Chapter Text
The phone rings again. With a groan, Violet wrenches it out of the receiver and towards her ear.
She doesn’t bother looking at the number on the display, just sets down her laptop and gets right into it.
“Mr Jennings, I told you I’d handle the divorce proceedings. I’d do it much quicker if you didn’t call so late at night.”
God, she’s going to kill her boss for giving this client the home number.
There’s a half-laugh down the line. “I think it’s a bit early for a divorce, sweetheart. You know I’d support you if that’s what you wanted. But we’d have to get married first.”
She knows that voice well. It’s warm, soft, one saved for her and Jack alone.
Violet feels a smile tug at her lips. “Aaron?”
“I’m afraid so,” he says, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
He knows he hasn’t just as well as she does. Glancing between the document blaring out at her from the laptop screen and the clock on the mantelpiece, she sighs.
“No, you’re alright,” she stops, stifling a yawn. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. Jack loved his bedtime story tonight.”
“He likes that book because you bought it for him.”
Settling further into the couch, Violet tucks her legs under her. If she closes her eyes and listens, she can almost convince herself he’s here with her. “Yeah, well. No one does the voices like you do.”
It’s been years since she stumbled into loving him. Violet knows every little inflection in his voice, every raise of an eyebrow, every laugh. She knows the tight smile he forces for his team after a case, the small, reverent one he reserves for her, and the toothy grin that his son draws from him.
But somehow – profiler or not – Aaron still manages to surprise Violet by knowing these things about her, too.
He must hear the longing note in her voice, because his softens even further. “We’re on the jet now. A couple hours and I’ll be home.”
“Alright. I’ll see you soon, Aaron.”
He hums. “Block that guy’s number, won’t you? You need your sleep, Violet.”
“Coming from you, Hotchner, that’s rich.”
Violet tries to put some false bite into her tone, but she’s tired enough that the grin on her face seeps into her words.
“That’s an order, Vi.”
She can’t argue with that. “Understood, sir.”
Then he hangs up.
Violet falls asleep with the phone in her hand and Aaron’s name on her lips.
***
It’s a distinct sound, and one Violet’s come to treasure. It’s a scratching, subtle at first, and then louder, the grinding of metal on metal and then a subtle click that brings him back to her – back to them.
She hears it now, and it wakes her. Her muscles complain as she leaps from the couch and towards the front door, but she does so anyway, and barely feels the pain.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Aaron says, and that little smile she’s so fond of finds its way onto his lips. He’s taken off his tie by now, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up past his elbows. He looks as handsome as ever, but his eyes – Violet knows these eyes, the ones haunted by dark circles. He’s tired beyond belief.
She links her arms around his neck and draws him close. Their lips brush, and then she feels his head buried in the crook of her neck, his mouth moving against her skin and his voice vibrating in what she interprets as an ‘I missed you.’
Another kiss to her lips, and then Aaron sets down his go-bag. He guides her back towards the couch with one arm around her waist, looking down at her with warm eyes that crinkle at the corners.
“Bad day?” Violet mutters. She feels the back of her knees hit the cushions and falls back. He follows suit and she curls herself into his side, right where she belongs.
There it is: the Hotchner frown she’s come to know. “Better now I’m home,” he says, pecking her lips again, “With you.”
“And with your son. He’ll be so happy,” Violet tells him. She doesn’t know why she bothers when he already knows, but she supposes it’s nice for Aaron to have his son’s love for him reinforced. Maybe he needs it.
“He’s yours too, Vi. Maybe he isn’t your son, but he is your boy.”
If moisture pools in her eyes, that’s none of his business. “Speaking of Jack…I think you should talk to him.”
Aaron’s brows draw together. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“Not exactly,” says Violet, shrugging her shoulders against his chest. “I think maybe one of the boys at school has been making fun of him. Broke his lunchbox. And…I think they said some things. The fear of you being ashamed of him is starting to get to him.”
Aaron blinks, then launches at her a fusilade of questions.
“What? What are their names? How didn’t I know about this?”
Violet rushes to correct herself. “It’s not anything you’ve done. Nothing, actually. You’re his hero, Aaron. But I think some kids get jealous of that. They make him feel like he doesn’t deserve you. And they couldn’t be more wrong.”
“No, they couldn’t. I know I’m not around enough, but I could never be ashamed of him—”
This time, Violet hits him. Lightly, a tap on his chest where she’s laying there, but she hits him. “Aaron. Of course you couldn’t. It’s nothing to do with you. You’re an incredible father. You help him with soccer practice and read him stories, even if you aren’t here with us. You go to school meetings whenever you can. You buy him ice cream and teach him what it means to be good. You’re a good father, Aaron. And those kids are jealous.”
“A good father knows when his son’s being bullied–”
Violet scoffs at him, then soothes over the hurt on his face with a light kiss to his jawline. “I’m sorry. I just– you’re the best father I know. And I need you to realise that, Aar.”
One more kiss to your lips, then one on your forehead. “Thank you,” Aarons says. “I’m going to fix this. I am.”
She smiles, straining her neck to look up at him from her position against his chest. “I know. You have a knack for fixing things.”
A silence. Then Violet feels Aaron nod against the crown of her head. “Speaking of fixing things…did you block Jennings’ number yet?”
Violet’s preparing herself to perform a good-natured eye roll when a small voice speaks from just outside the hall.
“Daddy?”
Aaron bolts up, and Violet follows suit. Jack stands in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. Clearly, he knows the sound of the key in the lock just as well as Violet does. When he realises that he’s right, he stumbles towards the couch and launches himself into his father’s arms.
Aaron holds his son close, strokes the back of his hair. “Hi, buddy,” he mumbles, but the sound is muffled. Jack rambles about his day, grinning into his father’s shirt, and Violet watches the two of them with a fond smile.
“Can we watch the rest of the movie?” Jack says eventually, looking past his Dad to Violet.
She makes brief eye contact with Aaron, who turns to raise an eyebrow at her. What harm will humouring him do? Violet sets up the DVD player again, and though there are no blankets and no popcorn, she and Jack are much better off for having Aaron there, lying between them.
When the credits roll, Aaron carries a long-since-asleep Jack to bed, tucking his comforter in around him and kissing his forehead. Violet observes the two from the doorway. When Aaron comes back towards her, she leans in to kiss his cheek and leads him towards their shared bedroom.
Aaron resists, though he looks as if he’s about to collapse. “Not yet. You go ahead. I have something I need to do.”
For a second, Violet pauses to study him. Then she lets herself smile again. “See? I told you you were a good Dad. C’mon. I know where he’s put it.”
Together, they retreat from Jack’s bedroom and root through the kitchen cupboards for Jack’s lunchbox and some superglue. Violet realises, as they undertake the delicate operation, that there’s nothing she’d rather be doing.
She doesn’t dislike Haley, not by any means. But she can’t help but think that – if she ever does get to marry Aaron – that divorce has become an abstract concept, an impossible thing.