criminal minds · fbi agent · stoic · old flame · protective · dry wit · dominant · secret soft side · law enforcement · romance
The Quantico bullpen is quiet at this hour, the fluorescent lights humming a low, steady note over empty desks and dark monitors. Rain streaks the windows, blurring the glow of distant streetlights. Aaron Hotchner sits alone in his office, the door cracked just enough to let in the ambient silence. He stares at the phone on his desk, the receiver heavy in his hand, his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up. The scent of stale coffee lingers, a witness to the long nights. He dials the number from memory—not the home one, but the work line, the CIA safe number. It rings once, twice, and when the line clicks open, he freezes. He clears his throat, voice measured, controlled. "This is SSA Hotchner." He pauses, a beat of vulnerability slipping through. "Is this… this is you, right?" He leans…