Aaron Hotchner; 2005
Ever since becoming a father, Aaron Hotchner has come to cherish the silent moments that life occasionally sees fit to bestow upon him; Whether these moments occur at four in the morning after he and Haley finally get Jack down sleeping again, or quiet naps on the jet after a long, stressful case.
This particular silent moment found him in his office, gazing absent-mindedly at the November rain racing down the eastern window. He was hesitant to shut his eyes lest he fall asleep, and yet his office was warm, and his chair was so comfortable…
A soft peal of laughter from the main bullpen forced his eyes open, and he blinked several times in rapid succession in an effort to wake himself up. End-of-month paperwork days were slow and drowsy days in general, and the fact that it was a Sunday morning did Hotch no favours. Deciding to stretch his legs, he strolled over to the window overlooking the desks in the main area.
The laughter had died down, but a sense of quiet amusement filled the near-empty room. Through the blinds Hotch could make out Morgan and Elle chatting softly to each other, reports momentarily abandoned on their desks. Hotch couldn’t help but stare at them for a few moments. Elle had settled into the BAU seamlessly, with her and Morgan quickly developing a sibling-style relationship, teasing yet comforting. However close he was with Elle though, it was nothing compared to the hurricane that was Morgan’s relationship with Garcia.
Garcia, who Hotch could see exiting the elevator with a large box of what he expected were doughnuts, was quite possibly the biggest HR risk the BAU has ever faced. Between her and Morgan, Hotch was surprised that they hadn’t been officially reprimanded yet for inappropriate workplace behaviour. (Although, he knew in his heart that it was because no one would ever report them. Sometimes, after arduous cases with no happy endings, their banter filled the macabre air with a sense of joy they so desperately needed.)
Hotch couldn’t help but let out an amused snort as the head of one Dr Spencer Reid shot up from his desk at the speed of light once Garcia announced that she had bought his favourite doughnuts. Reid had gotten his paperwork finished about an hour into the day, but as usual he opted to stay in the bullpen with the team until the rest of them completed theirs. He called it ‘moral support’, but Hotch knew it was because he was scared of missing out on moments like these. Quiet moments of friendship that Hotch knew the kid never dared dream he would experience. Despite being at the BAU longer than Elle, Garcia or JJ, Reid still tended to get lost in his own insecurities sometimes. Sometimes Hotch worried that he was still too young for this job, but Reid had excelled in the year or so he’d been here, and Gideon’s expectations and quiet pride for the young genius had only increased.
Gideon. Garcia once called him the dinosaur of the BAU when she thought he was out of earshot and Hotch couldn’t help but agree. Occasionally he missed the earlier days of the BAU, when he was the younger member and occasionally forgot to breathe because of his excitement of working with giants such as Jason Gideon and David Rossi. Although Hotch was happy that Rossi had found his passion with writing books, there was a large part of him that missed the easy dynamic they shared; a dynamic that he and Gideon couldn’t replicate, especially since Gideon’s PTSD diagnosis. Hotch wanted so desperately for Gideon to confide in someone, to seek help. He knew, however, that there wasn’t a more stubborn man alive than Jason Gideon, and that changing his mind was nigh-on impossible. Still, there was some hope to cling to, Hotch thought shrewdly, as Gideon swooped down from his office to snatch the last remaining jam doughnut before JJ could reach out for it, and then promptly returning to finalise his paperwork.
Hiring a media liaison had been Hotch’s idea, and he wasn’t shy in admitting that it was one of his best. Not only was Jennifer Jareau an exemplary agent, she also seemed to bridge the seemingly insurmountable gap between what the BAU was and what Hotch knew it could one day be. She too, was painfully young, although not as young as Spencer, which Hotch was thankful for. If the BAU was employing two children (mid-twenties, his brain reminded him, but he ignored it) Morgan wouldn’t be able to get any proper work done, due to the amount of time he’d spend making sure they were kept out of harm’s way.
Hotch found himself smiling as he mused about the fiercely protective dynamic already making itself apparent within the team. They were working together better than Hotch could have hoped for, and sometimes, especially on days like today, the team almost felt like family. A weird, perpetually jetlagged, mis-matched family, but a family, nonetheless.
Unbidden, Hotch’s thoughts stray back to their most recent case in Baltimore, and the words he spoke to the unsub in the interview room; that children who grow up in extremely violent, abusive households may grow up to be serial killers, or may grow up to catch them.
As Hotch looked down at the bullpen, running a steady hand along his upper arm that once held far too many bruises for a child so young, he treasured his work family even more.
A grumble from his stomach has him leaving his office and wandering down the stairs toward the gaggle of younger agents, intent on stealing the last chocolate doughnut from Garcia’s box. As he makes his approach the quiet conversations become louder to his ears, and he heard Morgan and Elle teasing each other about God knows what, while Reid, Garcia and JJ are heatedly debating their favourite flavours of ice-cream. Hotch is once again struck by how young they all are, even Morgan and Elle, who tend to act like disgruntled older siblings most of the time.
“Hotch!”, Morgan called over to him, ”Get over here and tell Greenaway I’m not lying about the time we once apprehended an unsub on a speedboat.”
JJ groaned from where she was perched on Reid’s desk and Hotch could hear Garcia fondly mumble “Not again”, as Elle and Morgan began another round of bickering.
“The day I believe that is the day pig’s fly, Derek.”
“Ask the kid! It was one of his first cases!”
“Actually, during that case I was specifically focused on cracking a series of coded diary entries which-“
“Pretty boy, are you on my side or not?”
Hotch left the group, stolen doughnut in hand and an amused smile on his face, to return to his office and finish his final report. In less than an hour he would be home with Haley and Jack, cuddled on their sofa, watching whatever random TV show caught Haley’s eye.
He wondered absentmindedly what the other children in his life (the ones currently laughing like hyenas in the bullpen over something Garcia said) would be doing this evening.
But as he heard Reid suggest a game of cards and heard Elle rustle around her desk for a pack of sweets to bet with, he knew that they would be in the bullpen finalising their reports, because they had spent the entire day chatting instead of working.
Hotch smiled. Absolute children.