sleep snuggler - aaron hotchner

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Everyone on the team had nightmares, even though they were rarely openly discussed.

You had reconciled long ago that it was just part of the job. You had been on the BAU team for almost three years and had come to accept fighting sleepless nights several days a week with melatonin drops and your favorite TV show.

Spencer was the only one with whom you had actually discussed nightmares with out loud. He reassured you that they weren't constant, but warned you that they never did truly go away. That much you had figured out for yourself, but it was nice to have verbal reassurance that you weren't alone.

That's when you and Spencer agreed that whenever either of you woke up from a nightmare you would call the other and, if it was bad enough, come keep them company until they felt comfortable going back to sleep. That's why when you heard a knock on your hotel room door during a case, you were confused as to why you didn't have any missed calls or texts.

You assumed it was Spencer but looked through the peephole anyways. What you saw made you question for a moment if you were actually awake.

"Hotch?" You asked quietly, opening the door and squinting at the brightness of the hallway light.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry to wake you, I just..." he looked scared and was breathing hard, prompting your next question.

"Is everything okay? Is the rest of the team okay?" You asked groggily, teaching up to rub one of your eyes.

"Yes, yes, they're fine," he nodded, "it's just...gah, this sounds so stupid when I actually try to say it."

"Hotch, if something's bothering you, you can tell me," you said softly.

"I had a nightmare," he said, his usual stoic, confident tone much more quiet and unsure, "you were in it, and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Oh, Hotch," you placed your hand over your heart, "that's really sweet of you to check on me. You have absolutely nothing to worry about, well, I mean, besides the case, but you don't have to worry about that until tomorrow." That was your attempt at making him smile, but when he remained uneasy you continued, "I'm fine, okay? Look at me, no harm done at all, everything is functioning."

You have a little twirl and wiggles your fingers and toes for emphasis. That made him crack, sighing into an almost-smile. That was sufficient for you.

"It just seemed so real, I needed to make sure," he shook his head at himself, "again, it sounds so stupid when I say it out loud."

"It's not stupid, Hotch," you reassured him, boldly reaching out to grab his hand, "But if we're going to continue this conversation, we better do it in here before we wake up the whole floor."

Hotch pursed his lips and nodded, allowed you to lead him inside your small hotel room, "you can stay as long as you need to, and we can just talk. That's what me and Spencer do sometimes when we have nightmares. We go to each other's apartments and just chill until the other feels okay going back to sleep again."

"You and Reid go to each other's apartments at night?" He asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

You could've sworn you saw a spark of jealously flash in his eyes for a moment, but you blamed it on being sleep deprived.

"Sometimes, yes," you giggled, "we never do anything, if that's what you're asking. We're just friends. We'll sit on the couch and usually watch Star Trek if we're at his place or baking shows if we're at mine. It helps just having someone there, not being alone."

Hotch nodded wordlessly, still standing there while you sat with one leg tucked under you on the edge of the bed. He looked contemplative as he scanned the room you were in, allowing your eyes to rake over his form without him noticing.

He looked so much softer, so domestic in his pj's. It was what you expected him to wear, a plain white tee shirt and some plain black sweatpants, and from the looks of it they were thrown on hastily, as they were on backwards. You giggled to yourself, until it registered in your mind that that most likely meant he slept in just his tee shirt and boxers. Or maybe just the boxers. That was enough to make your cheeks flush pink, thankful that the room was dark enough to conceal it.

"What?" Hotch asked quietly.

"Huh?"

"You're staring," he said in his profiler voice.

"Oh, sorry," you giggled, "it's just that your sweatpants, they're on backwards. And inside out."

Hotch laughed, he actually laughed and ran a hand over his face, "I'm just really doing well tonight, aren't I?"

"You sure are," you teased, glancing over your shoulder at the clock on the nightstand, "It's three am, you should try to get some more sleep."

"I know, this is entirely inappropriate, I shouldn't be in here," he said quickly, turning to go but you called out his name, causing him to freeze.

"Or you could stay. That way if the nightmare comes back you can know that I'm still okay?" You offered.

"Y/N, I really shouldn't," he began to argue, although you could tell he didn't want to go.

"I won't tell anyone, I promise," you pushed, "please, just stay."

And so he did, turning on his heel to face you once more. You slid to the other side of the bed, getting comfy as you waited for him to climb in next to you."

"Do you mind if I fix this?" He asked, referring to his askew sweatpants.

"Not at all," you chirped, unable to control the words that left your mouth next, "And if you're more comfortable without them, I really don't mind you taking them off all together."

Even in the darkness, you could tell that flustered him. He shook his head, looking down at his feet with the slightest smirk on his face before removing the article of clothing and slipping under the covers.

"Goodnight, Hotch," you said, turning away from him so that he couldn't see how much this was getting to you, having him so close.

"Goodnight, Agent Y/L/N," he murmured into the dark. That's the last thing you heard before you fell back into your once uninterrupted, peaceful sleep.

With morning came the sun shining through the crack in the hotel window curtains. It filled you with warmth as you fluttered your eyes open, startling yourself when you felt an unfamiliar weight on you.

You looked down to see a mass of dark brown hair almost blocking your view of the arm draped across your waist, and the memories of the night came flooding back. Aaron Hotchner was in your room. In your bed. And now he was snuggling you.

You almost couldn't believe it and definitely couldn't control the widespread grin on your face as you tilted your head to the side to get a slight look at his own. You were on your back and his face was snuggled into your tee shirt clad chest. His lips were rosy and parted, letting out little puffs of air as his nose was pressed into the fabric causing it to scrunch slightly. His eyelashes looked so long from your point of view as they rested gently against his flushed cheeks. You then noticed one of his legs was tangled with yours as you shifted slightly, the hairs on his leg rubbing against your bare one, causing you to shudder slightly at the sensation. You tried really hard not to focus on the fact that he was also wearing just his boxers on the bottom, choosing to let your mind linger on the more innocent parts of the delicate moment.

You laid like that for what felt like an eternity, but you didn't mind one bit. You spent the seconds carding your fingers through his surprisingly silky hair, moving it off his forehead lovingly before letting it fall back into place. Your other hand traced tiny shapes on his muscular back.

You wished you could stay like that forever.

But alas, there was a job to be done, and it just so happened that Hotch naturally woke up every day at 6:45 like clockwork, if he wasn't woken up by a work call sooner. His eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to open his eyes, his body obviously content in the sleepy state it was in, not wanting to wake.

He moved slowly, face lifting slightly to register his surroundings before meeting your gaze.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," you cooed, somewhat teasingly, but with a hint of meaning behind it. He was, indeed, beautiful when he slept.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to crowd you," he said, voice gravelly and way too good sounding for it to be that early in the morning, "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Not at all," you hummed, deciding to resume the movement of your hand through his hair, to gauge his reaction, "the sun had no trouble doing that."

Surprisingly, Hotch made a noise of amusement, relaxing into your hand that was in his hair, letting his head rest on your chest once again. He must've still been really tired to not question the action.

"How come you didn't warn me you were a sleep snuggler?" You asked smugly, relishing in the feeling of his warm breath on you when he laughed lightly.

"In all honesty, I didn't know I was," he said with a shrug, "I kind of like it, though."

"Me too," you agreed sweetly, "and I kind of like this Hotch."

"What do you mean?" He asked curiously.

"I like you all sleepy and warm and not worrying about it being unprofessional or whatever," you replied with a giggle.

He screwed his eyes shut, his voice lowering to its usual Hotch tone, "It is unprofessional," but his actions contradicted him as he snugged his face further, "however, this is far to comfortable for me to fight you on it, so I'll let it slide, just this once."

Your balloon of hope in your chest deflated as reality struck. Of course, this was a one time thing.

"Right," you mumbled, shifting uncomfortably underneath him. He could sense the change in mood, as he rose up and propped himself on his elbow next to you, removing his arm and his leg from you.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing, it's nothing," you shook your head, mustering up a fake smile, "I'm fine."

"For a profiler, you really are bad at hiding that you're lying," he smirked.

"I'm not lying!" You defended quickly, "Really, don't worry about it."

"It? So there is something wrong," he said triumphantly, "tell me."

You sighed, grabbed the pillow behind you and plopping it over your face dramatically, "I don't want this to be a one time thing."

"I couldn't hear you," he said teasingly, "move the pillow and speak up."

You cursed yourself for being so attuned to following his orders as your body automatically removed the pillow from your face, now flushed a dark pink.

"I don't want this to be a one time thing," you admitted sadly, knowing he would tell you that he didn't feel that way or that relationships within the team were off limits.

He sighed, a small smile tracing his face. You could get used to him smiling. He looked down at your arm, now resting where his was on your tummy, and placed his hand on it lightly, ghosting his finger up and down the length of it. Goosebumps erupted over your skin.

When he finally spoke, it was soft, "I was hoping you would say that."

You were taken aback, "Huh?"

"I don't want this to be a one time thing either," he said, meeting your surprised gaze. You must be still asleep, you knew you had to be dreaming.

"Really?" You asked dumbly, unable to coherently put together a better reaction.

He chuckled, "yes, really. I've been trying to figure out a way to tell you how I've been feeling for months. I guess I can thank my nightmares for giving me an excuse."

You shook your head with a dumbfounded smile, "What now?"

"Well, we'll have to work out the logistics of it professionally, of course," he said solemnly before smiling once more, "but I have a feeling we can make it work just fine."

You smiled, giddy with all the possibilities of a future with Hotch. Your Hotch.

"Get back down here, sleep snuggler," you demanded with a laugh as you pulled him down unceremoniously on top of you once more.

You spent what was left of the morning before Hotch had to sneak back to his room under the covers, all wrapped up in each other.

It was bliss. Pure bliss.

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