Work Text:
It’s just another Thursday, at least to most people. To you, the day feels like hell on earth. Everything that could possibly go wrong, goes wrong. From the first moment past midnight, the day had gone wrong. Your neighbours, a couple of college students, are throwing a party. You were okay with the music in the evening, as it went silent before 10 pm. But what was the last straw, was the loudest sex they were having at 2 in the morning. You hadn’t realized how thin the walls were, before last night, or the couple was screaming.
Partly, it made you laugh as it sounded very fake, like they were being loud just for the sake of being loud. But knowing you had an early morning, frustrated you to listen to them enjoying themselves. You wanted to bang the wall, but you restrained yourself from it. Instead you laid there, in your empty bed, thinking of your boyfriend who was god knows where.
After a couple hours of sleep, you get up only to find out your barely-a-year old coffee maker had given out on you. “Great. Just, great” you say out loud in your empty apartment. You eat your breakfast in a hurry, you are hoping to get some coffee on the way to work. You text your boyfriend, Aaron, as you haven’t yet heard from him this morning.
Good morning, dear. I barely got any sleep thnx to neighbours. I hope your night was better and you get to come home soon. I miss you.
As you were getting dressed, you noticed a stain on your favourite shirt. Quickly you toss it in the bin and try to think of something else to wear. But nothing seems to fit right, you don’t feel comfortable in anything and just hate how it all looks and you just want to scream.
You get stuck in traffic, your boss is in a bad mood and your coworkers are being loud.
You check your phone, hoping for a message from the man you love. But nothing. You try to text him again.
Are you alright? I’m having the worst day.
You’re used to Aaron’s schedule. He is, after all, the Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, the leader of the FBI's elite team. He travels a lot for work, helping people and putting bad people behind the bars. He’s passionate about his job, about his team and the change he makes. And when he’s home, he’s the most passionate and loving partner you could imagine. But there are days when you hate it. Hate not knowing when he’s going to be back home, if he’s safe, hate the irregularity. You hate the late night phone calls that take him away from you, waking up alone. Sometimes you just hate it all, and it makes you feel selfish in a way, wishing that the man who does so much good in the world, would rather be home. Sometimes, you think if it would be easier to hate him? Because it sure is hard to love someone that’s so rarely home. But you can’t help but love the man. You know it’s not his fault and you knew this about him before you started dating him. And he’s always making sure you’re okay with it, and he tries his best to make the most out of the moment he’s home with you.
And on days like these, you wish he was here with you. You keep checking your phone every ten minutes, but the messages keep on being ‘sent’. You’re confused as to why the messages aren’t going through. A part of you is always worried for your partner being on the field, but that’s the norm for you. But seeing the messages not going to him, being stuck on ‘sent’ instead of ‘delivered’ or ‘read’ added to your frustration.
As if your day hasn’t been bad enough, you have to stay overtime at work. With a sigh, you agreed to stay, as going home alone doesn’t exactly sound tempting right now.
It’s 6pm as you get to close things down for the day. There isn’t as much traffic on your way home, thank god. You’re exhausted as you pull to your apartment building’s parking lot. The house looked cold and dark, and you were not tempted to go inside. You go to get your keys, and of course you drop them as you go to open your door and it feels like the last straw and you burst into tears.
“God fucking damnit!“ you shout, tears flowing down your cheeks. You don’t care if your neighbours hear you. You just want to cry and curse the universe.
“Bad day?” a deep voice behind you makes you jump. You turn around and see your boyfriend climbing up the stairs, not far behind you, his go bag in his hand.
Seeing him makes you drop everything in your hands, including the keys you had picked up just seconds ago and open your arms for a hug. As Hotch gets close enough to you, he drops his bag next to you and pulls you close. You find no words, just weep to his light blue shirt. You’re sure it’ll stain it, but you’re too upset to care right now. You’re too upset to even care that it’s your favourite shirt on him, and care how good he looks in his light blue shirt paired with a dark blue dotted tie and gray suit.
You’re just too upset and you aren’t even sure about what exactly.
One of his hands is holding you close, resting on your lower back as his other hand works on getting the keys from his pocket. He turns the two of you slightly to reach the door and open it for you. You pull away from him and walk inside your apartment, leaving everything behind. Hotchner doesn’t seem to mind, he calmly picks up your keys and your bag as well as his own bag and takes them inside. He hangs your purse from the hook next to the door and puts your keys inside it. You stand inside silently sobbing.
Neither of you say anything. He helps you to take your coat off, putting it on the hanger, and his own jacket goes to give yours company. He takes his shoes off and comes back to you, embracing you.
“You want to talk about it?” he whispers into your hair. His tone is soft and tired. Knowing him, he’s probably slept poorly, if at all during the case.
Why is he like this? Why does he have to be so great whenever he’s home? And the fact that he was coming into your apartment after the case, instead of going to his own, warmed your heart.
“It’s okay if you don’t, I’m here” he murmurs.
“I don’t even know why I’m crying!” you begin, pulling away from his embrace. He leans his back to the kitchen counter and looks at you with tired eyes as you tell him about your day. Every minor inconvenience, every gossip at the office, trafic. Your broken coffee machine and your neighbours. “And I was worried, you weren’t answering your phone for over a day. Why the hell weren’t you answering your phone?” you shout at him, voice full of frustration. You didn’t exactly give him time to answer, and leap towards him and slap your hand on his chest “I was worried about you, god damn it! Couldn’t you just let me know you were okay?” You notice him flinching at your touch and you realize you might have hit him harder than you intended. You didn’t mean to hurt him, you didn’t mean to slap him either.
You just now notice a tiny bruise on his cheek bone and regret fills your brain. “You’re not okay” you gasp.
Aaron raises his palm to cover yours that’s now on top of the spot you had slapped them on. “I’m okay”
“Don’t lie to me, Aaron” you warn him.
“I’m okay. Just a couple of bruises.” you can’t hold back your tears anymore and start weeping against his shoulder. Of all days, of course he’s hurt today. “While interrogating our Unsub, I had to get a reaction out of them. They jumped, and I got a hit on my shoulder and face. And the reason I didn’t answer your texts was because my phone broke. It fell from my pocket as I leaped backwards. Our unsub stepped on it hard enough for it to shatter. I don’t have it with me, they try to fix it at the bureau, or at least get all the sensitive information out before getting rid of it.” He explains and it makes sense, but it doesn’t help to calm you down or stop you from crying. As you don’t answer his explanation, he apologizes about it all. That he should have called you from the office, or told Garcia or someone to call you, to let you know you’re okay, and get hold of you.
You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You feel dumb for throwing a tantrum over your minor issues while Hotch has been actually saving people’s lives and here he is, comforting you. “You’re sorry? I’m here complaining about not getting my morning coffee and my annoying boss, while your job” he doesn’t let you finish your sentence, instead pulls you close for another hug.
“My job. It’s never easy. Just because my issues are hard thanks to my work, don’t you ever feel that your feelings or frustrations are invalid. Okay?” His breath is so warm as he speaks softly next to your ear. His fingers run through your hair and pulls you to a kiss. “What can I do to make you feel better?”
“You can continue with that” you wrap your arms around his neck and lean in for another kiss.
He smiles into the kiss. His big hands are firmly on your hips. It feels great to have him so close to you. He makes you feel wanted and loved. You hate how much you love him. You hate how amazing he is, how thoughtful he is. How good he makes you feel. You hate how good he looks right now, how you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now than in his arms.
“Let me make us dinner. Go take a bath, relax. I will take a look at the coffee makers, if I don’t get it to work, we’re going to go buy a new one tomorrow, first thing in the morning.” He kisses you more time before he lets you go.
“I hate you, Aaron Hotchner”
“I love you too, (Y/N)” he laughs.
God, his laugh and the dimples on his cheeks, make all the hurt and frustration melt away. You hate what kind of an effect that man has on you.