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Spencer rolls over to his side, mind fuzzy with sleep as he reaches his hand out. He frowns, though, as his hand is only met with a cold emptiness.
The drop in his stomach, his heart leaping to his throat, is an instinctive response – call it an occupational hazard – and it’s not until he blinks his eyes open and allows them to adjust to the darkness of the room before he remembers where he is.
Home.
He’s not on a case.
They’re not in any danger.
He’s home.
It’s a mantra he repeats in his head, lips silently forming the words, as he slowly drags himself out from under the cocoon of blankets covering him. He runs a hand over his tired face, fighting back a yawn as he tries to make out the red numbers glaring at him from the other side of the bed. 03:41. Far too early to be awake.
Which means it’s also far too late for him to be sleeping alone.
With a sigh, Spencer guides his feet towards the door and out into the hallway, the soft carpet a welcome relief to his bare feet compared to the cold wooden floor he’d grown used to in his old apartment. He hesitates at the doorway, debating whether it’s chilly enough to throw on the threadbare dressing gown draped on the hook there.
Deciding he’d rather not catch a cold this close to Christmas, Spencer pulls the gown down and slips it on. It may only be thin, but the extra layer is comforting and Spencer takes a moment to bury his nose in the soft material, surrounding himself with the familiar notes of cedarwood and grapefruit.
The hallway is dark, save for the nightlight outside the bedroom to his left which casts a gentle orange glow and leads his way towards the main living area. It’s here that Spencer stops again, a light on in the kitchen and the unmistakable smell of homemade treats wafting his way. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards before he’s even fully registered the scene he’s walking into; Aaron is hunched over the island counter, flicking his way through the Christmas magazine Spencer had picked up the other day, absently nibbling on an iced cookie that looks suspiciously like a Christmas tree.
Leaning against the archway, jutting his hip out a little, Spencer shakes his head at the other man in the room. “Are you seriously eating cookies right now? It’s 3am!” He doesn’t question the fact that Aaron has been baking in the middle of the night; it’s not unusual for him to struggle with sleep after a long case.
Aaron’s head whips up at the sound of his voice, expression mirroring that of a deer caught in headlights. He glances between Spencer and the offending cookie in his hand, brows furrowed in that way they do when he’s trying to think up a good response to an accusatory question. It doesn’t last long, though; melting into one of the man’s trademark smiles that seem to wrap Spencer up in a warmth that he never wants to leave.
“If Santa can do it so can I.” he says with a shrug, holding Spencer’s gaze as he takes another bite of the cookie. Then, before Spencer can retort with an argument about all the side effects of eating late at night (which is hanging on the tip of his tongue), he gestures towards a plateful of identical cookies. “You want one? I put peppermint in the mixture this time.”
“As opposed to actual pepper.” Spencer deadpans, vivid flashbacks of the failed attempt at cookies last week causing him to visibly shudder. He’s crossing the distance between them without even noticing it, sidling up to Aaron’s side and taking one of the offered cookies. They’re still warm, the icing barely able to set, and Spencer chuckles to himself. He doesn’t mention it, though, instead choosing to test them first. After all, it’s the taste that matters, not the presentation.
Aaron is watching him with a hopeful look – and Spencer is long over the fact that Aaron holds his opinion above most other people’s but that doesn’t mean that the trust reflected in those brown eyes doesn’t cause his heart to skip a beat. Even if he is still half asleep.
They’re really good, though. Buttery and sweet, melting in his mouth and exploding with a minty flavour that only makes Spencer want to grab another one. He hums around the mouthful, tongue darting out to catch a crumb on his lip.
Aaron is silent, still watching him.
“I think you should quit your day job.” Spencer tells him, eventually, smirking and ducking out of the way when Aaron goes to swat his head with the magazine.
“They’re alright?” Aarons asks, and Spencer nods.
“Jack will love them.” he tells his boyfriend, voice as serious as he can keep it considering the actual topic of the conversation. But this isn’t his first Christmas with the Hotchners; Spencer knows how hard Aaron tries every year to make this holiday magical for his son. It’s important.
Coming from a family that didn’t really do big Christmases, Spencer is more than happy to indulge with his two favourite boys. Especially if it means he gets to see that beautifully bright smile on Aaron’s face more often.
“Thanks, darling.” Aaron murmurs, taking a step closer to Spencer and reaching out to curl his fingers in the lapels of the dressing gown he’s wearing. He tugs, purposeful as always, and Spencer goes stumbling into him with a soft oof. When Aaron leans in to press a chaste kiss to Spencer’s lips, Spencer is more than happy to comply, melting under the touch with a content sigh. “You look good in my clothes.” Aaron whispers against his lips, pulling back just enough to drop a quick peck to the tip of Spencer’s nose, and Spencer curses himself for still blushing uncontrollably. At the comment or the act of affection, he’s not entirely sure. Probably both.
“Shut up.” he mutters, ducking his head down. Aaron lets out a huff of laughter, warm breath ghosting over Spencer’s cheek, and Spencer can’t help but sway closer. A hand comes to rest on the small of his back, Aaron stepping away from the counter but not straying an inch further from Spencer. He leans in again, lips brushing over the shell of Spencer’s ear, as he already begins to guide him back out of the kitchen. “C’mon, let’s get back to bed.”
Spencer hums his agreement, letting Aaron lead him towards their bedroom and switch the lights off behind them both. Sleep is already setting back into his bone, causing him to lean most of his weight on Aaron but the other man doesn’t complain, just presses a kiss to his cheek and wraps a sturdy arm around his waist to keep him upright.
“You should bake cookies for the team.”
“I don’t really fancy another lecture form Rossi.” Aaron jokes, closing the bedroom door behind them and then moving to slide the gown from Spencer’s shoulders. He nudges him in the back, gently pushing him towards the bed, and Spencer goes willingly.
Even in his exhausted state, Spencer still manages to roll his eyes – not that Aaron can see in the lack of light – as he sits on the edge of the bed and watches as Aaron changes into a pair of old sweats that aren’t covered in flour. “They’re cookies, not lasagne. Besides, Garcia would love you forever.”
Aaron turns to face him, raising a brow with a smirk. “Are you saying she doesn’t already love me?”
Spencer huffs at that, leaning back to lie down as Aaron finally joins him in bed again. He hums absent-mindedly as Aaron lifts the blankets up and drapes them over the two of them, an arm snaking around Spencer’s shoulders so he can snuggle into his side and steal his body heat. As he rests his head over Aaron’s chest, the calming thrum of his heart already lulling him back into sleep, Spencer yawns out a quiet, “True, everyone loves you. Especially now that you can bake delicious cookies.”
The last thing he remembers is hearing Aaron’s rumbling laugh and the press of lips to his hair as he burrows his face into the crook of Aaron’s neck.