Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

~*March 24, 1999*~

It’s rather considerate of the weather to cooperate and rain when there’s a funeral going on.  To Aaron, a funeral on a sunny day is never quite the same.  Rainy funerals may be stereotypical, but it works.  A quick glance around those gathered at the gravesite and it’s possibly the largest funeral he’s been to.  Miguel had mentioned a few times that he comes from a large family, though he said that his immediate family was on the small side.  There are easily seventy to eighty people from his family here, and—from what he’s heard from his agents—this isn’t the whole family, just those in the immediate area.  And then there are the FBI agents.  There are likely just as many agents here as family members, which just speaks to the kind of leader Miguel was.  He scans the area again.  There’s the main huddle of the organized crime unit agents, Mills crumpling a kleenex in her hands.  A bit away from them is agent Banano, who’d received special permission to come back for the funeral even though she’s working on a special assignment in San Francisco for the foreseeable future.  Where Alice is, Audrey isn’t far behind.  He’s heard chatter that she’s going to be moved from the BAU to a new cybersecurity taskforce.  He’s happy that she’s being recognized for her work, though he’ll hate losing her.  Luckily the move isn’t supposed to happen for a few months at least while the Bureau tries to figure out where to move her husband—who’s also an agent with the Bureau, though he works with one of the response teams currently and will likely be moved to a SWAT team when he does move.  Jason and Dave are standing off to the side, heads bent together as they talk.  Not surprising that both of them are here considering how long Hidalgo was with the BAU.  Ruiz is sitting nearby, his leg propped up on another chair and a set of crutches next to him.  Various members of the organized crime unit have been checking on him and getting him things as he needs, though it looks as though he’s steadily growing irritated.  And then there’s Reid, who seems to flit between Ruiz—the one person Ruiz doesn’t seem irritated at—the organized crime unit huddle, and the Hidalgo family—Mrs. Hidalgo in particular—as though he can’t settle down.

Everyone settles a bit as the priest steps forward and starts leading the graveside thoughts and prayers.  Aaron follows along where he can.  He was, technically, raised Baptist so he’s not as familiar with Catholic traditions.  Plus, he hasn’t been to a church service in over ten years, so he’d be rusty regardless.  As the service winds down, his pager chirps and he does his best to ignore the embarrassment that accompanies the sound.  Heat races up his neck as he can feel a blush forming regardless.  Luckily, it seems as though it’s only his fellow agents who heard the sound, and they’re all used to him being summoned by the device by now.  He peeks at the page and slips away to the cemetery office to borrow their phone.  When he steps back outside, the funeral attendees are breaking up and he searches the crowd for his unit, motioning for them to gather up as he catches their eyes.  They’ve got a case.

~*April 12, 1999*~

It’s early in the morning, but the weather is already showing signs of being hot and humid.  And it’s only April.  One of the few good things about where the BAU is housed is the consistent temperature.  Then again, being six levels underground helps with that.  Aaron raises an eyebrow as he walks into the atrium and finds Liam leaning against the wall with two cups of coffee.

“Do you even realize how insanely early you get into work?” Liam asks as Aaron approaches.  “Because, let me tell you, this is way too early for any sane person to get into work.”

“You do know there are plenty of people with jobs who are already awake and working, right?” Aaron asks, accepting the coffee Liam hands him.  “Thank you.”

Liam waves off the comment.  “The operative word was sane.”

“Ok, that still doesn’t explain why you’re here so early.  Especially when you have an infant at home,” Aaron says, sipping the coffee.

“That’s because I want to show you to your new office,” Liam says.  He grins and leads Aaron to the elevators and hits the button going up.

Aaron’s eyebrows raise slightly.  “I hadn’t realized that they were done with the renovations on the offices yet.”

“Yeah, they finished this weekend.”

They ride up to the fifth floor, Liam gushing about how Devon is doing and how he’s growing.  It makes Aaron grin.  Fatherhood seems to have settled something in Liam and from everything Aaron’s seen, the man is an excellent dad.  The fifth floor looks far different than how it did the last time Aaron had been up here.  Granted, he hopes the bureau wouldn’t make the BAU work in construction zones, but one should never underestimate bureaucracy.  At the end of the hall is a set of glass doors that have been frosted in parts to have ‘BAU Crimes Against Adults’ on it.  He enters the space, reaching over to flip on the lights.  Desks have been set up with movable cubical dividers in the lower level.  The upper level has two offices—his and Jason’s—and also leads to a conference room if he’s remembering the plans correctly.  Their offices have a raised upper level because there are important electrical elements for the building there and the electrical was unable to be moved.  After consulting with an electrician and engineer, it was determined that raising the floor in that area wouldn’t negatively affect the electrical elements.  There had been discussion on placing the break room on the raised flooring, but it was decided that having water lines running around important electrical work probably wouldn’t be a good idea should something go wrong.

“Nice!”  Liam lets out a low whistle as he looks around the space.  He then turns to Aaron.  “Want to check out the other unit’s bullpens?”

Aaron chuckles.  “Sure.”

They go to the Crimes Against Children bullpen next, and it looks very similar to the Crimes Against Adults bullpen—though it lacks the raised floorspace—except the breakroom, conference room, and private office—which is another difference to the CAA space, the singular private office—are on the interior of the space, leaving the windows open to the whole of the bullpen.  The Organized Crime and White Collar units are up a floor.  The White Collar unit looks practically identical to the CAC space, just a variation in the order of the office, break room, and conference room on the wall.  When they approach the Organized Crime space, they’re surprised to still see tarps up.  Aaron spots one of the workmen and stops him.

“Sorry, we’d been told that all of the offices were finished.  Is there a problem?”  Aaron asks.

The man nods.  “Unfortunately, a pipe on the floor above this one burst right above these offices.  Soaked through the ceiling and got onto the desks, cubical walls, floor, and basically everything.  We’re clearing everything out, salvaging what we can, and will work at replacing what we can’t.  Shouldn’t take more than a couple of days.”

Aaron nods and makes a mental note to try and catch Jason to let him know and see about informing the organized crime unit.  If he’s lucky, Cheree will beat Reid in today and Aaron will tell her and ask her to share it with the remainder of the unit.  He remembers that today is Agent Mills’s last day with the unit and frowns slightly.  Cheree’s been waiting to transfer out to Kansas for a while so she can help take care of her mom and he knows she’s having mixed emotions about leaving even if she was the one who requested a sooner transfer date than the one she was originally given. As he follows Liam back down to the CAA bullpen and then to his office—it still feels weird thinking he has an office—Aaron makes a mental note to ensure something special can be done for her last day.

~*~

Spencer looks up as an envelope with his name written in Hidalgo’s script is dropped onto his desk.

“We finally…finally managed to go through Hidalgo’s desk,” Mills says.  Her sniffle highlights the redness in her eyes.  “I offered to drop yours off before I…before I leave.”  She sniffles again, her voice becoming slightly thick with emotion.  “I’m so sorry, Spencer, I just…I can’t.  I—”

He’s up and around the desk, pulling her into a hug as she bursts into tears.  A couple of nearby agents glance over, but they refocus on their work when they realize what’s going on.  Or they find him glaring at them.  Whichever happens first.  He holds onto Cheree until she’s calmed down some and sniffles as she pulls away.

“God, I’m so sorry.  I don’t…I’m normally not like this.  You know that,” Mills says, wiping at her eyes.  She accepts the Kleenex from Spencer with a nod and blows her nose.  “You do me a favor, take care of yourself, ok?  I’ve had enough friends die, I don’t want to count you as one of them.”

Spencer manages to drag forth a smile he doesn’t really feel.  It must be close enough to the real thing because Mills relaxes a bit.  “I’ll do my best.  Take care, Cheree.”

She nods and walks away, still sniffling slightly.  Spencer turns back to his desk and the envelope there.  The familiar script mocks him before he grabs the envelope—it’s heavier than he’d expected—and puts it in a pocket.  He could use some fresh air.  Before he makes it to the elevators to go up to the main floor, he hears his name called and turns.  Gideon approaches, concern evident in the crease of his eyes and slant of his brow.

“Spencer, I need to speak with you for a moment if you don’t mind,” Gideon says.

Spencer shakes his head.  “Not at all.  I was just going up to take a bit of a walk.”

“Ah, an excellent idea,” Gideon says.  “I can accompany you up to the main floor, but I need to meet with the section chief.”  The elevator dings as it arrives and Spencer sets his arm across the opening, motioning for Gideon to enter before him.  When they settle in, Gideon glances at Spencer for a moment before saying, “I want to congratulate you for doing a superb job with settling and leading the Organized Crime unit during that whole mess in Arizona.  I know it wasn’t easy, but I also know that you were likely the best person for that.”

His hands feel warm and wet, the scent of liquid copper reaching him.  “I was just doing what I thought was best.”

“And that’s what kept your unit together.  You did good, Spencer,” Gideon says.

That’s the point that Spencer realizes this is Gideon’s attempt to talk to him about what happened and find out where Spencer’s head is at.  Likely because some of the other agents have reported being concerned because Spencer isn’t responding how they think he should.  He’d appreciate the other agent’s and Gideon’s concern more if the phantom of Hidalgo wasn’t hanging out at the back of his mind telling him that he needs to talk to someone, that he shouldn’t keep himself at arm’s length from everyone, and that what happened isn’t his fault.  He wishes he could talk to the phantom, except that would really make him feel as though he’s losing his mind.  Tell Hidalgo’s ghost that he doesn’t think he can talk to anyone, it’s hard to talk about something when you don’t know how to frame it yourself.  He’d say that if he doesn’t keep people at arm’s length that someone would realize exactly how not ok he is, and he can’t risk his job that way.  Can’t risk losing the salary and benefits he’s paid.  Can’t risk the one thing he feels like he’s good at and that he can actually make a change with.  He’d tell Hidalgo that he knows it’s not his fault.  He knows that.  It still doesn’t stop the feeling that there should have been something he could have done to change what happened.  If he was smarter, faster, stronger, something, then maybe Hidalgo would be alive and here instead of some stupid envelope burning a hole in his pocket and Gideon staring with wide and improperly assessing eyes.  It’s the one thing that he’s figured out since leaving the CAA unit, if he can play into the thought that Gideon has about him being some wide-eyed somewhat-hapless young man who wants to impress Gideon, then the man typically leaves Spencer to his own devices.  It only somewhat stings that he probably could have been that young man rather than pretending to be him if things had just been a little different.

“Thank you.”  Spencer mentally searches for some way to get the focus off of him.  “Have you found a new unit leader for the organized crime unit?”

Gideon nods.  “I think so.  That’s part of what I’m discussing with the section chief.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, who’s your choice?” Spencer asks.

“Technically, I’m not supposed to say anything,” Gideon says.  “I know you’re good about discretion, though.  We’re looking at Agent Edwards from the white collar unit.”

Blinking in surprise and mentally biting his tongue, Spencer nods as his mind whirls at high speeds to figure out how to do damage control with his unit while Edwards is leading it.  “I won’t say a word.”

The elevator dings as it comes to a stop and Spencer gives a tight quick twitch of a smile before stepping off and wishing Gideon luck with his meeting.  The elevator doors close and Spencer glances at the lobby before stepping to the other bank of elevators and pressing the call button.  When the new elevator arrives, Spencer takes it up to the top floor before taking the stairs up to the roof.  It’s quieter up here than at the ground level.  He wanders over to the corner that he usually sits in and pulls out the letter as he settles down.

Spencer,

I’m sorry.  I don’t know how it ends, but if you’re reading this then clearly something’s gone horribly wrong and I’m no longer around.  Fingers crossed that the “horribly wrong” is just old age—yes, I’m aware I’m not that old, give me a break—catching up with me and making me forget to pull this letter from my desk, but I doubt it.  Just know, whatever happened, it’s not your fault.  I know that you know that, but I also know how hard those words can be to truly understand in the immediate aftermath of something like this.  So read those words as many times as you need.  It is not your fault.  Hell, I’m sure you did everything you could to prevent my death.  It’s a little weird seeing that written out like that.  But that’s what this is about.  My death.  So do me a favor (maybe two).  Talk to someone.  I’m sure that Jason would be more than willing to talk with you.  The man’s probably worried sick, to be honest.  He asks about you a lot.  Checks in to make sure you’re doing alright.  I keep telling him to talk with you himself, but I don’t know what’s stopping him.  Banano would be happy to talk with you.  She might not be with the BAU at the moment, but she’ll move heaven and earth to talk to you.  Hell, talk to Hotch.  I know you two fight like two barn cats, but something tells me he’d be willing to listen for this.  Point is, don’t distance yourself from people.  You don’t have to be alone.

Speaking of, in case you’ve forgotten, my mom is absolutely going to still expect you to show up to family dinners on the second Sunday of each month.  You’ve shown up to a couple of them now and she’s always talking about how good you are with helping to prepare the empanadas.  That she trusts you to help with that rather than relegating you to the tamales means she’s basically adopting you as one of her kids.  As such, in this envelope is a necklace.  I know you’re not religious—hell, neither am I, not really—so there’s no need for you to feel obligated.  The BAU would probably fall under Michael more than Raphael, but I think Raphael fits you better.  Take care of yourself kid.

Miguel

He reads over the letter multiple times, even though he knows the words are burned into his mind.  Tilting the envelope more and a silver chain falls out, the Catholic icon attached.  He can’t help but stare, his thumb lightly brushing over Raphael.

~*~

“Hotch!”

Aaron stops and turns, waiting for Cheree to catch up.  She has a file box with a few things inside it, including her small collection of plants that dotted her desk.  He’d been surprised when she gave him a pot with a small plant in it.  Apparently it was grown from a clipping of one of the plants she’d kept on her desk.  Hopefully he doesn’t kill it.

“As much as we’re going to miss you, I’m glad you’re able to move closer to your mother to help her out,” Aaron says as she catches up to him.  “How long until you move out to Olathe?”

“My sister and our cousin should be arriving about mid week to help me finish packing up my apartment,” Cheree says.  “We’ll be heading out Friday night.”

“Driving at night?”

She nods.  “Less people on the road, less chances of an accident.  At least, that’s our thinking.  We’re all night owls anyway.”

Aaron walks ahead to grab the door for her.  “Makes sense.  Still, be careful.”

“Of course.”  Cheree chuckles.  “Hilariously, my sister is a nurse in an emergency department and our cousin is a firefighter, so between the three of us, we’re set for anything.”

They step out into the soft light of dusk, a light breeze in the air.  The conversation is kept to lighter topics as Aaron decides to walk Cheree to her vehicle.  He may not have interacted with her as much as some of the other BAU agents, but he’s still going to miss her.  As she settles her things into the back of her car, Aaron bids her luck one more time before starting to walk away.

“Hey, Hotch?”

“Yes?”  He turns with a slight hum.

Cheree hesitates before saying, “Keep a watch on my unit?  At least for a little bit while they get their feet back under them?  They don’t need babysitting, not really, just an occasional reminder that they’re human too.”

“I will,” Aaron promises.  It’s not a hard promise to make.

“Thank you.”  Cheree smiles.  “Take care of yourself, Hotch.  The BAU’s going to need you for a while yet.”

The words settle along his spine as he walks to his car.  He’s heard similar words before, but for some reason this time they feel prophetic.

~*One Week Later*~

A slight tug to Spencer’s sleeve catches his attention and he pauses a moment before walking into the conference room.  McAllen grins slightly and motions toward the conference room.

“Any idea what the meeting is about?”  McAllen asks.  He’s recovered well from what happened in Arizona, physically at least.  He’s a bit jumpier than he was before being kidnapped and likes to make sure he doesn’t have space for people to sneak up behind him—apparently he’d also been hit from behind to knock him out—but he seems to be taking everything in stride and, from what Spencer’s heard, has been taking full advantage of the psychologist provided by the BAU.  Some of the older agents had grumbled at a psychologist being provided because they didn’t think it was necessary, but they settled down when they saw how many people thought it was a good idea.

“I haven’t been told.”  Which is not a lie.  He’s not been told.  He does, however, have plenty of ideas as to what’s going on based on various snippets of conversation he’s heard from other agents.

McAllen shrugs and gives a half grin, clapping Spencer on the shoulder before walking in.  When Spencer enters the conference room, there’s only one seat left toward the end of the table.  He settles into it and glances at his coworkers, keeping himself from the small bits of chit-chat they’re using to occupy themselves as they wait.  Normally he enjoys joining with them.  This morning he’s still feeling a little tired, so instead he listens and takes in the information they inadvertently share, filing everything away in neat mental folders. Footsteps outside make everyone pause their conversations as they turn and watch Gideon enter with Agent Edwards.  Spencer holds back a frown.

“Good morning everyone, thank you for joining us for this meeting before starting on your usual tasks,” Gideon says as he approaches the front of the room.  “Some good news, the clean up and re-do of the renovations to your office area on the upper floors have been completed and you are now able to move into that space.”

Mild cheers rise from the more awake agents.

Gideon nods.  “Congratulations and welcome back into the sun, it’s a bright world up there.  The other major announcement is that Agent Victor Edwards is the new organized crime unit leader.  As such, he may be making changes and adjustments to the field and office teams as needed as well as selecting a team lead for the field team.”

There are gasps as people begin to question what’s going on with Ruiz.  After a moment, Gideon holds up a hand.

“Jesus is still with the BAU,” Gideon says.  “Currently he’s on leave as he needs to recover from the surgeries that were needed to repair his leg.  Once his leave is complete, he’ll be on restricted activity for quite some time.  As such, he’s decided to—temporarily—step down from the team lead position.  When he’s released from restrictions, he’ll be able to retake his position as team lead should he desire it.”

The dissatisfied grumbling dies down as the gathered agents realize this decision is likely for the best.  Spencer sips his coffee.

Gideon glances around the room before nodding once and turning to Agent Edwards.  “Victor, anything you’d like to say while everyone’s gathered in one spot?”

“I’ll be concise.”  Edwards steps forward.  “I will call each of you to my office to speak with you directly.  I want to streamline the unit so we can do the most good for the most people.  Some of my decisions may seem unorthodox, and if you have a concern, you’re welcome to bring it to me.”

Something in Edwards’s voice makes Spencer frown into his cup.  He’s not lying…not exactly, at least.  Spencer makes a mental note to keep track of Edwards.  He’s hoping that his dislike of the man is just the fact that Edwards represents an unexpected and unwanted change.  But then again, he’s heard things about him from the white collar unit agents.  Whispers and rumors that don’t paint him in a good light.  It’s why he knows that his optimism is misplaced.  His initial displeasure about Edwards being a bad fit is probably going to be the correct guess.  He’s brought from his thoughts as the other agents shuffle around and start to leave, likely heading up to their new office.  However, he does not disengage from the inadvertent staring contest he’s found himself in with Edwards.

“You might want to get moving, Spencer, or else all the good desks will be taken,” Gideon says.

Spencer hums slightly, sipping his coffee.  “The desk position doesn’t affect the paperwork.”

Edwards blinks and looks away.

“But, to be fair, having a good neighbor can make all the difference,” Spencer says, cutting his gaze to Gideon and grinning slightly.  “And who knows, maybe I can cut down on my distance to the coffee machine.”

Gideon’s chuckles follow him out into the hall.

~*~

“Agent Reid,” Edwards calls, barely stepping outside of his office to be heard before ducking back in.

Spencer raises an eyebrow slightly, wondering what’s going on that Edwards would wait so long after talking with the last agent to call him back.  It’s not like he’s going to find out by just sitting here, so he heads over, knocking slightly on the door frame and waiting a moment for Edwards to bid him enter.  The office is still plain with the freshness of having just been renovated, so he can’t figure anything about Edwards’s personality from it.  On Edwards desk is an open file that he’s looking through before he closes it, though Spencer catches a glimpse of his photo in the corner.  Well, if that’s the kind of tone Edwards wants to set for this meeting, so be it.

“Agent Reid, thank you for your patience while I was meeting with other members of your unit,” Edwards says.

Spencer nods slightly.  “Of course.”

“Well, after looking over everyone’s case files, reports, and the last assessment by Hidalgo, I have made adjustments and changes to the field team and to the office team.  At this time, you will be a part of the office team,” Edwards says.

Even though he feels as though his feet have been pulled out from under him, Spencer keeps his externalized reaction to a minimum.  He drums his fingers once—a motion that Edwards spots—before he asks, “May I know why I was removed from the field team?”

“I have some concerns with the last case you went out into the field to work on.  I also want to test to see if your abilities will be put to better use if you’re kept within the stability of the office rather than the tumult of field work,” Edwards says.

“Understood,” Spencer says.  It sounds like a bunch of bullshit to him, but what does he know?  It’s not like he’s worked for the BAU for a year and a half.  Or as if he’s been working toward getting his masters in psychology while debating going for a doctorate.  The professor he’s working with at the University of Maryland has been fantastic about working with Spencer’s weird work schedule and has been very enthusiastic about trying to get Spencer to agree to join their lab and aim for a doctorate.  This same professor who knows quite a few members of the BAU—and is also friends with Gideon’s wife, Jill Bowers—and hadn’t seemed terribly impressed with Agent Edwards when Spencer had brought the agent up in conversation.  “Is there a particular area you’d prefer I focus my attention?”

“Continue working in-office consultations and cold cases,” Edwards says.  “When the field team is working on-site consultations, I want you to be the main office agent assisting.  Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Spencer says.

“Good.  I also want you to recertify for firearms and retest for physical fitness.  I understand that this is sudden and you’re coming off of being injured in the field, so those tests have been scheduled for two weeks from now.”  Edwards moves Spencer’s file into the ‘Done’ box on his desk.  “That’s all, thank you, Agent Reid.”

“Yes, sir,” Spencer says before standing and heading toward the door and the bullpen.  He’s very glad that he snagged a desk that is the opposite side of the office from Edwards’s office.  He’s somewhat surprised to find McAllen and Coverstone hovering around his desk.

“Doc, what’s the news?” Coverstone asks.

“Well, you guys get a break from rock paper scissors on who has to room with me during on-site consultations,” Spencer says.  He sits in his chair with a barely controlled drop and sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his thoughts race about what Edwards is doing and how this will affect the unit.

“Wait, he removed you from the field team?” McAllen asks.  He groans.  “He’s moved Lee off as well.  Krestchov and DeMarco aren’t happy with being moved onto the field team, especially Krestchov because he’s trying to prove to a judge that he can provide a stable environment for his kids after his wife passed and his in-laws have decided to fight him for custody.  DeMarco hasn’t been in the field in…what?”  McAllen turns to Coverstone with a slight frown.  “It’s been three or four years, right?”

Coverstone nods.  “That sounds about right.”

“Neither Lee or I fit the typical expectation of a federal agent,” Spencer says.  “It’s possible that Edwards is working to reduce friction between local law enforcement and the unit when on-site.”

“Do you really believe that, Doc?” Coverstone asks.

He doesn’t.  He’s not sure what Edwards’s goal is with this, but he knows that it’s going to cause problems for some of the people in the unit.  What he does believe is that the unit is still off kilter after Hidalgo’s death.  That Ruiz’s absence and Mill’s departure have made whatever stability the unit had even shakier.  He believes that some of the unit are still turning to him—for some unknown, unspoken, godforsaken reason—for guidance on what to do.  If it weren’t for the fact that he finds this behavior so peculiar, he might be concerned about his ego growing from it.  As is, he’s just trying to focus on being the best help to people as they need it.  Spencer shrugs slightly, raising an eyebrow at Coverstone.  “Regardless of what I think, Edwards likely has as explanation for his decisions.  At the moment, I think the best thing we can do is adapt to his leadership style while still doing everything we can to catch our unsubs.”

McAllen nudges Spencer with a slight grin.  “You’ve been hanging around the unit leaders and unit chief too much, that was quite the politician’s answer.”

“What can I say?”  Spencer catches sight of Edwards watching their group from across the office.  “The walls have ears.”

~*Two weeks later*~

Aaron flips through the file as he approaches the organized crime office.  Hopefully, DeMarco is still in and can give some clarification on a couple of points.  Luckily, the organized crime unit is in the middle of an on-site consultation, so the field team is in whichever state needs them, which means the chances of DeMarco being present despite the late hour is high and the chances of running into Reid is as close to zero as it can be.  As Aaron approaches, he can hear McAllen’s voice coming through a phone speaker, the sound a bit more static filled than normal.  When he enters the bullpen of the organized crime office, he stops in place and bites back his instinctive groan.  Reid is standing in front of a cork board with a map on it and the markings of the case their unit is working on while another cork board is nearby with various print outs from the different crime scenes, including a couple of what look like grizzly murder scenes.  Gathering what little patience he has left over from the day, Aaron pushes forward and approaches where Reid is finishing up his conversation with McAllen.  

“Alright, thanks for the update Rob.  Get out of the precinct and get some sleep,” Reid says.

There’s an audible snort from McAllen over the phone.  “You plan on getting any sleep tonight, Doc?”

Aaron must make some sort of noise because Reid zeroes in on him before saying, “I’ll find Hotchner and listen to him drone on about something if I need sleep.”

“Oh, hey Hotch,” McAllen says.  “Both of you have a good night and don’t get into any fights in our new bullpen.  There isn’t anyone there to keep track of which bets are won and lost.”

The line goes dead and Reid drops the receiver back onto the cradle.  “What do you want, Hotchner?”

“I need to speak with DeMarco, is he still here or did he leave for the night?” Aaron asks, figuring the sooner he gets to the point, the sooner he’ll be able to get away from Reid.

“DeMarco is in Spokane with the rest of the field team,” Reid says.

The rest of the field team?  To Aaron’s knowledge, DeMarco was, essentially, a permanent office agent after the events of the last time he went out into the field.  “Why aren’t you with the field team?”

A bit of paper on the desk shifts as Reid leans against it, his expression flattening.  “Edwards decided he wants me in the office instead.  What did you need DeMarco for?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing pressing,” Aaron says.  He might not be Reid’s unit leader, but he is a unit leader.  As much as he dislikes Reid, he should at least try to usher the other man away from the office.  “You should get out of here and relax or get some sleep or whatever you do when you’re not disrupting the office.”  Ok, so he isn’t able to be completely professional with regards to Reid.  There’s no one else around, so it’s not like it matters.

“Like you can talk, you’re haunting the halls like a bad penny,” Reid says.

“I didn’t take you as one to follow superstition.”

“I don’t.  Doesn’t mean I’m unaware of societal colloquialisms.”

Aaron snorts, raising an eyebrow at Reid and frowning slightly.  “Societal colloquialisms?  You’re still a pretentious prick, aren’t you?”

“And you’re still a condescending bastard, glad we’ve deduced that again,” Reid says, not turning away from the map of Spokane that he’s working on.

“It’s rude to not look at someone when they’re talking to you.”

“It’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re working.”

“A monkey with a typewriter would be closer to solving this than you are.”

“This isn’t Shakespeare,” Reid says, still not looking away from the map.  “And even if it was, the saying requires more than one monkey with a typewriter.”

“I think we only need one to copy your blathering.”  Aaron raises an eyebrow, watching as Reid marks various points on the map.  “What sort of group is your unit going after this time anyway?”

“Potential hate group.”  Reid’s eyes dart around for a moment before he begins marking various points with a marker before grabbing a different one and starting marking with that color.  After a few marks, the new marker ends up between his teeth as he grabs a third and starts making marks with that one.  He then mutters around the marker, “There’s a hole in the information we’ve been receiving on their movements and I’m trying to see where that hole is coming from.  So unless you’re going to be useful—which I sincerely doubt—buzz off.”

Aaron rolls his eyes and is about to walk away when he takes a final look at the map.  Granted, he lived in Seattle and most of his cases were around the western half of the state, but he’s been to Spokane numerous times.  He has no idea what sort of activity they’re looking for, but if it’s a hate group they’re looking into on the eastern side of the state—

“You know, Hotchner, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re paying more attention to my ass than to the map,” Reid says without turning around.

Reid’s ass hadn’t even been within his consideration, though now that the man brings it up, Aaron can’t help but to glance at the feature.  Looks like Reid’s been working out.  Interesting.  He returns his focus to the map, reaching past Reid to snag an oddball neon green push pin in the little tin on the table.  His fingers brush Reid’s shoulder as he then reaches over to the right side of the map and sticks the pin in over a smaller city.  “If you’re looking into hate groups near Spokane, then it may be worth seeing if some of the information your unit needs is in Coeur d’Alene.  Food for thought.”

Reid finally drags his attention from the map, hazel eyes narrowed as he stares at Aaron.  “And why are you helping me?”

“Because you’ll know that I’ve helped you, and you’ll know that I’ve done such without anyone else on your unit knowing,” Aaron says.  “And I’ll keep it between us.  Consider it a debt repaid.”

Aaron doesn’t wait for Reid to say anything and walks away.

~*Three days later*~

Spencer has better things to do than go over Hotchner’s words from a few nights ago.  He’s working at ensuring all the proper paperwork for the case that the field team is on is at the station they’re working out of.  He’s directing the other office agents on where they need to focus and help them with their consultations when he has a moment.  He’s trying, desperately, to hang onto his temper as the lack of sleep from the last couple of nights slowly sinks its claws into him.  So, he really doesn’t have time to think about how Hotchner finally claimed repayment of the debt he owed Spencer from when Spencer saved Hotchner’s ass when he’d first taken over as team leader for the CAA field team.  A pity he doesn’t have that to hold over the man’s head anymore.  Such a simple little debt that he was going to use to his advantage eventually.  What makes it even worse, the asshole had been right.  Some of the information their unit had needed was in Coeur d’Alene.  Spencer had stared at the information that had been faxed to him as though it had personally offended him when he’d received it.

“Doctor Reid, a moment of your time, if you don’t mind.”  The nasally droning voice of Agnes Gronthier precedes her entrance to the conference room.  Agnes Gronthier is a tiny woman with permed henna red hair, beaded glasses chains for every occasion, a permanent scent of cigarette smoke around her, and pale liver spotted hands.  She’s with the accounting department and has been with the bureau long enough that she’d been an experienced employee when she moved to the Quantico building when it was freshly built in 1972.  The only employee with just as much service as her in the building is Lottie Reed, the head of dining services, who will always talk about the rising price of press and curls, has quite a few matching glasses chains as Agnes, and tends to go on smoke breaks at the same time as Agnes.  Spencer adores both of them.

“Ms. Agnes, how can I help you?” Spencer asks, setting down the papers he was looking at.

“There are,” Agnes consults the papers she brought with her, “eight agents who are in Spokane Washington at the moment, but the information for their travel, lodging, and food wasn’t submitted correctly before they left.  As such, the computer system is currently logging all of them as though they haven’t been showing up for work as none of them have logged into any of the systems in the building for the past few days.  I’ve been able to delay it, but if that information isn’t input soon, then it’ll be out of my hands.  As such, I’m bringing it to you as someone from the BAU will need to submit that information ASAP.  Also, I have several submissions from your unit regarding travel, food, and lodging vouchers that need to be redone before they’ll be accepted for reimbursement.”

“Right.  Ok.”  This certainly isn’t his job, but since Edwards clearly isn’t taking care of it, he might as well.  “I will get to correcting all of that as quickly as I can.  I know the submissions for Spokane need to be done the soonest, but can you recall if anything else is of high priority?”

Agnes hums, the sound cracking and creaky.  “Not that I recall.  The Spokane paperwork is what I recommend focusing on.  Bring it back to my office when you’re done, Doctor Reid.”

“Will do, Ms. Agnes,” Spencer says, watching her for a few moments as she leaves the conference room.  He begins to flip through the information in the manilla folder, eyes darting across the paperwork and finding the errors.  Unfortunately, a couple of the submissions are missing the name of the agent who submitted the request—he has no idea why they would submit the paperwork without their names—and he sticks his head out of the conference room and glances around the bullpen.  “Agent Everett, are you in the middle of something?”

“Nope, just finished up a consult for LA,” Agent Everett says.  “What’s up?”

Spencer picks out the requests without names on them and hands them to Agent Everett.  “I need you to look up the case files that match these voucher submissions so I can find out who the agent who submitted them was.  It’s not a high priority, just when you have a bit of time.”

Agent Everett nods.  “Gotcha, will do, Doc.”

“Thanks.”  He ducks back into the conference room he’s somewhat commandeered as an office, but given how much paperwork has been dedicated to the on-site case, the varying consultations he’s working on, and the random unit paperwork he’s been given since Edwards left, he figured his commandeering the space shouldn’t be too bad.  Especially since he’s able to easily clear it up if need be.  He’s pulled out the Spokane information when the phone in the conference room starts ringing.  He answers it without looking away from the new paperwork he’s needing to submit so his coworkers aren’t accidentally fired.  “This is Reid.”

“Why is the Bureau credit card declining?” Edwards asks.

Spencer scowls at the lack of greeting or anything.  “Sir, Agnes Gronthier just dropped off the previously submitted forms regarding the on-site consultation in Spokane and I’m looking over the papers now.  I need a bit of time to redo them and resubmit them to accounting.  The credit card may work again this evening, but it’s more likely that a new one will need to be assigned to the unit.  As such, you may need to submit reimbursement vouchers for the remainder of the trip.”

“That’s unacceptable.  Reid, you need to fix this, now,” Edwards says before hanging up.

“Maybe next time you can make sure the paperwork is submitted appropriately,” Spencer mutters as he hangs up the receiver.  He stares at the paperwork in front of him and takes a deep breath before glancing at his coffee cup and going to refill it.  It’s going to be a long day.

~*~

As the day turns to evening and evening to night, Aaron feels that same itch that’s been growing under his skin for the past several weeks rear up again.  He’s tried ignoring it.  He’s tried channeling the energy into something else—he’s been running more the last few weeks than he has in a while—and he’s tried picking someone up for a one night stand.  Tried, being the key word as when he’d ended up at the bar, he hadn’t been able to get into the swing of socializing like he used to.  The only reason he hadn’t written that night off as a waste was he’d managed to stop some douchebags from spiking some woman’s drink.  At this point, he’s not sure if he wants to fuck someone or fight them.  Honestly, either would likely be a relief at this point.

“Hey Hotch, glad you’re still here, have some finalized paperwork from the accounting department for Gideon to sign off on and file, could you make sure he gets it?” Bill, an employee from the accounting department, asks holding up a thick stack of papers.

Aaron nods and accepts the papers.  “Of course.  Heading home soon?”

He grins and nods.  “Looking forward to a couple of days off with Debbie.”

“It’s your anniversary soon, right?”  Aaron asks.  When Bill nods, Aaron says, “Congratulations.  Give Debbie my best.”

“I will.  Have a good night, Hotch.”  Bill waves as he leaves.

Aaron begins flipping through the documents.  Most of them only need to be filed within the various units, a couple need to be signed off on by Gideon—he’s not looking forward to hunting down the man to get him to do such—and a couple need to be signed off on by the unit leaders.  Then he hits the large section of organized crime pages.  Each one he looks at was written up by Reid yet has Edward’s signature on them.  Aaron flips through all of them, setting the papers to the side out of the other stacks he’d created.  Once he’s finished sorting out the papers, he grabs the ones from organized crime and exits his office.  The dark of the bullpen doesn’t bother him as he passes through and to the stairs, taking them two at a time to get up a floor and head for the only light on the floor.  It should be surprising that Reid is still here—everyone else from the building has left for the night except for the overnight custodians and security—but it’s not.  Reid is frequently here just as late as Aaron is.  Sure enough, the light in the conference room for the organized crime unit is still on and Aaron beelines for it.

Reid looks up as the door opens, scowling at Aaron.  “What do you want, Hotchner?”

“Are you actually trying to be fired and thrown in prison?” Aaron asks, tossing the stack of papers onto the table in front of Reid.  “Because I could make a fairly decent case for such with just that stack of papers by itself.”

As Reid flips through the papers, Aaron holds back the urge to pace.  That thrum of energy runs through him again and he clenches his jaw.  A sense memory of shoving Reid against a wall and kissing him draws itself into his mind and Aaron does his best to ignore it.

“Unsurprisingly, what you’re saying isn’t making sense,” Reid finally says, looking up with a raised eyebrow and frown.  “Why would this cause me to be fired or thrown in jail?”

“Because forging your unit leader’s signature on multiple documents is illegal,” Aaron says.  Granted, Edwards probably shouldn’t be the unit leader of the organized crime unit, but that’s no excuse for Reid to completely ignore legalities, even if it’s on in-house accounting paperwork.

Reid nods slowly.  “Yeah, I’m aware.  Which is why I haven’t forged his signature.  I filled out the paperwork and faxed the completed unsigned documents to Spokane, had Edwards sign them and then fax them back to accounting.  These are copies of the faxed versions that accounting sent back to the unit to be held on our end.  The original faxes with the fax receipts are with accounting.  At least I presume they are, I don’t work accounting so I don’t actually know.”

“And Edwards has kept the original copies he signed?” Aaron asks.

“How should I know?  Despite everything, I can’t predict a man who behaves in an illogical manner,” Reid says.

When there’s no comment insinuating that Aaron acts illogically from Reid, Aaron raises an eyebrow and refocuses on Reid’s face.  Instead of scowling at him or reading through the number of documents on the conference table—how Reid is able to work in such a mess, Aaron has no idea—he’s somewhat surprised to find the other man staring into space a bit to the right of where Aaron’s standing.  Confusion on the behavior arises and Aaron waits.

“He’ll keep the copies he’s signed to save his own ass if anything,” Reid finally says before turning his focus back to Aaron.  There’s quiet for a moment as they watch each other.  It feels…odd.  As though there’s something in the air just waiting for the right moment, the right breath.  Luckily, whatever the feeling was passes as Reid scowls.  “Now, are you done accusing me of felonious activity, or would you like to fail again?”

Aaron scowls, turns on his heel, and exits the conference room.  The ghost of a memory of Reid’s lips and teeth on his chasing him out.

~*May 14th, 1999*~

After his agent had tried to take three boxes of files to the archives at once and had tripped down the stairs of the catwalk, Aaron had taken care to send them to medical to be evaluated.  After that, he sorted out the fallen boxes of files, set them to the side, put out about fifteen different problems, and then still had three boxes of files that needed to be taken to the archives.  Deciding he needed to stretch his legs, he took them himself.  The first and second trip went perfectly fine and the third looks to be going the same way.  He steps out of the elevator onto the correct floor and greets a few agents as he heads down the hall.  About three doors from the archive department, he hears something slam into a wall with force and startles slightly.  Luckily, there’s no one around to see him jump.  Trying to get his heart back out of his throat and into his chest, Aaron sets down the box and peers into the room the noise came from.  Of course it’s Reid.  Aaron internally debates between chastising the man and just walking away when he spots the clench of his jaw.  Reid hasn’t noticed him yet, so Aaron maneuvers so he can listen in without being spotted.

“Rob, listen, you have to keep Ivan there.  I know he wants to run back here to his kids, but the moment he does that, Edwards will suspend him,” Reid says, his voice low.  “Just…let him know I’ll take care of it.  Ok?  With DeMarco being injured and what you’ve told me, the field team needs all hands to finish this up.  So let Ivan know I’ve got everything handled and he’ll be able to talk to his kids tonight, ok?  Yeah, yeah, I know—” Reid breaks off for what sounds like a yawn, “—working on it.  Alright, talk to you later, McAllen.”

There’s silence for a few moments, and as Aaron is about to sneak away to take care of the box of files he’s originally made this trip for, he’s grabbed and yanked into the room that Reid is in.  The door slams shut and he’s slammed against it.  Aaron winces as his head collides with the door before scowling at Reid, who is scowling at him.

“And why would you be sneaking around here at this time of night?” Reid asks, an odd tone in his voice.

“Last I checked, I don’t answer to you,” Aaron says.  “What’s with that phone call with McAllen?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Reid says.

“Oh?  Why would Edwards suspend Krestchov?” Aaron asks, poking at what he thinks may be the weak point.  Something’s going on with Agent Krestchov, and it apparently involves his kids.  While Aaron isn’t terribly close to the man, he doesn’t want Krestchov or his kids to go through any further difficulties than they already have.

Reid’s lip curls as though he’s about to start telling Aaron off when he pauses.  His eyes unfocus a bit as he stares off into space, his grip on Aaron’s lapels not loosening a bit.  When he refocuses, it’s with a slight snarl and muttered, “Fuck.”  Reid huffs out his nose and says, “Are you still licensed?”

“What?”  Where the hell is this conversation going?

“You graduated from Georgetown and passed the bar, worked as a prosecutor for a couple years before joining the FBI and then being shuttled over to Seattle.  Are you still licensed?” Reid asks.

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or disturbed that you know that,” Aaron says.  “And I haven’t maintained any of my continuing education, so my license has expired.  Why?”

Reid releases Aaron’s lapels and steps back, staring at him with slightly narrowed eyes before seemingly grumbling under his breath and turning around.  “Because Ivan has been going through a…difficult process with his in-laws.”  He starts shuffling through a stack of folders on the table, pulling one out and setting it down, motioning for Aaron to take a look.  “He asked me to look through this because he thought I might be able to help.  Unfortunately, this isn't an area where I have a significant amount of experience.”

“You're admitting you don't know something?  Shocking,” Aaron mutters.  He doesn’t move toward the file yet.  “I presume you want my help with something, why should I help you?”

Reid scowls.  “Listen, asshole, you can dislike me all you want, but this isn't about me.  It's about keeping Ivan's kids with him rather than them being shipped off halfway across the country to the middle of bumfuck nowhere because his in-laws are spiteful.  So you know what?  Fine.  You get one favor from me, no questions asked.  Whatever you want, whenever you want.”

The sheer force in Reid's voice gives Aaron pause.  A lick of guilt rolls through him because—sadly—Reid is right.  This isn't about Reid.  It isn't about Aaron.  This is about Krestchov and his kids.  It's a pretty sad situation if Reid is being more mature about this than Aaron is.  Mentally chastising himself a bit, Aaron steps forward and opens the file, flipping through the papers inside before shuffling it over to a chair and sitting so he can take a more in-depth look.  “Keep your fuckin’ favor.  I can't promise anything, but Krestchov is a good man and father and I'll do what I can to help.  May have to call in a friend of mine depending on what the paperwork shows.”

“You have friends?” Reid asks, the sentence drowning in disbelief.

“Yeah, and I didn't have to bribe any of them to become friends either,” Aaron retorts.

Reid snorts and begins pulling other files from one of the stacks.

Aaron quickly becomes engrossed in the documents of the folder in front of him, tracing the different through lines of legal framework.  Family law isn't his specialty.  He knows enough about it to get a rough idea on how severe the case is and runs a hand through his hair, sighing. 

“Any chance you have the case files from—”  he cuts himself off when Reid sets a few more files in front of him.

“This is the first case referenced.”  He touches one file, then moves his hand as he says, “This is the second case referenced.”  He points to the third file.  “That is the collection of restraining orders and police statements.”

Aaron blinks, impressed despite himself.  “You could have made a law office very happy working as a paralegal for them.”

“Probably.”

Each new bit of information reveals a bit more about how convoluted this whole case is.  He's proud of his knowledge of the law and his abilities to argue it.  This requires a specialist.  Without leaving behind the file he's reading, Aaron goes to the phone in the corner of the room and dials a number that he's known by heart for years.  The ringing forms a background noise as he frowns at what he's reading.

“Brooks residence.”

Aaron mentally curses a bit before clearing his throat.  “Mr. Brooks, I'm sorry to disturb you so late.  It's Aaron Hotchner.  Is Haley home?  I need to discuss a professional matter with her.”

“You have some nerve—”

“Sir, I have a coworker who is in a delicate situation and if she's agreeable to it, I think she could help.  She is the best at what she does.”

The line is silent for a moment before Roy sighs.  “Let me check with her.”

Aaron waits, absentmindedly noting when Reid re-enters the room, and returning his focus when he hears the receiver on the other end being picked up.

“Aaron?  What's this I hear about you needing help with a legal matter?  And how did you know I was here?” Haley asks.

“Because it's your mother and father's anniversary and you and Jessica always try to make it to family dinners on their anniversary if they're not going out,” Aaron says.  “A coworker of mine is in a custody battle that—from what I can tell—seems to be trying to railroad him.  Family law isn't my area of practice, but from everything I've heard, you're the best there is.”

Haley snorts.  “Flattery will get you nowhere, Hotchner.”

“Not flattery, just the truth.”  Aaron grins slightly.  “What do you say?  Take a look at it, and help an old friend out?”

“Emphasis on old.”

“Oh, ouch.  I'm not that much older than you, Brooks.”

Haley laughs.  “Where do you want to meet to go over this?  I can look into it tonight if it's pressing.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, if you don't mind,” Aaron says.  “Do you know of the Blue Poppy Pub?”

“I'm familiar.  They have a really nice selection of beers on tap,” Haley says.  “Meet in about an hour?”

“Sounds good.”  After saying their goodbyes, Aaron hangs up and is somewhat shocked to find the room cleared up and Reid standing there with a raised eyebrow.

“I'm going to assume that your phone call was actually relevant to the case and not just you setting up a date,”  Reid says.  “Though it's exceptionally painful giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Haley Brooks is an old friend of mine,” he’s not going to tell Reid they used to date, that feels like giving the man more ammunition than he needs, “and she specializes in family law, one of the best in the state.  She’s agreed to meet with me to look over the information on Ivan’s case.”

Reid nods, but before he can say anything his pager is going off.  He pulls the device from his pocket, glances at it, and scowls.  When he looks back up, some of that irritation still lingers in his gaze though it’s a different kind of irritation than Aaron’s used to.  “The extension for this room is 3056, let me know what she says.”

“And if you’re not here?”  Aaron asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll be here,” Reid sighs, glaring at his pager.  He turns that glare to Aaron.  “You can leave now.”

Aaron snorts and exits the room.  He glances around for the file box he’d originally been carrying, detouring to the archive room when he doesn’t see it.  The box sits on the table as though he’d walked it here and Aaron frowns, wondering if it was the custodian Jim or Reid.  He has a sinking feeling that it was Reid.  Pushing that aside, he moves as quickly as he can to close up his office for the night and get to his car.  He’s lucky to make good time to the Blue Poppy and he glances around the pub when he arrives.  Haley isn’t here yet, so he settles at the bar where he used to wait for her and orders a beer.  Nothing too heavy and more for something to focus on than constantly watching the people in the pub.  That’s one habit that he can’t blame on the bureau.  He’s always been particularly aware of what’s going on around him and where people are moving or what they’re doing.  Granted, working for the bureau certainly hasn’t helped dull that sense any, but he learned to have excellent situational awareness as a kid.  But it’s this awareness that lets him feel the slight draft as the door opens.  He catches sight of her reflection and turns when she’s a couple feet away.  Of course, Haley is used to him doing this and only smiles.

“Aaron, it’s good to see you,” she says, leaning in for a hug.  She’s dressed down from having come from celebrating her parent’s anniversary.  When they step away from each other, she sits and points to the small pile of manilla folders in front of him.  “Is that the paperwork for the case you told me about?”

“It is,” Aaron says, sliding it over.  He sips his beer as she reads through the information, waiting for her to finish skimming the papers—there’s too much here for one person to read it all quickly.  Not counting Reid.  So while she flips through the paperwork and gets a feel for the case, he sips his beer and muses on how this feels like when he was working in the prosecutor’s office and she was working through law school.  It’s similar and also not at all.  Back then, he’d still had the thought that they might marry once she’d graduated and settled into her career a bit.  He hadn’t realized yet that while he loved Haley—and still loves her, though not in the same way he once did—he wasn’t in love with her.  They could have worked, for a while, but he has a feeling they would have eventually fizzled out.  As much as they enjoy each other’s company, they have two drastically different aims and desires from life.  In the long run, he thinks that would have killed them.  A little hum from Haley draws his attention back to her and he waits for her to sum up her thoughts.

“I agree that your coworker needs help, and I’m willing to look over his case,” Haley says.  She grins.  “And I need a few more pro bono cases to make the associates happy, so he won’t even get charged for it.”  A manicured fingernail taps the cover of the top closed folder.  “I do want to know who put this together, because this isn’t your work, Aaron.”

“No, everything for this case was gathered by a different coworker, one Doctor Spencer Reid,” Aaron says, unable to help the scowl on his face at naming the nuisance.

Haley’s eyes light up and her grin widens.  “Oh, there’s a story there.  Now spill.”

Aaron scoffs a laugh, unable to hold back a grin as they start talking and griping about the various assholes they have to deal with at work.  Haley has, apparently, been dealing with an asshole in NYC who’s an up and coming lawyer there who’s tangentially related to her case and keeps trying to take over the situation.  They don’t drink much.  Aaron continues to nurse his beer while Haley sips from a wine she’d ordered.  When they finish their glasses, it’s late and Aaron insists on walking her to her car.  He knows all too well the kind of people who would love to follow a woman like Haley home.  Granted, he is also well aware that Haley can take care of herself, but there’s still the concern there.  Plus, it’s just good manners.  When they reach Haley’s car and she opens the door, his eyes automatically sweep the interior to ensure no one has climbed into the vehicle while it sat in parking.

Haley leans against the interior of the open car door for a moment, biting her lip.  “Aaron, can I offer some unsolicited advice?”

“Of course you can offer it,” Aaron says.  He then smirks.  “I just might not use it.”

“Naturally.”  Haley chuckles, then sobers.  “Re-evaluate your dislike of Reid.  Because where I’m standing, it’s looking a lot like your dislike of Pete Sullivan, and look how that turned out.”

He frowns slightly.  “Those situations are nothing alike.”

Haley’s eyebrows raise and a disbelieving grin grows on her face.  “Oh, really?  Because I remember the both of you hated each other and kept verbally lashing out at each other until one day you two got into a fight after school.  The next day you both came back with matching bruises and grins.  How’s Pete doing anyway?”

“He’s doing well.  Just had his third kid and was promoted to the head of sales in the company he works for,” Aaron says.  “Trust me, the situation between Reid and I is nothing like what Pete and I were like in high school.”  For one, him and Pete never kissed—much less fucked—either before or during their friendship.  Aaron will admit that Pete’s attractive and always has been, but it’s not really a thought that’s gone beyond fleeting thought.

“Ok.”  Haley nods.  “Well then as someone who you have dated, I’m just going to point out that you always get a bit posturing and pig-tail pulling when you like someone but don’t want to admit it.  It goes away pretty quickly when you realize they like you back, but still.”

He knows his jaw dropped slightly at the “pig-tail pulling” comment and he can’t keep the amused disbelief off his face.  “Alright, do I need to give you a field sobriety test?  Because I’m starting to wonder if that one glass of wine hit harder than normal.”

She laughs.  “Shut up, Aaron.  Just…think about it.”

They finish their goodbyes, including one more hug, before he closes her car door and steps away, watching as she drives off.  He then turns and begins making his way to his own car.  What she said turns over in his mind and he takes the walk to honestly think over what she said.  Does he actually like Reid and are his actions just him trying to get his attention?  A mental image of the other man pops up and he can’t help the sneer that crosses his face.  Nope.  Absolutely not.  While Haley is usually pretty accurate with what Aaron’s thinking or feeling, this is just one of those cases where she’s so far off the mark that it’s almost funny.  He shakes his head as he slides into his vehicle.  Hopefully Haley is better with helping Ivan than she was with giving unsolicited advice.