Chapter Text
The team had always been like a family, a nice one, filled by love, respect and mutual assistance. In this family, Agent Hotchner saw himself like the father - Rossi being the cool uncle and JJ the godmother - of the five agents he was the boss of. So, when the team went to blow some steam off in a bar, Hotch used to stay seated with Rossi, keeping an eye on his “children”, the other on the ladies’ bags. Tonight, however, he would need a second head - or, at least, a third eye - since he couldn’t watch his team, their stuffs scattered on the bench seat AND bore a hole into you at the same time. Thank God for Rossi, who needed to watch over the team to gather teasing materials against them. Hotch could stare almost as much as he wanted to.
“Aaron.”
“Mmh?”
“Stop drooling all over the kid like that.”
Ok, maybe there was no thanks to give for Rossi’s presence, after all.
“‘m not drooling.” Why Hotch judges useful to dignify his friend’s comment with an answer, he doesn't know. He is not drooling all over you, far from it.
“Right, you’re just glaring at her like a madman, it’s ok. She won’t be freaked at all if she looks our way, no problem.”
There was no answer to give, Rossi’s right. Hotch is, indeed, furiously staring in your direction. But he has reasons to: you were at the bar, chatting with Detective Pascal, you even had let him buy you a drink. As in every family, children tend to tease each other all the time, yours is not an exception, and Hotch needs to know if his team has been correct or not. He needs to be sure, whatever is the answer.
When the new case had brought the BAU not further than Washington, it had been a relief, a small one, but a relief anyway. It was, thankfully, not as horrible as most of the others, and, therefore, the squad had been a tad less stressed than usual. Still professional, always, just... A little more playful before and after work? Hotch used to crack a little smile at his colleague’s antics, glad to see they were still able to find some fun in this rotten world. Not this time.
Upon arriving to Washington Police Department, your team had been welcomed by Detective Pascal, freshly transferred from Arizona. Hotch hated to admit it, but the man was tall, dark and handsome; he would be a liar pretending otherwise. And, since you had been all flustered to be introduced to him, all pink and smiling and avoiding his gaze, the unit chief hadn’t been the one to notice. The man had barely had time to bring you to a place to settle that everyone had pounced on you.
“This Detective Pascal seems very nice, doesn’t he, Y/N?” Prentiss had, at least, pretended to be someone respectable. Not like Morgan.
“Aw, come on, Prentiss, I think Y/N would rather say ‘edible’ than ‘nice’“. This usually is where Read sets foot in the dish.
“This is normal, you know, 40.6 percent of the young women likes having a partner older than them. And the ‘daddy kink’ is somewhat so usual it’s not always considered a fetish anymore.” Here, done. Great. JJ had put a gentle hand on your shoulder, so it was safe to assume she wouldn’t make any comment. Rest Dave.
“Alright, kids, let’s get to it, so Y/N can spend more time with Detective Pascal under better circumstances.” Round done. Hotch could have said something to interrupt, it wasn’t the desire he lacked, but the teasing would have simply gotten worse. So, he had stayed silent, patiently waiting to put his team back on track.
“Please. Let’s focus on-” A gentle knock on the door interrupted the unit chief and Detective Pascal entered the room, a coffee pot in hand.
“Hi, sorry to interrupt, I just came to offer you some coffee and to make sure you guys had everything you needed.” From then, Hotch had been conflicted. On the one hand, the Detective was... Very nice. Helpful, respectful, polite, agreeable with everyone. If all the police officers Agent Hotchner has to work with were half as nice as Pascal, Aaron would be a happy man. On the other hand, Detective Pascal was downright chivalrous with you. He would come in the conference room every few hours with a new coffee pot, serving your mug out first. He had fetch a pillow out of God knows where, giving it to you after seeing you rubbing your sore back. Going to the crime scene, he had offered to drive both Hotch and you, opening the car door for you. He had helped you out of the goddamn car and even had the gall to put his own jacket on your shoulders when you had started to shiver, the night advancing!
Your reaction to Pascal’s attention had been sickly sweet. The man had come through the conference room door like fifty times, you had blushed every time. Maybe you just didn’t stop blushing at all. You had smiled and bitten your lips, avoided his gaze and hidden your face. You always had accepted his helping hand and even snuggled up his jacket. You looked smitten. And that, Hotch simply couldn’t stand it.
He usually was the one bringing coffee back to the team and, yes, he used to serve you out first. Because you’re a lady. And because you’re usually seated right next to him. He makes sure you’re seated right next to him. He should have noticed your back was hurting, he sure would have made better than a flimsy pillow! He should have driven you to the crime scene, like he always does; not watching you from the backseat smiling adoringly to Pascal. You always accept his hand every time he extends it to you, sometime, you even reach for it yourself when he’s not fast enough to offer. You never nuzzled his jacket, because Hotch never gave it to you. He never dared.
Now, he wishes he had. Maybe it would have prevented him to literally drown in his own jealousy for three days straight. Agent Hotchner hates it, this need, this urge to claim you as his own. It makes him feel like some primal being and it remembers him you’re not his, you’re your own self. And it’s ok - more than ok - it’s perfect, because you’re free and Hotch doesn’t want anything else. Still, this primal part of him nearly took over when, once the case wrapped up, Detective Pascal asked if you wanted to have a drink to celebrate the happy ending and you agreed. Ok, the police officer may not have fully asked you on a date, he had invited all the team. It hadn’t prevented you nor from beaming at him, neither from rushing straight in his arms once he had entered the bar.
From the very instant the case had officially been over, the whole BAU had started to gossip and postulate. Detective Pascal obviously had a soft spot for you and you patently found him charming, to say the least. Why did the police officer not ask you on a date right away? Did the man invite the whole team over to not overwhelm you? Or was it to prove to your family that he was trustworthy? That he wouldn’t just have his way with you and then let you down? Would he ask you out at the end of the night? Would he see you off to your hotel before kissing you goodnight? Or would he cave before it and do it at the bar? All kind of bets were on, not about if something would happen, but when. Call Aaron a masochist as much as you want, but he needs to know. Hence the whole staring debacle.
Tough bets were customary in his unit, Agent Hotchner never partakes in. First because there had to be at least one person staying professional in this team, and then because he would win all of them (and it would piss his little ones off). This time, he should have. Yup, out of sheer arrogance, he would have bet you would not end up kissing Detective Pascal and, again, he would have won. He saw it, the moment the police officer tucked a lock of your hair back behind your ear, the way his fingertips tenderly trailed down your cheek. It was perfect, it was now or never. You even had put your hand on his. But then, Pascal had frozen, you were talking to him and seemingly not saying at all what he had expected. The crappy, mean side of Hotch had forced him to smirk, now is the time to prove you’re a real gentleman, officer. Detective Pascal had quietly listened to what you had to say - the bastard doesn’t even have the decency to look disappointed! Come on, mate, give me something tangible to hate you! - then he had smiled and softly kiss your forehead before turning his gaze over Hotch - What? Do you want a picture? It will last longer - and leaving the bar with a last friendly wave to you. What the f*ck just happened?
“Ah! Everybody owns me fifty!” Rossi’s exclamation put Hotch out of his trance.
“What?”
With a smug smile, Dave explained himself, “I knew Y/N wouldn’t kiss Pascal, nobody wanted to believe me, they all bet something would happen - Garcia even said Pascal would woo Y/N all night long and then wait until just before our plane wheels off to run to her and kiss her passionately, I think I’ll ask her to co-write my next book after hearing that - so, now, everybody owns me fifty bucks.”
Aaron stayed a few seconds just gaping at his friend. “How did you know that?” Rossi’s satisfied look turned into an exasperated one; “Aaron, you’re my friend and I have great respect for you, you’re probably the best profiler I know, but you’re also the denser dumbass to ever have walked on this Earth.”
Alright... It... Stung a bit? And Hotch hadn’t any idea of what Dave was talking about. But it didn’t matter, because, as soon as Pascal had left the room, you had made a beeline to your colleague’s table and sat next to Hotch, not leaving his side until you went back to your hotel room. Aaron paid extra attention to you, especially making sure you weren’t cold. He wasn’t proud of the primal part of himself, but he was very fond of the idea of you wearing his clothes. He would find a way.