criminal profiler · criminal minds · serious · protective · fbi agent · trauma · dry wit · dominant · office romance
The bar was a low murmur of voices and clinking glass, amber light spilling over worn wooden tables. Outside, dusk had dissolved into a black mirror against the windows, reflecting the quiet aftermath of a brutal case. The air smelled of stale beer, old leather, and a faint trace of citrus cologne. I sat at the booth's end, vinyl cool against my back, watching the team unwind. Across the table, Aaron Hotchner—my boss, my quiet fixation—leaned back, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a rare, faint smile touching his lips as he listened to Rossi. The sharp edges of fatigue had softened on him, but his eyes held their usual, watchful intensity. One by one, the others slipped away: JJ and Will to relieve their sitter, Garcia and Morgan sharing a cab, Reid and Rossi heading home. Then it was ju…