real_gun_hand

(continued from here)

So...more than kissing. Hotch had fantasized but once Spencer said it the reality of what 'everything' meant hit him. His normally stoic expression faltered for just a moment, a flash of uncertainty passing over him. It wasn't that he didn't want to, oh he did, it was just the fact that he'd never been with anyone other than Haley. It was daunting.

But kissing he could do. And so Hotch reached out to pull Reid closer and leaned in himself to meet him.

"I do like kissing you," he confessed, then closed his eyes and felt the other man's lips against his own.

Hotch had learned a long time ago that a good suit was an investment, not a luxury. He was willing to pay for the finer wool, willing to pay for the good tailoring so that it fit perfectly. He couldn't afford the ones that were thousands of dollars, but he bought the highest end he could reasonably charge and pay off at a reasonable rate.

"I like the charcoal," he told the sales man. That meant the navy and the pinstripe went back onto the rack.

"If you'll come this way I will call the tailor," the clerk said and lead Hotch to the mirrors. As he rounded the corner he spied a familiar face.

"Shannon," he said. "How nice to see you."

It didn't surprise him at all to see the man was being tailored in a suit that was custom. Shannon didn't strike Hotch as an off-the-rack sort of a man.

Hotch had been trying to get out. He'd never been the sort to just go out for the sake of going out, but in London he knew so few people and the town itself was a mystery. He'd taken it to heart that he should find at least one new place every week and this week he'd found a lovely restaurant that served Asian food. Of course he had had Chinese in mind when he heard 'Asian' and was surprise dwhen he arrived that it was Indian cuisine. He'd enjoyed a delicious meal and then had started off to the tube when he spotted a bar. He could have one drink, he thought, and had made his way inside.

A piano bar, neatly appointed and apparently popular. Hotch took a seat at the bar and ordered a scotch, then turned to watch the pianist. He didn't recognize the song, but that was no shock. It sounded jazzy and that really wasn't his specialty.

The coffee here was different. Hotch couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was about the coffee he got around the city, even at Starbucks, it was just different. Everything here was different. Hotch was no stranger to change but he was not the sort of man who embraced it. He certainly didn't thrive off it, per se. His work was always different, but that was plenty of novelty for him. He liked the day to day function of his life to be predictable. And moving to London to work in the FBI Legat's office had upset everything.

He had placed his order and then stepped back, firing off a text in reply to the one he'd gotten from his ex-wife. He missed Haley and Jack terribly and was grateful that he was on good terms with her so that they could Skype, and he got plenty of photos of his son. He was typing to her that he'd be available Saturday to talk to Jack and he'd be sure to be prompt and not keep the boy up past his bed time.

"Aaron," the barista called, then followed it immediately with, "Shannon." Two cups were on the counter, white and indistinguishable.

Hotch tried to get the barista's attention but he was off talking to a customer, so he turned to the man with long hair and offered a tight smile.

"I can't tell them apart," he said. "Should we pop off the tops and try to tell them apart?"

Monday morning saw Hotch settled in his new office with the new people he worked with. He couldn't yet call them a team, but it was a field office and they would be working together as a unit. So, he thought, the idea of team would come soon enough.

He'd been in London for a week already, arrived here after a whirlwind tour of the world, it seemed. Because Haley was gone Hotch had jumped at the chance to work with the FBI Counterterrorism Unit. That endeavour took him to Pakistan for three weeks. And then back to DC where he was informed he'd be moving to the London field office to help field chatter from that area of the world. He had no reason to protest- Reid was teaching, Gideon had quit, Morgan had been loaned to the ATF. The BAU had all but fallen apart in the wake of the Hankel debacle.

Hotch had been in London long enough to get set in FBI sanctioned housing and fill his cupboards. He had an oyster card and was doing his best to learn the trains. It felt so foreign not to drive. He was...learning.

And then this morning he got a file and there was no doubt in his mind after reading it that he needed a consult on it. The murder was brutal, and the fourth in an ongoing pattern. If they wanted to avoid a fifth they needed the best minds on it...

And so Hotch opened the door to a classroom at King's College and spotted Dr. Spencer Reid lecturing. He only stood unobtrusively, the FBI seal on the file he was holding visible. He beckoned Reid out when he finally caught the man's eye.

Recent Entries

Spencer

Shannon

Kersen

Shannon

Spencer

Expand Cut Tags

Profile

Syndicate

Page Summary

Style Credit