety from the other, only that the feeling was vast and swallowing.
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David Rossi didn't know what to do, something that was a rarity for the normally self-assured man. But Hotch, the kid he brought on to the BAU, the kid he mentored, was now a unit chief- a unit chief whose behavior was concerningly reckless this last case, and he needed to address the kid's behavior with him. Because technicalities about rank be damned, he still cared about Aaron the same way he did when he first brought him on, and watching Hotch spin out on this last case gave him a decade's worth of grey hairs. The younger man was hurting- Rossi had an inkling as to why, though Hotch would likely rather eat the case report that lay in front of him than admit those reasons. But those feelings were causing him to endanger his life, something that would never be acceptable to Rossi; he thought the kid knew that- he damn well should have after the number of conversations about it the pair had during Hotch's early days in the unit. He just didn't know when to address it, because they were constantly being pulled in different directions this case, and after each hectic day everyone retired to get what little sleep they could manage, so he ended up having to wait until they were on the plane.
He waited until the other members of his team fell asleep, not wanting Hotch to shut down because he felt subjected to the stares of his teammates, not wanting Hotch to feel like he had to be the strong, always in control unit chief because his teammates could see him. It took a little while, and Rossi found himself impatiently waiting for the team to drift off- he didn't think Aaron knew he could feel his small, nervous glances, and he doubted the kid knew that his face was contorted into a grimace that screamed guilt and fear. His body language betrayed his anxiety, hands wringing almost painfully. Finally, finally, the rest of the team nodded off and Dave was able to make his way over to Hotch, who seemed deep in thought. Or, based on the amount of trembling in Hotch's tense frame, deep into some spiral of panicked thoughts. When he cleared his throat, the kid just about jumped ten feet into the air. And then, he did what (in retrospect) Rossi really should have been able to predict, and started hyperventilating, eyes glassy with a far away look. He had wrapped his arms around himself, his fingers looking like they were digging into his arms painfully, though he gave no indication of feeling his body at all.
Rossi knew that Hotch liked to put on a brave face for the others, wearing an impenetrable mask that belied his emotions, making him seem detached and aloof. Dave had always been able to see right through that mask, and now was no different. His kid- because he was willing to admit that's how important Hotch was to him- was hurting. Right now he was painfully panicking, and Rossi knew Aaron would be beyond embarrassed if anyone was to wake up and see but he was willing to risk that to comfort the kid, his kid. He abandoned his seat across from Hotch and instead sat directly next to him, pushing up the armrest barrier between the two seats and gathering the younger man into his arms.
At first, Hotch didn't seem to react. Then, his entire body tensed and fear seemed to take over again. Dave held him through the worst of his emotions, and the next time Hotch became lucid enough to seem to register where he was, he looked a little guilty and embarrassed but refused to pull away, seeming like he wanted, needed, the comfort. And that itself spoke volumes in a concerning way, Hotch wasn't like that normally, trying to appear as reserved and distant as possible. It was to preemptively shield himself from hurt, but Rossi had spent years trying to help the younger man with his emotions, with accepting being loved, and he was normally able to cut through Hotch's defenses with an ease that impressed the younger man.
"Ready to talk?" He pitched his voice low, quiet, as though he was worried about spooking Hotch because, well, he was worried about spooking Hotch. He felt more than saw Hotch's nod, and remembered how he used to require a verbal answer; the kid looked miserable, and Rossi felt like a monster, but Aaron had to know that the rules hadn't changed, that he still had a place in Rossi's life. The older profiler had correctly deduced what was happening very shortly into the case, and following his gut on that, he swallowed down a little bit of self loathing and he hardened his voice and looked at Hotch sternly, though the way they were sitting Hotch couldn't directly view his face. "Verbal answers, son," he reminded Hotch, whose cheeks heated immediately as he mumbled an affirmative. Deciding not to press the matter further, Dave stayed silent as he waited for Hotch to say what was on his mind.
Finally, he spoke, voice uncharacteristically small, "I'm in trouble, aren't I," he stated, more than asked.
Rossi snorted, "You don't say. Now try to get some rest, and we'll talk more when we're not so exhausted, okay?" And Rossi's concern only increased as Hotch nodded and closed his eyes, not pulling away from Rossi's embrace in embarrassment like he typically would have, showing how much he needed the comfort, how much he was hurting. And really, now that Rossi was truly looking at the kid, he noticed how awful he seemed to look. Stressed, pale with dark circles under his eyes speaking to a lack of sleep, a body that Rossi always thought was too thin but seemed to be even more thin than he remembered, still trembling a little under the force of his anxiety. Objectively, he looked awful. He knew that Hotch had been under more pressure than normal, having no one to share a workload with after Jason Gideon's departure, and effectively was forced to do the job of two people. Rossi was getting bored in retirement, and a buddy of his who knew Hotch from his days as a BAU fledgling had called to update him and to alert him to Hotch's overworked, stressed condition. So he decided to come back, for more than one reason (though he couldn't deny that his main motivation was, in fact, to make sure Hotch didn't overwork himself to death.)
Aaron at first seemed happy enough, and then he seemed to lose his damn mind. Rossi sighed, minutely tightening his arms around Hotch as he remembered all the risks Hotch took with his life. He knew why the kid did it, but he'd be surprised if the kid was able to see it in himself. He was an impressive profiler, but it was always harder to profile one's own self. For now he contented himself with just holding Hotch steady, drifting off into a light sleep himself.
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The last thing Hotch meant to do was wake up anybody, and he thought he normally did a good job of making sure he stayed quiet in his sleep through nightmares and after he woke up. He didn't, however, expect to wake up Rossi with his movement alone, seeing as he was still ensconced in his mentor's arms, to his embarrassment- he didn't remember falling asleep like that, though as soon as he gasped awake and looked at his surroundings it all came rushing back to him and he shoved himself away from Dave, shoving his back against the corner the seat made with the wall of the plane and surveying his teammates to make sure none of them caught the moment with his guard down. Against his better judgement he wanted to pull his feet up onto the seat with him, letting him hide behind his knees for a moment, but instead settled for propping his elbows on his knees and dropping his face into his hands, staring intently at the ground. So intently, in fact, that he missed Rossi's own awakening until a warm weight settled between his shoulder blades, letting him know the older man was there if he wanted to talk. He very much didn't, but didn't shake off the comforting hand as he struggled to get his emotions under control.
Eventually Hotch had calmed down enough that he removed his face from his hands, sneaking a glance at Rossi who looked… concerned? Sad? Some mix thereof? The older man quirked an eyebrow, inviting Hotch to share, though Hotch quickly shook his head and redirected his gaze to the floor. He couldn't tell Dave about his latest nightmare, and not even because he thought it would make him look weak. No, it would make him look guilty, which wasn't really incorrect he supposed, all things considered- his nightmare included Reid doing the same thing he had done in the hostage situation. Rossi very likely felt that way watching Hotch go into that house, though once again Hotch wasn't sure if the older man actually cared about him the way he once did. Probably not, truthfully, because usually the older man would have reprimanded him with a sharp word, and maybe a few swats, after the first bad choice he made.
And then he just… escalated, he supposed there was no other accurate way to describe it. Devolved, maybe, he thought wryly. Each step of the case he managed to find something to do that would have ordinarily caught Rossi's attention, and when that didn't work, he had upped the stakes until finally going into the hostage situation sans gun and vest- something which he had actually done previously, and he remembered Rossi's reaction to it quite well. And, well, he needed to see if Rossi would react the same way, or if Hotch was alone. The thought of being alone made him want to spin out farther, but he decided to not verbally antagonize his mentor- former mentor, he thought bitterly- on the plane, preferring to keep his overly curious and nosey teammates, all with backgrounds in Psychology, from analyzing his every move. He twisted his hands together, sneaking a look at Rossi again, who seemed slightly amused by the way Aaron was behaving in that moment. Not that he actually found Hotch's behavior amusing, because the look he had when Hotch had exited the house with the cuffed Unsub definitely was not one of mirth, so Hotch had no idea what the older man was smiling about. Maybe he was lost in his own thoughts, same as Hotch.
Rossi looked like he wanted to say something, but was withholding actually saying it, and that made Hotch nervous as well. Really, he was just nervous overall, he supposed as he continued to sneak glances at Rossi again, resolutely refusing to even try sleeping on the plane again lest he be hit with another nightmare in front of his mentor- former mentor, he corrected himself mentally- and team. Hotch was normally okay with handling his own anxieties, but for some reason that skill was eluding him at the moment, and he was frustrated and getting angry at himself. He briefly entertained the thought of just getting up and leaving, moving to some other seat, but he wasn't sure what Rossi thought of him in that moment and as much as he would have preferred not to care for the opinion of his mentor- former mentor- he knew he still cared about the older man's opinion and approval, and moving away felt… disrespectful in a way Hotch wasn't quite sure how to explain.
So he settled for remaining where he was, but couldn't bring himself to meet Rossi's eyes or engage with the older man in any way. He ruefully thought that Rossi probably preferred it that way over having to engage with Hotch, who knew he messed up, and was now starting to spin out in anxiety. It was a scene that occured countless times before, before Hotch had become unit chief, before he needed to be so self-reliant and strong. In the past, Rossi would have… well, really, in the past they didn't have the jet, and Rossi would claim an SUV for himself and Hotch before patiently waiting for, and sometimes impatiently needling, the younger man into spilling his feelings on the long ride back from wherever they were to Quantico. Usually, Hotch was in trouble, and he knew he was in trouble for the entire trek, and could expect for the ride to end at the Quantico office, briefly, before resuming in Rossi's car on the way back to the man's house. And then, Hotch thought with chagrin, pausing again before resuming within the house, though typically at that point the conversation also involved Rossi's hand and Hotch's ass. He didn't know what was happening now, didn't know what would happen once they got back to Quantico, and was both expecting and fearing that they'd land and then team would all split their separate ways, Hotch going back to his apartment, empty, devoid of the life present in the home he had shared with Jack and Haley before she had decided that Hotch was never home, never there for her and Jack, and up and left.
Once again, he snuck a glance at Rossi, worrying his lower lip between his teeth in this unfamiliar, and uncomfortable, situation.
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Rossi's heart clenched painfully watching Hotch's face contort with every emotion that assaulted him, and he wanted nothing more than to hug his protege, but refrained given their public location and his knowledge of Hotch's uncomfortability in emotional situations. The man had even pressed his back into a corner, meaning Rossi couldn't even settle a hand between his shoulders at a comforting 'I'm here for you' gesture. Though he figured Hotch was doing that intentionally subconsciously, trying so hard to be the big, brave unit chief that he thought he was required to be at all times, despite looking like he wanted nothing more than to curl up and cry, or at the very least freak out. He noticed all the furtive glances Hotch sent him as well, could so easily see the anxiety in the kid- his kid's- eyes. He knew that Hotch had been pushing this last case, trying to test the boundaries, to see if there even were still boundaries. Rossi hadn't pulled the younger man aside, as much as he wanted to, since Hotch was unit chief now after all and Rossi wasn't quite sure how to navigate that either. With every reckless choice on this case, though, Rossi found his palm itching to connect with the younger man's backside, and now on the plane watching Hotch's anxiety, he knew that ignoring the younger man's poor behavior had been the wrong choice. Hotch was clearly spiralling, drowning in his own panic, and Rossi had a suspicion that Hotch's panic was a result of his own lack of action, was a response to not having old rules reinforced.
Looking at the kid for another minute, he cleared his throat softly (again startling a deep-in-thought Hotch, and yeah, Rossi thought that the kid's lack of situational awareness was alarming, especially considering their occupation) and pitched his voice low, getting the kid's attention. "Aaron," he said softly, waiting for Hotch's eyes to meet his before continuing, "When we land, we are going back to the office to finish paperwork. Once you are done with your paperwork, come find me in my office. You'll be staying with me tonight, I think," he gave Hotch his sentence, and levelled a look that made it clear that he wasn't merely suggesting. Hotch shifted a little, looking away from Rossi, and nodding his assent quietly. This time, Rossi didn't bother pushing for a verbal answer. He knew the kid was about to have a hard enough time as is, and perhaps he should have been more consistent with the kid but he couldn't bring himself to be a hardass- not right then, at least. The time for that would come later, because he knew Hotch well enough to know that the younger man was going to push, to panic. He wouldn't make it easy, but Rossi didn't care, prepared to spend as much time as needed soothing Hotch's frayed nerves and taking care of the kid through his panic at the entire ordeal. Hell, he would have hardly been surprised if Hotch would react to Rossi's censure the way he had originally, so very many years ago. He smiled softly at Hotch, though the younger man was looking away and likely couldn't see it, as the plane began its descent.
Once they were on the ground, the team split up- the ones who drove straight to the hangar left straight from the plane, leaving those who had carpooled from the office to split into the remaining SUVs. Reid and Morgan shared a SUV, and he and Hotch shared the other. Rossi drove despite Hotch's token protests that were quieted with a stern look, which betrayed the man's state of mind. It spoke to how exhausted Hotch must have been that he actually dozed off on the way back to the office, though Rossi supposed having not slept well on the plane (and, more than likely, during the entire case) was a suitable explanation; he did give Hotch a quick once-over and the kid didn't look sick, at least, just exhausted from the weight of his responsibilities. Rossi, at least, could help with that.
The ride back to the office wasn't insubstantial, especially given that they had managed to hit rush hour traffic, and so Hotch was able to sleep a little longer which Rossi was thankful for. He clearly needed it. Pulling into the garage, he gently rested a hand on Hotch's shoulder, shaking softly to wake the younger man up. Hotch woke up instantly, bolting upright and body imperceptibly trembling, looking around in a panic. Once again, Rossi pitched his voice low, "We're at the office," he said by way of explanation, though Hotch was likely able to deduce that if he looked at his surroundings, "we're both going to go to the BAU, to our offices, to finish the paperwork from this case. Once you're done with the report, meet me in my office." Rossi left it at that, deciding for now not to mention that the corner had Hotch's name on it, wanting to prolong the wait for that fight until the others weren't in the building any longer, not wanting Hotch to have to worry about containing his reactions and preserving his image as the always-in-control unit chief. The kid looked like he was going to break, and Rossi wanted him to be able to do so- not because he particularly liked to see his kid look so broken, but because the kid looked like he needed a good cry, though Dave knew Aaron would never admit that to himself, and would likely fight the feeling the entire way. Some things just never changed.
After Rossi's declaration of the night's agenda, Hotch looked like he wanted to fight- Rossi caught the look for what it was and levelled an unimpressed stare at the younger man, who had the good sense to flush and mumble out "yes, sir." Nodding in approval, the two men exited the vehicle and pulled their go-bags from the back of the SUV before making their way back to their offices and starting on their reports, which were admittedly long. Rossi knew that Hotch, always efficient at paperwork, would finish first. It was what he was counting on, as part of his plan. His plan, which was half-formed on the plane as he watched Hotch's body language, and half formed in the field every time the younger man did something so incredibly reckless. He was very clearly spinning out, spiralling, waiting for Rossi to catch him. And Rossi would- he always would, though he had a feeling that would end up being the last of Hotch's desires very soon, as soon as the idea of consequences turned from theoretical into literal. Rossi ended up writing his report more slowly than even he anticipated, half-distracted with thoughts of the kid.
Soon enough, Hotch knocked on his door frame before entering and taking a seat in one of the chairs across from Rossi, fidgeting as he waited for his mentor to finish the sentence he was working on and more than likely wondering how an author could write so slowly. Rossi glanced up as his protege took a seat, then returned to the sentence he was working on; it would do them no favors if Rossi shirked his duties as a member of the team. It only took a minute to finish the line, though from Hotch's face, Rossi suspected it might have been one of the longest minutes of his lifetime; he internally chuckled, knowing how the kid felt. He set down his pen and looked up at Hotch, wanting to make sure he was really doing the right thing by the kid. Hotch's posture, slightly hunched like he was trying to hide, at least a little, reminded Rossi of the young agent he first took under his wing, and his fidgeting spoke volumes about his nervousness. Hotch had, perhaps unknowingly, fallen back on a routine once familiar to the two men; Rossi would bet that the routine would be considered too familiar by Hotch, who had a penchant for trouble as a young agent. If Hotch was already falling into the routine, Rossi figured that he was indeed doing the right thing. He stood up and ambled over to his doorway, looking out into the empty bullpen before deeming the building vacated enough, closing the door, and drawing the blinds shut. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hotch's fidgeting only seemed to increase as he returned to his desk and fixed Hotch with a long stare that made the younger man look down, continuing to wring his hands.
"Alright, kid," he finally said, watching as Hotch quickly jerked his head up in surprise- a sure sign that he was caught in his own thoughts, thoughts that Rossi would help him sort through later, "Do you want to tell me what the hell this has been about?"
Hotch opened his mouth but seemed to be unable to find the words, so he closed his mouth, closed his eyes, and looked deep in thought for a moment before opening his eyes once more; his eyes held the same glint they did years ago, when Hotch was trying to push him. Rossi had known this was a more than likely possibility, though, and waited for the kid to pick his battles.
A memory long lost to Hotch bubbled back to the surface, he could hear his father's angry voice overlaid with Rossi's, "What the hell has this been about," and he could anticipate the pain he knew would be coming to him at the hands of a man who was supposed to love him, care about him, protect him.
Hotch was lost in a particularly vivid flashback, and Rossi could do nothing but watch as old terror swept over Hotch as the younger man looked around the room in a panic and let his limbic system dictate his next move.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Here you have it folks, my attempt at dusting off the old title of "fanfiction writer-" I hope someone out there likes it! Please review, let me know what you think and what you'd like to see. Please refrain from flaming (is that even a term people still use?)
-lms