Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

David Rossi stared wide eyed at the house in front of him from the car. It was spotted and destroyed by the rain spilling down the dirty car window. He gripped the seatbelt in his injured palm, feeling a sting rise back up.

“Why couldn’t I just stay with my uncle.” It wasn’t a question, David already knew why he couldn’t. The young boy could feel his eyes welling with fresh tears. He’s already been with his uncle for three years, and now he was being shucked off to some stranger?

The social worker, Linda something, sighed from the front seat. He watched her hands tighten on the steering wheel. “We talked about this, David..” She looked at him from the rearview mirror. He wished the car was still moving so she was forced to break eye contact.

“Your uncle is ill, he can’t take care of you anymore. Mr. Dearing is a nice man, David.” Linda pulled an umbrella from her glove box and offered it to the boy in the back.

Out of protest, he crossed his arms and turned up his nose. David opened the car door, throwing his backpack on and picking up the duffle. He stood in the rain, trying to ignore the cold seeping through to him as Linda grabbed his two suitcases before leading the thirteen year old up the short driveway to the looming house.

Linda knocked on the shredded oak door, her now free hand rubbing soothingly on David’s shoulder.

David gulped, staring wide-eyed at the looming grey home with shuttered windows and three stories. He’d heard the horrors of foster care, would he have to sleep in the attic? Would he even be given a bed? Would he be stuck—

The door swung open and David flinched. He squeezed his eyes closed, too scared to see the man taking him in. “Ms. Sommerfield. David. Please! Come in! You must be so cold, let me go grab some towels.”

David blinked his eyes open as Linda Sommerfield, he knew her last name had an s in it, led him in. He gripped his bags looser as he watched the man walk away. David studied his back. Collared shirt, khaki pants, slicked hair, tan.

This seemed like a perfectly normal man. David’s shoulders released some of the tension that had been so tightly wound since he’d gotten into the car.

“See?” Linda nudged him, waiting until the boy looked at her. “I told you he was nice.” David looked away with flustered cheeks as the woman chuckled.

When the man returned, David finally learned his name. “David Rossi? I’m Albert Dearing. You can call me Al, Mr. Dearing, whatever makes you comfortable, okay?” David merely blinked at the man, suddenly feeling shy.

He nodded, chewing his bottom lip. Casting his eyes to the ground, David studied Albert’s shoes. They weren’t as clean as the rest of him, covered in mud. Maybe the man liked to hike. David liked to hike.

Maybe he’d take David hiking.

After an hour or so of paperwork and routine questions, Linda stood to leave. She crouched beside David, shooing Albert out of the room.

“Remember. If you ever feel unsafe, I’m just a call away. I know it can be hard, if he restricts phones, or anything. There’s a payphone at the end of the street, and another at the end of the block. Okay?”

David nodded, he waved her off, however. “I got it, I got it. See you next month, Linda!” David excitedly waved her off. The nerves he’d felt earlier were still there but they were almost smothered by the excitement to explore a new place.

Albert had taken David’s suitcases to his room, it was on the second floor. David marvelled at the open floor living room they’d just been in. From the hallway at the front door it opened up straight into the white, tan, and brown decorated room. David ran a hand along the couch.

“David! Up here, please.” David paused, something about Albert’s voice was different. Coarser.

“He could just be tired from carrying my bags. They weren’t light,” David flew up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He stood confused for a moment at the top of the stairs. He could see at least five closed doors, an open bathroom door, and an open door where he could see Albert’s rm poking out.

David skipped over to Albert and nearly bumped into the man. “Oh, I’m sorry—”

“Watch it, you stupid shit!” Albert raised his arms to stabilise himself. He brushed his perfect hair back again and glared at David. “Listen, Rossi. I don’t give two shits what you do here, but you don’t get in my fucking way, got it?”

David was too stunned to respond. He could only stare at the man in front of him. Mr. Dearing grabbed the top of his shirt hem and yanked. David gasped, his entire body tensing again as Dearing placed their faces inches apart. “Got it, Rossi?”

Breathing in short, scared puffs, David nodded. As soon as he was dropped he scurried into the room that his things had been dumped into. The man in front of him rolled his eyes and slammed the door closed, David flinched again when he heard it lock from the outside.

“I’ll get you for food. Don’t piss yourself.” Footsteps receded from David’s hearing. The boy gasped, grasping at his chest wildly. He dropped his bag quietly– afraid it could bring Albert back up.

David curled up on the not yet made bed. He hugged the coverless pillow close to his chest and buried his face in the scratchy fabric. David tried to hold in his cries, but couldn’t.

In an attempt to distract himself, David slid to the floor and grabbed an old notebook he had and began noting things he thought to be common knowledge in situations like these.

David tapped his pen on the paper and began scribbling.

1. don’t be too loud
2. don’t touch him
3. call him mr.dearing? or sir?
4.

That was all David could think of. Just these three things. He tapped the pen against his head, trying to force the ideas to come to him.

Sadly nothing came.

Sitting on the floor and doing nothing was forcing David to think about things he didn’t want to. So instead, the young boy began making the bed. He was happy his uncle thought it was useful to know these skills for yourself.

David mumbled a quick thank you to the nothingness as he set to work slowly making the bed.

It had been however long it took for the rain to stop when a bang suddenly sounded on David’s door. The boy flinched and turned to it, the door was half way open when it revealed Albert.

He looked bored, nodding outside with his head. “Eat. No fucking talking.” Davi almost replied, but kept his mouth shut instead. It seemed to be the correct move because Albert just started walking down the stairs again.

Chapter Text

Aaron Hotchner was not excited. He wanted to go live with his grandmother too. It wasn’t fair.

He scrubbed at his eyes angrily, wincing at the way it pushed on his fresh bruises on his face. Aaron was not liking this house. It looked too much like his did. But it was better taken care of, maybe it was better.

Mrs. Hamley had assured him there was another boy his age at the house. She walked to the door in sync. Mrs. Hamley took Aaron’s duffle bag and his mini suitcase.

Aaron watched her walk. He stared around the neighbourhood, spotting the payphone a little ways down. He thumbed the coins always kept in his pockets as a ‘just in case’. The boy paused, feeling his chest tighten and his breathing shudder at the thought of going inside the house.

Shaking. He was shaking. Aaron’s hands were shaking. He was going to drop his bag if he kept shaking. Mrs. Hamley was shouting at him. He could hear her, ‘Come here, come here’, he read her lips.

In and out. Aaron inhaled and exhaled sharply, taking a step as he did. In and out. Another step to another breath. Soon his breathing had evened out and he was walking at an acceptable pace up to the door to wait with the social worker who hadn’t spoken a word of comfort to Aaron.

Aaron cringed as his shoes rubbed against the lacerations there, a hand placed itself suddenly on Aaron’s uninjured shoulder. He pulled away sharply, a hand twitching with the trained instinct to protect himself.

The door swung open and once again, Aaron flinched. His entire body locked up as he immediately studied the man who was supposed to be his new foster parent.

Albert Dearing, he remembered. Albert was quite a tan man. Aaron could easily see the tan line on the man's neck. He squinted his eyes, and looked intensely at the man’s face. There seemed to be smile lines in the making beside his mouth, but the smile he bore didn’t make it to his eyes.

“Aaron Hotchner, no allergies, doesn’t like to be touched. He’s 14. Same as David, I believe,” stated Mrs. Hamley, her voice near completely monotone. Aaron’s shoulder’s hunched, his right one twinged in pain at the movement.

Albert Dearing raised a hand and Aaron curled in on himself, already too tensed and wound up to tense even more.

“Is that him?” At the sound of another voice, a young voice, Aaron pushed out of his protective curl to peek into the house. He could see a boy his age, maybe older, with curly, wavey, brown hair that peeked up to mop on the top of his head. His brown eyes were wide and excited as he stared directly at Aaron, his teeth a blinding white.

The boy’s shirt was a muted blue, crinkled, and dirty. His pants were not much better, the jeans were covered in dirt. Aaron shuddered to think why.

Jumping at the sudden touch on the back of his neck, Aaron whirled to look at his social worker. She nodded goodbye and turned, stalking off. Aaron watched her leave wide eyed. He doubted that was protocol.

As soon as the car had pulled off, Albert Dearing grabbed the bags that Mrs. Hamley had placed down and dragged them inside. “Come in, Aaron, let’s get you settled. Yeah?” Aaron cautiously stepped in, as tight as a rod.

He closed the door behind him, taking his time to turn around. Once he did, he noticed the boy holding his hand out. “David Rossi. Guess we’re stuck together now, huh?” Aaron chuckled, offering a tight smile to match the boy’s–David’s grin.

“Aaron Hotchner. I guess we are.” Aaron gripped his bag strap tighter, glancing around the open foyer of the home. Immediately he zeroed in on the broken mug on the ground, some of the shards had blood on them.

“What happened to your face? And shoulder. What happened to you?” David questioned quickly, moving into Aaron’s space. Aaron tensed, about to bite back, but David spoke too quickly. “Ignore the blood, I dropped a mug and cut my hand on it.”

It was a lie. It was so clearly a lie. Aaron could see the look on David’s face. Lie, lie, lie, lie. Liar. Why was he lying about it? Aaron often did, but that was to protect Sean.

Aaron’s eyes misted again at the thought of his younger brother with his grandparents. He already missed Sean, Aaron was glad it was court mandated he got to see his brother every month.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs, Aaron ignored David’s look when he tensed up and flinched away from the sound. Albert Dearing came around the corner and Aaron knew instantly something was wrong.

“One fucking job, you had one fucking job, Rossi!” Dearing turned on the taller, Aaron noticed while standing next to him that David was a bit taller. He raised a hand and backhanded the brunet forcefully.

Aaron’s eyes widened again, he was starting to think they may get stuck like that. Flashes of his own father assaulted his mind, images of him going for Sean. Aaron dropped his bag and shoved the man who was supposedly kind and caring.

Dearing stumbled, David stood, Aaron regretted his choices. He didn’t regret helping David, he glanced back and saw the other boy brushing blood away from his nose and lip. He did, however, regret it when Dearing turned to Aaron angrily.

Dearing grabbed Aaron’s injured shoulder and Aaron couldn’t help the pained yell that escaped him, “You listen here boy, I am incharge. I am the one you fuckin’ listen to. Got it?” Aaron squeezed his eyes close, trying to breath through the pulsating pain going up his neck and down his arm. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Got it, got it, sir!” Aaron gasped, arm flying to his shoulder as soon as it was let go. Dearing opened his mouth to say something, but he paused and watched David pick up the things Aaron had dropped.

Carefully, almost shyly, David placed a light hand on Aaron’s neck. “I’ll show him his room.” David pushed Aaron towards the stairs with enough force to move him, but not enough to send the ravenet sprawling as he would’ve expected.

The journey from the stairs to the second door on the left, the first was open and Aaron saw it must’ve been David’s room, was a silent one. David spent it rubbing his face and holding Aaron’s belongings, and Aaron spent it wishing he could rip his things away from the stranger.

The second his things were placed on the floor, Aaron scooped them all up and shuttled them to the corner, where he remained standing in front of his things. David regarded him momentarily before stalking out of the room. He closed the door behind him.

Aaron’s shoulders sank down as low as they could go, his right one hurt at the action, but he couldn’t help himself. He had been so tense the entire day his mouth was almost stuck in a frown.

The door inched open, Aaron was relieved to find it didn’t creak, but also afraid. David stood in the room now, closing it slowly.

He turned to the new boy and held up a black-tinted opaque bottle and shook it. “You drink?” Aaron blanched.

Drink? Was this kid kidding?

“No! It’s illegal and bad for you.” David rolled his eyes and uncapped it. He dropped onto Aaron’s unmade bed. Aaron stood awkwardly in the corner. If this was supposed to be his safe space he wasn’t sure he wanted this David Rossi in it.

David swirled the drink before tipping it back. His entire face scrunched at the taste, he exhaled loudly after he swallowed. Aaron was grossed out as he gagged. “It’s the only way I deal with him.” David absentmindedly touched his reddened cheek.

Aaron looked at his shoes, scuffing the ground. “How long have you been with him?”

“A year.” There was a moment of silence, one neither boy wanted to be the one to fill.

“Just keep your head down, call him Mr. Dearing, and don’t let him know I drink and he should leave you alone.” David took a full chug instead of sip and Aaro made the bold decision to sit beside him.

Picking at his bandages, Aaron stared at the ceiling. “My dad liked me to get his drinks. It put him in a good enough mood to not beat on me.” David looked at Aaron, then the drink in his hand and nodded.

“I’ll try that sometime, thanks kid.”

“We’re the same age.”

“I’m at least three months older.”

This house seemed horrible already, but, as Aaron sat there bickering with David, he began to think it wasn’t so bad.

“You seriously have never drunk, Hotch?”

“No! It’s ille– don’t call me that.”

“Nah, it’s your new name! Hotch!”

Aaron stood up and shoved David off the bed to begin making it. David laughed, closing whatever alcohol he’d snuck in.

“Hotch.” Aaron ran his tongue across his teeth. Maybe it was not so horrible.

Chapter Text

It was raining so hard that it actually hurt JJ when she’d gotten into the car.

“I wonder if this is how Roslyn felt.”

She squeezed her eyes closed, her throat closing up again. JJ hugged the stuffed giraffe closer to her chest. It felt silly in any other context, but this was the stuffed toy Roslyn had gotten her for Christmas three years ago.

JJ twisted in her seat to see the house that the dark sedan was stopping in front of. She immediately noticed the payphone outside, and with much chagrin, realised she was too short to reach the coin slot.

She stared angrily at the payphone. What if she’d been in a wheelchair and needed to call the hospital for immediate assistance. She could die because these people made the damn thing too tall.

“Jennifer, get out.” Mr. Durn, or Mr. Dumb as JJ liked to call him, stated. His voice was clipped and annoyed. JJ made a show of getting out slowly getting out of the car and forcing Mr. Dumb to cater the umbrella to her.

JJ tossed her hair over her shoulder and pulled out her two large backpacks and tossed one over each shoulder. She turned to glare up at the dumb butt social worker and practically bared her teeth. “It’s JJ.”

Mr. Dumb rolled his eyes and put a hand between JJ’s shoulder blades to stabilise the young girl as they walked up the slippery steps. He banged on the door and rung the bell to gain attention.

Cursing and banging came from inside, JJ winced, she looked up at Mr. Dumb. He looked calmly ahead, pulling paperwork out of his pocket.

The door opened carefully to reveal a man with a buzz cut, JJ couldn’t tell if it was blond or brown. He had smile lines and bright white teeth that made JJ cringe away from him. She heard the rain start to hit her bags and inched forward again.

“You must be Jennifer! Come in, come in! Such bad weather, right?” Mr. Mystery Man laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder to steer her inside. JJ shrugged his hand off as he stepped off to deal with Mr. Dumb.

JJ’s eyes roamed around the open foyer room. Her head tilted curiously at the pictures on the mantle. There were two boys in a few of the pictures, they often looked caught off guard. In the middle of card games, or at school.

JJ ghosted her hand across the one of the ravenet before she was startled by her name. “Jennifer.” She turned around to see Mr. Dumb. He was tucking the paperwork back into his inner coat pockets. “I will see you in a month, one the eighteenth to be exact. Be nice, enjoy yourself, I’ll see you soon.”

No sound left JJ’s mouth before Mr. Dumb was already walking away. JJ looked over to the man now fostering her– she wished she knew his name– and crossed her arms to protect herself.

The man looked her up and down with a sneer, a sudden change from how he just was. JJ desperately wanted to call out to Mr. Dumb to come back but she heard his car start and speed off.

“Hotchner! Rossi! Get your asses down here!” JJ’s eyes widened and she took a step back into the mantle at the sheer anger in his voice.

Immediately there were two sets of footsteps thundering down the stairs, one running the other walking. JJ recognised the strangers immediately. It was the ravenet and the brunet from the pictures.

One stood stock still, back straight, shoulders back, chin up. He was staring off to the side of the fostering man before he looked over to JJ. His eyes softened and he gave her a small smile.

“That looks like Roslyn’s smile.”

JJ wanted to cry again.

The other boy wore a cocky grin, he leaned on the ravenet and looked at JJ. He was obviously trying to look calm and laid back but JJ could see the veins popping out of his neck with how tense he was.

She could also see the matching bruises the boys had.

“Take the bitch to one of the rooms and don’t make any fucking noise. I hear one of you and you’re all going down for it.” The boys nodded, the brunet waiting until the man’s back had turned before rolling his eyes.

The ravenet walked over to JJ and offered a hand to her, “I’m Aaron Hotchner, you can call me Aaron or Hotch. I’m fourteen and I’ve been here for seven months.” JJ blinked at him and shook his hand in almost a state of shock. He took her bag from her and stepped to the side.

The brunet tossed his bangs to the side, it didn’t do much, and offered her his hand. “David Rossi, ex-trust fund baby. Also fourteen, but I’m the oldest. I’ve been here for a year and some. Call me David, Dave, Rossi, Hotshot, anything works.”

JJ shook his hand and hugged her remaining bag to her chest. “I’m, uhm, JJ. Or, well, Jennifer Josie Jareau. But if you call me Jennifer I’ll kick you in the balls. I’m twelve.” JJ shifted her stance to stand straighter.

Dave grinned down at JJ and clapped her shoulder gently, “You’re gonna fit right in, kid. Come on. We’ll show you your room.”

JJ followed a few steps behind the boys. They seemed nice enough, she supposed. But the mystery man had swapped so quickly. But then again, he wasn’t one of the kids. JJ withheld a groan. She hated not knowing.

“Rosyln would know.”

JJ’s steps stuttered, she stumbled forward and into Aaron’s– Hotch’s?– back. He whirled around to stabilise them both, Dave reached over to help them.

“Sorry, sorry, are you okay?” Aaron–Hotch? She should ask which he preferred,– apologised, letting go of her shoulders almost as quickly as he’d grabbed them.

Nodding, JJ pushed her blonde hair out of her face. “Yeah. My bad.” Dave didn’t say anything, instead he opened the third door on the left for the two younger ones.

“This is your room,” Dramatically spinning around, David turned back to JJ and Hotch– Hotch made it easier to not get attached– and bowed. “So, we’ll fill you in on the rules.”

JJ took her bag back from Hotch and dropped them by the bed. She sat down on it and turned to the two teenagers again. It was then she just noticed how much taller they were than her. If they turned out to be terrible people JJ wasn’t sure she could take either of them on.

“So, call him Mr. Dearing, anything else and he gets mad.” Dearing! That was his name! David began the rules, Hotch continued.

“Don’t touch any drinks that need to be poured into glasses. He also gets mad, but cans and beer bottles, if he asks you to get them, just do it.” JJ tensed at the mention of drinking, it didn’t go unnoticed.

David glanced at Hotch as he slipped into older brother mode. Hotch crouched in front of JJ. “Can I touch you, JJ?”

JJ nodded, Hotch grabbed her hands and rubbed his thumbs on her palms. “If you don’t feel comfortable getting him any alcohol, Dave and I will do it. Okay? Just try not to be near him alone in that case.”

Her breathing shuddered. Her chest felt tight. He was too much like Roslyn. “Is–is he violent?” JJ hated the way she stuttered. It made her feel even younger. It made her feel weak.

The teenager in front of her shifted to sit on the bed next to her. It dipped and half-forced JJ to lean into Hotch. She didn’t complain.

David came and sat on the floor in front of her and started playing with both her’s and Hotch’s knees, poking them and moving the legs around. “I’m here because my parents drank too much.” JJ stared at David’s hands. Hotch rubbed his hand up and down her shoulder.

“We’ll keep it all away from you.” JJ snorted and pushed Hotch off her and moved to the middle of the bed. She didn’t like that she’d accidentally told them that.

David moved to a crouch and grinned at her. “Alright kiddo, you know how to make your bed?” JJ shook her head. David nodded and held his hands by her sides. “Can I pick you up?” JJ’s eyes widened. She sat up on her knees and nodded excitedly.

Grunting exaggeratedly, David lifted her off the bed and swung the shorter girl onto the ground. Hotch signed in mock annoyance, a small smile on his face betrayed his enjoyment of the situation.

JJ giggled quietly as David and Hotch helped show her what to do. She insisted on doing the quilt she’d brought with her herself. Getting possessive and protective over it. The boys let her, not trying to touch it with her permission.

David laughed when Hotch’s hands got stuck under the mattress when he was pushing everything under the bed.

JJ curled up on her bed when done and closed her eyes. Hotch and David sat on the floor, leaning back against the door.

“What are you doing?” JJ sat up curiously, unsure whether or not to stay awake. David opened one eye and leaned his head back down but it was Hotch that responded to her.

He tapped the door silently. “We’re gonna wait until you sleep to leave, that way if he comes in to bug you, we’re here.” JJ hoped she didn’t pale at that. She had no idea what ‘bug you’ meant and she never wanted to find out.

Closing her eyes again, JJ forced her entire body to relax and for her breathing to even out.

The boys obviously thought she was asleep as they began talking amongst each other, quietly. But not quietly enough that she couldn’t hear.

“Dude, I have to hide my alcohol. I don’t want her to think I’m like that.” David groaned, JJ could hear him itching his arms.

Hotch sighed and clicked his tongue. “I never agreed nor will I ever agree with your drinking, but I can find ways to cover for you, Dave.”

There was a moment of silence.

“But I will be hiding everything for you. Once you find it you can drink again.”

“Dammit Aaron, you’re both helpful and a bitch.”

JJ smiled into her pillow. These people certainly weren't her family, but Roslyn must be looking ou for her because she sent her to a place with kind brothers.

Chapter Text

Derek Morgan was playing with the broken straps of his bag. He pulled at the frayed edges, rubbing them between his fingers. Derek’s eyes flicked over to the closed office door at the opposite end of the home.

Desperately wanting to know what they were saying, but doubting he could hear anything through the thick door, Derek stayed sitting on the couch.

The coffee table held three pictures on it, one of the man fostering Derek. Albert Dearing already seemed to be an interesting man, he was wearing a thin italian collared shirt in the freezing home. For some reason it seemed like every aircon was on with all the fans pointing at Derek.

The other two photos were of the kids he assumed the man was also fostering. The first one had two boys in it, the one with brown hair was mid jump onto the boy with black hairs back. The brunet had an evil grin on his face and his clothes were covered in dirt. He held a football under his arm, too. The ravenet looked to be mid conversation with someone else.

Derek’s eyes lazily moved to the third picture. Front and centre of this one was a little, blonde girl holding a soccer trophy up towards the camera. Both the ravenet and brunet looked the perfect image of proud of her. Their eyes were on her trophy, and they each had one hand on her shoulders.

He spent so long staring at it that it startled him when a door opened. Derek looked up to the hall hugging his back tightly to his chest, a mix of protection and defence.

“Absolutely not, Dave. No!” The first person to exit the small hall was the ravenet from the photo. He looked taller in person, Derek tried his hardest not to look intimidated.

Next was the blonde girl, she lightly shoved the ravenet with her shoulder. “Yeah! You can’t go to a party without Hotch! I mean, Haley’s gonna be there.” The ravenet gasped and looked down at her in shock.

The brunet from the photo exited last, he looked exactly like what the other popular boys from Derek’s old school did. He opened his mouth to say something when his eyes flicked to Derek.

Tensing, Derek wasn’t sure what to expect. Would he sneer? Would he be nice? Would he be like Carl? Derek shuddered at the idea. Would they all shun him?

“You new here or one of his clients’ kids?” The brunet asked instead, he moved close enough to shake hands with Derek, holding his arm out with a kind enough smile. The blonde girl looked around his waist at Derek with big, curious eyes. The ravenet gave Derek a light smile before he took the three bags and stalked off to the attached kitchen.

“I’m David Rossi, Dave or Rossi works. That’s Hotch, well, Aaron. But we call him Hotch. This,” David reached around and lightly tapped the top of the girl’s head. She smacked his hands away, giggling. “Is Jennifer. But call her JJ if you like your balls.”

“David!”

The ravenet’s, newly named Hotch, voice rang through the house. He looked horrified at the boy’s words. Derek smiled and grabbed David’s hand, shaking it firmly to hide the fact that his own hands were shaking.

He quickly hid them behind the bag on his lap. “Derek Morgan, and I think I’m here to stay. My social worker is in there now.” Derek nodded to the closed door at the end of the second hall.

All of the kids' faces paled slightly before JJ jumped at Derek. “Your’s is still here? Why? It’s just a signature and they can leave, you know.”

Derek shrugged at her, moving over on the couch. His spot was immediately taken by the blonde.

“Dunno. This is only my second placement.” Hotch walked back over and offered Derek a glass of water, Derek accepted with a bow of his head and a thank you.

The brunet, who had a light Italian accent, sat on the back of the couch while Hotch sat on Derek’s other side.

Leaning down to Derek’s level, David stage whispered to him. “This place isn’t all that bad, but it’s not great.” Derek blinked owlishly at him, moving away from the older boy uncomfortably. Hotch pushed the brunet with a stern glare.

“How long have they been in there?” JJ asked, tilting her head. She was staring, looking away from them.

Derek looked at his watch. “An hour, hour and a half?”

David whistled, brows blown up. JJ turned and looked at Derek, shocked. Hotch exhaled sharply in shock. Derek didn’t like these reactions, they weren’t good reactions. He hugged his bag closer again, using it as a shield.

The teenagers started talking again, trying to convince Derek to talk to them, but he wasn’t. He was too nervous now. The door opened and all four of them flinched.

Derek’s social worker walked out. She placed a hand on top of his head and gave him a soft smile, “I’ll see you Monday, Derek, okay?” Derek nodded, leaning into her touch until it was gone. He’d never have done this if he’d had a male social worker, memories of Carl too fresh. He shuddered when she pulled away at the thoughts of the horrid man.

She turned around once again, “I almost forgot.” The social worker looked at the other kids, “Derek is thirteen. Okay, see you all Monday!”

Derek watched her leave, dread beginning to pool in his gut, in his head. As soon as she closed the door, Hotch and JJ started to move but JJ was faster. She all but sprinted to the kitchen and disappeared around the corner.

The man fostering the four stood over the couch, looking down at Derek. Albert or Alfred Dearing. Derek didn’t care to remember, with three other kids he doubted he’d be there long.

Hotch moved to try and squish in front of Derek and Dearing but Dearing simply shoved Hotch over the couch. He fell and crashed to the floor, David rushing to his side. JJ came out with wide eyes, fear and anger etched into her face.

Jumping off the couch, Derek’s bag tumbled to the ground. It hit the coffee table and shook its contents, knocking the photos over. His eyes hardened and narrowed into slits. Derek felt the need to push the kid away from Dearing when JJ slipped over to hand him the beer bottle she’d grabbed.

As soon as JJ no longer had something to do, she skid to Hotch’s side and hovered by him and David, watching as David checked the ravenet for anything that could be wrong. Derek’s fists clenched angrily and for a moment Albert Dearing wasn’t Albert Dearing a foster father, he was a football coach with no boundaries.

He didn’t mean to.

Derek swore it, he really, really didn’t mean to.

But David stood up fast, Dearing’s hand started to move at the teenager and Derek couldn’t really control himself.

He lunged, knocking the arm to the side. Derek’s only regret was that he flew over the couch. There was a shriek, a shout and a cheer from Derek’s right. Derek pushed himself up, a slight buzz began to fill his veins.

There was an automatic recognition of it being adrenaline, but Derek knew this wasn’t the good kind he got when playing football, or running, this was the bad kind. The kind he got when he went to the cabin.

Derek stood straight and looked Dearing head on, they stared at each other for a moment before Dearing lunged at Derek, he grabbed the boy’s shoulder and threw a clumsy fist at him. Unfortunately for Derek it hit its mark on his cheek.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Derek fell, Dearing almost pounced on him.

Hotch shoved forward and pushed the older man away.

“Mr. Dearing, please, he’s new. Stop it!” David moved to stand next to Hotch, behind the boy’s back he looked at Derek, winking and giving a thumbs up. Derek heard JJ’s scoff of disappointment.

Dearing stood in Hotch’s face, their noses barely an inch apart. “You control that–that dog. Or I will.” One last shove to the older boys and Dearing was snatching his beer and stalking back to the office he’d come out of.

Derek winced at the door slam.

He then also winced at the scathing look he received from Hotch.

His bags were snatched up by the glaring ravenet. David helped him up, tossing an arm around the new boy’s shoulders. “You and I are going to get along swimmingly.”

“You shouldn’t do that.” JJ insisted as they all clambered up the stairs. Hotch showed him to the first door on the left and placed his things down carefully before turning around.

“JJ, come help me get supplies to deal with… that.” He motioned generally to Derek’s rapidly bruising face. “Rossi, help him make the bed, now. And I mean now, Dave.” Hotch placed a hand on JJ’s shoulder and led her out. They both had twin glares of disappointment.

As David moved to begin making the bed, Derek wilted. Not even a day there and he’d already screwed up any good impression he could have made. At least David seemed to like him so far. Derek hoped that was a good thing.

Brushing a hand over the bottom sheet, David tossed the cover sheet out, tilting his head at Derek. “That was a bit impulsive.” Derek flinched and wilted further, but David wasn’t deterred. As Derek helped him pull the sheets over, the older boy grinned. “I wish I’d done somethin’ like that when I got here.”

Looking up sharply, Derek felt a grin rise. He winced slightly in pain when it pulled the on drying blood on his face.

As the two boys making the bed went back and forth a bit, David told him all sorts of information on the house and occupants. Like that Hotch wasn’t the oldest, but he was the most mature. He and David were both fifteen, but David was a few months older.. And that they called him Hotch because he hated it, and it stuck, but if a situation was really serious, they called him Aaron. He also learned that JJ was the youngest but the most athletic of them all, at only , she was on the soccer team and did dance classes. David was the oldest and apparently the main protector, self proclaimed, at school. Being popular, people wanted to be the other foster kids’ friends to try and meet David.

Hotch and JJ walked back in with a small first aid kit and a wet rag. JJ handed the rag to Hotch. “We have rules here, you know.” Hotch began, half pushing Derek onto the bed so he could begin cleaning it off. Derek shifted uncomfortably but made no move to push Hotch away. His nerves crawled but he could tell Hotch wasn’t going to do anything. “Main one is don’t make Mr. Dearing angry. He takes it out on everyone when you do.”

Derek looked down in shame, only to have his face lifted back up, “Don’t move, I’m trying to clean these.” Derek sighed, he glanced over at JJ and David who were quietly arguing over something– ponies?

“Any other rules?” Derek whispered, his voice wavered lightly.

Hotch frowned, obviously noticing. “Some, we can talk about them later. But we look out for each other here. If you want to tell us why you’re here you can, and if you have any questions about us you can ask. If there’s anything that can trigger you, tell us please.”

JJ’s hand rose, “Like me! When I got here, looking at alcohol would make me cry. But now it just makes me feel annoyed.”

Blanking, Derek nodded, then shook his head out as Hotch stepped away, finally finished.

“I don’t approve of fighting.” Derek looked up at the ravenet, “But if you do fight, try to win.” He stepped out of the room, pulling David with him as the brunet opened his mouth.

The blonde girl stayed for a moment longer, staring at Derek. “I also don’t like fighting. BUt you have to teach me that tackle move you did!” She grinned at him before rushing out of the room.

Derek blinked in confusion. This was an incredibly strange house. Hopefully it was better though.

He twisted his hands in the sheets, staring at them. Maybe he could make friends with these strangers.

Chapter Text

No one really remembers how Penelope Garcia joined their messed up group. It was one of those things that just.. Happened.

It was one of those things that Derek didn’t remember how life was before another young blonde would sprint and almost tackle him every time he came back from football practice. He didn’t remember how he used to not help the energised kid sneak around the school after playing a prank on the awful teacher who hated Hotch.

It was one of those things that David didn’t understand how anyone could live without the annoyingness of the blonde practical puppy-like girl. He didn’t understand how anyone could hurt the girl, he didn’t understand how people didn’t want to defend her when they saw a simple bruise forming, or red puffiness form under her eyes. It was one of those things David didn’t understand how people could live without a blonde nuance to help create a hidden nook in their bed for no reason other than fun.

It was one of those things that JJ didn’t comprehend why people could see Penelope smiling and offering them free pins and scoff and laugh at her behind her back. She didn’t understand how those same people could giggle and pretend to be her friend to her face.It was one of those things JJ didn’t comprehend how anyone could look at Penelope and see anything but sunshine and rainbows.

It was one of those things Aaron didn’t realise people could screw up so horribly. He didn’t realise someone could get in Penelope’s bad books, and he didn’t condone what she did when they ended up there, but he couldn’t help how proud he felt when she talked David down from beating up a thirteen year old. It was one of those things Aaron didn’t realise how Dearing could see Penelope simply sitting in the living room with Derek and then listen to him make a tirade of racist and sexist comments.

It was one of those things Penelope didn’t notice. She never noticed how much her new family– because she’d be damned if anyone said they were anything but her family– protected her. Despite the fact that she knew everything already. Even if they didn’t tell her, they texted each other, and they should really know Penelope reads their texts when she knows they’re hiding something.

It was one of those things Penelope started to notice when David started listening to her more often, taking in her ideas more. When Aaron took her praise or her opinions in higher accommodations than everyone else's. When JJ would come to her for her help on practically every subject instead of going to Derek who had a perfect score in that very class. When Derek would come to her after all his practices to tell her every bit of exciting gossip he’d heard from the team and the cheerleaders.

If you asked Penelope if she thought she’d have an amazing family for her first– and hopefully only– foster family, she would tell you no. She’d scream and shout and deny that she’d ever love anyone ever again.

She lied.

Penelope smiled, placing her feathery pen down, placing the black notebook covered in small chains and fake rips on her bed. She spun out of her room into the room directly across from her.

“Chocolate Thunder!” Penelope sang, dropping onto Derek’s bed, grinning. Derek threw a quick smile at her, holding a hand up to ask for a few more moments of silence.

As Penelope waited, she closed her eyes and thought back to the few months before, when she was still grieving. Penelope’s bright grin dimmed, not sadly, just lost in thought. She thought back to her goth phase, her harmful hacking phase, her silence.

Looking back up at Derek, she tilted her head, eyes trailing to the wall above him where he had polaroids of his friends and foster family hung up. Penelope stared at one of him, David, Aaron and JJ. Her new family, her amazing family. The ones who helped her accept her grief and move on, but never forget.

The ones who protected her from Mr. Dearing– who was not at all dear!– for as long as they could. She genuinely thought Dearing was a nice guy, he left her alone all through her (minorly illegal) grieving process. It was only once she’d gotten better that she realised how much of a threat he was.

Groaning dramatically, Penelope threw herself across Derek’s legs to try and garner his attention.

Apparently hearing her groan, David’s head popped into the room. One perfect brow raised curiously at her. Penelope didn’t move from her spot with Derek, mouthed the oldest. “He’s ignoring me.”

David mock gasped back at her. With as much grace and speed as the half-ready teen could manage, he threw himself onto the bed. Half on Penelope, half on Derek.

Startled by the sudden extra, and unexpected, weight, Derek kicked his legs up. He kneed David in the back, forcing the large teen to roll on top of poor Penelope, who was also unprepared.

The three groaned painfully, Derek heaving and rushing out apologies as he contradicted his words by shoving David and Penelope off the bed. Hearing the commotion, JJ’s head popped in. Derek’s own head flew to look at the younger blonde.

“Derek!” JJ and Penelope said at the same time, one in laughter, the other in a winded wheeze. Derek glared down at the blonde, and over at the other blonde, then also down at the giggling teenager they called responsible.

Aaron’s head popped in over JJ’s, glare set in place. His own eyes narrowed at them. He stomped into the room and pulled David and Penelope up, then looked between the three. “Explanation?”

“They jumped on me!”

“He was ignoring Pinky Pie.”

“I need attention.”

Everyone looked at Penelope who simply smiled and waved at them. Aaron shook his head and a rare smile found his face. “Okay, okay, Penelope, why don’t you come sit with JJ and I?” Aaron placed a hand on the shortest blonde’s shoulder, lightly pushing JJ out of the room.

“You can work on your scrapbook and all.”

Penelope’s eyes widened and they practically shined as she rushed after JJ. Vaguely hearing the boys talk as she ran into her room, then Aaron’s.

Penelope Garcia didn’t think she’d ever love anyone like family again.

She was wrong, of course. Because there was no other word in the entire dictionary– in the entire world!– that could describe them better.

Chapter Text

Emily stood at the steps of the house, nose crinkled in disgust. It was small, smaller than she was used to, than she wanted.

Watching her closely, Mr. Levi, Emily's annoying social worker, waited until the teenager's face had been schooled into something neutral before exiting the car. He took all of her bags, knowing the girl wouldn't, and walked her to the door. The door was brand new, which was strange considering the rest of the house was still old, covered with chipped paint. Emily wondered what else required a replacement. “Do I have to be… here?” Emily gestured vaguely at the house. She looked up at Mr. Levi, disgust seeping through her imperfect mask.

The social worker sighed and knocked on the door with three loud, controlled raps. “Ms. Prentiss, we've been over this. America is…different. You're used to the wonders of the world, America holds no such thing.” Mr. Levi's voice was tired, annoyed. He obviously was getting sick of her. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Emily looked behind at the other houses. They looked well kept, clean. Why didn't this one? Before she could actually pose the question to Mr. Levi, the door swung open.

“Hey,” The man held the word out happily, opening the door wider, “come in, come in! Kids! Come down!” Immediately, Emily did not like this man. He seemed loud, brash, and there were more kids? How annoying. She hoped they were at least as old as she was. One last glance to the outside world and Emily allowed herself to be herded into the suffocating walls of the unknown house.

“This is Emily Prentiss, Emily, these are the other kids. Derek, David, Jennifer, Penelope, and Aaron.” Mr. Levi named. He watched as Emily's captor started walking down the hall, motioning to each child as they were named. “Be nice.” Mr. Levi whispered harshly as he quickly followed the man into a closed room.

A few moments of awkward silence ensued before the bright pink and blonde mess that was one of the children, Penelope according to Mr. Levi, came barrelling at Emily. Luckily, The girl didn't try to touch her, but she squealed in an annoyingly high pitch. “Oh my gosh! I used to dress just like that! It's so cool to see someone else who just–just–” A series of chuckles came from behind the girl, the one that Mr. Levi had named as Aaron began approaching Penelope, “Just so cool!”

Staring down at the girl, Emily wasn't sure how to react. Aaron gently grabbed Penelope’s shoulder and pulled her back, whispering something to the girl that made her pout and nod. “JJ.” The other blonde stated curtly. Emily turned to look at her, Mr. Levi had briefed her vaguely on the other kids in the house. Although, he hadn't said they were in the house so she'd stupidly assumed he meant they were her neighbours. Jennifer, or JJ, was fourteen. She was tall for a fourteen year old, Emily mused.

“JJ.” Repeated Emily, not rudely, more confused if anything. The blonde nodded, giving Emily a small smile before she turned away, walking over to one of the boys. Derek, if Emily remembered. He was her age.

The brunet of the group walked up to Emily and held his hand out between them. “David. Rossi, ex-trust-fund baby. I'm the oldest,” He grinned at her, Emily watched the other kids fondly shake their heads at him. Withholding her own grin at his words, Emily rolled her eyes.

Straightening her back, Emily grabbed David's hand and gave him a firm shake. “Emily Prentiss, also ex-trust-fund baby.” Emily left off the fact she was technically still a trust-fund baby, only once every two months, though. Felt like a smart thing to leave off.

Approaching her, the one who Mr. Levi had called Derek placed his hand out to shake. He had a confident smirk on his face. “Hey. I’m Derek. But you’ll also hear me called ‘Chocolate Thunder’,” Emily’s face must’ve given away her discomfort at that because they all laughed. Penelope looked like she was sputtering to explain, but couldn’t get the words out through her cackles.

The last one, who wasn’t laughing, smiled at Emily. “I’m Aaron. Everyone calls me Hotch, though. Or Hotchner. Take your pick.” Emily nodded at him, her lips thinned awkwardly. Why must he have so many names? She looked at the group again, watching them all calm down from their maniacal laughter. Almost completely shutting up when the office door opened again. Emily sighed internally, that was such a great sign for this home.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Emily turned and walked Mr. Levi to the door as he listed off everything she could do to contact him in case of emergency. “Remember, I’ll be back in two and a half months.” Mr. Levi gave the house a once-over, eyes lingering behind Emily for just a second too long for comfort. Emily hated to admit it, but she was afraid.

The few seconds after Mr. Levi had left were silent, Emily kept her gaze strictly on the front door. Her hands tapped against her leg, pulling on the rips in her jeans, playing with the frayed ends. Someone cleared their throat, Emily turned her head to the large group. She looked at the bubbly girl, who was suddenly withdrawn, eyes cast downward.

Now, Emily wasn’t one to get protective or defensive of people she didn’t know, but this also concerned herself. The man, she already forgot his name, he was insignificant just before, she probably shouldn’t have thought like that.

The man lifted his hand and Derek jogged to the kitchen and back, now with a can of beer in his hand. Emily rolled her eyes and scoffed, apparently a bad move as the man’s head snapped to look at her. “Mr. Dearing…” Aaron, Hotch, whatever, started quietly, a hand out placatingly. Dearing shoved Hotch to the side, stalking up to Emily as he slammed the beer onto a coffee table.

Emily realised her mistake, but her pride wouldn’t let her back down or curl in to protect herself. Dearing smacked her open palm, no rings, but it still hurt. Stumbling to the side minimally, Emily’s hand covered her reddened cheek. She blew out a breath stiffly, straightening to stare at him. Dearing brought his hand up, Emily withheld the instinctual flinch. He pointed a finger in her face and spoke, but not to her. “Get her situated or I swear none of us will like the damn outcome.”

David moved swiftly and grabbed Emily, pulling her away from their captor, her first impression of him had been correct! Emily wasn’t sure what had happened to her bags, if she was honest the next few moments were blurry. Her vision was still spotted from the hit, and she wasn’t carrying any of her things that usually gave her a grounding weight.

As she was led into a room, Emily stared blankly as Penelope chatted her up, trying to make her feel better. Every so often Derek would join in, then so did JJ and David. Aaron stood to the side with Emily as everyone moved around the space that supposedly becoming her’s.

Aaron was beside Emily, holding an arm out as her knees almost buckled, having her drop slightly. Emily sat down willingly, a hand rubbing her cheek. “Holy shit.” The talking in the room stopped, everyone seemed to stop moving. “Holy shit, this is real.” Penelope moved to sit in front of her, JJ and Derek standing just off to the side. Emily looked around the people in the room. “Are we all just–just stuck here?”

All of them sighed on different levels, some deep, some shallow, David’s just incredibly dramatic. Emily snickered at that, a hand running through her hair. She winced as her hand tore through some of the hard gel spots. Aaron nodded, “We are. But we’re together. That’s important, we help each other.”

Penelope reached over and hovered her hands over Emily, when there was no resistance, Penelope yanked her to stand. She pulled out sheets from the closet and Emily grimaced. “No. No. I have my own sheets, thanks.” JJ scoffed, crossing her arms as Emily dug out her black fitted sheet, white top sheet, and thick grey and skull-covered blanket.

The group of teenagers all set out on making Emily’s bed, her nitpicking their every move. David and Emily got into a few moments of banter that somehow led to everyone on Emily’s bed. She complained about them all being dirty, David agreeing and calling everyone peasants. Aaron sighed, just content with how well they were getting on.

After Derek, Penelope, and JJ had fallen asleep on Emily’s new bed, David and Aaron slipped out of the room. Emily followed them, both curious and because she’d been beckoned by David. They slipped into the first room in the hall, the only door that was open. As soon as she walked in, Emily guessed it was David’s. The boys sat on the bed and at the desk, Aaron holding a notepad. He was writing on it.

Emily stood by the door, her arms crossed. They all sat silently for a few moments. David took the lead, “So, as you can tell, this house..” David’s arms flailed around for a moment, “It’s not great.” Emily rolled her eyes, her tongue poking at her inner cheek, at the injured one. Aaron stared at it with what Emily thought could only be guilt.

Standing, Aaron held the notepad out to her. “We have a list of rules we’ve just noted down over the time being here. Not much, but… still.” Emily’s brows knit, she took the notepad and looked at it, chewing her lip.

“Wow. Sir? JJ doesn’t get him beers? Holy– we can’t touch him? Actually,” Emily looked up at them, “that’s good. I don’t want his diseases.” David snickered and Aaron rubbed his temples. “Are all of you ages listed here?”

David jumped up, holding a pencil out to her. “Yeah, kept up to date too. Add yours?” Emily hummed, taking the pencil from David. She ran her tongue across her teeth as she catalogued their ages in her head, JJ and Garcia were both fourteen, Derek was fifteen, and Aaron, he was listed as Hotch on the paper, and David were her age, sixteen. Emily just added her name next to the boys’.

Handing the paper back to Aaron, Emily gave them an unimpressed look. “So, if that’s my room, did I just lose it to them?” David cackled quietly as Aaron nodded. “Damn! On my clean sheets, too.”

Chapter Text

When Spencer Reid arrived at the house, none of the others were expecting it. They were used to seeing a social worker come in and talk to Dearing then leave. They were also used to being told that they were getting a new ‘sibling’.

At Spencer Reid’s arrival Emily and Dave were sitting in the living room doing their homework. They were complaining quietly, not wanting to pull Mr. Dearing’s attention out of his office and to them. They were startled at his sudden heavy steps approaching them. Emily straightened her back, Dave tightening her hold on his notebook, but Dearing passed them.

Opening the door quickly, Mr. Dearing reached down and pulled someone into the house. A small boy. Brunet, shaggy hair, his eyes were covered by bangs. His shoulders curled up to his ears as he clutched a ratty backpack to his chest. The boy didn’t look up from where he stood, staring down at his scuffed shoes.

Dearing stood at the door talking to someone out of view. He laughed loudly, the boy looked back then down again, never once looking over to the two teenagers on the couch. Dearing slammed the door a few minutes later, all of the children flinched. The boy shifted his weight awkwardly as Dearing placed a tight hand on his shoulders, the boy’s head tilted down as his hair got caught under the hand.

“Kids! Kitchen! Now!” The boy flinched at the loud voice, Mr. Dearing rolled his eyes and walked past him, over to Dave and Emily. “Grab his bag, and him.” Emily looked over, the boy hadn’t moved, but he was at least looking up, now.

Dave walked up to the kid, the boy stared up at him with wide, almost tearful eyes. Glancing back at Emily, they shared a pitying look before Dave reached past the boy and grabbed his standard, black duffle bag. “I’m Dave, that’s Emily.” As Dave went to ask for the kid’s name, the sounds of pattering feet drew their attention. Dave rolled his eyes as Derek and JJ almost tripped down them. “That’s Derek and JJ.”

As all of the teenagers gathered in the living room, each more confused than the last at the new kid standing awkwardly in the middle of their living room. Penelope and JJ were whispering behind Aaron’s back. They all stood silently, wondering why they were called there. Dearing stood at the threshold to the kitchen, watching them. He swirled a can in his hand, his tongue poking out of his mouth.

“Well shit, y’all don’t usually listen to me that fast. Get ‘im settled, and if you’re even a decibel too loud–” Dearing waved his free hand in a slapping motion, stumbling slightly as he knocked himself off balance. He shook his head, blinking blearily before wanding back into the kitchen.

That was not what any of them were expecting. Cautiously, most of the group went upstairs. Emily didn’t hesitate to drag the more rowdy of them, JJ, Derek, and Penelope, back up the stairs. Hotch quietly made his way to where the new boy was standing stiffly, curled in on himself, shaking slightly.

The older boys looked at each other, communicating silently. Dave nodded, taking the boy’s bag upstairs. Hotch noticed the way his hands reached out towards Dave’s back before they dragged back to his chest. Hotch remained seated by the boy for a minute, “My name's Aaron Hotchner. You can call me Aaron, but most people call me Hotch.”

They made eye contact tentatively, the boy’s voice was soft, quiet, and hoarse. He’d obviously been either crying or screaming before. “Spencer Reid. I’m–I’m twelve.” Hotch nodded encouragingly, he gave a quick glance to the kitchen, then back down to Spencer. Unsure of what to do, Spencer looked up the stairs curiously.

Smiling once again, Hotch stood, he held his hand out to Spencer. The boy grabbed his hand carefully, studying Hotch’s lightly calloused hand. Trying to hide his desperation, Hotch ushered Spencer up the stairs. He was holding his bag at an awkward angle, making walking a bit difficult, but Hotch didn’t try to take it from him.

The walk down to the last door in the hall felt ominous. Spencer looked at all of the closed doors, subconsciously holding Hotch’s hand tighter. There was a singular door open at the end of the hall, Spencer could see someone leaning on the door, their back facing outward. HIs breathing hitched lightly, Hotch looked down at him, nodding towards the door.

“Dave,” The one at the door leaned his head out. He moved out of the way, motioning to the inside. Hotch let go of Spencer’s hand, the boy shuffled inside the room, his mouth dropping open slightly.

The room was clean, empty. Lit up by a singular window enough that he didn’t even need the head light, the bed was pushed to the far side, the girl introduced as Emily was working with the one introduced as Derek to finish making the bed. His bag was placed on top of the dresser against the end of the bed. Otherwise, the room was empty. Save for the two blonds in the corner by the small desk and chair. The one with big, blonde, curly hair was placing multiple colourful toys on the desk.

“This is your room, kid.” Dave grinned, Spencer stood still, backpack still hugged close to him. The curly blonde walked over to Spencer, he judged that walked was the wrong word, bounced was better. Without warning, she grabbed his elbow, chatting excitedly but he barely registered that. Shock was written clearly over his face as he stared at the point of contact.

Something that everyone in that room could immediately tell about Spencer Reid was that he apparently did not like sudden touches. He jumped backwards, knocking into Dave, who hit the door. Spencer tipped forward, his bag dropping out of his arms as he hands moved to clutch at his biceps. Everyone flinched as the door banged into the wall.

Hotch looked at Emily, she jumped off the bed, Spencer flinched, his hands moving to cover his ears. Dave quickly entered the room and closed the doors as Hotch and Emily ushered everyone to the corner. Spencer watched them, tilting his head, “JJ, we don’t have time, please just sit with Penelope.” Hotch all but begged the straight haired blonde girl.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer murmured, still standing awkwardly. Behind him, he could hear Dave and Emily shuffling, he could hear the door lock click. Derek looked at the smallest, he and JJ shared a look before the older held his hand out to Spencer.

“You like sports, kid?” Spencer made a face, one that had Derek and JJ snickering quietly. Penelope hung off of Derek’s arm. As Spencer cautiously sat down beside them, she let out a string of apologies and held out a plastic dinosaur to him as an ‘apology gift’. Spencer accepted it.

As Derek and JJ argued with Penelope about never getting apology gifts, Spencer looked over his shoulder. He noticed the way Emily’s hands were still holding the door, and the tenseness in Dave and Hotch’s shoulders. He twisted the dinosaur in his hands, pulling lightly at the ridges on it. They’d already heard the footsteps storming up, getting closer, getting louder.

Spencer didn’t miss the way JJ tightly held Penelope’s hand, the way Derek held both blondes’ shoulders. The way Hotch and Dave moved Emily away from the door, bracing their shoulders against it. They didn’t flinch as something slammed against the door repeatedly. Penelope did, she moved closer to Derek. Spencer also flinched, his hands slamming against his head, fingers digging into his shaggy hair. He squeezed his eyes shut.

The banging didn’t stop for a while– eight minutes and thirty-four seconds, Spencer counted. Once they did, no one moved, not until they heard the footsteps stop. As soon as they did, JJ moved over to Spencer. She held her hands out placatingly to him, trying to smile.

“Sorry that you had to see, to hear, this, kid.” Derek murmured. He had Penelope tucked into his side, her shoulders shaking. Hotch and Dave crouched beside the kids, Emily jumping up to sit on top of the desk.

Spencer licked his lips, dropping his hands away from his head. “You-you know, statistically, fifteen percent of kids between the ages of fifteen to seventeen are neglected or maltreated in foster homes.” Spencer looked up, eyes jumping from face to face, “Fourteen percent for-for eleven to thirteen.” Reaching down, Spencer grabbed the dinosaur, squeezing it. “It’s surprising, actually, as from the ages five to ten it’s thirty-one percent.”

Dave whistled, looking up at Emily, “Okay, boy genius. Saying you weren’t surprised?” Dave stood up, leaning on the desk with Emily. Spencer shrugged, he looked at his things. Dave huffed, pushing off and tapping everyone’s shoulders to get them to move. “Let’s let the kid settle, Hotch?” Hotch nodded, settling himself in the desk chair.

Spencer watched everyone file out. He stood in the middle of the room chewing the inside of his cheek. Hotch sat quietly, watching as Spencer meticulously and quietly placed his meagre amount of clothing into the dresser, he had more pairs of socks than he did shirts. Spencer pulled out books that not even Hotch had read yet, he placed them on the floor beside him, as if unsure where they could go.

“Those would look great on the desk,” Hotch offered quietly. Spencer looked up at him, eyes wide. Moving himself to be on the same level as the kid, Hotch kneeled, helping the new boy organise his books however he wanted.

As soon as Spencer seemed to be calmer, Hotch pulled out the notepad. Spencer seemed to understand what it was immediately, he took the pad, staring at it for a few seconds before looking at Hotch’s forehead and recounting the rules, and ages. “Seventeen, you and Dave, are you older?”

Hotch’s eyes blew wide, this was definitely something he and Dave would be talking about later that night. “No, he is. Emily is older than Derek too, she turns seventeen soon.” Hotch smiled softly at him, “And you’re twelve?” Spencer nodded, “JJ was twelve when she first arrived, too. We look out for each other here,” Hotch offered his fist out to Spencer, “if there’s something you don't think you can handle, we can.” Spencer stared at the fist in confusion, Hotch put his hand down.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Spencer nodded, his voice softer than before as he turned his back to Hotch, walking to the bed and smoothing out the blankets, “Okay.”