Chapter Text
11:03 PM, Quantico, BAU, Hotch’s office
He let out a soft, involuntary whimper when Hotch’s hands tightened around his waist, fingers pressing just firmly enough to ground him in place. The warmth of his breath ghosted over Spencer’s skin before his mouth latched onto the sensitive spot just below his ear.
"Hotch- careful…" Spencer murmured, voice quieter than he intended. His hands came up instinctively, pushing lightly against Hotch’s chest, not to stop him, not really, just enough to warn him.
The last time had been too close. One faint bruise, barely visible, and he’d spent the entire day tugging at his collar and rambling through a flimsy explanation about burning himself with a hair straightener.
He didn’t even own a hair straightener.
Luckily, no one had pressed him on it.
Hotch pulled back slightly, his lips leaving Spencer’s skin, and for a brief second he just looked at him. There was something in his expression, something unreadable but heavy, like he was weighing something silently, before he leaned in again and kissed him properly.
Spencer leaned forward into it without thinking, instinct overriding hesitation. One hand slid from where it rested on Hotch’s shoulder up to the back of his neck, fingers threading slightly into his hair, holding him there. His other hand, which had been braced against Hotch’s chest, moved behind him to grip the edge of the desk to steady himself as he pulled Hotch in closer. The kiss deepened quickly, familiar and dangerous in a way that made his chest tighten.
Just as Hotch’s tongue slipped into his mouth. His phone rang.
Spencer froze for half a second, disbelief flashing through him. "Seriously? Right now?"
Hotch exhaled sharply through his nose, the frustration obvious, before pulling away. He reached into his back pocket, already glancing at the screen as if he knew who it would be.
“It’s Haley,” he said, his voice lower now, more controlled.
Of course it was.
He answered, bringing the phone to his ear and turning slightly away.
Spencer shifted, his hands coming up to fidget as he stood by the desk awkwardly. He didn’t want to listen to Hotch's side of the conversation, or any side of this conversation for that matter, he really didn’t, but there was no way for him block it out. So he tried not to focus on the words.
Instead, his mind started to drift as the seconds passed.
Haley.
Hotch’s wife.
She wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t distant or neglectful or anything that would make this easier to justify. She was kind, patient… a good mother. A good partner. And that made it worse. Infinitely worse. Because she hadn’t done anything wrong. And yet here Spencer was, standing in her husband’s office at close to midnight, lips still tingling, heart still racing, while Hotch spoke to her like everything was normal. Like nothing was happening. Like he wasn’t betraying her.
Spencer swallowed, his gaze drifting to the floor.
"This isn’t right."
The thought wasn’t new. It never was. Cheating wasn’t ambiguous. There wasn’t some complex philosophical loophole that made this okay. No amount of rationalization, no intellectual framing, no statistical anomaly could justify it. He knew that. He’d always known that.
And Jack…
Jack was still so young. Too young to understand why his father wasn’t home. Too young to understand why things might suddenly change, why voices might get sharper, why doors might close harder than they used to. What would happen when Haley found out? Because she would. Eventually. People always did.
Would Hotch leave? Would he stay? Would Jack grow up wondering why his father wasn't around anymore? Wondering why he left and never came back to him and his mother?
Spencer’s chest tightened.
Hotch wasn’t like that. He couldn’t be.
But then again, Spencer hadn’t thought he’d be like this, either.
His thoughts started to spiral, branching into possibilities he didn’t want to follow, each one worse than the last—
“Reid.”
His head snapped up.
Hotch had ended the call and was watching him now, expression composed but not entirely unreadable.
“Haley called,” he said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “She was wondering why I’m not home yet. And when I will be.”
Spencer nodded slowly, trying to read between the lines, trying to gauge what wasn't being said.
“Uh… how did the conversation go?”
Hotch hesitated.
“Fine.”
The word hung there, flat and unconvincing.
Spencer’s brows knit slightly.
“…That didn’t sound like it went fine.”
Hotch exhaled, his jaw tightening just a fraction. He ran a hand briefly over the back of his neck, a rare tell.
“I want to say fine,” he admitted, quieter now. "but… she sounded… accusing.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Like she thinks—”
He stopped himself, then corrected,
“—like she knows something’s up.”
Silence settled between them.
“…Do you think she has a theory?” Spencer asked, his voice more cautious now.
Hotch’s gaze flickered toward him, something sharper beneath the surface.
“I think she has a theory,” he said slowly. “But I don’t think it’s a correct one.”
A beat.
“And if it is…” he added, more quietly, “then I doubt she’s going to admit it to herself.”
Another pause, heavier this time.
“…Yet anyway"
Silence settled over them once again. Spencer thought to say more but decided against it. He could say how they need to stop this. How they need to stop sneaking around. How Hotch should just admit he has an attraction toward men. How he should come clean and tell Haley, maybe divorce her. But none of it was that simple, he knew that. But he also knew they can't keep going like this, tho for now, for tonight, tomorrow and maybe the rest of the month, they could just keep going a bit longer.
Hotch let out a tired sigh before speaking "Well, I should start getting home then... Before Haley starts to get even more suspicious..." he muttered the last bit as he walked over to his desk
"Oh, yeah, 'course, uh, i'm gonna go home then... goodnight" Spencer said awkwardly
"Goodnight" Hotch replied without looking up
Spencer lingered for a second longer than he meant to, standing there as if waiting for something else to be said, something to soften the edge of the moment, but nothing came. So he turned and left, the quiet of the bullpen stretching out around him as he made his way toward the exit.
11:47 PM, DC, Spencer's apartment
Once home, Reid dropped his bag on the floor before flopping down on the couch with a groan.
God, how did he even end up in this type of situation? At first it was just some glances and subtle chances, then Hotch was venting to him about how he couldn't understand why he felt so unfilled in his marriage, then one thing let to another and then they were making out in Hotch's office every week. It's been going on for 3 months, 2 weeks and 4 days now. That's 108 days. That is over one fourth of a year.
Over one fourth of the year they have been sneaking around, kissing and making out, caring for each other, tending to each other and debating whether or not to go home or steal another moment behind closed doors. And no one knew. A whole team of profilers and a gossipy tech analyst and yet none of them even suspect a thing. Or maybe just like Haley they do bit think it's too crazy to be possible
Spencer thought a bit more before deciding he should get up and eat something as he has skipped dinner and only eaten coffee and a croissant for lunch, not the most balanced meal tho approximately 37% of working Americans confess to eating a snack, grazing on small items, or skipping a formal meal for lunch during the workday and 55% of employed Americans skip lunch in order to work more on busy days. But it might be smart to eat something before going to bed and avoid developing some kind of eating disorder or get enough more skinny comments.