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“You're wearing a suit?”
“I,” Hotch started, frowning. Confused as he smoothed his tie over buttons that had been stiff to work through their holes after more than a year of not being touched. He wore sweaters now. Sweaters and polo shirts, rarely button downs, never suits. “Why not?”
“It's brunch with Reid, not a wedding.”
Hotch's frown lines deepened and he wrinkled his nose at the statement. He hadn't worn a suit in so long now he hadn't even been certain it would fit him, and truthfully a few of them didn't. They were tight in the shoulders, one wouldn't quite button in front, and then there was the pants. He didn't think he'd put on any weight, but his Armani said otherwise. Still, he had one suit that fit him like a glove and made him feel good. Really good. He looked in the mirror and felt a flood of warmth.
“We haven't seen Spencer in so long, I wanted to dress for the occasion. And your sister said this restaurant is fancy.” Her word, not his, but it stuck in his mind. Truthfully, he could pull anything from his closet and be perfectly appropriate for just about anywhere, but he felt a surge of pride as he unzipped the suit from its dry-cleaning bag. The simplest explanation was that he missed it. The layers made him comfortable. They felt like a hug from an old friend who was just passing through and stopped by to say hello.
“Oh please. Desi would say that Applebees is fancy because they have an appetizer menu. Come on now.”
“No jacket, maybe?”
Derek put his hands on Hotch's arms and pulled him close, swaying a little in place. A sweet little off-kilter dance with his intoxicating smile. “You look gorgeous. Wear whatever you want. I was just making sure you knew this wasn't a black-tie affair. You wanna show up to brunch with the kid to eat eggs benedict or something looking like James Bond, I'm more than happy to be on your arm but I'm wearing a sweater and my nice jeans.”
Derek was rarely, if ever, under dressed. Even if he did prefer jeans to anything else. The particular pants he chose were his "nice" ones, which really only meant they were one of the few pairs without cargo pockets for him to fill with various bric-a-brac. Walking out of the bedroom wearing a sweater smoother than butter beneath his leather jacket and dark denim that hugged every hard-earned muscle, Hotch couldn't help but feel more than a little self-conscious. So, if he wanted to wear a suit that had been stitched to his every measurement exactly and pretend that he still belonged in it, he couldn't be talked out of it. Otherwise, what...he looked like some kind of schlub on Derek's arm? A charity case? That was what he felt like on a near daily basis already. This brunch was important. He hadn't seen these people in a long time and it felt like it was a second chance at a first impression.
(x)
“I thought Penelope was coming,” Derek said, embracing Spencer tight around the shoulders. He buried his face in Spencer's neck and breathed him in. It had been so long that it physically hurt now to think about. They had visited some at Rossi's pool party the summer before, but that already felt like a different lifetime. He'd spent most of his time in the water with the kids, they'd been a little distracted. They hadn't really spent time with Spencer. “She promised.”
“She'll be here soon. She came with us, but she insisted on stopping at this little boutique down the street. She said she saw a pair of shoes in the window that she's been eyeing for years and she wondered if they had them in her size. I'm not sure if it was the truth but she disappeared before I could ask.”
Derek's eyebrows shot up to where his hairline would be if he had one and back down almost immediately. To his knowledge, there wasn't anywhere to buy shoes on this block so she must have been throwing them off the scent of something. Probably a gift she wanted to buy them. He didn't say anything though, just shrugged and smiled. It was Penelope. You don't question her and you certainly don't argue with her where shoes are potentially involved if you like being alive.
Hotch struck out his hand to shake Luke's with a small smile and a quick familiar nod before embracing Spencer in what amounted to a stiff and somewhat awkward hug. It wasn't that he didn't miss Spencer but the way he'd left, the things that happened after...he wasn't entirely sure Spencer could or would forgive him. Or that he even deserved it. Was that why he insisted on the suit? Standing on formality? He couldn't be sure now. They'd barely said two words to one another at Rossi's pool party, and now they were sitting down to eat together overlooking the Chicago skyline on a gray Saturday morning. Breaking bread. He became acutely aware that his feet hurt, stuffed inside of stiff dress shoes he hadn't worn in as long as the suit they went with. He was going to end up with a blister just above his heel.
“It's good to see you,” Hotch said quietly, patting Spencer between the shoulders. Instantly Spencer pulled away, and it occurred to him that patting someone like that during a hug could be taken as a sign that the hug had gone on long enough. He hadn't meant it that way but if he said something now it might just make it worse.
“You too,” Spencer replied, a little stiff. He didn't mean it to be, but they both had a lot of unresolved tension sitting between them. Along with a suddenly full table of food, courtesy of a kitchen who had been given orders in advance. At least three of them.
“I ordered for Spencer and I,” Luke said as the food appeared alongside menus for Hotch and Derek. "And Penelope. Hopefully she makes it before her Farm Vegetable Frittata gets cold." He couldn't look at it without gagging a little. The asparagus should have been bacon. Awkward glances passed between he and Hotch, who barely knew each other and definitely weren't on the right terms to make jokes about Penelope's questionable food choices. Derek raised an eyebrow, looking a little confused. Not surprised, that wasn't what he saw on either of their faces, just a little bewilderment. “Spencer was browsing the menu in our hotel room while Penelope got ready. I thought I could save us the table side trouble and call it in with exact specifications, I hope you don't mind. We'll wait until everyone has food to eat.”
Hotch scrunched his nose and glanced at Derek out of the corner of his eyes, but said nothing. Derek only let out a soft chuckle. “No problem. I missed you kid.”
Derek leaned over and pointed to a few things he was thinking about, silently questioning Hotch about his choices. He wasn't exactly on a diet, but he was trying to be conscious of what he was eating. They were both training for the Chicago Marathon. Hotch, on the other hand, had no questions. He ordered more or less the same thing at every breakfast restaurant. Not exactly picky, he simply knew what his stomach would and would not tolerate. Jack and Hank went for piles of fruit and gobs of whipped cream on sugary carbs, Derek liked a plate full of protein, Hotch liked his oatmeal with fruit and yogurt. This menu, though, it had some things that were whispering in his ear and he hadn't been having much trouble with his stomach lately so he was feeling a little adventurous.
"Would you share the roasted beets if I ordered them?" he asked and Derek frowned at him, but ultimately nodded. He didn't care much for beets but the addition of the goat cheese and apples made it sound interesting at least. Hotch would eat the majority of it but he'd poke around a bit so he nodded.
“So,” Derek said, clapping his hands with finality after they'd ordered. “How are things at the ol' BAU?”
Luke glanced at Spencer first, and then shrugged. He didn't figure they wanted the honest truth, but something adjacent to it. “You both probably know better than I do how things go, being there for so long. It's busy. A lot of change. A lot of bullshit, budget cuts and red tape.”
“Always,” Derek replied with a nod. “It's not the BAU if it isn't bullshit. Right Aaron?”
“I suppose,” Hotch replied quietly, feeling more than a little out of place. He still hadn't really come to terms with leaving, with WITSEC, with Emily sitting at his desk. It had been so abrupt, so scary, such a blur that he really hadn't given it a lot of thought. He had...but he also hadn't. Life without the BAU was a constant set of adjustments. He'd more or less settled on the idea that he would retire from that department, and at a ripe old age where he could just lay in bed one night after his last day at work and be satisfied. Well, he hadn't left on those terms. That prospect was taken from him. Was he satisfied now? In many ways, yes. In all of the ways that really mattered there was no question. This family, this life, he couldn't imagine better. But there was some small part of him that ached with regret that it ended the way it did. He worried that the small ache would be with him forever.
“Aaron,” Spencer said, trying the word out on his own tongue. It was foreign. Hotch hadn't ever heard Spencer say it before. “Aaron.”
“That's his name, kid...don't wear it out." Derek grinned at his childish joke, but when Spencer didn't immediately chuckle, Derek's face became serious. "What's up? There a problem?"
It almost looked like Spencer might say yes. Almost. But then his face crumbled into a teary smile and he shook his head. His cascade of unruly curls unfurled like sails. “No. I just thought...so many people have left the BAU and I never saw them again. Elle and Gideon and Seaver and Blake and Kate...they just vanished. Everyone always said we were family but that isn't how family is supposed to go. But you two left, and then you found each other, and now here we are. It's special. That's all.” Spencer paused, wringing his hands together in his lap. Luke let one of his hands drift over, rest on Spencer's thigh and give it a slight squeeze. Reassuring in its quiet way. Derek thought that was sweet. “It doesn't seem real.”
Hotch found himself speaking before he even realized what he was saying. No filter. Nerves. He could face down an unsub without the slightest inclination to be nervous, but facing Spencer after everything felt insurmountable. But here he was. “I think that every morning when I wake up beside Derek. When I drop Hank off at his grandmother's house and take Jack to school and I go to work, some days it feels like a strange dream and I'm certain I'll wake up in a cold sweat in Virginia. Alone, scared, bleeding to death under Foyet.”
“Damn,” Derek started, shooting Luke a look. “They're dramatic this morning, huh?”
“It's a little scary. Who wants a bloody mary?”
"Make mine a double," Derek said with a firm nod.
By the time the waitress had a drink order in hand, Penelope burst in with her arms full of shopping bags ready to hug everyone and hand out gifts. Hotch first. She hugged him long and tight, with tears in her eyes, until Derek tapped her arm and told her he needed to breathe. She was just what everyone needed to loosen up. Soon, Luke and Derek were talking about their shared love for German Shepherds and trading stories about their silly dogs. Derek asked questions about Roxy, and Luke laughed at stories about Clooney, both of them deciding that the dogs were somehow separated at birth even if they were years and worlds apart. Roxy was just as attached to Spencer as Clooney was to Hotch, and that was the real miracle of it all.
Hotch and Spencer were speaking quietly with Penelope about the BAU and Emily and his office, divulging just enough to make him happy and not enough to make him miss it. Though, by the end of it, he was reassured that he'd made the right decision not returning. Finally. The feeling was strange and a little unsettling in its finality, but he made peace with that small permanent ache after that conversation. He accepted it as part of him not to be fought but to be embraced. It was an ache born of love after all.
“You look happy, sir,” Penelope said as she passed him a beautifully wrapped little gift box. He hated to open it. “Like, really really happy.”
He thought about saying something sappy about Derek but thought better of it. Instead, he turned his watery honey eyes toward Derek and nodded, saying all he needed to silently. She picked right up on it and burst into tears.
To distract from that, he plucked at the ribbon until it gave way. Inside the box was a wishing troll with a pink heart belly button and frayed pink and purple hair smiling up at him. It was terrifying. “From my desk. I thought maybe you might be bored at your silly old teaching job with your dull book-nerd law students and you might need to be reminded that somewhere out there is the one and only Penelope Garcia waiting to give you heartburn anytime you so desire.” Written across the troll's bum was her phone number in glittery sharpie. “In case you don't still have my number memorized.” He smiled soft and replaced the lid on the box before the waiter brought out his meal. And his coffee. Derek and Luke's bloody mary's arrived decorated with jalapenos and bacon, and Hotch thought he could already feel an ulcer forming just looking at it. He simply poured a little cream into his coffee, calling that indulgence enough.
“Thank you, Penelope,” he said quietly. He held the box in his lap. It was hideous and he hated it, but he also loved it more than almost any gift he'd ever been given in his life. Funny how that worked.
“What'd she give you?” Derek asked, poking at the box. He hadn't really looked, he was just busy watching Hotch's reaction to it. Hotch shook his head.
“I'll show you at home.”
“Home! We need to see your home! You guys LIVE TOGETHER!” She could hardly contain her excitement. Her food went mostly untouched. “I just can't believe it. I can't imagine. Does he iron your jeans?” She was looking at Derek now, concerned about Hotch's particular habits. His tidiness. His rules. She imagined him to be a lot more rigid than he actually was. “Does he steam clean the grout weekly? Do you have color coded cabinets?”
Derek laughed, and Hotch did a little too in spite of being mocked right out in the open. “He's actually a complete slob. Last night he left a coffee mug and a spoon in the sink overnight, and I found a sock outside the laundry hamper this morning.”
Luke almost chimed in with a similar story about Spencer just to lighten Derek's load but decided at the last minute to keep his mouth shut. He felt more than a little out of place, which wasn't much like him. He was normally a lot more comfortable, outgoing in situations like this, but something about Derek and Hotch, the years and years they held with Spencer and Penelope that he could never touch...it felt big and he kind of just wanted to watch. To bask in it. Old friendships had their own kind of magic.
“Honestly babygirl, it's all good. Hank's a damn cyclone, Jack leaves toothpaste all over the mirror and never hangs up his towels, and we're good. It's so normal it's almost gross.”
Spencer didn't bite his tongue, not like Luke. He saw an opening, a question he'd been dying to ask, and took it. “Are you going to get married?”
“I dunno,” Derek replied automatically, squeezing Hotch's hand beneath the table. They were no strangers to this conversation, and they had a routine now. Derek said his piece, their rehearsed script, and Hotch agreed. Easier this way. “Maybe. Maybe not. We don't really need to, you know.”
“You should. Neither of you is getting younger, and with Hotch's medical history it would be smart to make it legal. You know, the stabbing and the internal bleeding and all of that. I bet he's got a few specialists and a lot of medication. If anything was to happen to him, you'll have more rights as his spouse than his partner, and with two kids in the mix it really makes sense.”
“Spencer,” Luke said in a hushed but slightly frustrated tone. “I'm sure they know all of that. Let's talk about something else.” In truth, Luke didn't know much about Hotch's medical history except through the FBI rumor mill and that was scary enough. It made him uncomfortable. This conversation was way outside of his comfort zone and he was starting to feel more than a little anxious. He gulped down dangerously on his bloody mary and coughed when a piece of pepper got stuck in his throat. Spencer took that as a sign to change his course, albeit minimally.
“Don't get me wrong. I also think you should because you love each other,” Spencer added a little quieter. It wasn't an afterthought; he was firm on that fact too it just seemed so obvious he didn't need to say it. Hotch found his demeanor interesting. There was a gruff self-assuredness he'd never had before. Hotch hated to think where it came from but ignoring it, shying away from it would do no one any good. Bad things had happened to him, bad things had happened to all of them. Each of them at this table was deeply flawed, deeply scarred, and doing their best to keep their heads up. There was a time not so long ago that Spencer wouldn't have dared talk to him this way, no matter what the circumstance. Spencer barely acknowledged his divorce from Haley, never acknowledged Foyet or Haley's death, it was like Hotch floated right under his radar and he always understood that to be a comfort thing. Spencer didn't know how to tackle those topics with him and it was okay. He didn't mind.
“We have discussed it,” Hotch added, pushing the blueberries around in his bowl of steaming oatmeal. “Derek's mother has made it clear that she would love it, as have the rest of his family. And Jack.”
“It's always on the table,” Derek injected with some strange finality. They had talked about it, more than once, but Hotch was dragging his feet. His only attempt at a legal union had turned out not only bad but the absolute worst it could have gone and there was still some hesitation rooted there.
“You know, statistically a second marriage after 40 is likely to fail,” Spencer continued, staring hard at Hotch. Like he could see right into every one of his insecurities. “But if you look at the reasons they fail, I don't think they apply. Your wife left you because you were married to your job. Morgan is happier than I've ever seen him. So I think that if you two got married, your marriage would have a very solid chance. You could beat the statistics.”
“Kid,” Derek started, while Luke squeezed Spencer's thigh desperately. Usually it was easier to stop Spencer before he dug the hole so deep they couldn't climb out but he continued undeterred. He'd been thinking about this awhile now and if this was his only chance, he wasn't going to waste it.
“I'm almost finished,” Spencer said, turning his attention to Derek. “How does Savannah feel about it?”
Derek rolled his eyes and sighed, knowing he wasn't going to be getting out of this one until Spencer had run through every thought he had. He could indulge his friend, it had been so long since they'd talked and Hotch didn't seem terribly bothered by it. “She's on board. Yeah, I asked her okay? And she asked if she could be my best woman or what the fuck ever, and maybe that made me feel a little weird. She's too cool about it.”
“You didn't tell me that,” Hotch whispered with wide eyes, and Derek let out an even longer, deeper sigh. This was not how brunch was supposed to go. He wondered dimly if they were on some kind of candid camera show, if they would find themselves mocked on the internet somewhere for being gullible and old and ridiculous. Did prank shows even exist anymore or did they just end up out there in "can you believe this fool?" land. The feeling made his head spin as he attempted to locate the answer to the question Hotch didn't actually ask.
“Of course I didn't. It was when Hank and I went down to Colombia to see her a few weeks ago. I just floated the idea, like I've been thinking about it and wanted to feel her out. With Hank involved, I think we should have her blessing. You know? But I needed some time to think about her response.”
Hotch stared at him mildly and shook his head, turning back to his bowl of oatmeal that looked completely unappetizing now. He couldn't even look at the beets.
“So..." Luke began awkwardly. Desperately. "How about those Chicago winters? Are they as bad as people make them out to be? Winters in New York are fuckin' brutal but I heard that they're nothing like here.” He changed the subject abruptly and with a forced smile, clapping his hands together desperately. Penelope glowered at him.
“Stop it, you. This is important.”
“Seems like something personal that doesn't need an audience to me..." Now, this he could do. It was still sweet and new enough with Spencer that he tiptoed, but with Penelope he could be blunt. Unfortunately, she felt just as free to return the favor.
“Shhhhhhhhhhhh. Hush.”
Hotch, turning to Derek as discretely as he could, whispered with barely parted lips. A particular specialty of his. Like a ventriloquist throwing his voice, he said what needed to be said without any visible detection. “I would have said yes. If you actually asked.”
“You said you weren't ready when we talked last time,” Derek replied almost as quietly. “I didn't want to push it.”
"You didn't ask. You brought it up, but you never...asked."
Penelope leaned forward, trying to hear the conversation that wasn't meant for her. Reading lips did no good when one of the people didn't freaking move them. Luke tried to pull her back to no avail. Finally, he got up and excused himself, saying he was going to go pay the check. His treat. Anything to get away from the table. This had gone from mildly unpleasant to completely unbearable.
To his amazement, Spencer followed, dropping his napkin on the seat of his chair abruptly. He'd started this and it had somehow grown to something out of his realm of understanding. He thought of one of those little pills that, when dunked into a tub of warm water, would balloon and expand until it was a dinosaur the size of a child's hand. Some kind of sticky, gelatinous sponge in the vague shape of a stegosaurus. It made him shudder.
That left only Penelope who glanced around, and then back at them as they stared at each other like some updated version of an old wild west standoff. Who would draw first? Quick Draw Hotch or Wild Derek?
Except this one was all love, she realized. All wide eyes and confusion and pure adoration. There was no anger in this strange argument. She couldn't tear herself away.
“Wait, wait, wait. Do you want to get married?” Derek asked, breaking the silence. His voice was breathy and unsure. The room had fallen away from them, it was just he and Hotch in a vacuum.
“Do you?”
“Oh for pete sakes, you guys. GET MARRIED. I can't think of a single person who would say it was a bad idea. Not one. And that's saying a lot.”
“Emily would,” Hotch muttered, never faltering. His eyes remained locked with Derek's.
“She would. You're right. But that's Emily and she loves to be contrary. She'll say it out of one side of her mouth and scream congratulations out of the other. You know it. Get married.”
“We'll think about it,” was Derek's response, and Hotch nodded. She huffed. They were the most frustrating people she'd ever known.
“We will.”
By the time Spencer and Luke returned, the awkwardness had vanished, and no one said another word about that topic. It was settled, in some way or another. They would all know soon what came of it, anyway. It wasn't like secrets did any good in the BAU even when the secrets were about former team members. Hotch and Morgan weren't just any former team members, after all. They had paved the way to the modern BAU through blood and sweat and tears, given every part of themselves for that team, and now...well now they were able to simply sit back and enjoy the fruits of that labor. Together.
“Hey, kid,” Derek said as they all stood on the sidewalk outside the restaurant saying their goodbyes and their see-you-soons. “I'm sorry I didn't get brunch with you...when you got out...things were...”
Spencer smiled and nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. Things were weird, huh?”
“Something like that. It was complicated.”
“But it worked out.”
“Sure did, kid. For both of us. No more missed brunch dates okay?”
“Deal.”