Chapter Text
“We have to go,” Derek said, breezing through the bedroom, from hallway to bathroom with a purpose. Hotch had been in there for over an hour either showering, shaving or having some kind of extended quiet panic attack. “You almost ready?” On the counter was an open bottle of Tums, extra strength, half empty. He popped the lid closed and looked around.
Silence. Derek peeked behind the shower curtain to find Hotch just...sitting...beneath the water. “Aaron, come on.”
“What time is her appointment?” Hotch's voice was small and wet sounding.
“Doesn't matter. We'll know when we know. Come on, Jack's expecting us to show up for this cookies and cocoa thing with his teachers beforehand. Jessica will actually murder us if we miss it, I guarantee it.”
“I know.” He made no effort to move, however.
“Then get up and come on. It's out of our hands.”
Hotch wasn't usually one to mope around, and under normal circumstances he would be the one who had everything together and was ready hours beforehand. But there was something about this particular circumstance that had completely robbed him of the ability to exist. Slowly he unfurled his long legs and stretched them while Derek cut off the water supply and dropped a towel on top of his head rather unceremoniously. “Up.”
“I'm getting up.”
“No, you're stretching like a lazy cat. Get up.”
He got up. Begrudgingly, he managed it and toweled himself off entirely before stepping out of the tub. Derek had already laid out some clothes for him and threatened to set a timer for him to get ready, but Hotch didn't protest and didn't drag his feet. He simply did his best to turn his brain off and put his clothes on.
C'est la Vie had never been in Hotch's life plan. His need for control ran so deep that he couldn't even let other people drive the car he sat in. And this situation was so far outside of his control that it was giving him an ulcer, or at least adding to the one that was already in there. He could feel it gnawing away at his stomach lining. For the last two weeks he'd been eating Tums and drinking Alka Seltzer at an alarming rate. He was making himself sick, and there wasn't anything Derek could do to stop the spiral except wait it out and remind him they had no control and if they found out that it hadn't happened...they would simply try again. And again. And it wouldn't have been his fault.
They missed cookies and cocoa by ten minutes, but they made it before the play started. Just in time to apologize and promise that they'd go out to the little Christmas market downtown afterward to see the tree lighting and parade. They would have just enough time to pop in, grab some hot cocoa, watch the tree lighting and hit the road. Hotch wasn't thrilled, but he'd been the reason for the tardiness, so he kept his protest to a minimum. “It's three degrees,” Hotch muttered, but he'd already given in.
The play was sweet. Not great, most of the kids forgot their lines and some had even lost parts of their costumes, but it was sweet. The really little ones looked like a box full of kittens had been upended on the stage and they all scattered in different directions. There were teachers and parents rushing the stage to set them back on track. The slightly older kids, like Jack, stood on the risers and sang their parts and spoke their lines sometimes too loud, sometimes too quiet, always off key - but overall, it was about as good as could be expected. It would leave them with stories to tell, if nothing else.
As they sat, Hotch worried his thumb over his nailbeds and kept it hidden in his pockets. As if Derek didn't know what he was hiding. With some otherworldly level of stealth, Derek reached over, pulled one of his hands free and squeezed it. At attempt at being reassuring but it only made Hotch feel like crying. That Derek was so laid back and he was absolutely beside himself was cruel.
Their phones were off. Derek had insisted. Not just silence but completely off. “Whatever the result is, we don't need to know while Jack's on stage. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
Derek led a standing ovation for the kids, much to the delight of the kids on stage who took exaggerated bows and pointed at their families and smiled for pictures. Hotch, for one brief moment, was completely overwhelmed by what was happening on the stage and how completely sweet it was and forgot entirely about the text he was anticipating. In fact, his mind wandered in the other direction, and he found himself wishing he could turn to his right and see Haley there smiling up at Jack through tears of joy and laughter.
Finally, in the lobby while Jack was with his class getting their things together, it was time. Derek took his phone out and looked at Hotch a little expectantly when the screen began to show signs of life. They both saw it, the little flashing light that said he had a text. “No matter what, it's okay, right? If it didn't take this time, we'll try again...”
Hotch's sample had been hard to come by. The timing was off, his work schedule was impeding every attempt at an appointment he made, his stress levels were through the roof...he was starting to feel dead in the water before he'd even made it to the damn clinic.
“Yeah,” Hotch whispered, his breath caught in his throat. If it didn't take it would be entirely his fault and sure they could try again and again, but at a certain point it would be worth questioning how they were going about this. It was their second attempt. The first time, Hotch had wept for a whole night in spite of himself. Derek had to admit that he was disappointed, too, but he could see it for what it was: an imperfect science. They were warned it might take a few attempts and it wouldn't indicate anything wrong, not right away. But Hotch had a hard time seeing it that way when he thought back to the years and years that he and Haley had tried and failed, tried and nearly succeeded, tried and tried.
Derek held his phone up to Hotch, and through the shine of tears he saw the photo, the piece of paper with a big bold word printed right at the top of all the other various lab results. POSITIVE.
“You see it? You see what it says?” Derek asked, unable to wipe the smile from his face. Hotch sniffed and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket before nodding. He was staring at it. Couldn't take his eyes off of it. “We're doing this.”
His voice didn't seem to work, but Derek didn't mind that. He just held up his phone, snapped a picture of Hotch with tears in his eyes, and sent it to Sarah as confirmation that they were ecstatic.
In a few hours, after the Christmas market, they would be on a plane with Jack headed to Chicago to spend the week of Christmas with Derek's family and they would have to keep this quiet until Christmas morning. “Can we tell Jack?” Derek asked, and Hotch shook his head.
“No. Sarah wants everyone to find out when your mom does, she was adamant about that.”
“You don't think he can keep it a secret?”
“Derek. Jack has proven, time and again, to be abysmal at keeping even the most basic of secrets. I would love to tell him but I think it would be ill-advised.”
“All I heard was blah blah blah. Let's tell Jack. I want him to know he's going to be a big brother.” He paused, really taking a second to look at Hotch, at the way the color had drained from his cheeks and the tears glistened in his eyes. “Let's go sit down on that bench and wait for Jack before you pass out right here. We'll decide when we see him.”
Hotch allowed Derek to lead him to the bench, but he wasn't intending to budge on the rest. He was certain that they should not tell Jack, as much as they both wanted to. Until the minute that Jack appeared before them dressed like a little elf and even Hotch could hardly contain himself. With one sideways glance that Derek took as approval to spill the beans (whether it was or was not would be the topic of many discussions throughout the week), the words spilled out.
“Jack,” he said, pulling the kid into his lap. “You ready to be a big brother?”
(x)
There's regular snow and then there is Chicago snow. Hotch relinquished the driving reigns infrequently, but when the snow on the side of the road was piled up as high as the car, and the slush they had to drive in threw the car around like a rag doll, he handed the keys to Derek without any fuss. He could drive in regular snow, out on country roads was his specialty, but there was something daunting about having to adapt to both big city driving and deep snow that he simply couldn't manage. Something about it tipped the scales from him having control to having absolutely none.
The storm was moving in quickly, and they'd been fortunate that their plane had even been allowed to land at O'Hare, but they'd be pushing their luck to make it all the way to Fran's unscathed. By the end of the drive, the car was more like a sled on the big busy streets just sliding without traction, and once they were on the side streets the poor thing was working double time to pull itself through the mounds of wet slush and snow that wouldn't be plowed for days to come. But they made it in one piece and were ready to hunker down and wait out the rest of the storm inside Fran's nice warm home.
And they had four whole days to keep a huge secret from everyone.
The look on Sarah's face, the absolute bliss in her eyes when she reached out to hug Derek, Hotch knew it was going to be a difficult few days. And when she hugged him around the neck, he had to fight back more tears. He was on the verge of tears often, but this was far and away the worst it had ever been. Suddenly he was remembering that first few days after finding out that Haley was pregnant, it was funny how he'd managed to forget all of that now that Jack was older and everything had changed. Now, like he'd stepped into a time machine, he was feeling all those huge overwhelming things again. His life, Jack's life, this baby's life, they all flashed before his eyes. He squeezed Derek's hand out of desperation, and Derek squeezed him back out of love.
Dinner the first night was mostly quiet, with Sarah and Desiree bickering and Derek trying to mediate on Sarah's behalf. As the evening wore on, he began to get a little overbearing and Hotch had to tell him to back off of Desiree more than once.
“She's gonna stress Sarah out,” he hissed as they ducked around the corner. “She needs to back off.”
“Sarah will be fine.” It was Hotch's turn to be reasonable, to find himself slightly more even. His ulcer was still smoldering embers, but he felt more peaceful. The panic had, at least momentarily, subsided. “She's okay.” The strain in Derek's eyes, the absolute uncertainty and out of control feeling that seeped from him was concerning. He was going to blow the secret before anyone else by virtue of his need to care for his sister who was carrying his child.
“I need to take a walk,” Derek said finally, and Hotch nodded in agreement. “Get outta here for a bit. Get some fresh air.”
“Why don't you ask Sarah to go with you? I could use a ginger ale from the corner store.”
Derek reached out and pulled Hotch close to him, pressing their foreheads together. “You're a genius.”
“I know.”
They slept on the pull-out sofa bed with Jack on an air mattress nearby. Fran had made him up a bed, but he insisted on sleeping beside the Christmas tree and how could she say no to that? Beneath a mound of blankets, they listened to the gentle sound of Jack's little snores and whispered, conspired, smiled over the fact that soon they'd have another. And sleepless nights, they would have those too. Hotch was ready for those, he slept so little already.
“How are you so chill all of a sudden?” Derek whispered, his lips against Hotch's ear. It tickled and sent goosebumps in a flushing river down his spine.
“I remember this part. The anticipation. There's a lot of work to do, I like that.” What he meant to say was that there were things he could control now. He could build a crib and set up a bedroom, he could research and buy a car seat, he could do all of these things that would make him feel useful.
“I can't stop thinking about everything that could go wrong.”
“Derek, you said it yourself. You trust Sarah. More than anyone. That's why we asked her specifically.”
"You made a spreadsheet," Derek mumbled against Hotch's shoulder and they both let out low chuckles.
"I did."
Derek buried his face in Hotch's neck and sucked in a shaky breath. “But she lives here and we live there.”
That had been troubling to both of them, but Hotch knew they could make it work. It was a short flight, a slightly longer but still short drive, and they would simply find a way to make it work. She would have Fran here, and the rest of the Morgan family, she wouldn't be on her own. Not even if she wanted it. “It will all work out.”
The next few days flew by in a blur of shopping, eating and laughing with family. Groups of people would drop in with desserts and stay for coffee no matter the time of day, and Hotch felt like he'd inadvertently stepped into a time machine. Back to a time when his mother would keep cakes and other pastries in the freezer on the off chance that company dropped by. Fran's house was a sort of meeting place, a central location for everyone to gather with a full pot of coffee and plenty of seating. They were surrounded by company and laughter, sometimes loud bursts of song would erupt from out of nowhere.
And bickering. Derek and Sarah were at each other's throats, which Fran insisted was perfectly normal when it appeared to be stressing Hotch out. “They've always been like this.”
“How do you handle it?”
“Like this.” She smiled sweetly and stood, walking into the kitchen and approaching her arguing adult children like they were small, like she could ground them from the bikes and sports and summer vacation. It took a minute for her to find her leverage, but she managed and soon they were able to stand beside each other again without fighting.
Finally, the anticipation about at its maximum and Derek and Sarah nearly at their breaking point, Christmas morning arrived. Jack tore through his gifts with fervor, lavishing everyone with huge thanks and hugs. He played Santa, delivering gifts from beneath the tree to their new owners. Everyone got Hotch something warm. A box of fancy tea for relaxation, wool socks, gloves. Derek got vinyl records and new headphones, with a few boxes of screws and nails as a little joke because he always ran out in the middle of projects and had to run to the hardware store.
“Grandma!” Jack chirped, pulling a small gift from beneath the tree. It had been lodged way in the back, a small white box with delicate silver ribbon wrapped tight and topped by a perfectly symmetrical bow. Derek glanced at Hotch and knew, somehow, that he was responsible for the presentation. Fran held the box lightly, turning it over and over in her hands, giving it a little shake next to her ear only to hear nothing. The gift was light as air.
“It's a box!” she exclaimed, and Jack giggled with delight. “What a beautiful gift. I've always wanted a lovely little box. Think of all the things it'll hold.”
“Grandmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.”
She slipped the ribbon from the box carefully, all eyes on her. “Why are you all staring at me?” she asked, a little flushed, and Hotch thought for sure he was going to blow the whole thing by crying before she even knew what she was looking at. He glanced around the room and realized, with some certainty, that Fran was the only person who didn't know. Desiree and Jack's faces were shining with anticipation, and he and Derek were barely containing themselves. Beneath their shared blanket, they slotted their fingers together and held their breath.
Inside the box was silver tissue paper, delicate and soft, and tucked neatly beneath that was an ultrasound with Sarah's name at the top, and something that looked like a squishy little jellybean right in the center.
“Sarah?” she asked breathless, blinking, stunned. “You're pregnant?”
She grinned. “Yes, mama. I'm pregnant.”
“But you're not...” she was struggling, they could see, to put the pieces together. Sarah wasn't even dating anyone. She hadn't in forever, and she'd made it abundantly clear to the entire family that she did not want to have children. Or a relationship. “You said...”
“Read the back, mom.”
Fran flipped the picture over with one shaking hand and it was then, as she read the words scrawled on the back, that she began crying. And laughing. Wet, teary laughter rattled through the room.
“Hotchner-Morgan?” she gasped out, swiping at her eyes with the silver tissue paper absurdly. It was the closest thing she could grab. “You boys?”
“Yes, mama. It's our baby.” Derek paused and squeezed Hotch's hand beneath the blanket. “I thought we said it would be Morgan-Hotchner?”
“You asked me to write it because your handwriting is too sloppy. I made a choice. It's alphabetical.”
“Yeah, I'm sure that was your reason...”
Back home, they spent the rest of the week walking through Derek's house planning out the space. They'd forced themselves to wait until they had a positive result before they started making any real decisions. Hotch wouldn't re-up the lease on his apartment, that much was for certain. They'd managed to uphold two households the entire time and it was fine, but having a baby made it pretty clear that they would no longer be playing that game. Hotch and Jack would move in with Derek full time, and good riddance to that apartment as far as Derek was concerned.
They spent the week slowly moving things over, little things, knickknacks and Jack's art and his favorite bedroom items. They would save the big stuff for later, Hotch still had three months on his lease and then there was the issue of his storage unit full of he and Haley's things. Derek placed a photo of Haley on the mantle beside the rest of their family, a gesture that Hotch would never have asked of him, and once more he found himself with tears on his cheeks. He knew Sarah's hormones would be all wild and out of control, but he was starting to feel like he was experiencing them for himself firsthand.
On New Year's Eve, Penelope and Dave came over to celebrate with them. They were going to tell the team slowly, disperse the information quietly, but it started with those two over glasses of champagne as they counted down the hours to midnight. To a new year filled with possibilities and growth. Hotch's last couple of years had been hard, and he felt hopeful for once. He was overwhelmed by that feeling, and exhausted by it all.
To no one's surprise, by the time the ball was dropping so so slowly on the television and all of New York City was counting backwards from ten live, Hotch and Derek were fast asleep beneath a blanket. They were completely worn out by the week they'd spent joining their households and dreaming of a new baby that was a perfect mixture of both of them. There was still so much more work to be done.
With some urging from a slightly drunk Penelope, Jack slipped his dad's phone off of the table and snapped a photo of them lying there snoring at the stroke of midnight. Dave kissed Penelope on the cheek and Penelope kissed Jack on the cheek and they sent the photo of the two sleeping men on the couch to Jess with the caption “too old for New Years”.
“They think they're tired now,” Dave said, tucking Jack into his bed before he and Penelope left for the night. Derek and Hotch slept soundly on the couch, and no one had the heart to try and get them to move to their bed. They simply looked too peaceful. “Just wait until that baby comes.”