hold my girl - aaron hotchner

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Loosely based off of the song above^ Hold My Girl by George Ezra. This song makes me absolutely soft, listen while reading for maximum fluffiness. Anywho, enjoy! ~🌸

Everything seemed to go wrong for you from the moment you stepped into the bullpen.

It wasn't anything major, just a lot of small annoyances that, when all combined, made you beyond stressed out. First you ran into Morgan while reading a case file and spilled coffee all over your white shirt, which you then had to change into one from your go-bag. Then you lost the paperwork out of one of the files you had already completed, had to have Garcia reprint it, and then refill it out, only to find the papers had been under the rest of your files.

That was just in the morning. Around noon, you and Hotch were supposed to go out for lunch, but he had too much paperwork. So you decided to go by yourself and bring him something back, only to find that your car wouldn't start. You rode with Prentiss to a restaurant downtown and they got both your orders wrong. You were on your way back, since you had a meeting at two, and decided to take the "shorter route." Lucky for you, there was a wreck on the road that backed traffic up for forty-five minutes, and you had to call Garcia to tell her you two would be late.

By the time you got back, the meeting was over and Hotch's food that you brought him was cold. You had a massive headache and honestly just wanted to go home and sleep for as long as possible.

You were in the break room, heating up Hotch's food in the microwave and popping some ibuprofen, when Morgan found you.

"Hey, Y/L/N, you okay? You seem kind of off today," he observed.

"I'm fine," you snapped rudely, immediately regretting it, "Sorry, Morgan, it's just not my day."

He watched you closely and nodded, "It's okay, babygirl, everybody has bad days. Maybe you should ask Hotch for the rest of the day off and go home-"

"The day's almost over," you shook your head at his suggestion, "I'll be fine. Thanks for the concern, though."

Morgan chuckled, "Okay, just make sure you stop the microwave before it explodes."

You gave him a confused look and turned to the microwave behind you, which was starting to smoke, "Ah! No, no, no!"

You quickly stopped the timer and opened it, and Morgan stepped in front of you with paper towels to grab the burnt food and throw it in the trash. You groaned deeply, leaning over the counter and putting your head in your hands.

"You sure you don't need to go home and get some rest?" Morgan asked, leaving the microwave door open for it to air out.

You felt tears pricking in your eyes and knew that if you spoke, the dam would break and you would be sobbing in front of Morgan. So you shook your head and at him before quickly leaving the break room, making a bee line for Hotch's office.

You knew everyone was staring at you as you opened the door and slipped inside.

"Hotch."

He was caught off guard by the broken, whimpering tone of your voice. He was even more alarmed when he saw silent tears that spilled over your cheeks the moment you stepped through the door.

"Y/N? Darling, what's wrong?" He asked softly, pushing himself back from his desk in his rolling chair.

You rounded his desk and he opened his arms to you. You sat sideways across his lap, tucking your head into his neck. Your tears instantly soaked little spots all over his light blue button down.

He rubbed your back as your shoulders shook, "I need you to tell me what's wrong."

"I-I can't do anything right today," you whimpered, hating the way your snotty nose made you sound.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple, "Want to talk about it?"

"It's just a lot of little things," you explained, your voice shaking, "I spilled coffee on myself and had to change, I thought I lost some paperwork and redid it only to find it on my desk under another file, then my car wouldn't start so I rode with Prentiss to get lunch and they got our orders wrong and we hit a bunch of traffic and missed the meeting and your food got cold so I put it in the microwave and it burned-"

"Hey, slow down, take a breath," he soothed, "I'm sorry your day has been so stressful. You need to get some better sleep tonight."

You looked up slightly, "I slept fine last night."

Hotch chuckled, "You were tossing and turning for hours. I could tell you weren't asleep most of the night."

You bit your lip worriedly, "I didn't keep you up, did I?"

He just smiled, "I got a couple hours in between the bed shifting every time you turned."

You pouted, "I'm so sorry. You should've told me."

He pressed a kiss to your pouted lips, "It's okay. We both know I can function better on little sleep than you can."

"Curse you and your natural energy," you grumbled, letting out a huff as you snuggled deeper into his embrace, "I should probably let you finish working."

Hotch just held you tighter, "No, work can wait. I need a minute to hold my girl."

Too tired and far too comfy to argue, you let out a coo of contentment and let your eyes fall shut. He let one of his hands wrap around your thigh and pull you closer, the other hand cradled in your hair, his cheek pressed to the top of your head. He swiveled the chair slowly side to side, rocking you lightly.

Some days you just need a minute to hold and be held.


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