Work Text:
There was nothing new under the sun, which is what Hotch preferred. Though their work appeared highly irregular at first glance, Hotch found that there was a deeply engraved routine within his work that made it very manageable to him. Despite the difference in cases, there was a comfortable outline they always followed.
This case shouldn't have been any different, this wasn't any different. They hadn't been called away in the middle of the night, there was a wide range of evidence to work with and their profile was near complete. Everything was going as it was supposed to be going. Hotch was completely restless. He felt at a complete loss with himself.
The precinct in particular bothered Hotch. He couldn't explain why, objectivity it was one of the nicer precincts. The building was modern and cool, the conference room big and well sound-proof. The team had been given complete cooperation by the local police. There was no sense of competition, no wounded ego, merely a single minded focus to solve this once and for all. It were ideal working situations, given the nature of their job.
But Hotch didn't notice any of that, instead he took peculiar note of the pervasive smell that hung inside and around the building, the sweet delight of endless donuts, the light roasted coffee from the machine that was currently running, sweaty clothes from officers returning from patrols.
He could hear all of the conversations. Two officers who were discussing the football game of the local high school. Detectives arguing over a recent case that they were taking to trial and what the would provide in their testimonies, some gossip about the Chief's recent divorce. Nobody else seemed to hear it, they worked in perfect focus. Pouring over files, adjusting the different boards they had set up. Yet Hotch could barely look at the paper in front of him, his eyes constantly having to be willed into focus. His breathing was shallow, a faint reminder of a long time ago, and with each tiny breath the smell washed over him.
For a moment he considered telling Rossi he felt sick and returning to the hotel, at least stepping outside the building in pursuit of relief from the scent. He couldn't though, not really. The case had high priority, given the pattern another victim would likely come soon. Everyone could do their job just fine, Hotch had no real excuse not to do his. Especially given the stakes that were surrounding their work, he couldn't let his team down, he was responsible.
Hotch closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, he took a deep breath, his mouth dry and a sweet sensation of bile in the back of his throat. He capped and uncapped his pen. He continued to work.
-8-
The profile was wrong. It wasn't entirely wrong, a silver lining of sorts that Hotch ignored. They had been working off of assumptions that were wrong given the most recent crime that had occurred right under their noses. It frustrated him, energy pent up inside his body but all he could do was pace. He was walking back and forth frantically, hands shoved deep in his pocket.
The crime had been particularly brutal, a reflection of the brutal devolving of the unsub. Despite the blow, there was a determined energy that infiltrated the team thoroughly. There was a sharpened focus, all of them seemed to turn it into productive energy as they had a second draft quickly ready. All Hotch felt like he could do was pace, energy building without satisfying release.
"Hotch." It was Morgan. Hotch had sent the team back to the hotel an hour ago, Hotch recognized they had needed rest hours ago already. Beside that, they had been highly productive and deserved to get rest. Hotch had remained inside the conference room, his pacing had increased, his hands remained hidden.
Morgan's voice rang through his ears, it didn't hurt like the increasingly loud hum of electricity or the smell of chemicals after the cleaners had passed by. Hotch took note of it, another sensory experience, he continued moving.
"Are you alright?"
Morgan slowly came into focus. Worry was clear across his face. Hotch hummed in response. After turning he came to a halt, shifting his weight from one foot to the other constantly. The worry was clear across Derek's face, he was frowning. Hotch knew why, but he didn't understand it entirely. Derek knew as well as anyone that he poured in as many hours as he possibly could during cases.
He had been chastised often enough whenever they shared a hotel room.
"When did you last sleep?"
Hotch didn't respond. It was close to 48 hours, he kept his eyes trained on Morgan instead of glancing over at the clock. Morgan regarded him for a moment. He wasn't judging, merely running his head through the calculation.
"Come on, let's get back to the hotel."
Hotch rubbed his finger against his forefinger and gave a small nod. He gathered his things, alphabetically was usually his preference for ordering files but the more recent files were particularly relevant now. It took a while to organize everything, his movement was slow and his body unwilling to cooperate. The two of them left the precinct.
The drive back to the hotel was short and silent. Morgan noticed Hotch's grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles white and his eyes glassy. A wall of privacy always protected Hotch, but a forest had been erected with the walls towering above. Morgan had always been an expert at reading Hotch. Whilst most could hardly distinguish between the different moods Hotch found himself in, Morgan knew. He knew all the tells, and even before he had actively ran through them he could always sense what Aaron was feeling, albeit vaguely. Today wasn't a good day, that much was clear.
Once they arrived in the hotel they headed straight to Hotch's room. It was the last one in the hallway. Hotch fumbled with his keys, a quiet yet exacerbated sigh slipped from his lips. His fingers felt unmoving, clumsy when they did as he willed. This was one of the few cases where all of them had been given their own rooms, the hotel was nearly deserted. Derek had respected Aaron's wish to take private rooms for the sake of their privacy.
As they entered, the first thing Derek noticed was the bed, perfectly tidy with a stack of pillows across it and the welcoming gift right in the middle. A small wooden tray, filled with a variety of cards, some fruits and chocolates. Aaron put his bag down on the ground.
"You haven't slept since we got here." Derek stated, it was no use prying the confession out of him. He knew Aaron wouldn't admit to it. He took tentative steps forward, slowly he rested his hands on Aaron's shoulders. It was a guess, perhaps a stupid gamble, and though initially he could feel Aaron's muscles contract, they soon loosened, affirming that Derek had taken the right gamble.
Touch was complicated, at times necessary for Aaron to regain some footing in the world that passed him by, other times worse than getting shot. Derek managed to always predict which of the two moods he found himself in.
"I'm going to take off your jacket alright," Aaron responded with a low hum. Derek moved slowly and carefully until the jacket was removed and Derek hung it over the chair next to them.
"Do you want to take a shower?" A small nod.
"Do you want me to help you get undressed?" No response came at first, Aaron raised his arms and started to slowly take off his tie. Derek sat down on the bed, watching patiently and ready to assist should the need occur.
"You should go to sleep." Aaron's voice was low, a slight tremble revealed itself.
"As should you."
Aaron didn't respond to that, he finished undressing and started to gather his clothes.
"Let me," Derek interjected, his main goal right now was to get Aaron to actually sleep this night, and preferably as soon as possible. Derek placed his hands on top of the pile of clothes. "I know how you put them away. You can take a shower."
Aaron resigned and went into the bathroom. Derek knew how Aaron put his suits away, he had seen him do it enough times to perfectly replicate it. Once done, Derek moved to empty the contents of Aaron's bag. There wasn't much in the briefcase, the case files went on a neat pile on the left side of the desk, underneath the lamp. The book he had taken with, one loaned from Spencer, to the right and the rest of the contents remained. Derek noticed the bookmark, a picture Jessica had taken of him and Jack.
When Aaron stepped out of the bathroom his hair was slightly damp, his eyes dulled and lowered. Derek noticed some of the tension had left his body, his shoulders had unwound, his arms unclenched. It wasn't good, but it was better. His jaw remained tense, neck slightly strained.
"The sheets." Aaron said. His voice had evened out. His eyes focused on the bed.
Derek nodded. "Sensory thing."
"Sensory thing."
The sheets weren't particularly enjoyable, even to Derek, but he knew how synthetic fibres were to Aaron. This wasn't the first time. Before anything had occurred between them Derek, and everybody else, joked that Aaron never slept. He was still working when everyone went to sleep and up before the rest, at first Derek figured he was too restless to sleep. He hadn't considered that it might be he just literally couldn't sleep.
Derek didn't have to think long before a solution struck.
"Give me a moment, I have a solution." Derek dashed out of the room and returned seconds later with a big navy blanket. Garcia had gifted it to him the last time he had gotten severely sick, ever since he always put it in his go bag. It provided the perfect amount of warmth, big enough to drown in but above all, the material.
Derek put the tray away and removed sheets from the bed, folding them up next to the bed. He offered Aaron the blanket, who took a hesitant hold of the blanket. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers, forming small circles, shifting it around and eventually took a hold of the tag. 100% cotton.
Aaron hummed and the two shared a small kiss.
"Thank you." There was a pause, Derek didn't need to hear the words to know what he wanted to say.
"Just go to sleep, alright."
-8-
This was their eight day on the case. The initial anxious energy that had led to a surge in determination flopped around, upside down and rendered useless. The frustration seeped into the building. Officers spoke in hushed, annoyed tones. Voices were raised and sarcasm dripped from most responses. Aaron did his best to ignore it, focus on the task at hand instead of the broken coffee machine and increasing ruckus coming from the holding cell.
They had identified the unsubs, but tracing them had turned out to be impossible despite all the information they had gathered.
"We've searched their houses, neither had seemed to leave in a hurry. Nothing was packed, all they have is what they had on them." Rossi leaned on the table and crossed his arms.
"None of their credit cards have been used, Garcia has been following that closely." Morgan shut the door behind him, passing around the cups of coffee he had gotten. Hotch didn't notice at first, until his hands started to warm from the cup. Two officers near the door had been conversing about the case, about what they were even doing in there since the killings kept occuring.
Hotch shifted his weight. "They've got nowhere to run to, all they have is each other."
It shouldn't be this hard to locate two fugitives given their extremely limited resources, but the city seemed endless now that they were actively looking. Maybe they were long gone, halfway across the state. Though their pictures had been put up, neither had particular identifying marks that would make them stand out. Both would be lost within the crowd unless you were actively looking for them.
Reid was buried in all the files they had, attempting to gather some evidence they had missed in the hope to point them towards a geographical location. JJ was absent, in conversation with the police chief who was growing increasingly antsy, the rest of the team stuck in the conference room.
Hotch sat down. He took a small sip of the coffee and started to bounce his leg. The walls were thick, but they weren't thick enough to keep the lively bullpen out of his ear. No one else in the team seemed bothered by it, and it shouldn't bother him either. They were just doing their jobs, all of them, he just wished they would do it without him being privy to it all.
"What if we lure them out?" Prentiss offered. "They lack the resources to escape, they're being watched and on edge, what they need is leverage."
"They're too shy to go after police directly."
"Maybe they're not on the run," Spencer jumped to his feet. "We assumed that they are because there's the profile's out and no murders have been committed in four days despite the rapid devolving that had occurred just before, but that doesn't have to mean that they're on the run."
"What would they be doing then?" Morgan asked.
"They're returning to their old pattern, before they devolved. We assumed the stressor was the initial profile broadcasted to the media but what if the stressor was something unrelated, something personal that could be resolved. Like a job loss or minor accident, something to push them over the edge but once the initial emotions have worn off they can return to their normal pattern, it says here," Spencer flipped through the files. "Daniel was fired two days before the rapid increase in killings, if we don't take that into account he's at his regular pace again which means he should strike today."
"That would mean neither of them have seen the news in a few days."
"That isn't unimaginable, both rely on very insular news channels and don't engage with any standard media. It would explain their lax action, we know they take their victims back to motel rooms. It could be that they're getting ready to go out tonight." The words felt strange on Hotch's tongue, it made perfect sense, but his tongue felt as if it moved on its own volition and the noise seemed to echo through the room, his own voice was distant.
"We can set up a sting operation, Philip always goes to the same club."
The lamp above him buzzed. His leg tapped faster, his pen spun around in his hand. The idea was dangerous, but waiting it out felt even worse. And yet he couldn't focus on it, this was the probable course of action and he should be thinking the logistics through but the only thing Hotch can notice is the light buzzing, the smell of sweat and the three sugars too many in his coffee, maybe they'd gotten mixed up. He could take out the lamp, there were four screws attached to the side but any kind of knife would be effective enough to screw it out. He could have some peace then, perhaps it would even be quiet in the room.
His mouth was dry, he took another sip of coffee and it only made it worse. Hotch started to feel nauseous, he fiddled with his tie. It was both too loose, the pressure wasn't enough, and too tight, he wanted to yank it off. He wanted to get up and leave, the room was terrible and the bullpen even worse. He remained seated, his hands clenched into fists.
"Hotch?" Morgan's voice swam to the top of the sea of noise.
"Hmm?"
"Do you think we should go through with it?"
Hotch willed his eyes into focus, despite the constant hum of their computers and the distant roar of the printer he noticed the particularly soft tone Morgan employed. "It might be the only chance we have. We have no idea where they are or where they might go, and if Reid is right we can prevent them from striking again."
Morgan nodded, his face blank. It was far from ideal, there was always a lot of danger involved in sting operations, especially whenever they put one of their own on the line. Hotch didn't like it, but it felt even worse to wait until they made another mistake, or took another life. His stomach gnawed at him, if he could just focus maybe this wouldn't be necessary.
"Who's going to be the bait?"
Not a second passed. "I'll do it."
Morgan glared at him, Hotch stared back. It made the most sense to him, he fit the MO best and he was completely unwilling to put any of his team members at unnecessary risk.
"We can set up two cards near the entrance and near the back. Putting officers on the roof would draw too much suspicion, but we can increase the amount of officers around."
"I want to be on the floor." Derek said.
"I can tag along, the place isn't too big so that should cover most surveillance needs." Prentiss added, Hotch nodded in agreement. They didn't have a lot of time to set this all up, but it would work out in the end, it had to.
-8-
Hotch had learned to enjoy bars, the specific atmosphere was occasionally welcome to him. It could still be overwhelming, the warmth of bodies, the constant chatter, the smell of alcohol, but it was generally worth it. Clubs were not.
He could barely hear Spencer talking in his ear over all the noise. He had had a glass too many to drink in a desperate attempt to dampen his senses. To some degree it worked, the lights didn't pierce, the music was flat but it did nothing to dampen the sheer amount of people surrounding him, their conversations, their breath.
Aaron knew it was a terrible decision, he knew it from the moment he had volunteered up until he had entered. He knew Derek knew this as well, but both of them also knew Aaron was too stubborn to let this go. Everybody else could go out just fine, he should be able to. Especially given the current stakes.
His clothes felt wrong, his shoes felt wrong, the stickiness on his hand from his glass felt wrong. He did his best to take as shallow breaths as he could, in a senseless attempt to avoid the smell that permeated through the packed space. All of it felt wrong and horrible and he just wanted to go -
"Hotch, he's coming your way."
Aaron didn't see anyone in particular stand out. Then again, he hadn't been able to focus well since they had landed. He thought he saw Morgan approach, moving through the crowd with ease. He looked around a bit more, everything was a blur.
"He's standing a few feet away, he's looking at you," Spencer said. "Turn around, he'll approach if you're not looking."
Aaron duly did as told. He felt hot breath on his neck and shoved his free hand into his pocket, his hand searching for a coin he couldn't find. He clenched and unclenched his fists, pressing his lips into a tight line.
"That's an unusual drink," Philip stood next to him. He wore a t-shirt and jeans, smiling. "Then again, I don't think I've seen you here before."
Aarom hummed in affirmative. "Just passing through."
"Holidays?"
"Yes," Aaron took another sip, his glass was nearly empty. "just a few weeks of nothing."
Philip regarded him, nodding slightly. A moment passed before Phillip ordered two beers and smiled at Aaron. He didn't say anything as he walked off and Aaron watched him fade into the crowd. Aaron finished the glass, a cool sensations passing through his throat. "How long should I wait?"
"A few minutes. We've got eyes on him, he's in the back on his phone. He keeps looking in your direction, so we've got his attention. Garcia is tracing the call right now." Dave responded. Aaron considered his options.
To leave now would be too early, though Philip would only act once he had left there wasn't a guarantee that he had gotten confirmation from his partner. He could walk over to Derek, but his current position eluded him and the thought of bracing the crowd made Aaron nearly vomit. All that was left was to wait.
Waiting didn't mean he couldn't do anything. "Reid, can you say something?"
"What do you need Hotch?"
"Nothing, can you just talk about something." He paused. "I need to focus on something." It was a plausible excuse, anyone would have anxiety waiting on a suspected serial killer, or at the least assistant to. There was no need to explain himself further.
Reid hesitated for a moment before he started, but he did exactly as was requested and started to explain papers and books he had recently read about Gerrymandering and the mathematics of election. Despite the increased noise, Reid's talking soothed him. He could focus on that instead of the blaring music, the constant pushing of bodies, the nausea that kept welling up in tidal waves, the lights that started to bleed once again.
"He hung up. He's got his eyes on you. Stay a slight bit longer and then exit via the back, there's too many people out front." Hotch confirmed and slowly started to brace the crowd, edging along the walls of the room. Bodies pushed and pulled, every once in a while he felt someone touch him. He did his best to focus on looking ahead, there was an exit.
Eventually he reached the backdoor, his only focus was on putting one foot down in front of the other. Whatever resistance he had build up thanks to the meagre sleep he had managed to get with Derek's blanket, had long worn off and everything he sensed cut him to the bone.
Aaron passed through the corridor and opened the door. A waft of fresh air hit him in the face, the alley was unlit and there was some trash outside but the it felt like Aaron took his first breath after the hours he had spent in there. It was just a few steps before he would be at the car.
"Take it easy man," Aaron felt the barrel of a pistol push through the thin shirt. "I've got someone you need to meet."
It wasn't that he hadn't seen it coming, this was the whole point of being bait after all, but because of everything else going on Aaron felt a slight tinge of genuine surprise with the cold metal against his back. His sensed had finally mellowed out a little, the sensation of metal was oddly soothing.
"I don't want any trouble."
"There doesn't have to be, how about we just head back in and out the front, right to my car."
The alley had been something they had discussed extensively. It was far too narrow to station a car in, and loitering officers would be noticed considering it was always dead empty based on the footage they had watched. It was a risk to take, but so far they had been able to trace a stalking phase before the actual abduction took place. The victim left the club and would be followed for an hour or so, depending on when they arrived at a house. This wasn't necessarily a complete departure from their MO, but it was a rather quick escalation. Either they felt the pressure to act quickly, or he had been scoped as particularly vulnerable.
"Can't we just walk around the building?"
Aaron had to stall, for his team to get into action but mainly for his own sanity. Whatever relief had passed him by, his head started to throb and he pressed his eyes shut. The sudden stench of the alley washed over him, trash bags that had been left out, alcohol wafting out of the club.
"Just do as you're told. There's no need to make it difficult."
Aaron hesitated, a few seconds too long based on the hand that was suddenly pressed onto his shoulder and -
"FBI, drop your weapon." Prentiss' voice rang clear through the deserted alley, it was followed by loud footsteps of both Rossi and Reid along with the police force closing in from the other side. His ears hurt.
"You're surrounded Philip, we know you didn't kill any of them. Now's not the time to start." Rossi called, gun raised.
There was a pause, a moment of hesitation. Aaron was distracted by the sirens, the empty alley filled with noise and light after he had managed to savour some silence for a single second after four days of torture. The pressure was removed from both his shoulder and back, footsteps followed and Aaron stumbled forward whilst Prentiss proceeded to cuff the suspect.
Relief should have washed over him, after all, he wasn't in a life threatening situation anymore. But it didn't. He felt the drum of his heartbeat against his chest, despite the apprehension of the suspect the sirens remained on, blaring both sound and light and Aaron wasn't sure what to do. He wanted to pace, but he felt like he could barely walk anymore, he wanted to get away. His head felt like it had cracked in half.
Rossi and Reid said something to him, all of it flew past him but he managed to nod and shake his head whenever appropriate, as they left him after that to return to talk to the police they had on stand-by. Prentiss headed over to the car, suspect in hand. Derek approached him, stood in front of him and gingerly took Aaron's hand, he pressed a silver coin into his hand. It was hefty, ice cold and the one Hotch had left in the pocket of his suit.
"You forgot to take it with you." Derek released Aaron's hand.
"Thank you." he whispered.
-8-
It took them a few more hours than Derek liked but in the end they got onto the jet. Initially Prentiss and JJ had suggested celebrating their success by going out for dinner. Derek already had a wide range of defences to evade such a social gathering, but it wasn't even necessary as it seemed the case had worn nearly all of them down to the bone and most wanted nothing more than to return home.
Once they had departed some idle conversation still took place, but whatever energy Prentiss and JJ had mustered before seemed to had dissipated mostly. Whatever conversation took place was minor, a few remarks that mostly passed Derek by. He was focused on Aaron, who had taken up a seat away from the rest of the team.
Reid's eyes were closed, his head leaning to the side. JJ was sleeping as well. Rossi and Prentiss had moved apart, playing a game of cards in utmost silence though it seemed like neither had actually made a move in ten minutes.
He glanced at Aaron. After the successful arrest Aaron had changed back into his suit, Rossi had made some light-hearted joke about it but Derek understood it. The clothes he had worn to the club reeked of alcohol and sweat, and Aaron just wore suits to work.
Derek's stomach was still in knots despite the successful operation, he had been dragged from the scene to the interrogation room and after sent out to arrest Daniel, he hadn't really been able to check up on Aaron yet. His behaviour was enough of a tell.
Aaron's brow was furrowed, his knuckles white from gripping his pen. His leg was bouncing, vigorously but relatively quietly. His other hand hidden inside his pocket. Derek considered chastising him into sleeping, it wouldn't work. Derek noticed his lip pressed into a firm thin line, his shoulders tensed together. His ears were flushed crimson and his eyes a little red.
He was working on files that he could delegate, but he never did. Derek still didn't know the exact reason, he didn't have to.
Derek got up to make some tea and grab a bottle of water. He set the cup of tea down in front of Aaron and took the seat opposite.
"I just want to finish this, before we get home." Aaron's voice was raspy and breathless. Derek nodded.
"I know, I just wish you'd get some sleep."
"I will."
"Are you holding up okay?"
Aaron made a small noise.
"Can I do something for you, right now?" Specific questions tended to grant the most answers.
"No."
"Is it okay if I just stay here?"
Aaron's lip twitched, smiling slightly. "Of course."
The rest of the flight passed quickly. Derek noticed the increasing exhaustion that was written on Aaron's face but he didn't mention it.
Once they had landed all of them parted ways quickly. Aaron had gone inside, he needed to pick some things up. Derek stood by the car, he considered the night, closer to approaching morning, that lie ahead. He was excited at the thought of just spending some free time with Aaron, he could barely keep his eyes open.
A few minutes later Aaron returned with a small stack of papers and entered the car, the passenger side. Derek hadn't expected differently and sat down in the car.
"Radio?" Aaron shook his head.
The drive was silent except for the low hum of traffic, Derek noticed Aaron lean against the window, closing his eyes and pressed his hand against his brow. He returned his focus to the road ahead of them. The car made a small consistent noise.
As they stepped inside Derek shut the door behind him and Aaron put his bag down on the floor. His entire figure was tense, his neck about to burst, his eyes puffy and red. Derek's stomach dropped, things were likely worse than he had hoped.
"Do you want the lights on?" A shake.
"Do you want some fresh air?" A nod. Derek opened the windows and returned, standing in front of Aaron.
"Do you want to get changed" A nod.
"Go on," Derek replied. "I'll put our stuff away."
Aaron raised his eyes. Derek offered a small smile. That seemed to be enough confirmation as Aaron shuffled over to the bathroom.
Derek went on to put away their go-bags. He emptied them out and sorted everything, putting it back to where it belonged. The book Aaron was reading returned to his bedside table, the papers on the centre of his desk. Derek put his own stuff away after, most of it stayed in the bag and the rest found itself hidden in a drawer.
Fresh air started to flow through the apartment. Derek went and got two glasses of water. The apartment had been left spotless, Jack would be with Jessica until tomorrow afternoon. It was just the two of them for now and there wasn't anything he really needed to do. Derek sat down on the couch and looked at the clock.
Ten minutes passed. Derek had heard the tap running at some point. He decided to go check on Aaron, just to be sure. He knocked on the door, it was unlocked. After no response Derek called out. "I'm coming in, alright."
Aaron sat in the bathtub, knees drawn up to his chest and eyes bloodshot. His clothes had been folded and placed on the toilet lid. Derek took the cup on the sink, filled it with water and handed it to Aaron. He finished it in one gulp.
"Is it alright if I wash you?" It sounded a bit weird as Derek said it, it would've made him laugh in different circumstances but his request was genuine and heartfelt.
Aaron inclined his head slightly, Derek took the soap. "I'll start with your shoulders."
Derek slowly lathered it onto his hands and started to rub in gentle circles. he had seen Aaron naked before, it wasn't surprising but there was an undeniable vulnerability involved this time that Derek was all too aware of. He did his best to keep focused, narrating whatever he was doing and was about to do as to not surprise Aaron.
His fingers passed over many different scars, traces of a wounds that would never quite fade but could be overcome regardless. Most of them the result of violence, but his pectoral scars jest as wounds never felt. Derek was aware that Aaron felt somewhat insecure over the many scars that decorated his body, it was understandable but Derek liked to view them as the tale Aaron told, not of what had happened but what he had overcome.
They rinsed off and Derek got some clothes for Aaron to change into. Once finished, they brushed their teeth and went to bed. Derek remained silent as Aaron snuggled close. Derek felt the exhaustion seeped into his bones, once he entered the bed he felt weightless but at the same time he felt very grounded and present, aware of every muscle in his body.
Some moments passed, it could have been a minute or hours, Derek wasn't sure and it didn't matter.
"I'm sorry." Aaron's voice was shrill and small, barely there. Derek idly considered how much energy this small gesture had required.
"Don't be sorry for this. Not ever."
Derek pressed a kiss to the top of Aaron's hair, it was fluffy and dry.
"Let's just get some rest, we've got tomorrow off to do whatever we want." Derek paused. "You have nothing to be sorry for."