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There’s no end in sight. Everywhere you look, in every direction, clouds heavy with rain stretch across the sky. At this point all you can do is wait for the breaking point, thunder echoing throughout the valley.
The door to the precinct opens. There’s a brief pause, and then another person joins you on the sidewalk.
Aaron.
You can barely look at him. He doesn’t say anything, but you know it’s only a matter of time. After all, he’s the one who took the hit that was meant for you, and you’re the one who’s pissed about it.
He won’t apologize, you know that much. Just as sure as the rain will come, Aaron Hotchner will refuse to apologize for something he deems necessary. Never mind the fact that the shot wouldn’t have killed you, a bullet in the vest minor compared to the shot in the arm he took instead. Never the fact that the last thing you want to give him is another scar. Aaron Hotchner decided it was worth the risk, so fuck everyone and everything else.
He’s the unit chief. What he says goes.
It didn’t used to be like this either. When you started dating, you both refused to let it alter the field, the job, or the BAU.
Another crack. The storm inches closer. You see a flash of lightning. Any second now.
“Is this how it’s going to be the whole way home?” he asks. You feel the undercurrent of sarcasm. “Barely able to look at each other?”
“Guess that’s my business,” you shoot back. “I just follow orders.”
“Don’t.” Aaron’s voice is tight, and it makes you turn your head. His eyes are still on the horizon, but you see the tick of his jaw. “Don’t pretend like it doesn’t matter.”
Your eyes just roll. “Is that what you think? It doesn’t matter to me what happens to you?” Your laugh is hollow, and you turn back towards the precinct, shaking your head and taking a step away. “Thought you were a better profiler than that. A better boyfriend than that.”
A hand grabs your arm. The grip is tight, and immediately fury runs through you. You whip to face him, eyes wide, brow furrowed, and you’re met with… shining eyes.
“Please don’t walk away. From this. From me.”
“Let go of my arm, Hotchner.” You’re shaking with anger. When he doesn’t move, your voice hardens to steel. “Let go.”
He does. You yank your shoulder away from him, but it doesn’t faze him. “Talk to me. Please, just say what you’re thinking.”
“When we’re out in the field, I have to follow your orders. And I trust you enough to do that, Aaron,” you snap. Your hand lifts to poke a finger in his direction, inches from hitting his chest, his heart. “But right here, right now, you don’t get to tell me how to feel. Do you understand me? I reserve the right to be fucking pissed off when you do something stupid and self-sacrificial, you asshole.”
There’s a crack in the sky. A flash. For a moment, you see every feature on his pale face.
“You’re worried about me?” It’s a simple response, and yet, your hands are thrown to the sky, right as you feel the first drops fall.
“Of course I’m worried!” you yell, the pitter-patter of early sprinkles hitting your face. “How the hell am I supposed to feel comfortable going into the field when I know at any moment it’s your life for mine?”
“I will not stand by when I can do something to protect you!” Aaron shouts back, over another clap of thunder. “It’s not trading lives, it’s being there for you in the field.”
“I’m a fucking supervisory special agent, the same as you!” You feel your hair start to stick to your forehead, watch as his gel starts to melt away as the rain picks up power. “There was no reason to take that shot for me, I know the risks!”
There it is. The root of what frustrates you. You’re an agent, the same as him, and yet he can’t trust you enough to believe you know what you got yourself into.
The chill settles in almost immediately - no warm rain, gentle against your forehead. It’s a torrent, pounding against your body. Your shirt is soaked through, you can see his bandages through his shirt.
“I know the risks… of this - this job. But I need you to trust me, or else I can’t do that job. And I want to do this job. With you.”
It bears repeating. Because you’re looking at the way his lashes are sticking together, at the way his pain is etched into every line on his face. You’re still so angry, still so scared, but. You can’t pull away from him. Can’t break his gaze.
“I do trust you,” Aaron says. His voice almost inaudible over the downpour. His head shakes. “I never stopped trusting you. You’re a good agent, a great profiler.”
It shoots through you. Warms your chest, despite the way you’ve started to shiver because of the rain. “But?”
“But I realized love you, too.”
Silence. You can’t speak. Can barely think. Of course you’d suspected, the push and pull between you palpable. But it’s different hearing it. The words spoken aloud. When you try, you’re stuck closing your mouth again, just blinking as he pushes on. “I lost someone I loved,” Aaron tells you. “I won’t do that again. I can’t do that again. And when I saw that gun aimed at you - I didn’t think. I couldn’t think. I saw you, and I saw a life without you, and… and it scared me.”
“But you thought me losing you would be better,” you interpret. Gazing up at him. Eyes narrowing. “That’s the solution?”
When did he step closer to you? You’re almost chest to chest, and you can see the way the rain catches on the bridge of his nose, his Cupid’s bow. “I don’t know what the solution is. But that’s how I feel. That’s why I did what I did.”
You don’t know what to say. So you decide against saying anything at all. There’s a pounding of thunder, a snap of lightning, and then you’re grabbing Aaron’s lapels.
“You can’t be selfish.” It’s urgent, when you say it. “You can’t do that. It’s not a trade, your life for mine, or the other way around. Because I love you, too, and if I lost you on a stupid case -” Your voice falters, cracks, and then you’re yanking him forward, lips against his.
A kiss in the rain. Like the movies, high melodrama. But it’s what you need, in this moment, to remind yourself that he’s still here. You feel him push a breath through his nose, and then his uninjured arm is lifting to cup your cheek, your jaw, pushing forward to kiss you back, firm and fierce.
You taste the rain.
You taste him.
When you pull back, your arms are covered in goosebumps, your breath is coming in short, sharp gasps, and the rain against your skin feels like ice. But you can’t move inside, not when it’d take you away from him. You laugh, a little hysterical, and you see his smile, too, like the sun peeking through the clouds.
“The solution is that we do what we’ve always done,” you tell him. “We trust each other. Even now, especially now. Trust that we know what we have to do in this job. You have to trust that I will do the job in a way that’s effective and safe, and I have to trust that you’ll do the same and let your team do what needs to be done. Because I trust my unit chief, I trust my boyfriend, I trust you. And I love you.”
His hand doesn’t leave your face, simply moves to cup your chin so he can kiss you once more, gentle and sweet.
“I trust you,” he murmurs against your lips. “And I love you. So much.”
“Now can we please, please go to the hotel? If I’m in the rain anymore, I’m pretty positive I’ll freeze.”
It’s his turn to laugh, nod, pulling you against him, and you breathe him in as best you can through his waterlogged clothes before moving towards the SUV. “Okay. But I’m driving.”
“With one arm?” You smile up at him. Have to say it again. “I love you, Aaron Hotchner. But not a chance.”