Chapter Text
“I’m going home for Christmas.”
It’s the same line you’ve heard from everyone on the team since Hotch announced the bureau approved an entire week off for the holidays, meaning absolutely no chance of being called in for a case. Flights were booked almost instantly: Spencer heading to Vegas to visit his mom, Derek back to Chicago, JJ taking Henry to see his grandparents. They start chattering eagerly about family recipes and Secret Santa and decorating the tree, promising to exchange photos over the group chat. Spencer and Derek, ever the competitive spirits, even make a bet over who can eat the most cookies. Everyone has somewhere to go and something to be excited for, except for you.
Eventually, the others seem to realize you aren’t joining in on the chatter. When the attention shifts to you, each familiar face expecting you to regale them with similar plans of merry and cheer, you’re mercifully spared when someone suddenly walks into the BAU, broadcasted by the creaking of the glass doors—Hotch’s sister-in-law, Jessica, with the cutest kid in tow.
“Daddy!” Jack exclaims, tugging eagerly at his aunt’s hand as he beelines for Hotch.
Jessica smiles, letting Jack go as he rushes into his father’s arms. “I thought he’d be wiped out after playing with his cousins all day, but I guess I underestimated him.”
Hotch hugs the kid lightly, a small smile breaking through. It’s a welcome sight—you rarely see him smile, but when he does, it warms you up like sitting by the fireplace. “He won’t be seeing them for a while since you’re heading to your parents’ for the holidays.”
“You know you two are always welcome,” Jessica says warmly. “It’s your family too.”
Hotch nods, his expression softening. “Jack didn’t want to fly out again since we were just there for Thanksgiving. But thank you, Jessica. I really appreciate it.” She gives him a hug, tells him to have an extra happy holiday since he rarely gets the chance, and leaves.
It’s only then that Hotch seems to notice the entire team is still there, silently watching what has turned into a rare, vulnerable moment. That kind of sincerity in Aaron Hotchner is something you usually only see after the hardest cases, when he quietly tells you all you did the best you could. It’s nice to see it without the heaviness surrounding it. He quickly schools his expression, clearing his throat, still holding onto Jack’s hand—and damn it, it makes your heart squeeze tightly in your chest.
“Sorry to interrupt the conversation. Where were we?” Hotch asks, ripping away the mercy you had previously celebrated. Inevitably, everyone turns back to you, asking again what your plans are for the holidays.
“Oh, well, uh…” You rub the back of your neck, feeling the heat creep up. “I guess it’s gonna be sitting on my couch and watching bad Christmas movies.” The words sound more pathetic out loud than they did in your head, and you mentally kick yourself for not finding a less lonely spin on it. You could have lied and said you were going home, even if home is technically your one bedroom apartment in Virginia…
It’s Jack who comments first, and the poor kid sounds utterly dejected. “You mean all alone?”
Hotch grimaces apologetically. “Jack—”
“Don’t you have a boyfriend or something?” Jack soldiers on, seeming desperate to find anyone to stick you with on Christmas. Honestly, you can’t even blame him—it’s depressing just hearing yourself say it.
“Jack!” Hotch chides, his tone firm but gentle, making it clear he’s more concerned about your feelings than scolding the boy. “We don’t ask people questions like that.”
“Sorry Auntie Y/N,” Jack pouts. “I just don’t want you to be lonely on Christmas.”
The rest of the team looks equally dismayed. They don’t know why you’re not going home—you’ve always been careful to keep personal details to yourself, both at work and outside of it—but it’s obvious to everyone that you’re not exactly thrilled about your plans.
“I’m so sorry, hon,” Garcia says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You know I’d stay here and hang out with my favourite girl, but my brothers really wanted me to come visit this year.”
Spencer pipes in, too. “And I would love for you to come with me to Vegas, but unfortunately there was just one seat left on the plane with such short notice—I barely got one myself.”
Emily adds on, “And I’ll just be hanging out with my mother, and that probably won’t be very fun for you… I mean, you know, you’ve met her.”
Everyone else chimes in with their own apologies, each one sounding genuinely disheartened that they won’t be able to spend the holidays with you. It’s a heartwarming gesture, but it only worsens that pitiful feeling.
You raise your hands, signaling for them to stop. “Guys, guys. I swear, I’m totally fine with being on my own. Honestly, it’ll be nice to get some rest and relaxation.”
That seems to convince them enough that they drop the subject, instead electing to give you bigger and tighter hugs until you’re pretty convinced they’ve given you a collapsed lung for Christmas. Even Spencer, who shies away from physical touch, gives you a squeeze. “I know how it feels to be alone when everyone else is celebrating,” he whispers in your ear, trying not to draw attention, which you appreciate. “Call me if you ever want to talk.”
He really is a sweetheart. You smile widely at him, hoping he doesn’t worry about you too much while he’s supposed to be having fun. “Thank you, Spence. I will. I promise.” You won’t call him. He hardly gets any time with his mom.
They file out of the office, saying their goodbyes one by one, until it’s just you, Hotch, and Jack left. Hotch is usually the last to leave, so you’re not surprised he’s stuck around to see you off. When you glance over at him, he has a thoughtful expression, like he’s on the verge of saying something. Just as Hotch seems to be gathering his thoughts, it’s his son who speaks up, looking up from the colouring he’s doing at your desk as if he’s just had the most brilliant idea in the whole world. “Daddy, why can’t Auntie Y/N come stay with us for the holidays? Like a really long sleepover!”
And then something strange happens—Hotch flushes, cheeks turning just the slightest bit pink. “Well, Jack, I don’t think she would want to spend her break from work, uh, with her boss,” Hotch says, looking a little uncomfortable. “She probably wants some time to herself.”
Jack frowns. “But she just said she’s going to be watching Christmas movies at home! She can do that at our home, too.” His expression turns into full puppy dog eyes, the kind neither of you can say no to. “Pleaaase! It would be so fun!”
You crouch down, booping Jack’s nose. “As much as I would love to hang out with you all day, Jackybean, Christmas is for spending time with family. I don’t want to interrupt your time with your dad.”
That only makes him look even sadder. “But, Auntie Y/N, you don’t have a family to spend time with… and Daddy always says his team is his family too, so that makes you part of our family!”
A knot suddenly forms in your throat. Of course, you all know that Hotch cares for the team deeply, but hearing him call you—no, not you, the team—his family, knowing how precious family is to him… You have to summon all of your willpower not to cry at the thought.
When you look back at Hotch, he meets your gaze steadily. You can tell he’s not just saying it to make Jack feel better. He means it. “Jack’s right,” Hotch says quietly, his voice lower than usual. “The team… you… you are part of this family. If you want to spend the holidays with us, you’re more than welcome.”
Did… Did Aaron Hotchner just invite you to spend the night at his place? In a very platonic context, of course, but the thought of it makes your head spin. No, you remind yourself firmly, he’s just being polite. His son is a sweet kid who doesn’t want you to be alone, and Hotch is doing what any good father would—trying to make him happy.
And Hotch? Well, he’s always been kind, but that doesn’t mean you should read into it.
“Thanks, Hotch.” You give a big, toothy grin to his kid. “And thank you, Jackybean, for being such a sweetheart. I promise I will think about it and let you know.”
That seems to satisfy Jack, because he starts packing up his crayons with a happy little hum. You grab your jacket off your desk chair, pulling it on over your work clothes, and sling your bag over your shoulder.
Just as you’re about to leave, Hotch places a warm, firm hand on your shoulder. Leaning in so his son can’t hear, he whispers, “You don’t have to decide now, but… Jack’s not the only one who’d enjoy having you there.”
It’s a quiet, almost shy admission, and you blink up at him, caught off guard. The warmth of his hand lingers even after he pulls away, his expression unreadable but soft in a way you don’t often see. You’re still thinking of what to say back when, ten minutes later, you find yourself sitting in your car, staring blankly at the steering wheel.
What the hell just happened?
***