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After he'd parked the car, Hotch wasn't entirely sure why he detoured to the diner across the road from their hotel. All he knew was he'd somehow ended up in front of the place, staring at the door for a moment before deciding it wouldn't hurt to go inside. He wasn't going to get much sleep if he headed back to his room at the hotel, and staring unseeingly at the ceiling wasn't an idea he relished. Besides, he'd already made it as far as the entrance, and he could hear quiet, hesitant footsteps crossing the road behind him; the diner would provide a distraction from speaking until he was ready. Satisfied with his decision, he opened the door and stepped inside.
Soft fifties music was playing over the speakers, and quite a few tables were filled with patrons chatting around burgers, fries, and milkshakes. A dark-haired woman close to his age walked up to him, holding a tray under one arm. "How many of you?" she queried with a smile, and Hotch caught a flash of her name tag: Marie.
"Two," he answered, managing a smile back at her.
"Take a seat in one of those booths," she suggested, gesturing to a row of three that were available in a less-crowded section. "If you know what you'd like to drink, I can go ahead and get that for you."
Hotch gave it a brief thought before deciding to make it easier. "Two coffees."
"Creamer?" Marie asked, and he shook his head. "All right; two coffees it is."
He took the booth furthest away, sitting with his back to the door. He knew the other profiler preferred to sit where he could see most of the restaurant. Hotch typically felt the same way, but tonight he thought he would be more relaxed if he couldn't see everyone in the diner.
It wasn't long before Reid was sliding into the booth on the seat opposite him. Neither of them spoke at first, sharing a glance of acknowledgement but not offering any sort of greeting otherwise. Hotch saw the younger man glance up, signaling Marie's approach, and he looked up as well, his lips quirking into a smile as she set down both cups of coffee. "Thank you," he and Reid chorused.
Marie hummed before asking, "You boys want anything to eat? We have some excellent pies. I'd recommend the chocolate creme one." Hotch was remotely surprised she was only offering dessert choices, and apparently it must have shown on his face because Marie chuckled. "When you've done this as long as I have, you pick up on things. Neither of you look as though you're in the mood to eat something heavy. I thought you may like to share a piece of pie, however."
He shifted his gaze to Reid, meeting hazel eyes. "I don't mind," he commented, leaving the decision up to the younger man.
Reid made a face that had Hotch's lips twitching against a smile, but the genius profiler nodded and turned back to Marie. "A slice of chocolate creme pie, please."
"Coming right up," Marie responded with a wink.
Hotch slid both of his hands around the coffee cup, letting the heat settle into his palms and fingers as he watched Reid start doctoring his coffee, his gaze catching on the methodical movements of Reid's fingers. It had always been humorous the way the younger man treated it like an exact science. They'd all learned early on to leave Reid's coffee alone and allow the genius profiler to fix his own because (surprisingly) there was a point of too much sugar for the man. Hotch had seen Reid do it so often, however, that he wondered if he wouldn't be able to get it correct by now.
He was pulled from his thoughts as Reid's hands cupped the coffee mug and brought the rim up to his lips. His eyes followed the line of Reid's throat as the younger man swallowed a mouthful of coffee, and they lingered at the hollow of his throat. Hotch's fingers twitched before tightening around his mug. The urge to touch Reid was always present, but he had become quite a professional at ignoring what he wanted in the last few months. It was getting easier to resist, though the frequency with which he felt the need to do so had increased and as such occurred at inopportune moments more and more often.
"Hotch?" Reid's gentle, questioning tone pulled his gaze back up to meet hazel eyes. The younger man looked perplexed and just a touch concerned, but he didn't have a chance to ask his question before a plate was being set down on their table.
Marie grinned as she set a few napkins on the table and then deposited two forks on top of the napkins. "You two let me know if you need anything, all right? Enjoy!"
"Thank you, Marie," Hotch called after her, his lips quirking into a smile as she faltered momentarily before continuing to walk with a spring in her step that hadn't been there before.
"I think you just made her night," Reid commented, and Hotch swung his gaze back to the other profiler, who was smiling warmly at him. His heart stuttered, and he shrugged one shoulder as he felt his face flush.
Instead of responding to Reid's statement, he motioned for the younger man to pick up one of the forks. "Go ahead and eat what you'd like. I'll eat what's left over."
Reid picked up the fork closest to him before shaking his head. "If we do that, you won't get any of it. I made the choice to get one piece knowing what it entailed; I'm fine with sharing it with you, Hotch." He forked a bite of the pie as he finished speaking, and Hotch waited as Reid tasted it. The younger man made a noise of surprised delight that tripped down his spine, causing a spark of pleasure to buzz at the base of his spine. Reid swallowed before speaking. "Marie was right; this is fantastic. You have to try at least one bite."
Hotch hesitated before taking a tentative bite. The flavor of the chocolate was strong but was tempered by the whipped cream on top, and he heard himself make a surprised hum. "It is," he agreed, watching as Reid took another bite, his mouth going dry as Reid's tongue flicked out to lick off some whipped cream that had caught on his upper lip.
"I'm only going to eat another bite every time you do, so you may as well start eating, or this pie will go to waste," Reid threatened. Hotch quirked a brow, and the genius profiler met his gaze evenly, unmoving. With a slight shake of his head, he took another bite, his heart turning over as Reid smiled proudly.
They were halfway through the piece when Hotch murmured, "I wanted to save Michael Cunningham." He saw Reid jerk slightly, as if surprised by the sudden admission—and maybe the young profiler was. He had stated it without preamble, so it must have been a shock to hear, even if it was the main reason they were both currently seated across from one another at a diner at one in the morning. Knowing Reid would hate to have attention called to it, he continued, "I knew the chances were low, but I wanted to find him alive."
"We all hoped we would," Reid replied softly. "We couldn't have known for sure that Roberts would accelerate his killing time. There was always the off chance he wouldn't have been able to. He had a ritual."
Hotch swallowed convulsively, his fingers tightening around the fork in his hand. "It could have been you," he admitted, words barely audible. "Brown hair, hazel eyes, highly intelligent, strong-willed. Not inexperienced with dating but still remotely shy when approached." He paused and took a quick moment to collect himself so his words were steady. "The only reason it wasn't you is because you were safe with us, and he was at a bar with friends in his hometown."
Reid was silent, but Hotch couldn't bring himself to gauge the younger man's response, which was why he wasn't expecting a warm hand to gently settle over his own. His gaze locked in on that point of connection as his heart thumped wildly in his chest. "I want you to listen to me carefully, Hotch. Even if I had been out at a bar with friends, every single one of you would have kept an eye on me. You already do it, so if someone were to approach me, we wouldn't make it much farther than the table before one of you intervened. None of us trust strangers easily, even less so when one of our friends is potentially interested in them or is already dating them. So if we're ever in that setting, it would be extremely difficult for an unsub to get to me." Reid's hand squeezed his, and his eyes finally moved up to meet hazel ones. A smile played at the genius profiler's lips, and his tone was an attempt at light-hearted when he added, "Besides, anyone willing to approach me in a bar full of people is likely either desperate or up to something."
"That's not true," Hotch rejoined, his voice hard. "Most people don't approach you because they're intimidated. You turn heads just as much as the rest of the team does, male and female alike, but you don't pay attention to it. Your intelligence throws people off and makes them afraid to talk to you because they think you won't be interested."
Yet again silence fell over them, and Hotch tried not to hide from the scrutiny of the younger man's gaze. He'd been making purposely-layered statements for weeks, hoping that at some point Reid would take note of it. This would be the first time the other profiler had noticed, and it would do him no good to hide behind his indifferent mask he'd had to perfect in childhood.
Reid finally broke the silence, his voice barely audible and cracking slightly from nerves. "I wouldn't be interested in them, though not for that reason." There was a warmth to the younger man's eyes that Hotch had only seen once before, several weeks ago when he'd spent the night at Reid's at the drunken male's insistence. It caused his breath to catch in his throat, and he wasn't aware of himself leaning forward in his seat, glowing hazel eyes drawing him in.
"Reid." His voice was pitched low, almost nearing intimate. He'd been looking for a sign—any sign—from the younger man that was indicative of a possibility he could return his feelings, but nothing had been forthcoming. Not until now, at least.
Reid cleared his throat, licking his lips hesitantly prior to blurting, "Do you have feelings for me? Romantic ones." A wince accompanied the words.
If the situation were less stressful, Hotch might have attempted a playful, teasing reply in regards to the clarification. However, it was far too delicate a moment to potentially ruin it with a remark like that, so instead he turned his hand over—the one the genius profiler had settled his own hand over—and caught fast onto Reid's wrist with his fingers to keep him from pulling away. Once he felt the captured hand relax, he loosened his grip and instead shifted his hand until Reid's fingers were wedged between his thumb and palm in a gentle hold; should the younger man desire to escape, he could. Brown eyes were trained on hazel ones as he lifted Reid's hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over the younger man's knuckles, relishing the sharp intake of breath as Reid's fingers fluttered against his palm. He let their hands settle back on the table, one corner of his lips quirking into a smile. "That would be a yes," he answered, unable to resist adding a warm, teasing remark akin to Reid's distinction of romantic feelings.
A lovely pink pigmented the young profiler's cheeks, and he pulled his hand free, focusing on forking another bite of pie. "I'm going to allow that minor infraction because you're obviously experiencing a rush of endorphins at this revelation."
Hotch wasn't prepared for the warm laugh those words pulled from him, but it was worth the pleased expression that formed on Reid's face. The desire to kiss him was only stronger, but he could wait; he wanted to do this right. He knew Reid would likely protest, but the younger man deserved to be taken on dates and to be fully appreciated. He not only wanted to do it, but he needed to do it. "When we get home and are both free, I want to take you on a date."
Reid's gaze shot to his, and after a short moment, a shy smile curved his lips and he nodded. "I'd like that," he agreed, and Hotch smiled back at him. Reid cleared his throat, gesturing to the pie. "It's your turn."
With a slight shake of his head, Hotch took another bite of the pie; this time it tasted oddly sweeter and he found he liked it better that way.