Chapter Text
"We keep behind closed doors
Every time I see you, I die a little more
Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls
It'll never be enough
It's obvious you're meant for me
Every piece of you, it just fits perfectly
Every second, every thought, I'm in so deep
But I'll never show it on my face
But we know this, we got a love that is homeless..."
It drained them all. 89 innocent victims. One man who's life would be changed forever for wanting revenge even though he's suffered enough from the many alterations before. Two criminals who were never punished for their crimes, instead received the sweet relief of death. And the BAU's most wanted team. The things they've seen before cannot match to what they've seen over those past few days. A crime so heinous, so incomprehensible that it would definitely leave a scar on a person involved, directly or indirectly.
It showed on their faces, their body languages, the way they isolated themselves on the jet. Aaron Hotchner noticed it, particularly in one of his agents. It was still a secret but he was emotionally and physically involved with Derek Morgan. They had a growing attraction since they started working together but never acknowledged it until nearly 2 years ago when he had lost his wife to another man. Morgan had came in and attempted to comfort him. It eventually led him to the darker man's bed, a night Morgan likes to call their honeymoon when he's being playful. Hotch always wondered if he gave up too quickly but he trusted Morgan with his life and it was fitting - a man he spent more time with than his own wife.
Hotch can't deny that he's in love with Morgan. For two years, they've had to stay low with their relationship. It's not that he and Morgan didn't trust the team, who were essentially their family. It was more of not wanting to let it become potential ammo for anyone within the Bureau or even for anyone outside of it. The most they allowed to happen in public was the brush of the hand if they walked side-by-side, a shoulder squeeze, and they've caught each other staring at one another accidentally. They made sure to not allow that to happen again as to not set off warning bells to others but it was so natural to do so it was hard to shake from the reverie every now and then.
Hotch wasn't sure if anyone knew. He thought Rossi might have an inkling but he made sure not to let it become a topic of discussion but when Rossi had invited him on a double date a few months ago, he declined him, which probably raised some flags in the older man's head. When Rossi probed him about dating anyone, he continued to tell him he wasn't and it hurt because he wanted to let the whole world how much he loved Morgan. Commitment should have been his middle name. It affected how he acted in every situation.
Their rule of not showing public affection was still in effect no matter how hard a case was. They would normally wait until they were alone where there would be a clashing of tongues, bodies crashing against each other, clothes being strewn across floors, thrown atop chairs, and not long after, Hotch would be writhing beneath Morgan's hard, toned body as he kept up a slow but hard pace, caressing Hotch's face with love and appreciation as he whispered words of affection. This usually happened after a case where one of them may have been put in danger but when a case touched a sensitive topic for both or either one of them, there was no sex. They only held each other, as mushy as it may seem, holding each other helped one way or another. It was necessary to know that there was still something good left in the world despite constantly seeing the bad.
So that's what Hotch wanted to do this time. A part of him wanted to isolate himself from everything, suffer in silence, by himself. He didn't even think he could see Jack at the moment but he wanted to spend some time with Morgan. They both needed the company, having experienced the same emotionally traumatic case.
But when he reached out to him, a hand ghosting the other man's shoulder, after everyone else had departed, Reid and Garcia who went with JJ to visit Henry, Prentiss who took Rossi up on the drink offer, he was brushed off. Not harshly but Morgan didn't reciprocate the touch and that was enough for Hotch to take the hint.
"I'm sorry, Aaron. I think I would prefer to be alone today." He told him, sounding unsure of himself.
That's all he said and while Hotch wanted to beg him to come with him, while convincing himself that he just wanted to comfort Morgan but actually needing comfort himself, he let him walk away after bidding him goodnight. He felt a pang of hurt but he understood when people needed their space. He just didn't think space was a good idea tonight.
He wasn't the only one who regretted the decision while driving home. Morgan, too, realized he wanted human contact and he felt shitty for brushing off his lover like that. He would call him once he got home and if Hotch wasn't too upset, he'd make it up to him that night.
But when he got home, picked up Clooney from his neighbor, and settled in front of the television, he called once and received no answer. He thought maybe now Hotch didn't want to speak to him. Or he also wanted to be alone.
'No, he initiated contact. He wouldn't have if he wanted to be alone.'
He called once more and left a message, begging Hotch to forgive him in subtle words and that he'll see him tomorrow. Nothing too personal but one that could be deemed as suspicious by observant individuals. He called him Aaron, his voice was softer than usual, a loving tone itching it's way into the call. He made sure to call on Hotch's personal cell phone and not his Bureau appointed phone.
He would make sure to talk to him first thing in the morning.
Little did he know that The Reaper himself was the one to listen to that voicemail, the phone having shocked him for a moment as he was in the middle of his ministrations with Hotch's body. Having seen the other man contemplating a phone call when he came into his home, he reached for the device now on the floor not too far from them. despite the weak protest coming from the man now bleeding profusely on the light colored carpet, and saw the missed call and voicemail notification. He put the phone between the junction of his shoulder and ear, while hovering over an injured Hotch who was fighting to stay conscious as he unbuckled his belt.
He smirked as he listened to the message.
Throwing the phone down, he leaned in, a sinister smile plastered on his face and whispered, "I'll comfort you in the place of Derek Morgan, Aaron."