coach aaron - aaron hotchner

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warning: I do not know how soccer works

"Thanks again, sis, for taking Oscar. Usually we are able to schedule our business trips for different weekends, somehow our lines got crossed this time." Your sister said.

You had your phone on the counter, the call on speaker as you scrambled to make toast for your nephew before he had to be at his soccer game.

"It's really no problem." You paused, turning around and looking at the counter. You had just set the butter out. Where did it go?

"Is he doing okay? Does he miss us?" She asked worriedly.

"Of course, he misses you." You said, finally finding the butter propped up on top of the toaster.

"Can I talk to him? I promise I won't take long, I know you two are on a time crunch. It's almost twelve there right?" She asked, always one to micro-manage.

"Uh, yeah, sure." You were half paying attention, trying desperately to butter the toast without burning your hand. "Scar! Your mom wants to talk to you!"

He came running in from the spare room he had taken over in your two bedroom apartment, not dressed in his uniform like you had asked. You stared at him with wide eyes.

"Oscar James where is your uniform?" You asked, trying not to snap at him but you didn't have time for him not to listen.

"Mom didn't pack it!" He whined, pointing behind him.

You peeked around the corner to see his far too large suitcase over turned, the contents scattered everywhere.

"What's going on? Is something wrong?" Your sister asked.

You set down the toast and picked up your phone. You knew your sister wouldn't have forgotten his uniform, she practically packed his whole room in his suitcase for just the weekend. "You packed Oscar's uniform right?"

"Well, duh, I put it in his soccer bag." She answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You sighed. "Go look in your soccer bag. Hurry, please. You still have to eat breakfast."

"It's almost afternoon, why did you make breakfast?" The seven year old asked, but quickly turned and headed off to his room when you gave him a pointed look.

"So can I talk to him?" Your sister huffed, starting to get annoyed. "I have a meeting in ten and you should be leaving in fifteen to avoid traffic."

You rolled your eyes. "He's changing into his uniform it might be—"

"It's not in here!" He cried.

"Are you sure?" You called back.

"Is it not there? It has to be in there I know I put it in there." Your sister demanded.

"Are you sure you didn't accidentally leave it in the dryer at your house or something?" You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. There was a long pause and you held back an annoyed groan.

"I remember now, I did have it packed but he had another game that got moved up right before he stayed with you so I ran it through the washer and...yes, it's at our house." She sounded panicky now. "Oh, God, you're going to be late, but you'll have to run by and get it. Take the handheld steamer too, I'm sure it's wrinkled. You can steam it in the car when you get there."

You did groan this time. "Gotta go. Bye, sis."

"Hey, you don't know how hard it is to be a working mother. Don't blame this on me." She snapped. "I'll call you tonight at seven-thirty. Move Oscar's bedtime to seven forty-five so I can speak with him."

"Yeah, yeah. Sounds good. Hanging up now." You hit the red button before she could bark out more instructions. You truly loved your sister but she was a real pain in the ass a good eighty percent of the time.

You threw the still hot, buttered toast into a ziplock bag and marched into Oscar's room. "Okay, bud, new plan. Your uniform is at your house so we have to go get it. You'll probably be a little late but not too bad if we really move it."

"What about breakfast?" He asked. You tossed him the ziplock bag toast.

"Cleats on, grab your bag. Let's go." You instructed.

Once you got in the car and were zooming as safely as possible across town, you noticed Oscar sniffling. "Everything okay, dude?"

"Mommy's gonna be mad that I'm late." He said, now crying fully. "And coach will probably make me sit out for half the game."

"Oh, don't worry about your mom, Scar." You said sympathetically. "She's more mad at me than you, trust me. I can handle her. And if your coach has a problem I'll just explain to him the situation, okay? Let's be excited and not sad. You're gonna have a great game!"

He sniffled, wiping his tears. "Do you think we'll win?"

You pursed your lips. It was little league soccer, you had little faith in either team. But you smiled anyways. "It would be great if you won, but you'll do amazing no matter what."

He smiled at that and you turned on his favorite song to distract him from the stressful circumstances. You arrived at your sisters house, bolting inside to get his uniform, not caring in the least about grabbing the steamer.

"Here, kid, you're gonna have to change in the back." You said, handing him the pile. You covered your eyes with your hands so he didn't feel awkward about it and he climbed into the back of your SUV, changing into his uniform with impressive speed.

Once you arrived at the soccer fields, you had his bag on your shoulder while you sprinted over to his teammates. The game had just started.

"There he is! Glad you could make it, Oscar!" A deep voice called.

You looked up to see the most attractive man you'd seen in a while. He was wearing a heather gray tee shirt, blue jeans, and a dark grey jacket. He had dark brown hair, eyes that were just a shade lighter, and a friendly smile that highlighted his barely-there stubble.

"Where's your parents?" He asked as Oscar ran over to him, concern lacing his tone.

You trailed slightly behind. "Out of town." He looked up at you and you swore your heart stopped at the eye contact. You quickly introduced yourself. "I'm Y/N  L/N, his aunt. Sorry he's late, we've had a crazy morning."

The smile returned to his face as he shifted his clipboard to his left hand, reaching around Oscar to extend his right hand to you. "Aaron Hotchner. I'm Oscar's coach."

You could feel heat creeping up your neck to your cheeks as you smiled bashfully back at him, slipping your hand into his. The contact was brief but you couldn't help but notice how his hands enveloped yours easily, his veins prominent and his rough, calloused fingers brushing against your soft skin. You decided he must work with his hands a lot, and tried to cut the thought off there.

"Can I still play, Coach Aaron?" Oscar asked, his bottom lip wobbling.

"Of course, bud, we'll cycle you in next rotation." Aaron nodded, patting him on the back. "Go ahead and sit next to Alex."

Oscar nodded, taking off towards the bench where a few of his other teammates sat.

"Again, I'm so sorry he's late. I'm not the best at time management and we had a whole fiasco with his uniform, it's just been a mess." You said, suddenly wishing you had had time to pick out a decent outfit. You were in a Harvard sweatshirt (your sister's old one) and leggings, your shoes old slip ons that you typically only wore to get the mail. You self-consciously smoothed a hand over your hair, hoping it didn't look as messy as it felt.

"It's really fine." The man chuckled. "Could I ask you to do a favor, though? It's Oscar's mom's week to do water bench side and I would have one of the other moms fill in, but you look like you could handle it."

You grinned. "Sure. Why not?"

You set Oscar's bag with the others and followed Aaron over to the bench. He showed you the water dispenser and the cups before returning to coaching with his assistant, an older man who you assumed was a grandpa to one of the kids.

When they called a time out, the group of boys on the field rushed over and you distributed little cups of water to each. They swapped out a few kids, Oscar finally going in. You gave him a thumbs up and an encouraging smile as he took off with the others.

"Is one of them yours?" You asked Aaron casually as you filled up a cup for one of the boys on the bench.

"Yes, he's the one over by Oscar." He smiled proudly, pointing. "His name is Jack."

"Jack Hotchner!" You exclaimed. "I knew your last name sounded familiar. I teach over at the elementary school next to the recreation center."

"Oh, really?" He asked. "What grade?"

"I actually am the art teacher so I kinda see them all." You giggled. "Jack's got some real talent. He's one of the few kids who really puts in a lot of effort and seems to enjoy it."

"Ah, so you're responsible for my fridge being completely covered." He teased.

"I actually run a free art class for the community on Saturday afternoons if you ever want to bring Jack by." You offered. "Or your wife, I'd love to meet her too."

Aaron sucked in a breath. "Jack's mom and I actually divorced when he was very young, and she passed away several years back. It's just me and him."

Your eyes widened, your heart racing in panic, afraid you had offended him. "I'm so sorry—"

"Hey, no worries, you didn't know." He held up his hand to stop you. "But I will definitely be taking you up on your offer, though. Jack needs a good creative outlet, I'd rather him not be focused solely on sports."

You nodded enthusiastically at the lighter subject. "Totally, I hate it when parents pressure their kids to only have one hobby or passion. It keeps them from being multifaceted."

He hummed in agreement. "I wish I had more time with him. He's such a gifted kid and I feel like I miss out on so much."

"I take it you're not a full time little league coach then?" You teased.

He laughed at that, shaking his head. "Sometimes I wish I was. I work for the FBI."

You couldn't help the impressed and intrigued expression on your face. "So you're like a secret agent?"

He laughed again. "Not secret, really. Just an agent. Profiler specifically. I couldn't tell you much about art but I do know a thing or two about hunting down serial killers."

"Hotch, stop flirting with the pretty lady and help me coach these kids." The older man reprimanded, slapping a hand on Aaron's shoulder.

Hotch. What a cute nickname.

You felt your cheeks flaming at the man's words and you noticed Aaron's flush a dusty pink as he just chuckled awkwardly.

"If you couldn't tell, he was flirting." The older man said, winking at you. "He's just really bad at it."

"Okay, okay, Rossi. She gets it." Aaron rolled his eyes. "This is Agent David Rossi. He's also a profiler and a professional at giving me a hard time."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I was flirting too." You said boldly. "But I am, unfortunately, also very bad at it."

Aaron's eyebrows jutted up in surprise and you could tell his mind was spinning with what to say until Rossi gave him a suggestive nudge. "Oh, uh, well, me and Jack are going to get ice cream after the game if you and Oscar want to join us?"

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a grin. "It's a date. A plan, I mean."

He grinned, nodding as he returned his attention to the game. You could've sworn you saw Rossi pat him on the back in congratulations.

You made a mental note to thank your sister later for going away for the weekend.



This didn't turn out exactly how I planned it but I think it's pretty cute. I just can't imagine walking up and seeing Aaron Hotchner as the little league coach, I think I would spontaneously combust. Such dilf energy.

Hope you all are having a lovely week! I move into college next week and then I have sorority rush week after that so updates might be slow for a few weeks while I adjust but I promise I will try to stay on top of it! Love you all and I'm so thankful for all the love and support!

Also if you like Marvel too go check out my Marvel book! I just put out a Sam Wilson imagine that might make your heart explode🥴

~🌸


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