Chapter Text

“Fractured in two places? You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!”

Derek was staring at the x-ray like it had to be a joke. They had to have mixed it up with someone else’s.

“I told you,” Hotch replied with a smug little smile in spite of the fact that it was him sitting on the exam table with his foot draped in icepacks while he waited for the shot of whatever pain killer they’d given him to kick in. Derek rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“How’s that possible? It was one step.”

“I felt a pop. I knew right away.”

“Do we need to check for like, osteoporosis or something, doc? One step…come on. How?” Derek just couldn’t believe it and Hotch was more than a little irritated at how he was reacting. Some part of Derek refused to admit that getting older meant doing less with more consequences, and try as he might to outrun the perils of aging, it couldn’t be done. Still, Hotch wasn’t sure this had as much to do with him being older as it did with just simply landing wrong with his full body weight. He was pretty sure even ten or fifteen years ago it would have ended up with the same result. As if reading Hotch’s mind, the doctor just shook his head and pointed to the two small fractures in the top of Hotch’s foot, a common injury site that had a relatively high healing rate. He’d just begun to feel somewhat comfortable, resigned to his fate of lying on the couch watching the world go by for a couple of weeks when the other shoe dropped.

“This kind of break is extremely common, even in young people. There are a lot of small fragile bones in the foot. The breaks are clean but I am concerned that there are two of them, one in the 4^th metatarsal and one in the 5^th. This could make organic healing a challenge at your age. I am going to suggest surgery – the procedure would take roughly two hours, it’s an outpatient procedure so you can go home as soon as you’re cleared, and it doesn’t extend the healing time by much. What it would do is strengthen that area and give you the best fighting chance at regaining your active lifestyle.”

“Surgery?” Hotch was at least two full clicks back. The drugs they’d given him were kicking in and he was out of it. Derek had plenty of experience asking questions and slipped right into that part of his personality that had been neatly folded up and put away since he left the BAU. Suddenly he was Agent Morgan in the interrogation room again.

“What kind of surgery? What’s the prognosis with and without it, doc?”

“Here is the information, everything you could want to know about the procedure and why I am recommending it. If I didn’t know how active the two of you are, I would probably not be pushing for it but this injury could severely impact your lifestyle if it doesn’t heal correctly. And given your age, that’s unfortunately very likely. I’ll step out and give you a moment to look over the paper and talk it over, and then I’ll come in and we’ll splint it up and send you home to rest.”

“Thanks doc.”

Derek didn’t hesitate. He glanced down at Hotch who was lying on the table with his arm thrown over his eyes, and he pulled out his phone. He wasn’t exactly sure what time it was in Thailand but it didn’t matter, he had to call Savannah. Get a second opinion.

“This had better be good,” she said instead of hello. “It is 5am and I still had two hours on my alarm clock, Derek.”

“Good morning beautiful,” he said automatically, a smile on his face. Thirteen hours, he knew now. She was thirteen hours ahead of him and he felt a little bad calling and waking her up, but not bad enough that he wished he hadn’t called. Even when she was grumpy she made him smile. “I won’t keep you long, I just...we had kind of a situation happen and I need your opinion.”

“A medical situation or a Hank situation?”

“Hank’s good, it’s Aaron I’m callin’ about. He broke his foot this morning taking a step weird. Non-contact, two fractures, and Dr. Carter wants to do surgery. What do you think?”

“Did he leave the x-rays in the room?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Send me pictures of them, give me five minutes and I’ll video call you. I want to see him and his foot too okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

She didn’t even take the full five minutes, and when Derek saw her face he breathed a sigh of relief. She smiled at him gently and even in the dark of her room, with no makeup on and her gray flecked hair pulled back in a ponytail, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Has Dr. Carter come back yet?”

“No, just us. They gave Aaron a shot of something that looks pretty powerful and we’ve been waiting for it to kick in. I’d say it’s kicked in, he’s practically dead to the world.”

“Alright. Well I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I agree with Dr. Carter. The fact that it was a non-contact injury makes me a little concerned about it happening again, and putting a couple of screws in there is going to help make sure it doesn’t by helping it heal correctly. There are no guarantees, but this would be the recommendation to just about any athlete with an injury like this. What’s your hesitation?”

“Last time he was under, his heart stopped.”

“That was a traumatic situation and emergency surgery to correct internal bleeding, Derek, not a scheduled outpatient foot surgery. I know you worry but this is a low-risk situation.”

“So you’d do it?”

“I would. Can I talk to him?”

Derek brought the phone to the side of the exam table and tapped on Hotch’s arm, rousing him. He hadn’t been sleeping, exactly, just zoning out somewhere in the caverns of his mind. “Yeah?” he rasped, lifting his arm to look at Derek. What he saw instead was Derek’s phone and Savannah’s smiling face and he followed her lead with his own sleepy, slow smile. “Hey you.”

“Hey yourself,” she said. “How you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“Yeah. They gave you the elephant tranquilizers huh?”

“Guess so.”

“Good.”

“Do you want me to have the surgery?” he asked, blinking slowly. There was only one reason she’d be looking at him right now and even if he couldn’t remember Derek calling her or any of their conversation that had happened right beside him, he knew that much.

“I do. Ultimately it’s your choice, but I agree with Dr. Carter.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it?” Derek asked, staring at Hotch with a look of pure confusion. Hotch just shrugged. “No fight?”

“I trust Savannah.”

“Okay then. Guess we’re scheduling surgery.” Derek’s mind hadn’t quite caught up to where they were at, not really. How they’d gone from his complete disbelief that there could be any broken bones at all to having two of them and surgery on the horizon was beyond him. He wanted to laugh and cry over the absurdity of it.

“Let me know when the surgery is. I’ll see if I can get some time off to come help with Hank.”

“Thank you,” Hotch said, throwing his arm back over his eyes to shield them from the harsh overhead lights. His head was pounding...it didn’t exactly hurt, not through the fog of the drugs, but it was annoying and the darkness made it stop. It didn’t do much to alleviate the intense throbbing in his foot though. That, he knew, he was stuck with for the foreseeable future.

Derek said goodbye to Savannah and hung up, shoving his phone back into his pocket before leaning down and kissing Hotch’s elbow. Hotch hummed in response and Derek only sighed miserably, already beginning a mental checklist of everything he would have to do to get their house ready. Moving furniture, getting a shower chair, installing bars in the bathroom. He would have to take time off of work, talk to his mom, call Penelope and tell her their trip back to Virginia was canceled until further notice. There was so much to do he didn’t hear the doctor knock before re-entering the room. “I knew a new puppy was a bad idea.”

It had only taken a week for him to come to that conclusion. One week ago things had been good, everything was on track for a vacation and a busy holiday season until the dog.

“A puppy?” Derek asked when Desiree brought her over, ready to convince him that it was time. She only shrugged and smiled, holding the tiny little ball of fluff up to Derek’s face. A black sable German Shepherd, all dark fur laced with enchanting bits of tan and silver and red. She stared at him curiously with dark eyes and he already knew he was going to have a hard time saying no, something about her already seemed to know him and love him. It made his chest ache. Clooney had been gone for a couple of years now, he’d been in good enough shape to live longer than a dog his size should have and Derek had almost convinced himself Clooney might be able to live forever. Until he didn’t, and while the years had padded his grief some and their little family had moved on from tears to reluctant acceptance, he wasn’t sure he was ready to get another dog. To replace Clooney.

“She’s not a replacement, Derek,” Desi said, shoving the dog into his arms. “I loved that old fool too, but Jack’s gone off to college and Hank needs someone to play with. You guys could use a guard dog living in that neighborhood.”

Derek regarded the puppy with her floppy ears and huge chunky paws. “A guard dog?”

“Oh, Derek come on. She’s basically Clooney’s granddaughter or something. I don’t know how dog breeding works but her mom is related to Clooney somehow.. Just take her for a week, test it out. If she doesn’t work out I’ll find someone else or take her myself.”

“Why aren’t they training her?”

“She’s a little broken, just like you like ‘em.”

She was bred for duty as a K9 but she had a small heart defect that, while the vet assured them it wouldn’t affect her quality or duration of life, would preclude her from duty as a K9 cop. Desi’s fiance was one of the K9 officers and was trying to get her help to find families for the dogs they couldn’t use. “One week.”

The very first day, she peed inside of Derek’s favorite running shoes and chewed up the toe of Hotch’s pair. Lesson learned, no more shoes beside the door. She wasn’t terribly destructive after that, though she did do a lot of peeing on the wood floor. Hank played in the yard with her for hours, chasing her and playing fetch, and at one point while he watched and found himself softening up to the idea, Derek wasn’t sure who exactly was fetching.

“I don’t want a puppy,” Derek said as they crawled into bed that first night. Already his resolve had weakened but he wasn’t there yet. He would be sad to give her back, sure, but he would still do it. “She’s cute, I’ll give her that...but a puppy? We’re getting ready to fly to Virginia...what do we do with a puppy?”

“Let’s give her a chance. I don’t want a puppy either but Hank seems very motivated to help. Maybe we can use this as a tool, he’s old enough for a little responsibility.”

“He’s seven, he ain’t trainin’ no puppy.”

“I don’t mean that, but he can feed her and take her into the backyard when she needs to go out. He can keep her brushed. He could probably teach her a few little tricks.”

“You’ve gone soft in your old age.”

Hotch had no argument for that, he knew he had. And he supposed it was his right to do so, he’d been gruff and stern far too long. He simply smiled and nestled down beneath the blankets. It was getting cold. “I know you miss Clooney. I do too, every day. She wouldn’t replace him. No dog could ever. But it might be nice having another dog around.”

Derek tried to enjoy the puppy, but her bark grated on his nerves and the peeing in the house was about to drive him crazy. Hotch wasn’t crazy about any of that either but he was trying to maintain his status as good cop to Derek’s bad cop at least for the week.

And then Hotch fell. Well, he didn’t exactly fall, that was the part that Derek was the most bothered by. He never hit the ground, that would have made more sense. He just stepped wrong. Coming up the back porch steps after taking the as yet unnamed puppy out in the early morning, he hopped up the slick steps to the back deck like usual. The same way he took the steps every day, except this time a puppy made a mad dash and darted beneath his feet to chase a bird that landed in the yard. He pivoted on the slick wood to avoid stepping on her and landed with all of his weight on his lead foot at an unnatural angle. He knew right away his foot was broken, or maybe his ankle, that part he didn’t know. But it was broken, that he was sure of. He felt a sickening pop that released a wave of pain that coursed from his toes to his knee. It took everything in his power not to collapse right there on the spot. Instead he just let out a low groan and limped pathetically back into the house like a lame animal, waiting for the puppy to follow him inside before shutting the door and falling into a kitchen chair. Derek found him at the table with his head down ten minutes later, just breathing through the worst of it.

“What’s up?” He asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He looked down at the puppy sitting at Hotch’s feet and thought she had a strangely sad or guilty look about her.

“I think I broke my foot,” Hotch said from inside of his arms. The act of talking made him feel dizzy and sick, his hands were shaky. He knew he was in some kind of shock. “Could you get me some ice please? I can’t walk.”

“Can’t walk? Broke your foot? How? It’s 7am man.”

Derek went to the kitchen and rummaged through the freezer for an ice pack quickly, confused and trying to reason out what could possibly have happened in the thirty minutes since Hotch had gotten out of bed. Walking back to the table, the look of confusion plastered on his face, he watched Hotch slide his foot gingerly out of his slipper with shaking hands and he saw it right away. His ankle and the top of his foot were already swelling, the color changing from pale to a pinkish red. He couldn’t believe his eyes. “You’re gonna have to talk to me here.”

“I was coming up the stairs,” Hotch said quietly, taking the ice and setting it on his foot now propped up on the chair beside him. The pressure from the icepack hurt and he had to put his head down again to ride out another wave of intense nausea. “She got under foot. I didn’t want to step on her so I just shifted a little and landed funny.”

“So you didn’t even fall?”

“No.”

“Probably just sprained…”

“I felt it pop Derek.”

It didn’t seem possible, but Derek made the call to Hotch’s doctor’s office to see if they could get him in today to check it out. Neither of them wanted to go to the Urgent Care and sit for hours, it wasn’t exactly an emergency. The pain came and went, a little ibuprofen at least took the edge off and Derek didn’t have any problem helping him from the kitchen to the living room so he could lay down on the couch to try and rest off the shock. From there they waited. His doctor was able to fit him in for an appointment in late afternoon with an x-ray scheduled first, they just had to stay comfortable until then. Derek still couldn’t believe it.

“It can’t be broken.”

Derek couldn’t bear to watch the x-ray, watching them move Hotch’s foot into positions that caused him pain. He was in the room but he couldn’t look. Still, the longer the day wore on and Hotch’s condition didn’t seem to improve the way it might have if it was a sprain, he began to come around on the whole broken idea – they wanted to put Hotch in a wheelchair and he didn’t argue. If it was a sprain he would have been walking on it. He might be getting up there in age but he was still tough as nails – they’d both suffered their fair share of strains and sprains as a natural side effect of their active lifestyle, so for this to take Hotch down...he knew it had to be big, he just couldn’t wrap his mind around it being this bad over nothing. Over a misstep. Because that meant it could have happened to him too, it meant that they had to be more careful with their bodies, it meant they needed to get into even better shape...he didn’t know. It unsettled every bit of comfort he’d developed over the last few years.

The worst part was, he found himself blaming the puppy. When they told him Hotch couldn’t walk for two weeks and he should spend most of that time resting, meaning he would have to take on extra work around the house, meaning they would have to reschedule their trip to Virginia to visit Penelope and the rest of their friends. Meaning a whole hell of a lot of things, all because Desi convinced him a puppy might be fun.

Well she was going to hear about this, because his idea of fun didn’t involve broken bones and crutches.

“We’re not keeping her,” Derek said as he helped Hotch from the wheelchair into the waiting car. There was no comfortable way for a man of his height to sit in any car with a broken foot, but they didn’t have far to go and Hotch didn’t complain even if Derek could tell he was uncomfortable. “Two more days and Desi can find someone else to take her.”

“Derek…”

Derek didn’t answer, and didn’t look at Hotch because that might wear him down. Hotch had obviously already become attached to the little thing in spite of the predicament she’d caused him. To avoid having to look at Hotch, he swung them through their favorite place to get milkshakes and bought them a treat before driving home in silence. He didn’t want to be so cruel but this wouldn’t have happened if not for the puppy, and now he had to call Penelope and tell her they weren’t coming to visit, that they instead had to spend a week preparing for surgery and then six to eight weeks (or more) recovering from it. It was going to crush her. She’d been preparing for their visit for weeks now.

“I’ll come to you!” she said, without hesitation. “You’re going to need the help and I have plenty of vacation time saved up. I was going to take the whole week you guys were here off anyway...I’ll get a plane ticket right now. How does two weeks sound? Is that too long? Is that long enough?”

“Babygirl, you don’t have to spend your vacation taking care of us.”

“I know, silly, but I want to. Let me. Please. I miss you both so much and you’re going to need the help.”

He found it impossible to say no to her, and by the time their conversation was over he had a time to pick her up from the airport on his calendar for the next morning and a little more peace in his heart. He knew she was going to convince him to keep the puppy too, but she would help him take care of Hotch and he could use her support. As soon as he was off of the phone, he went to tell Hotch they were about to have company and found him sleeping with the puppy lying on the floor beneath the couch looking up at him as he breezed through the room. She still looked sad and guilty, like she knew what happened. He felt a little bad for her so he scooped her up into his arms and gave her a kiss on the head, called her a good girl, took her outside to pee and called Jack while he sat out there waiting for her to do her business.

“Broken?! I’m gone for two months and my dad breaks his foot?!”

“It was a freak accident. He’s okay though, I’d let you talk to him but he’s sleeping on the couch.” The puppy was sleeping on his lap now, stretched out across his thighs like she owned the place. Derek had to admit that was sweet and he wondered if she knew, in some way. If she felt responsible. She’d been a little extra clingy since they got home, staying close to Hotch for no real reason he could account for. And the minute he’d allowed it, she was up on his lap.

“Do you need me to come home?”

“Absolutely not. You’re in your first semester of college, man. You don’t have to worry about us.”

“Apparently I do!”

“No, Jack, you don’t. I got it. Plus my whole family’s here, we got Jess...who I have to call next...and Penelope’s flying out. You stay in New York, be a kid out on his own, don’t worry about your old men. We’re fine.”

“Will you have him call me when he wakes up?”

“Sure thing.”

Jessica was livid. About what, she didn’t really have words, mostly just that he was hurt and he didn’t call her. “How much time should I take off?”

“You don’t have to take any time off. Just come by when you can. Penelope’s gonna be here tomorrow and she’s staying for two weeks. My mom and sisters are gonna help.”

“I’m coming by tonight with dinner, do not cook. We’ll make a game plan then.”

“Jess…”

“Derek, he’s my brother. Let me help.”

Derek sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t want the help, he knew they were going to need it, it was just that he was starting to feel the crushing weight of being a burden to everyone he loved. He could only imagine how it was all going to make Hotch feel once he woke up and became aware of the situation. He was glad that all Hotch knew right now was whatever dreams he was floating through and the warm weight of the puppy on his legs.

His mom and sisters showed up with bags of groceries in their arms and a truckload of pillows stuffed into giant trash bags. “What’s all this?”

“Go get the walker from my car,” Fran said, handing Derek the keys. “It’s folded in the trunk.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

There was a walker, a shower chair and a small brown bag full of gel ice packs all stuffed into the trunk of her car. He scooped it all up in his arms and made his way back into the house, hoping they were all being quiet enough not to wake Hotch.

“What’d you do, rob the old folks home?”

“This belonged to your grandma, it’s been up in my attic since her hip surgery two years ago. I knew it would come in handy. Just needs a good wash.”

Desiree was looking at the puppy on Hotch’s lap while Sarah pulled out the lysol wipes and began cleaning up the dusty old medical gear. “You’re going to need to move this furniture around, make the walkways bigger.”

“I know.”

“And put some bars on the walls in the bathroom. Probably two near the toilet and another two in the shower.”

“I know, Sarah.”

“Hey, don’t take that tone with me. I’m just trying to help.” Sarah had spent the first few years of her adult life working in retirement and assisted living facilities, she knew all of the ins and outs. He was lucky to have her experience even if he didn’t exactly want it right now. He just wanted this all to go away.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m going to do some shopping tomorrow to get everything I need.”

“You have a week. I’ll help.”

“I got it,” he said a little indignantly. He could manage the repairs on his house himself, it was the only part of this whole thing he felt like he did have any control over. The only part he knew how to handle. But the look Sarah gave him was equally as stubborn, and he knew that whatever came out of her mouth next was going to crush his chances of doing it himself.

“He needs you to be available to help him, which means you can’t be out and about at the hardware store and punching holes in the walls. I know you got that whole Mister Fix-It thing you like to do, but you have to step back this time little brother. Your husband needs you.”

Yeah, he saw that coming. She knew how to break him down. He didn’t even recognize it until the tears were burning in his eyes and she was pulling him in for a hug.

“It’s all going to be fine,” she said quietly, patting his back. “He’s going to be okay. You’re just going to have to slow down for a while. It’ll be good for both of you.”

He nodded and tried to stop himself from crying but it was no use, and that was what Hotch woke up to. The sight of his sister consoling him beside a living room full of medical equipment that hadn’t been there earlier.

“Derek?” he asked, his voice a hoarse sleepy whisper. “What’s the matter?”

Derek sniffled a little and sucked it up, puffing up his chest and flashing Hotch his best smile. “Nothing. All good. How you doing? Can I get you something?”

Hotch scrunched up his nose and considered the questions but they were too much in the soupy mess of his brain. He let his hand settle on the puppy’s chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her ribs and smiled.

“I think she likes me,” he whispered and Derek let out a laugh.

“I think she feels guilty.”

“For what?” Hotch asked and Derek just shook his head. Of course Hotch wouldn’t look at it like that.

“Nothing…” he said, brushing it off. “Let me get you some water.”

“Already on it!” Sarah called, rushing toward the kitchen. Hotch blinked stupidly around the room, as if realizing for the first time that it was packed with people. Fran and Desiree were moving furniture out of the way and unpacking what looked like every throw pillow they could find in Fran’s house.

“Ma, what did you do?” Derek asked as the pillows tumbled out of the bag. Fran just laughed.

“These are my extras.”

“I think you got a problem…”

“I don’t see you complaining when you come sit on my furniture.”

“What am I gonna do with a thousand Christmas throw pillows?”

“Prop your husband’s foot up, make him comfortable. He’s going to be laid up through the season so I thought it should be festive. I’ll bring over all of my good Christmas blankets in the morning but they had to go through the wash.”

“Ma…”

“Hush. Don’t you ma me, now sit down with him while we put this place together. I took care of your grandmother for six months while she healed, one of your sisters is in med school and the other has worked as a caregiver for years. I’d say we’re experts and you are simply in our way.”

“Ma.”

“Shh. Hush. We’ll make you a list of things to get done when we leave, but for now...sit.”

“I see why you’re so bossy…” Hotch whispered, sitting up enough to allow Derek room to squeeze in behind him before he leaned back against the brick wall he called a husband. Derek’s arms draped over his shoulders and circled him.

“You boys want me to turn on the TV?” Fran asked and Hotch was about to say something when Derek shook his head.

“No. Just do your thing.”

Hotch wouldn’t have minded the television on, it would have provided a distraction from the intense throbbing in his foot, but if Derek didn’t want it on he must have had a reason so he just lay there against him petting the puppy as he waited.

“Penelope’s flying in tomorrow morning,” he said, and Hotch nodded. He had already assumed that would be the case. No way they could cancel on her for this reason and have her just say okay, maybe another time. “She’s going to stay for a few weeks and help out. That cool?”

“Do I have a choice?” He asked it quietly but with a soft smile. Derek just shook his head.

“Nope.”

“Then yes, it’s cool. Anything else?”

“Jess is bringing dinner tonight. She wants to talk.”

“I figured as much. You made yourself busy while I slept. Did you call Jack?”

“Of course. He wants you to call him. Kid’s probably got a plane ticket ready to buy so you should do that soon. Tell him he’s forbidden to come home until his holiday breaks.”

“I’m sorry Derek,” Hotch said, his voice quiet and thick with emotion. Derek didn’t have to look at him to know he was crying, and part of that was the drugs they’d given him in the office but the rest...well that was just Hotch. He felt things so damn deeply.

“For what?”

“Don’t,” Hotch whispered, reaching up to swipe the tears from his cheeks. “You know why.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Shit happens. We’re gonna be fine.” He knew Hotch wasn’t worried about himself, he was worried about how this was going to inconvenience everyone around him. All of the tasks he was responsible for around the house, taking Hank to school in the mornings, assistant coaching his basketball team, taking trips and Christmas shopping and sledding and...all of it gone. “We might never be alone again...but we’ll be fine. Come on,” Derek said, twisting around so he could look at Hotch. “Don’t cry. Come on. It’s gonna be hard but we’ve done hard things before.”

“I know.”

“Will you stop crying if I say we can keep the damn dog?”

Hotch scrunched his nose and sniffed, a little insulted that Derek was talking to him like he was a child. But it was also funny enough to make him smile. Glancing down at the dog, he patted her on the top of the head and let his hand rest there heavily. He didn’t have the strength to do much more. The drugs in his system were making time lag, making his body heavy and bone tired. They didn’t do much for the pain that drove in waves from his knee to his toes, but they did make him find it hard to care or focus there long.

“You hear that Paige? He says you can stay. I knew he’d come around.”

“Paige?” Derek asked, his voice cautiously quiet. Hotch had named the puppy. He clearly had no plans to give her back whether Derek had agreed to it or not.

Hotch hummed happily and nodded. “Satchel Paige. She loves the baseball Hank throws for her.”

“When did you decide all of this?”

“This morning. Outside. Was going to tell you, but...”

“Yeah,” Derek said, smiling down at her, finding that he’d been stroking her soft fur for the last few minutes absentmindedly. She was so warm, breathing slowly, nestled in against Hotch’s thighs. “I guess you had other things on your mind.” Satchel Paige. Paige. Something about her having a name that meant something to both of them, a link between them, the first member of their family that would come from their own union...it softened him up. And when she snorted and twitched her ear and stretcher her legs out stick straight before curling back up around her cold little nose, he knew there was no way he would have ever been able to give her back either. Hotch just knew it first.

“It isn’t her fault, you know,” Hotch whispered, running his fingers up her fuzzy little snout. He was already in love. “Look at her.

“I know. It just sucks, man. I hate seein’ you in pain.”

Hotch smiled and leaned back, closing his eyes. The world had taken on a foggy, unreal quality that made him feel dizzy. He sank into Derek and grounded himself against his solid form. “I’m alright. Just tired.”

“Then sleep. Jess will be here soon, then you can both call Jack together. I’m not allowed to move anyway...you might as well take advantage of this.”

Hotch didn’t need to be told twice, he was drifting off by the time Derek finished talking.

Chapter Text

“I’m parked four blocks down,” Jessica complained when Derek opened the door. She hated their neighborhood, there was too much foot traffic for her taste, and the street parking was pure hell. More often than not she took the train when she wanted to come visit them, but not when she needed to get there quickly and come with arms full of food. She hadn’t anticipated Fran and her daughters driving, they usually just walked over but now there were three extra cars in front of the house. She was irritated by the distance and walking with so much in her arms, but maybe more than that she was just taking out her worry on the parking. Derek opened the door to the sight of his mom and sisters busily and not quietly moving his house around – shifting furniture, measuring, shifting again. Jessica stared up at him defiantly until he took one of the bags from her arms. “If it gets broken into…”

“Good to see you too.”

She accepted his one armed side hug gladly and shook her head against him, exasperated and cold and worried. “How is he?”

“Sleeping. He’s been in and out all day.”

“Healing bones is hard work.”

“They gave him some pretty powerful drugs to get through the wait for surgery. He said he didn’t need them but Dr. Carter insisted he at least have them on hand. They gave him the first dose as an injection in the office and he took the next dose about an hour ago when he woke up hurting.”

Jessica dropped her bags and her shoes by the doorway before making her way into the house, a beeline right for Hotch sleeping on the couch. The puppy was playing with a toy nearby, still sitting guard beside her injured friend. She’d been outside to play with Hank twice but kept whining to be let back in where she could gnaw on her baseball beside Hotch. A week and she was already bonded to him.

“Who is this precious little beast?” Jess asked, crouching beside Paige and opening her hands. The puppy stretched her neck forward, sniffing at Jessica’s hands until she decided she was good people and scooting forward to accept the pets that would follow. Jess smiled and scratched behind the puppy’s ears happily.

“That’s Paige. She’s the reason he’s laid up…” He knew he had to stop that. It wasn’t her fault, necessarily, but he didn’t know how else to say it. Jess just huffed and spoke directly to the puppy who was now very interested in her hands, probably smelled her cat on them.

“You wouldn’t do such a thing. I know you wouldn’t. No, ma’am.”

“Yeah, well, she did. I think she’s forgiven though.”

Standing back up, Jess looked at Hotch sleeping peacefully on the couch and sighed. “Has he talked to Jack?”

“Not yet. I thought maybe you two could do it together. I talked to him earlier, he knows.” Word spread fast in families like this, and while Derek hadn’t told anyone else from the BAU but Penelope, he’d been getting texts all day from everyone asking how they could help. It seemed disproportionate to the injury, at least that’s what Hotch had said earlier when Derek read him Rossi’s email about how he planned to help them out come December but Derek only huffed and shook his head. Hotch would downplay any injury or illness, no matter how severe. And as Savannah had already made sure they both knew, no matter how small the injury sounded in theory, a broken bone (and subsequent surgery) was a traumatic injury and the body would respond accordingly. Hotch didn’t much care for that.

“I don’t want to wake him up, we’ll call Jack later.”

“…’m not sleeping…” came a muffled voice from the couch. Derek and Jess looked down at him in unison, startled at the sound of his voice. He sounded rough and worn, his face half buried beneath a blanket and muffled by the pillow. Jess made her way over to him and crouched in front of him, placing her cold hand against his temple. He was hot, a little sweaty, and his breathing sounded slow and labored, still thick with sleep.

“Hey you.”

“...hands are cold…” He was half out of it, the new dose of meds just barely kicking in. The old dose had worn off enough that the pain had begun creeping in and they didn’t catch it in time. Now he had to play catch up. If he didn’t move, barely breathed, it didn’t hurt as bad. But that was easier said than done, and he was busy learning a lesson early. Dr. Carter had said to keep on top of it, but he wouldn’t let his pride believe he needed it – he got through weeks after Foyet’s attack with barely a need for anything stronger than occasional tylenol. He didn’t have that kind of fortitude anymore, that kind of stubborn will to prove something stupid to himself. Now he just ached, his entire body, and he desperately wanted to sleep through it but even that was impossible. Jessica’s cold fingers on his temple were shocking but they felt nice against his flushed skin.

“How are you doing?”

He didn’t know how to answer that, not in words, so he just peeked one eye open and hoped she could read the miserable look in his eye. It wasn’t just the pain, that was such a small part of how he felt overall – if he couldn’t sleep, he was thinking about all of the trouble he was causing everyone and that was somehow worse.

“That bad huh?”

He hummed and closed his eye again, even that was too much. She pushed the hair back from his forehead and ran her nails over his scalp in a soothing circular motion, trying to take the edge off with a little distraction.

“You said he took more pain meds?”

“He slept through the time we should have given him another one. He missed it by about an hour, it should kick in soon.”

“Okay. We don’t wait until he’s hurting next time.”

“That’s what I said!” Desiree shouted from the kitchen, poking her head out to say hello to Jess. “I told him to wake Aaron up but he said he wanted to let him sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s my fault. I know. Lesson fuckin’ learned.” As if he didn’t feel like a bad enough husband, now he had four women in his house pointing out each and every one of his many glaring faults. There were plenty to go around, from not keeping his fridge well stocked with their approved items (he thought they were doing just fine on their own) to not having enough pillows, and then there was the issue of the bath tub and shower. Their bath tub was huge, he’d bought an over-sized tub so they could get in together but apparently that was going to be an extra hazard now because it was too big for him to safely get in and out of with a cast on his foot. Well, he wasn’t replacing the fucking tub he’d just have to make sure he was there for all of the bathing. And okay, maybe he was a little on the grouchy side, maybe he should have taken a nap earlier, but it was too late for that too.

“Hey, I’m not trying to place any blame. I just know from experience with my dad...it’s better to stay on top of the pain instead of chasing it. If he doesn’t want to use a lot of the strong stuff, we can piggy back ibuprofen and tylenol, and then add in the big guns only when it’s really needed.”

“Savannah said to do it that way starting tomorrow.” His voice wavered, and the emotion in it threatened to spill over. Jess nodded and tried to soften her stance a little. He was a pillar of strength but she could sense his imminent collapse and the journey had barely even begun, they were still on day one. Kind of like a pregame show. The surgery would be the real day one and he was already being pushed to his limit, though when she looked around at the chaos that had overtaken their once serene home, she thought maybe she could understand it. Maybe it was too many people invading his space, telling him what to do, thinking they were all helping but really just stressing him out. And where was Hank? He usually rushed her at the door and had somewhere to drag her off to – some Lego creation or dinosaur world or a drawing or a book to read...his silence was felt big.

“Do you want me to leave? I can come back another time if it’s too much. I don’t want to be in the way.”

“No, Jess, you don’t need to leave...I just...I need a minute. Okay?”

It wasn’t easy for him to ask for something like that, and he certainly wasn’t going to wait for the okay before walking through the house with the puppy in his arms toward the backyard under the guise of letting her go do her business. He could sit out there on the deck and watch her nose around in the grass and growl at squirrels in the bushes and think. No one followed him, though from the corner of his eye he could see the light on in Hank’s room at the end of the house and it made his heart hurt. The kid had been in there all afternoon. He’d come out only when Derek asked him to take the puppy outside, but he went right back inside without even looking at Hotch each time. That would be a conversation for later, once the dust had settled.

“Derek?”

“Not now Desi,” he groaned miserably. “I just wanna sit out here by myself.”

“I know, but Jessica said she brought some things to make for dinner so I’m gonna get outta here. Ma and Sarah are gonna go get her house ready for Hank to stay the night, they’ll be back to pick him up after you all eat. I think you guys need some quiet time.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“I’m sorry if we were too much. We just wanna help. We mean well, big brother.”

“I know. I know...thanks Des.”

He sat outside for at least twenty minutes, until the chill got into his bones, until the dog was nosing at his leg to be let inside. She didn’t want to be out in the cold either. He scooped her up into his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, tucking her into the warmth of his chest and walking her inside. Yeah, he was already attached to her too. She might have been the cause of all of this, but she was also a balm on his soul. Having her to bring outside for a spot of quiet, having her to kiss, having her to sleep on Hotch’s lap like she was protecting him...it all gave him a peace he wasn’t sure he would have had otherwise.

He found Hotch sitting upright on the couch talking to Jack on a video call with Jess so he stood back and watched as his husband did his best to pretend he was totally fine for the sake of his son who wanted nothing more than to fly back and help out. They didn’t talk for long, but it was enough that Jack decided he could stay in New York until the Thanksgiving break started the following week, but he might try to get his classes to be long distance between that break and the winter break if they seemed like they needed him. He’d already talked to his teachers and they were open to the idea, but Hotch was adamant that he not do it. They had plenty of help. He really didn’t want more people in his house, and he certainly did not want his son to jeopardize his first year of college for his dad. He’d done enough to ruin his son’s life over the years.

After the call with Jack, Hotch looked ragged but awake. “Derek,” he said as the puppy was set back down in front of the fireplace. She stretched out and turned her little belly to the flames, eyes already heavy. “Is Hank still in his room?”

“Yeah. Kid won’t come out.”

“I’d like to go talk to him. Can you help me?”

Derek nodded and lifted Hotch up from the couch, steadying his body against him. Hotch felt so warm against him, and unsteady on his one leg after the drugs and the day spent lying down. This was going to be a long road and he worried that they would lose so much of their fitness while he had to rest. “You good?”

Hotch hummed and smiled, being so close to Derek. “Yes,” he whispered, slipping his arms around Derek’s waist and holding him there for a moment. “Thank you.”

“Kiss me,” Derek said quietly, his features too serious, too stern. Hotch leaned forward and kissed him gently, it was a little sloppy and slow, but his lips were warm and sincere. Derek needed that, he needed to remember that it was them here. Not their house turning into a hospital, not Hotch just being his patient to care for, but his husband, and Hotch was happy to oblige. He needed the reminder too.

They had crutches and a walker nearby, but Hotch was content just to hop along beside Derek for the few steps it took to get down the hallway to Hank’s bedroom in spite of the fact that Derek had offered to carry him. Maybe later, he’d said. For now he wanted to move his body a little. And he didn’t want Hank to see all of that yet, thinking it might be better if he was equipment free for the time being. He knocked, just three quick little raps of his knuckles, and waited.

“Hank?” he called. “Can I come in?”

Silence. He almost knocked again, but at the last moment the door slipped open just a crack and revealed the little boy and his dark eyes, red rimmed from crying. Hotch felt a sudden tightness in his chest at the sight of him, how impossibly small and fragile he looked all of a sudden. And scared, he looked so scared.

“May I?”

“I guess.”

Derek pushed in and helped maneuver Hotch over to Hank’s bed, offering to get him situated comfortably but Hotch just waved his hand and shooed Derek out. He wouldn’t be in there long enough to regret it too much, he figured, but he needed to see Hank and it needed to not be a big production. All he did was sit right on the edge, his feet flat on the floor, and while he regretted it immediately...he’d committed. For now he’d risk it. Hank just watched him for a second curiously, looking at his bandaged foot like it might jump up and bite him. Hotch waited, and when he was done waiting, he patted the bed beside him, begging him to come. He was reluctant

“Can we talk?”

“Sure.”

Hank looked on the verge of tears and Hotch knew he had to tread carefully. Hell, he was on the verge of tears himself and a little high on pain killers so this was a dangerous situation. “I haven’t seen you all day...I’ve been missing you kiddo. How was school?”

“Okay.”

“Just okay? What did you do today?”

“I dunno. Stuff.”

“Sounds riveting.”

Hank was being purposely evasive, and he’d anticipated it, but it still hurt. Hank was always open and engaged with him. He loved school and he loved to tell Hotch about every single thing his teachers taught him, always hoping to get that one “huh! I didn’t know that!” out of him. Now it looked like he was scared, like Hotch was fragile. Like he’d betrayed him somehow.

“Are you upset about me hurting myself?”

“...yeah…” Hank didn’t look at him while he said it, ashamed of himself for saying it, but he didn’t lie to his dads. He was upset. This changed everything. And it wasn’t like Hotch was the pillar of health, he’d seen his dad knocked out by migraines and ongoing heart issues and chronic pain his entire life, but somehow this was shocking and different. This happened so fast and everyone was making such a big deal out of it, and they kept saying surgery and Hank didn’t exactly know what surgery was but it sounded like Hotch could die from it.

“Do you have questions about it?”

Hotch’s foot was already starting to hurt, just a low slow throb up near his swollen toes. It was the first time since returning home that it wasn’t propped up on a pillow and the blood was rushing south about as fast as it could get there. He sucked in his breath and looked at Hank earnestly, trying to ignore it for the time being.

“I want to talk about it with you. What do you want to know?”

“Does it hurt?”

“Very much.”

“When will you be able to walk again?”

“It’s going to be a while. Months, maybe. But I’ll get better at moving around every day. I won’t have to stay in bed the whole time. Just at the start.”

“Dad said you hafta have surgery...is that gonna hurt?”

“Yes. But that’s okay, I can handle it. Do you know what that means?”

“Not exactly,” Hank said, finally looking up and meeting Hotch’s eyes. Hotch offered him a soft smile and nodded.

“They’re going to make a little cut in the top of my foot and put some metal rods inside of my foot bones to help them heal stronger.”

“So you’ll be like Iron Man?”

“Kind of.” How had he not seen that coming? He should have opened with a superhero. It would have made all of this so much simpler. Hank’s eyes lit up at that and he scooted a little closer, no more hesitation. “I guess you could say that.”

“Do you hafta be in the hospital?”

“I get to come home as soon as I’m awake and the doctor gives me the thumbs up. Then you guys will have to help me out for a while. It’s going to be really hard on dad...he’s going to need your help a lot. Can you do that?”

“What can I do?”

“Well...dad’s going to have to help me get around the house and do all of the big jobs for a while by himself. He’s going to be really tired. Maybe you can make some plans for things we can do for fun while I’m stuck in bed. We can read or watch movies or build legos, you can teach me how to play Minecraft…”

“You’d play with me?”

“I’m going to be in bed for a while, Hank. I’m going to need a lot of help keeping busy.”

Hank perked up noticeably at that. “I can do that! I have lots of fun stuff we can do.”

Hotch’s foot was starting to hurt worse and he shifted to try and distract himself from the intensity of the pain. It was getting harder and harder to distract himself. Luckily, Hank had that part covered.

“Why do I have to stay at Grandma’s tonight?”

“We thought you’d like to get out of here. Things have been a little weird today and you always love staying with Grandma. I think she’d like the company, too.”

“What if something happens?”

“Nothing is going to happen.” He knew that sounded hollow, considering the way the day had started. Hank gave him a look that said as much and he smiled and nodded, admitting that it wasn’t exactly comforting coming from the man with the bandage on his black and blue foot. “It’s probably not going to be a very good night. When you get hurt like this, sometimes it feels worse at night and I think you don’t want to be here to listen to me keeping your dad up all night complaining.”

And that was when the tears fell, when it hit Hank that things were going to be bad for a while. It wouldn’t just be okay in the morning. Hotch couldn’t just sleep this one off. “You’re gonna miss my basketball season. You promised you’d help coach.”

Hotch forgot about the pain in his foot entirely at the sight of his son crying. He pulled Hank closer to him, wrapping him up in a hug, letting him cry there before he spoke again. “I’ll still be there. I might not be able to run around on the court with you maniacs but I can sit in the bleachers and help. I won’t miss your basketball season. I promise.”

That was all he could take. His foot felt like it was going to explode from the pressure building and he had to put it up before Hank had to see him hit a low point. He thought maybe it was a good time to see if Hank would feel better helping instead of being left out, though. “Hey, buddy, why don’t you find a book for me to read you while I get a little more comfortable? We’ve got some time before dinner’s ready.”

“Is it starting to hurt?”

“Yeah, it is. I just need to put it up and it’ll stop. Mind if I put my stinky foot up on your bed?” Hank giggled and said no while he rushed over toward his bookshelf to find something suitable, something long. He usually just grabbed picture books, things they could go through with their eyes closed at this point, all of his favorites were well worn. Hotch had always loved to read to him, it was what they did. Derek built him the bookshelf when their little hobby got out of hand. But this time he picked from the big shelf, from the long books with lots of chapters and small words that would make Hotch have to put on his glasses...Hank loved that too. While Hank perused the shelf, Hotch scooted back on the bed until his foot was on the mattress, and almost instinctively Hank grabbed a folded up blanket from the end of this bed and helped tuck it beneath Hotch’s foot just like he’d seen on the couch. Hotch thought he might cry.

With a large, old canvas book tucked under his arm, Hank scooted in close and lay down. They had a certain way they fit together, Hank resting his head on Hotch’s arm, the book above their heads so they could both look at all the words and all the pictures at the same time. It was just what they did, and the minute Hank was in position he felt better. Like things didn’t feel so scary because Hotch might be broken but he could still do this, and this was important.

When Derek came in to let them know dinner was ready, he found them snuggled up beneath Hank’s blankets, deep into the second chapter of the book. He recognized the book right away, the worn green canvas, the corners that had taken a beating through years of reading and carrying around from home to home.

“The Once and Future King,” he said, standing in the doorway with a smile. “My dad used to read that to me. That was his copy.”

“Hank picked the book,” Hotch said quietly, resting his cheek against Hank’s soft hair. Derek liked when Hank kept his hair braided, but Savannah liked him to wear it wild and natural so Hank sided with his mom and Hotch reaped the benefit now as he nestled in beside the boy. His hair smelled like coconut and the book smelled musty like an old library basement, he was truly comfortable for the first time that day.

“I think Jess is finished making a mess of our kitchen. You boys hungry?”

“Yeah!” Hank said. “But we have two pages left until the end of the chapter. Can we finish?”

Derek made a show of thinking it over, even so much as looking at his watch before smiling and making his way over to the end of the bed to take a seat. “Yeah, sure, go ahead.” He listened to Hotch read the words his dad had read to him so many times as a child and wondered at how like him Hank looked, at how his dark eyes flickered over the words on the page as he tried to keep up with Hotch’s reading. Hotch who created little voices for everyone, Hotch who did atrocious accents (not worse than his own father, it turned out, but nearly)...Hotch who loved his son so much that he was in here caring for his feelings when he was the one in pain. Derek didn’t think he’d ever loved two people more than he did in that moment.

Until Jess walked into the room and snipped at them for making her dinner get cold. “Calm down woman, we’re comin…” Derek said, patting the bed. “C’mon Hanky. Go help your mean Aunt Jess get the table set. I’ll get slowpoke daddy out of your room.”

Hank slid the bookmark into their spot and set the book on his nightstand, ready for them to dive into again soon before following Jess dutifully out of the room. Derek looked over at Hotch and found himself just wanting to stare for a moment, just to take it in. The sight of that book hit him square in the chest, and after a long hard day, it was almost enough to make him cry. It was exactly what he needed.

“Are you okay with me reading that to him?” Hotch asked, misreading the look on Derek’s face. “If you were waiting to do it...I’ll find another book. I just needed a reason to put my foot up and reading to him seemed like the best idea.”

“No…” Derek whispered, clearing his throat. “No. Keep reading it. I just…” He didn’t have the words, not tonight. Maybe never. “You hungry?”

“No, but I’ll eat.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Chapter Text

Dinner was filled with conversation Hotch didn’t want to have. It started out simple enough – pleasantries, questions about everyone’s days, each of them pretending that they’d had a normal day for just a few seconds. Most of the talk revolved around Hank’s school day and the cute things the new puppy did, easy light topics that made everyone smile. After that was exhausted, Jess was the first time breach the more pressing topics – things like plans for household work that needed done, meals, Thanksgiving, the rest of the holidays. It devolved quickly into Derek and Jess bickering over things Hotch couldn’t care less about while he made silly faces at Hank who returned them twice as good.

“You don’t have any opinions?” Derek asked, noticing Hotch’s general lack of interest. He’d seen him making faces at Hank.

“You two seem to have everything covered, what do you need me for?”

He didn’t dare to look across the table at Jessica’s scowl, Derek’s was bad enough. “Thanks.”

“What? You two have been sitting here talking about me for twenty minutes without asking for my input.”

“We’re asking now.”

“Derek…” Hotch started, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He had insisted on sitting at the table with his foot up on a chair, not exactly as good as being on the couch with it up higher but he wanted to sit with his family – he already felt so separate from everyone, he needed this. They didn’t argue even if they had both wanted to. “I think everyone is overreacting. If you want my real opinion.”

“How so?” Jess chimed in, quickly followed by that irritated little puffing noise she made that told Hotch he was skating on thin ice. He kept skating.

“It’s a broken foot. It’ll heal. I can still do things.”

“Yeah? Like what? Have you ever tried cooking on crutches? Or taking a dog for a walk? Or loading the dishwasher?”

He obviously didn’t have an answer to that, and his silence seemed to make her feel like he was admitting defeat already. He simply poked around at his plate for a moment before turning his eyes back to her and shaking his head.

“Just stop being so stubborn. I know you’ve had to be independent since you were practically in diapers, but everyone around you wants to help. And if you don’t have to do it all yourself…”

“I don’t want to sit around and do nothing. Today has been bad enough.”

Derek waved Hank away from the table quickly, breaking in to softly tell him to get ready for grandma to pick him up. She’d be there soon.

“Today has been overwhelming,” Derek said, sighing. “I know. But you can’t deny that things are going to be different for a while and we’ve gotta get through it. If we can make plans now, we’ll be better for it. Don’t you agree?”

“Of course.”

“Then just work with us. Let’s come up with a plan we can all live with, huh?”

Hotch nodded and went back to his food. He wasn’t the least bit hungry but the medications were starting to hurt his stomach, he had to put something else in there. A piece of toast and some soup wouldn’t hurt. It didn’t take him long to finish find himself fighting the instinct to stand up to clear his place at the table, take his dishes to the kitchen. Having Jessica reach over him to grab his bowl and his glass surprised him and he put his head down, thanking her quietly.

“I can stay the night,” Jess said from where she stood washing the dishes while Derek helped Hotch get situated and comfortable on the couch again. He was ready for bed, but he didn’t want to go until everyone else was ready too. He was starting to get that cabin fever feeling already and it was still only the first day.

“Go home,” Derek said, shaking his head. “We’re gonna need more help after the surgery. I got this now. Hank’s going over to ma’s, and I kinda just…”

“Want it to be the two of you. Okay. I understand.”

“I could use some help in the morning, if you’re available. I have to go pick Penelope up from the airport and I don’t want to leave him alone if I can help it. “

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be here bright and early.”

She finished up with the dishes and putting everything away while Hank packed his overnight bag to go stay with Fran, and by the time Fran arrived, everyone was ready to leave. The house emptied after a few steady minutes of hugs and kisses and I love yous and call if you need anythings. The silence they were left with was almost troubling, the house had been so noisy all day. Their furniture was all shifted and it barely looked like their home anymore but when Derek sank heavily into the couch and leaned against Hotch...he didn’t care. Paige was sleeping beside the glowing embers in the wood stove, the last of their fire, and both of them sat in a long amiable silence just staring at her, at the smoldering gold and red behind her.

“I can’t believe we’re alone,” Derek said, breaking the silence. His voice felt too loud. “Every day can’t be like this.”

“I’m sorry Derek.”

“I know. You keep saying that. It’s okay, baby. I’m taking Paige out to do her business and then we are going to bed. I’ve had enough of today.”

Hotch had his doubts about sleeping, his foot was already bothering him more than it had earlier. Nights were always bad in his experience and he wasn’t expecting anything different now. He could nap all day on the couch like it was nothing, but sleeping at night in his own bed? Different story. He watched Derek pick the puppy up and take her outside, leaving him completely alone in the room. He hadn’t been alone all day, not since he sat at the kitchen table in shock, back when he hadn’t considered anything more than the feeling of oh shit.

Derek was gone almost twenty minutes, and in that time Hotch had started to fold up the blankets he’d been sleeping in all day, preparing the couch to be empty for the night. His crutches were within reach and when it looked like Derek would be a little longer, he pulled himself up to standing carefully and reached for them, tucking them beneath his arms. He hated crutches but they would get him where he needed to go without having to make Derek carry his weight again. He managed to make his way around the front room, tidying and locking up without any problems. It wasn’t much but he was pretty proud of himself after a day of being waited on hand and foot. It almost felt like a little told you so moment, if only Jess had been there to see it. A man in his 50s behaving like a child...he was glad he was alone for that moment.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping,” Hotch said, pulling the last of the curtains closed. Derek just shook his head and started shutting off lights. He didn’t have it in him to argue. You couldn’t take independence away from Hotch, and if you tried, you’d be met with a fight you didn’t want. It was better just to keep an eye on him and gently remind him not to overdo it. He would never recognize that on his own until it was too late.

“I’ll get your meds and everything once you’re in bed. You just get there. Deal?”

“Deal.” At least there was that. Derek stayed a few steps behind him as they walked down the hallway, and to be on the safe side, he kept Paige in his arms. Didn’t need a repeat of that morning.

Their bed had become a nest of sorts in their absence. Neither of them had been in there since Sarah had set to work, and now they knew what she was doing. Piles of blankets and a heap of Christmas throw pillows, all of his prescriptions and the OTC meds within reach. It was sweet of her to do that, but it was a little much. It just made him feel worse, like more of a burden. Their bedroom looked like a hospital room minus the get well balloons and stuffed animals. He’d foolishly thought that this would be his sanctuary, where it was just normal, where he wouldn’t be faced with the aftermath of his frailty.

“You okay?” Derek asked, noticing how long Hotch had been just leaning on his crutches and staring at his bed. “I know it’s a lot. They mean well.”

Hotch hesitated. “Yeah,” he rasped. “I know. Where are you going to sleep?” There was a pile of pillows on Derek’s side of the bed.

“Right beside you. Those pillows are hitting the floor.”

Derek took the crutches from him and helped him get undressed and into his pajamas, carefully sliding a pair of his over-sized sweatpants over Hotch’s bandaged foot because there was more room in his pants than Hotch’s own. And he just liked seeing him wear them. He liked to cinch the drawstring around his narrow hips so the bones just barely peeked out over the top, so the bottom of his t-shirt didn’t quite meet the waist and that little tuft of black hair was visible. And since Derek was more or less in control of the entire dressing situation, he made damn sure he got what he wanted. After that it was a soft kiss and gentle hands helping him lift his legs up onto the pile of pillows covered in reindeer and Santa Claus and little elves. An ice pack came next, one on top of his foot and one behind his knee – he hated the ice, it gave him the chills but it did help with the pain so he put up with it and kept his complaints to a minimum. After that it was the humiliating job of brushing his teeth and spitting into a bowl held by Derek because Derek insisted he not be upright anymore, then taking his pills and hoping on everything he could think of that he would just be able to sleep.

He managed a few hours, which was better than anticipated. Once he was comfortable and the lights were off, he found it shockingly easy to drift off. The gel ice packs Derek used would lose their cool after about twenty minutes so he didn’t have to worry about getting frostbite, he could just sleep.

It might have been the sound of Paige scratching at the door to go outside that woke him, but he doubted it. He was pretty sure it was the intense shock waves in his foot, the deep throbbing that sent pain coursing up to his knee and if he moved at all it followed all the way up into his hip. Derek got up to let Paige out and Hotch tried to keep his eyes closed, tried not to let Derek know that he was awake or hurting...he couldn’t do that to him, not at this time of night. While Derek was outside he reached over to his nightstand and turned on the lamp, whimpering at the bolts of pain shooting up his leg – he’d opted not to take the stronger stuff before bed and he was regretting it now. With shaking hands he reached around all of the bottles until he found the ones he was after and tried to open them. The damn child safety locks were too hard to get his trembling fingers around, he only ended up frustrated and ready to throw the whole bottle across the room. That was the sight Derek walked back in to see.

“Hey,” Derek said, closing the door once Paige had trotted inside and took up her place in bed again. “Need help?”

Hotch nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

“Pretty bad?”

Another nod. He didn’t have the energy to expend on his voice, not right now. He just needed relief and it wasn’t going to come from the pill, he knew that already. It was just the easiest thing for him to try on his own. It felt like doing something when he didn’t know what else to do.

“I can give you a couple more ibuprofen if you want, maybe run a bath until they kick in? I know you didn’t want to take these…”

A bath sounded nice, but moving sounded like hell.

But Derek didn’t wait for a nod this time. He just handed Hotch a couple of the ibuprofen and went to the bathroom to start filling their jetted tub. It was huge, luxurious, took a while to fill but was worth every penny to basically have a private hot tub when they needed it. When Derek had decided to redo the bathroom, they splurged, and in the two years they’d had it...they more than made up for the cost. Fran had laughed at them, told them they’d never used it, everyone she knew who had a big jetted tub didn’t bother to use it because it took so long to fill but...well they didn’t mind waiting. They had plenty of time.

Hotch wasn’t in a cast yet, just a soft bandage beneath a removable splint and he was relatively certain that if they got in together, he’d have no trouble keeping it safe. He was allowed to remove the splint if he was so inclined, and Derek sort of thought he might as well now. After the surgery he’d be in a hard cast for a few weeks and things would get so much more complicated – it felt like he had to take advantage now.

So what if it was 3am? They had the house to themselves, and he was already walking around naked while he prepared the tub. After all the care he’d taken to dress Hotch in his pajamas, he enjoyed undressing him even more. When the cold air hit his chest and goosebumps rippled along the shadows of his ribs, when he let out that first little involuntary shiver, Derek smiled.

Getting into the tub wasn’t easy, it involved a lot of interesting angles and Derek sort of wished he’d done a little better in geometry as he tried to figure them out, but they managed after a while. He had a vinyl bath pillow he could use to prop Hotch’s foot up on at the edge (it was used for Hotch’s knees in the shower so often anyway, it was really just his pillow), the rest of their bodies were easily submerged beneath the hot bubbling water.

“How you feeling?” Derek asked automatically. “Need anything?”

“No,” Hotch said, his voice strained through his ability to barely manage the pain he was in. He was slowly starting to come down, the pills taking some of the edge off but not enough. He was simply willing the hot water to work its magic while he waited.

“Just let me know…” Derek had turned on some music, a little distraction, and clicked away at the lights until he found the party brights. Red, blue and green flashed beneath the surface as the bathroom light dimmed, he’d set it all up – partly just to irritate Hotch because why did their bathroom have to be a nightclub? But he also just liked it. What was the harm in having some fun? Why did everything have to get so serious when the gray hairs started making their debut?

They stayed in the bath for over an hour, until the water finally started to cool and Hotch’s pain had returned to a level that he thought he could sleep through. Or at least return to bed so Derek could sleep.

Derek’s alarm was set on his phone, but it turned out he didn’t need it. Paige had him covered. They’d already done some training with her and she was a little too good at asking to go outside – however, if they missed her little yips and whines, she would relieve herself right where she stood. Time was of the essence. Hotch was finally asleep, having drifted off just as the sun had crept up into the sky, finally exhausted enough to sleep through the pain that lingered.

Jess showed up while Derek was playing with Paige outside and had breakfast and coffee in hand. “Woman, you are a goddess.”

“How is Aaron?” she asked, noting that he was not up anywhere. She hoped that was a good sign.

“He was awake all night. Bad one. Bet he just fell asleep in the last hour or so…”

“Oh, you guys…”

“Nothing you could have done if you were here. We just had to wait it out. You know how it is.”

Jess played with Paige while Derek drove to the airport to get Penelope through the early morning Chicago traffic. The first real frost still lay on the ground, slicking the streets with a layer that made everyone on the freeway a little extra cautious. He was frustrated by the time he pulled up at the airport to find Penelope already waiting outside for pickup with all of her bags stacked at her feet. He hurried to get her loaded in to his car and got the hell out of there before he finally said a word to her.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he said as he pulled out onto the wide open stretch of highway that would lead them toward shopping. Everything had opened up – it was short lived but he was glad for it. He loosened the grip he had on the steering wheel and listened to her ramble for a few minutes about her flight, about the team, about how everyone had sent her with all sorts of gifts and promises to come visit and help out if needed. The thought of the BAU flying in to help them was overwhelming and Derek was already rummaging around in his head for excuses to shut it down.

“You up for some shopping?” he asked, cutting her off as he took the exit toward the hardware store. “I have some things to do on the house today.”

“Oh, sugar, I have a list a mile long.” She did. A list of stores she had to hit, of things to buy in order to make her stay as worthwhile as she could. “Call your mom. Ask her what I can make for Thanksgiving. Ask her what she needs me to do.”

“Oh you do not wanna step into the mess that is a Morgan Thanksgiving, babygirl.”

“I absolutely do, now call her or I will. I have been begging you for an invitation for years and now that I have it I will be making the absolute most of it.”

He couldn’t argue, not with any of these women. They’d completely taken over. He had to accept now that he was just along for the ride in his own life. “Yes, ma’am.”

Chapter Text

The lights in the hardware store were dim, aisles looming over them tall and metal and foreboding. Everything smelled vaguely like oil and wood. Derek knew his way around the store better than most of the employees and he walked with a purpose while Penelope practically jogged along behind him to keep up. At least she’d worn her sensible airplane shoes.

“What are you looking for?”

“Not looking…” he said dismissively, a man on a mission. He was like a bloodhound, turning corners and skipping aisles to avoid people who were in his way. It gave Garcia the impression he was lost, but when he found what he needed he didn’t look relieved in the slightest. He’d known all along. She glanced back the way they’d come and puzzled over it, wondering if she’d ever find her way back out of that maze if he weren’t there. These stores had a way of shifting on you, bending lines and curves when you weren’t paying attention.

“Ohhhh…” she whispered, watching him pull four handlebar kits from the shelf. She knew then, these were for the bathroom, these were so Hotch could be on his own. It made her feel a little sick to think about the practical side of these sorts of things, and even sicker when she realized that if anything happened to her...well there was no way her cats could do anything like this for her. Hotch had Derek to keep him safe when he needed it, and she was sure if the roles were reversed Hotch would be doing the same. “He’s going to hate this.”

“He doesn’t have a choice.”

No, that was true. He didn’t have a choice. His foot was broken whether he liked it or not, and no matter how minor it sounded to break such tiny bones...it was not minor in the least. Not at any age, but especially at their age.

“What else do you need?”

He was already moving toward the showers, they would have to put a removable shower head on temporarily. He wasn’t a fan, had always thought they were tacky, but his mother and Savannah both insisted that if Hotch was going to have any semblance of autonomy over the next half a year, he’d need it. Besides, it was removable. They could remove it as soon as they wanted. After that it was a basket of little bits and bobbles, nails and screws and things from his ongoing garage list for projects. While he was here, he might as well restock. Who knew when he’d find time to be away again.

“Where do you want to tackle your list?” he asked as he wheeled his cart full of hardware out to his truck. He didn’t often drive the truck in the city, it was an old rust bucket with a full size bed and a gas guzzling problem. He loved the clunky old girl but she wasn’t made for the city – however, today, he needed it. They were going to fill the bed with projects.

“Take me to your favorite grocery store,” she said adamantly. “The place you guys get everything you like. I want to stock the cupboards with all of your favorite things. Both of you. And then we need to tackle the list your mother gave me...it’s a doozy. How many people will be there?”

“I told you not to get involved in this…”

“How many people?”

“Probably fifty at least. The way it works is...the family comes over, but all the apartments open up their doors and everyone in my mom’s building wanders through. It’s like one big Thanksgiving feast in that dump she calls home.”

“I don’t think it’s a dump.”

“You’ve only been there once, woman. It’s a damn dump. Can you keep a secret?”

“No,” she said honestly, but she smiled sweetly at him anyway. “But you can tell me anything you want.”

He thought it over for a long silent spell, realizing that he hadn’t even turned on the radio. The speakers in his old rust bucket didn’t work great but he hated driving in silence. Having Garcia with him wasn’t silence, though. And no, she wasn’t a good person to tell, but he had to say something to someone...he’d been sitting on it for months now.

“My mom’s building is going up for sale next month. They’ve been talking to me about buying it and fixing it up...it’d be a shitty investment, though. No way I could renovate and raise the rent for anyone there, they’re family. I grew up there. Everyone’s lived there for decades now. It’d be a money pit.”

“Okay, so it sounds like you’ve already made up your mind…”

“No, but see I haven’t. Because if it sells to someone else who has any idea what the potential is there, they’re gonna fix it up and raise the rent and all those people are out on their asses. This neighborhood is on its way to gentrification.”

“So you buy it and just leave it?”

“I can’t do that. They got roaches and broken plumbing, stuff is so out of date...the health department’s been looking the other way a long time on that place. I’d have to improve it.”

“This sounds like something you should be talking to Hotch about…”

“I was going to bring it up...I had a meeting with them the other day and things got really intense and I was going to talk to him about it but then he broke his foot and he’s so out of it now, he’s so stressed out and exhausted...I can’t do that to him.”

“But he’s your husband. And he’s crazy smart, and crazy rich…maybe he’d think it was a good idea. You bought that house that Haley grew up in, that’s been a good investment.”

“That was for Jack. It’s different. This...well you’ll see. The building should probably be condemned.”

“And your mom lives there?”

“They haven’t raised the rent in twenty years, mama. Of course she does. And she loves everyone she lives with. It’s comfortable. She shared that apartment with my dad, a lot of cops and their wives lived there. Now it’s just a bunch of cop’s widows. She can’t leave.”

Penelope looked at the grocery store ahead of them and sighed. He was in a bad place.

“Talk to Hotch. He’ll know what to do.”

The conversation came to a halt there, and Derek didn’t feel any better for it. He thought letting it out would help, would release some of the pressure, but it really only made it feel more real. And more damning.

“I’m gonna call Jess, you head on in. I’ll be right behind you.”

He watched Penelope walk quickly toward the store, in awe of how she’d never been to the place in her life and she looked so confident and sure of herself when she entered. Like she lived there. He missed her terribly.

“Jess?” he asked when she picked up her phone. She huffed and he heard the sound of dishes clattering, then silence.

“Yeah. Sorry, washing dishes. I’ve been cooking all morning.”

“Why? Aaron can’t be that hungry.”

“He’s not. I got him to eat a banana and a piece of toast about a half hour ago, he’s having some coffee now. We’re going to watch a movie in a few minutes, I just thought I’d get dinner all ready for you guys so you don’t have to worry about it.”

Jess wasn’t exactly the best cook in the world, and she had a way of trashing a kitchen when she did cook, but dinner was definitely her stronger suit. She did the hell out of grandma meals, casseroles and soups, comfort food. She and Fran had a lot in common.

“How’s he doing?”

Jess waited a minute and lowered her voice. “Not good. He’s grouchy. Tread lightly.”

“I’ll tread however the fuck I want in my house.” He smiled and was glad to hear her laugh a little. It sounded like her morning had been hard.

“Your funeral.” He heard her walking and knew what came next. There was a muffled sound, shuffling, clicking, and her faint voice saying something to Hotch.

“Derek?” Hotch’s voice sounded ragged and raw. The sound of someone who hadn’t slept and was fighting off some pretty intense pain.

“Hey, yeah. I’m at the grocery store with Penny, we’ll be heading back soon. You want anything?” He could count on one hand the number of times Hotch had asked for anything ever. His usual answer was no thank you, or nothing he could think of. Even if it wasn’t true, that was just how he worked. This time he was silent, like he was giving it some thought and Derek thought he might actually get an answer out of him. But no.

“I’m okay,” he said finally. Derek sighed.

“How about some ice cream? Cookies? A whole cake you can put on your lap and eat with a fork?”

That got Hotch laughing a little and it eased Derek’s mind some. At least he could still pull a laugh.

“I could go for some Rocky Road.”

“All the ice creams in the world and you pick the worst one…” He didn’t mean it, not really. He liked it okay. He just preferred butter pecan or mint chip, and usually Hotch did too. Rocky Road was his I’m feeling like complete shit indulgence, it was like a confession without saying a word. Derek always went for strawberry when he was feeling like garbage. They each had their own ice cream tells.

“You don’t have to get it.”

“No, I’ll get you your damn rocky road. We’ll be home soon. I love you, you know that?”

“I know,” Hotch said quietly, back to sounding miserable. It had been a brief respite. “I love you too.”

Derek found Garcia half way through the store, her cart already full to the brim. He’d brought a second one, knowing how big the list his mother had given her was.

“My knight in shining armor!” she exclaimed when she saw him coming with his mostly empty cart.

“Rocky Road?” she asked, indicating the two tubs of ice cream she’d never seen him eat before. He shrugged.

“Aaron has peculiar taste when he’s not well,” he admitted. “I guess his taste buds die.”

“You don’t like it?”

He sighed. “No, it’s fine. I guess.”

They finished their shopping quickly, Garcia’s list was well organized and then it just came time for Derek to start dumping in the things he knew would be comfort foods for Hotch. Things he could get on his own – bananas and apples, almond butter, bread with seeds, and he splurged on a few boxes of lemon poppyseed muffins to throw in the freezer. Those were a calorie mess and he’d been so good to avoid things like that since deciding that dad bod wasn’t ever going to be his bod, but Hotch sometimes craved them and would sneak them on his way to work. Not because he couldn’t eat them at home, he just didn’t like to do it in front of Derek when he knew it had been hard to kick it.

“You will not buy all this,” Derek said, trying to push her out of the way when she pulled out her wallet. “Woman…”

“It is my treat. I don’t get to spoil you guys like I used to, and now I have two weeks to smush it all in...you will let me buy all of this, and you will let me spoil you. I get so little time.”

“I’d listen to her…” the cashier said and Derek shot her a glare that would kill anyone lesser, but not her. She’d known Derek since he was in diapers.

“Mimi,” he warned. “Don’t you dare take her side.”

“I will always side with a smart woman who puts you in your place, Derek Morgan.”

“You better watch out if you plan to drop by ma’s for grub on Turkey Day, ya hear…”

Mimi leaned toward Penelope when she handed her the receipt and smiled. “All talk.”

“Don’t I know it.”

The drive home was full of friendly bickering about the receipt, and Penelope wanting to know if there was anyone in this area that he didn’t know. He’d known everyone in the hardware store, and he’d known everyone in the grocery store. Somehow she’d expected this, but seeing it in action was impressive.

“You should buy that building,” she said as they pulled up in front of his house and waited for the garage door to open. “You love this neighborhood and the people in it.”

“And if it ruined me?”

“Hotch is rich. It won’t ruin you.”

“Okay, babygirl, he’s not like Bill Gates rich. It could ruin us.”

“Sure. It could. But I don’t think it would.”

Jessica met them outside and helped them haul in their groceries by the arm full, loading up the whole kitchen with their spoils. He wasn’t sure where they’d keep it all. They had a spare freezer in the garage and one in the basement, but this was too much. Way too much. Derek made a beeline for Hotch as soon as the door was closed while Jess and Penelope hugged and then began sorting through the bags and bags of food. They practically shooed him away when he even tried to offer. “Go sit with him. He’s mean today,” Jessica had said, so he went dutifully to handle the mean one.

When he got to the couch, he could see it. Naturally, he would flop down beside Hotch and lean against him heavily but he looked prickly as a cactus and Derek thought for sure if he even so much as moved the couch Hotch might tear his head off.

“This seat taken?” he asked cautiously, waiting for Hotch to look away from the television and up at him. He could see it in his eyes. That second day was always a bad one, and he looked wrecked before lunch time.

“No,” he said quietly. Derek made sure to sit at the end, a careful distance away so he didn’t make Hotch move, but that turned out to be the wrong thing to do when Hotch looked at him with a wounded look.

“I’m not going to bite,” he whispered and Derek let out a short, irritated sigh.

“I know. I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t make it worse.”

He could and he knew it, but he slowly scooted closer to Hotch until their shoulders were touching. Until he could smell the faint scent of sweat and dry shampoo, he hadn’t showered that morning but Jessica would have taken her dry shampoo to his hair and rubbed it all around to make him feel better about not showering.

“You being mean to that woman in there?”

“She’s being unreasonable.”

“How so?”

“She won’t let me get up and do anything.”

“And she’s right. You need to sit your ass down and stay.”

“Derek,” Hotch whined, sinking into the couch. “Sitting hurts. It feels better when I move around. I need to do something.”

Derek could understand that, and if they were alone he might let Hotch get up and do something. He firmly believed that moving helped you heal, and Hotch needed to move. But he wasn’t about to fight with either of the women in that kitchen who were adamant that he sit and rest.

“I’ll bust you out of jail later,” Derek whispered. “Just be nice for now. Please.”

“I’m always nice.”

“Like hell you are.”

Once the ladies were done in the kitchen, Penelope came rushing out into the living room to finally say hi to Hotch.

“Sir!” she exclaimed, coming around the table and standing near him but not too close. It took everything in her to not bend over and hug him, but he didn’t look like he wanted to be touched. He didn’t look like he wanted to be awake at all.

“I haven’t been your boss for years, Penelope. You can just call me Aaron.”

She stared at him wide-eyed from behind her purple rimmed glasses and blinked hard a few times. She didn’t think she’d ever called him by his name. Not once. Hotch maybe, definitely Hotch, but Aaron? No. And it felt invasive and strange to her, especially when he was sitting there with that scowl on his face. Still, he’d asked her to call him something and now she felt that she couldn’t turn him down. Maybe she could just get by without anything for a while.

“Can I get you anything? Something to drink or eat? Some ice cream?”

He let out a small breath and shifted uncomfortably, his lips set in a grim line when his leg moved against the pillow propping it up. She and Derek exchanged glances of concern and waited for him to answer, but it was only silence. He let his head fall back into the couch cushion and held completely still, his shoulders stiff and coiled, and Derek waved his hand at her when she opened her mouth to speak again. He shook his head and waved her off, knowing that this could take a few minutes...it looked bad. He didn’t say anything for a long time, just watched as Hotch rode out a wave of pain and finally started to relax after far too long.

“You been taking your meds?”

“Yes,” Hotch whispered through barely parted lips.

“Time for more ice!” Jessica came running into the room with two of the gel packs and Derek heard Hotch groan miserably. “Oh, stop. Come on. It’s not that bad.”

“May I?” Derek asked, holding his hand out to take the ice from her. She relinquished the packs reluctantly and watched him gently place one over the top of his foot and then stare at the knee. He knew he had to get it back there but the last time his leg had moved, he was paralyzed by the pain...that was still a little too fresh, he’d just come back from it and now Derek had to do it to him again.

“Just do it,” Hotch said through gritted teeth, reclining his head again and closing his eyes. He balled his fists up in the blanket and gripped tight as Derek moved his leg just enough to get the ice pack behind his knee and then put it all back into place.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Hotch replied. He didn’t open his eyes for a long time, and Derek tried his best not to make a big deal of it. Hotch hated all of the attention. Penelope and Jessica made their way back to the kitchen to start lunch and Derek picked up the remote, trying to find something to watch that would distract Hotch from the pain. He didn’t feel very confident, the man wasn’t a big TV person in the first place but there wasn’t anything else he could do. Not yet.

“How about Indiana Jones?” Derek asked, nudging him gently, trying to pry him out of the pain hole he was digging himself. “You always like to pick this one apart.”

“Watch whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want? Them’s dangerous words…” Derek warned and Hotch cracked one eye open, turning his head toward Derek.

“Within reason.”

“Oh, now you got rules...now you wanna have a say…”

After only a little bickering, they settled on Rocky. A classic. Hotch didn’t care much for it, but it faded easily into the background and with Derek beside him quietly talking along with everything and humming the songs, he found himself falling asleep and hoping to stay that way for a long...long time.

Chapter Text

With Hotch sleeping somewhat soundly in a position that didn’t look even remotely comfortable to Derek, he carefully slipped out of his spot on the couch and padded in his socked feet toward the kitchen.

“Hey mama,” he said, walking through the door and speaking as quietly as he could so he didn’t wake the sleeping man in the next room. It wouldn’t take much. “You wanna meet the little lady who made all of this possible?”

“Do I ever!” Penelope replied, clapping her hands together. Jessica laughed and continued getting herself all packed up, she was ready to go home and get some of her work done. Her boss was being very understanding about the hours she was working but she would have to keep up her end of the deal.

“Come with me,” he said, leading Penelope back toward Hotch where he knew he’d find the puppy lying somewhere in the mess of blankets beneath him. She hadn’t left his side since the injury and had taken up residence in the nest of blankets and pillows that rested beneath the couch. He crouched beside the spot and snapped his fingers a few times until she pushed her nose out from the hiding place and Penelope had to clap her hands over her mouth to keep from letting out a startled and overjoyed sound at the mere sight of it. Derek rubbed his hands together and held them out, continuing to coax the puppy out of her warm little nest, and finally she emerged one large paw at a time.

“Oh...sugar bear...she is….” Penelope was whisper-gushing as she sat herself down and patted her legs, willing the puppy to crawl into her lap. “She’s precious.”

“She’s a menace,” Derek said, but it was easy enough to tell he didn’t mean it.

“I would gladly break my foot not to step on her too. Ohhhh you’re the sweetest aren’t you?” Paige was in her lap now, nipping at her brightly colored fingernails and jingly bracelets, eager for anything Penelope would give her.

“She probably needs a trip outside, it’s been a while.”

Penelope carried her outside, unable to bear the thought of putting her fluffy little body down. She was already planning out all of the gifts she would be buying the puppy, spoiling her rotten. “Was she in those blankets the whole time?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it. She won’t leave him unless it’s to go pee.”

“You think she feels bad?”

“I think you’re giving a dog way too much credit,” he huffed, sliding the door open and then closed behind them. “But I guess it’s possible. Either that or she just really likes grumpy old men.”

“Do you like grumpy old men? Do you?” Penelope asked, pressing her nose against Paige’s before putting her down in the grass and watching her bound awkwardly away. She disappeared into the mess of what used to be the garden, knotted and gnarled tomato plants and squash plants wilted and frost bitten – they’d planned to clean out the garden just before Thanksgiving, before the first real cold snap hit, but now Derek was looking at it with pure dread and wondering how bad it would be just to leave it for a spring clean up. He didn’t want to do it by himself – the garden was Hotch’s. He built it, Hotch worked it.

“My mom’s bringing Hank back after dinner,” he started, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels. The sky was gray and foreboding, smelled like snow. Early snow. “You can still get out of Thanksgiving, just tell her you were happy to buy it all but you don’t…”

“Stop it. I want to help. I’m just making yams and stuffing and cranberries, she didn’t ask me to make any desserts or meat. I’m making the desserts on my own, and the braised tofu roast.”

“Ain’t nobody gonna touch that…”

“I will. And your sister’s boyfriend is a vegetarian, she told me the other day that he was glad I was going to be coming because he wouldn’t be the only one this year.”

The noises of the city blanketed the yard in a strange ambiance, trains screaming by on their rails high above the city, winding through neighborhoods as they went. Ambulances and police sirens blaring, cars honking, it all created a symphony that made Derek feel at ease. These sounds were better than silence when his brain ached the way it did. When life felt huge and overwhelming.

“Stop worrying,” Penelope said, hooking her arm in his and leaning against him. “I can hear your brain from here.”

“One false move and I lost my other half. What am I supposed to be thinking right now?”

“That it’s temporary. That he’s not lost, he’s still right there and he is going to do as much as he is able to do. You know he will. He hates this as much as you do.”

“Probably more. I know. It’s just...look, I was single for a long time and I was really good at doing everything on my own. Then I married Savannah and I got really used to the way that worked, and I jumped into this hot on the tails of my divorce...I don’t think I know how to be single anymore.”

“You’re not single. If anything, you’re more married than ever. In sickness and in health, handsome.”

He sighed and nodded. “I know. And I want to take care of him, I’m happy to do it. I just feel like I’m gonna fail...forget something important...fuck everything up.”

“The good news is, sugar, you’re not alone. You have me for the next two weeks, and everyone in the BAU wants to come and do some time. Plus you have your mom and sisters and aunts and uncles and you have Jessica. You’re not alone.”

“But I am the only one actually responsible.”

She nodded and squeezed his arm. “True. And you’ve got this. He trusts you, what more do you want?”

Paige came trotting happily out from the overgrown garden with leaves in her fur and what looked like a soggy old yellow squash in her mouth. “Ew,” Derek whispered and Penelope laughed.

“She found a treasure.”

Paige dropped the squash at Derek’s feet and looked up at him with an expectant tail wag that shook her entire body. “You want me to eat it or throw it?” he asked, crouching to pick it up. It was one of Hotch’s gourds, hard as a rock, a late growth on a hidden vine. The growing season had been weird. He hucked it across the yard and watched as she skidded excitedly down the stairs and bounded after it, nearly taking a nose dive more than once with her clunky feet that were still too big for her body leading the way.

“Hey,” Jessica said, opening the door only a crack. “Grouchy is waking up and he’s making a lot of unhappy noises. Your turn.”

“I’ll take it,” Penelope said happily. “You stay out here with the puppy. Get some fresh air. Stop worrying.”

Penelope rushed inside before he had a chance to argue, which he was inevitably going to do. And whatever he planned to say would have made sense, too. Of course Hotch would prefer it be Derek to look after him, but she could manage a few minutes on her own whether those stubborn men liked it or not. The house was shockingly warm after being outside, she hadn’t realized that when she’d first showed up. Derek was keeping the fire in the living room stoked, the wood stove emanating enough heat to keep Hotch well sedated she figured. The man devoured heat.

“Sir,” she started, walking into the room as Jessica made her exit. Hotch was watching her go with a wounded look in his eye that Penelope hated, the two of them got along so well normally but when he was this prickly it was hard for her not to snap back. She had no doubt they’d sort it out later. He turned to look at her and opened his mouth to correct her but she nodded and spoke before he could. “I’m sorry. Aaron. Can I help you with something?”

“Where is Derek?”

“He’s outside with the pup. He’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Hotch hummed and nodded, closing his eyes in what she knew was deference to pain. “Can you ask him when my next pills are scheduled please?” He sounded desperate and she nodded, quickly running back out to the back porch to ask. Derek glanced at his watch and shrugged.

“Two of the ibuprofen in a half hour, two of the Tylenol in two and a half. He hasn’t had the stronger stuff today, didn’t want it Jess said.”

“He looks like he needs something.”

“Okay,” Derek said, patting his thighs to get the puppy to come to him. So much for fresh air. Paige rushed in the door past his feet and went straight for her food and water, gobbling up the food quickly after spending time out running around in the yard. Derek’s steps were long and full of intent, he moved fast from one room to the other.

Hotch looked up at him, deep purple crescents blooming beneath his eyes, and Derek didn’t need him to say a word. He was losing his mind sitting on the couch not being able to do any of these things for himself, having to ask for help for every single thing, being unable to move without pain. He knew this was temporary, but the problem was that he would get over this hump just in time to have surgery and start all over – and probably worse. It felt demoralizing and pointless.

“Not time for your pills yet,” Derek said, crouching so he didn’t shake the couch. “I can get you something stronger...or an ice pack...bash you over the head with a frying pan...your choice really.”

Hotch smiled, just a little, and it broke Derek’s heart. “I’ll be okay.”

“No, dammit. Aaron you can’t keep doing this. If you need something you have to ask for it, I’m not gonna spend the next six months trying to read your mind. I can’t do it.”

Penelope knew this was leading to an argument and she couldn’t bear to watch, so she moved quickly back into the kitchen to start working on her Thanksgiving preparations. Fran would be there in a few hours and she wanted to be as organized as she could be – no, she wasn’t married to Derek, but she had started to feel like Fran was her mother in law and she needed to impress her.

Hotch and Derek stared at each other in silence for too long, uncomfortably long, until finally Hotch felt the sting of tears and tried to blink them away.

“You gonna say anything?”

“I hate this.”

“I know, Aaron. I know you hate it. I do too. But we just have to get through it, and you’re gonna have to help me. I shouldn’t have to guess what you need when you can just tell me.”

“What if I don’t know? What if I know nothing is really going to help except time?”

“Then ask for something stupid anyway. As for a glass of milk and some oreos, ask me to put some stupid movie on the TV, ask me to do a sexy dance for you I don’t fuckin’ know...we just can’t live like this where you refuse to say anything and just sit there in misery by yourself like you’re saving me from something. You’re not saving me from anything.”

There was a snap and a pop in the fireplace followed by the sound of sizzling, wet wood bursting from the inside. Derek took that as his cue to open it up and shove a few more chunks in – he would have to go chop more later, and he would be glad to do it. To force his ax through stumps of wood, to use his muscles, to release some of this tension building up in him.

“I vote sexy dance!” Penelope said, poking her head through the doorway. “Do I get a vote?”

“No,” Derek replied, using his poker to move logs around. The flames danced in Hotch’s eyes and he stared mesmerized by the fire until the door was closed again.

“A shower,” Hotch whispered finally, blinking himself out of the fire trance. “I’d like a shower.”

“Then a shower it is.”

Hotch always had this mad idea that a shower would fix him. That hot water rushing over his head would solve all of his problems. And sometimes he was right, it did, but this time Derek had some doubts. Getting him into the shower was going to be an exercise in futility, but he would do it anyway. He brought Hotch his crutches, knowing he would want to utilize as much of his independence as he could, even if it hurt. And it did. The minute he stood and the blood rushed down into his foot, Derek could see the color drain from his face as he waited out the shock of it.

“Good?”

“Good.” The lies they told themselves to make the day livable. Derek followed along behind him slowly, waiting out each labored crutch hop before taking his own step, until they reached the bathroom. They would use the guest bathroom with its standing shower, the guest bathroom that got no tub while their master bathroom got the huge one. Another design choice that drove Fran crazy but no one else seemed to complain. The shower was downright luxurious, with its tiled floor and oversized shower head. Fran had already set the shower chair inside, and Derek thought maybe now she didn’t think it was such a bad idea after all. A shower chair was safer in here than it would be in a shower with a tub, and Derek was certain of that.

“You sit in the chair and I’ll get that bandage off,” Derek said, setting the little shower stool in front of the chair and propping Hotch’s foot up on the bath pillow. The brace and bandage were easy to take off, and he was going to enjoy the luxury of this as long as he could. In a week Hotch would be on sponge bath only, casted and unable to get wet for far too long. And then he’d have to figure out how to keep the cast dry when he was cleared to try showering...this was the good stuff, the easy times when he could unwrap Hotch’s deeply bruised and swollen foot and let it air out, let their bodies be together beneath the water without added worry of incisions that needed to stay dry. The sight of Hotch’s foot startled him, it hardly looked like his at all. The swelling had spread up into his ankle and part of the way up his calf, a deep crush of bruised skin that left his mouth dry and his chest tight. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Hotch said, trying to get himself comfortable in the chair while Derek turned on the water and waited it out. He turned the shower head straight down until it had heated up, and then angled it so it hit Hotch in the chest. He winced when the droplets hit his foot but after a moment and a little adjustment Derek found the sweet spot and his features melted into something almost serene. He turned his chin up and rested his head against the wall, watching Derek through heavy lidded eyes.

“You enjoying the show?” He asked a little coy, beginning to wash himself first. He would get his own body out of the way and then focus on Hotch a little longer, let him rest beneath the hot water first. Hotch hummed and smiled, and Derek knew that the shower’s magic must have been working. Hotch’s eyes moved lazily over him while he soaped himself up, scrubbing himself clean. Derek felt a light touch against his thigh, Hotch’s hand dragging slowly up the curve of his muscle, to his hip and back down, tracing patterns in the soap. Derek’s lips twitched up in a small smile and he continued working, content to let Hotch touch whatever and wherever he wanted. Soap tickled his feet when he stepped under the shower head to rinse off, and Hotch couldn’t reach him any longer but his eyes never moved. “Your turn.”

Derek began the arduous job of moving Hotch’s chair and stool, centimeter by centimeter so he didn’t hurt him, until the shower head would reach every part of him. After that it was slick soapy hands kneading tense shoulder muscles to start, scrubbing the soap over his chest and down to his groin. He paid careful attention to be gentle with his legs, fingers kneading deep into stiff thighs and tight calves where Hotch would allow. His muscles were coiled and ready for attack, sore from sitting and using crutches and holding stiff positions so he wouldn’t accidentally send a shock of pain through his leg. Not moving really took it out of him.

“Close your eyes,” Derek said, squirting some shampoo into his palm and beginning to rub it into Hotch’s hair. It was long, much longer than he ever used to let it get, and the lights and the water caught flecks of silver at his temples in a magical glow. Hotch forgot all about the pain in his leg the minute Derek’s hands began working through his hair, the entire world melted away into a gauzy glow. Derek can’t help playing with it, making it stand up at odd angles, turning it into a mohawk and little spikes, scratching at his scalp and rubbing small gentle circles around his temples. The shampoo smelled like herbs, refreshing and intoxicating. Hotch let his head fall against Derek’s stomach, eyes closed, a small smile drifting over his lazy features. Derek just continued playing with his hair while Hotch turned to a pile of putty in his hands.

It was a bit of a challenge to rinse his hair, and Derek knew the detachable shower head was going to need to be installed immediately but he managed. He cupped his hands beneath the water and dropped it over Hotch’s hair, pushing shampoo out while he worked. By the time he finished Hotch seemed almost asleep, so relaxed.

“Wanna stay in a while?” Derek asked, knowing he had a few things he had to take care of. It was time to get some meds ready, ice packs, make the bed so Hotch could try to get some sleep before Fran brought Hank back. Hotch hummed soft in his throat and didn’t move a muscle, a definite yes if Derek ever heard one. “Okay. I’m leaving the door open a crack, call if you need me and I’ll be right back. Do not move, are we clear?”

“Crystal…” Hotch mumbled, eyes still closed though he did open them just to peek at Derek’s naked form moving out of the shower and reaching for a towel to dry off. “Derek?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Thank you…”

“You’re welcome. Next time ask me for something hard…”

“Sexy dance?”

“mmmhmmm...sexy dance…”

Derek wandered out of the bathroom chuckling to himself, towel around his waist, to see how Penelope was doing. She was working diligently in the kitchen, muttering to herself like a mad woman but she looked happy.

“Everything good in here mama?”

“Peachy keen!” she said, turning to take in the sight of her mostly naked friend. “I hope he knows how lucky he is to have this all to himself...meowwww...”

“I think he does.” Derek felt his cheeks burn and shook his head. It had been so long since he’d felt the full brunt of her advances and he’d missed it terribly. He didn’t have any adequate responses, no automatic clap backs, and she noticed it immediately. She didn’t seem to mind though.

“Is he still in the shower?”

“Yeah. It’s all good. He’s fine.”

“I had no doubts, my love.”

Chapter Text

“He’s going to run out of hot water…” Penelope mused, lounging on the couch beside Derek while they watched some reality TV show that neither of them was particularly interested in. At one point she figured she would try to get Derek to watch a few of her favorites, but for now they just had it on for noise and something to talk about.

“On demand,” Derek muttered. “He can be in there all night if he wants.”

“And Rossi thinks he lives in the lap of luxury…”

“We live in the ‘hood, babygirl. I think Rossi still wins.”

“You live in the ‘hood by choice, my friend. You could live anywhere and you chose this. Speaking of…”

“No, I have not talked to Aaron about the apartment building. And please do not say a word to my mom, she doesn’t know and if you tell her she’ll tell everyone in the damn building and all those hens will get their feathers ruffled and...just not yet. Okay?”

“Okay. I won’t say a thing.” She smiled and leaned against him playfully, curling up beneath the blanket. It wasn’t cold in their house, not even a little, but something about sitting beneath a blanket with Derek was so nostalgic and so lovely she didn’t care that she was damn near heat stroke. “He’s probably a prune in there you know.”

“Probably.”

“What’s his longest shower?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

Now she was intrigued and poked at him some, nudging him until he finally caved.

“At least an hour. Maybe more when he’s got a migraine. Sometimes it’s the only thing that helps.”

“Like now?”

“Like now.”

“Are things really hard, Derek? Is he really sick?” She sat upright, turning toward him to gage his reaction. His features went tense, brows knitted together in worry for a moment, then slack again.

“No,” he finally said. “It comes and goes. Foyet really fucked him up and it was a lot easier to hide ten years ago, that’s all. Things have a way of catching up. Even I’m not immune...some mornings I wake up and my knees and hips are killing me. Too many doors kicked in.” At that he offered a smile and a shrug. “It’s getting older right?”

“I pay for it every time I wear high heels,” she offered, wiggling her toes beneath her legs. “My ankles and feet hurt for hours after. Sometimes I can barely walk. But beauty is pain, right?”

“I guess so.”

The faint sound of Hotch calling for Derek broke through their conversation, setting Derek’s nerves alight. He sounded frail, and far away.

“Your patient is calling,” she said with a weak little smile. He nodded and stood, arching his back and stretching his arms up behind his head.

“Back in a few,” he said as he disappeared down the hall. A few was optimistic, he knew it wasn’t likely to be fast. His mom would be showing up with Hank anytime now and more than likely she’d be showing up when the two of them were at their worst. Just to show her that they needed help, that they couldn’t do this on their own. That was the thing about moms. You could grow up, you could live on your own and become an FBI Agent and a dad and a husband...but you’d always be her baby boy who needed his meat cut up for dinner and his owies kissed.

Walking into the bathroom, Derek waved the steam away from his face. It was thick and took his breath away. “Aaron?”

Hotch moved to sit himself upright, he’d managed to slide down in his chair against the wall until he found a comfortable place and stayed until he thought he should get out. Not that he wanted to, just that he should. At a certain point the guilt over wasting water would kick in no matter how good it was making him feel, and then the water would go away and he’d feel just as bad as he started. The magic spell only really lasted as long as the shower was on.

“You wanna go to the couch or the bed?” Derek asked while he rummaged through the pile of clothes he’d brought in to get them ready to dress his husband.

“Couch,” he said in his gruff, pained voice. “Hank will be home soon. I don’t want to be in bed when he gets here.”

“You know, pretending you’re okay for his benefit doesn’t really help. What happens when he sees it get bad?”

“I need it as much as he does,” Hotch admitted a little sheepishly. “Please.”

“If you’re asking, I’m providing. Just know that when it gets bad and he sees it, there’s gonna be some big time damage control.”

“I know. I’ll handle it.”

“Sure you will.”

Derek opened the shower door and let the steam out before planning his attack. He would have to dry Hotch off first, or have him dry off by the sounds of it, the man wasn’t keen on being pampered any more than necessary. Derek handed him the towel and let him set to it while he grabbed another, intent on getting his legs and then laying it on the floor so there would be no slipping. He started with the good leg while Hotch worked on his hair and arms, then moved to the bad one as gently as he could. Hotch did his best not to pay any attention and Derek did his best to avoid touching anything that looked bruised or swollen, they could leave the splint off and let it air dry by the fire before bandaging it back up. They were being a little careless, admittedly, knowing that he already had surgery to correct things on the books. Nothing gained nothing lost in trying to be comfortable, at least not in their minds. The women who had taken over their lives had other ideas.

“Alright, how you wanna do this? I can carry you and save us both a whole lot of trouble or I can get your slippery ass up and help you take crutches through this wet bathroom. Hopefully you don’t die.” The whole bathroom was slicked with condensation much too thick to wipe away safely. He made a short path from the shower to the toilet with a towel and that’s where Hotch would sit to do his business, but after that...there were decisions to make. So far, he was offering those decisions to Hotch.

“Help me get dressed,” he said after Derek had left him alone long enough to use the toilet and give his hands a good wipe with the sanitizing wipes. He could wash them once he was dressed and upright. Derek set to it, tossing him a t-shirt first and then a sweater to pull over his sticky skin. The sweater would please Hank, he would look like Hotch again. Even if it was over a pair of Derek’s pull away track pants, a relic from the 90s that was somehow inexplicably coming back into style, but would provide easy access to his injury when it was ice pack time. The pants were easy to put on, easy to snap up, and then Hotch just looked at him expectantly.

“Crutch or carry?”

Hotch looked at his foot, the foot that was already throbbing painfully, and sighed. “Carry.”

Derek knew that was hard for him to say, but he smiled at the admission. It was a step in the right direction. Maybe he’d done some thinking while he sat in the shower, thinking about how long this injury would play out and how long he could hold out being stubborn. It wasn’t appealing. It wasn’t hard, Derek slipping himself beneath Hotch’s armpit and lifting him up with one arm around his back and the other behind his knees. He’d been in SWAT long enough to work endlessly at dead lifts and carrying injured partners, and while he didn’t have much cause for that kind of training to be used in his daily life he still worked on it with his self-defense classes at the high-school. Lifting Hotch was nothing and carrying him was nothing, Derek loved it. Sometimes he would life Hotch into the air just to make sure he was still strong enough to do it. (Hotch could lift him, too, but not quite as effortlessly. He didn’t work his arms nearly as hard as Derek did. And Derek weighed more, he always made sure to point out that there was an easy twenty pound difference in weight between them.

Getting him settled on the couch in time for Fran to walk in took some doing, they barely managed. Penelope made sure he had everything he needed, his glass of water and his medications and a bowl of popcorn because she knew he was more likely to eat a little snack than he was a big meal anytime while Derek took care of his leg, packing the ice packs in place and getting his blankets sorted. He was getting good at maneuvering it in a way that didn’t cause more pain than necessary.

As soon as the door opened, Hank rushed inside, stripping his jacket and his shoes as he ran in a sort of after-school practiced gymnastics routine. He left a trail from the door to the couch where he skidded to a stop in his socks before falling on top of Hotch. Derek had his hand up, trying to stop him from crashing.

“Woah, woah, easy,” he said and Hank laughed and held out a gift he’d been squeezing in his arms.

“I know dad,” he said, but Derek had his doubts.

“What’s that?” Derek asked, indicating the large lumpy thing poorly wrapped in his arms.

“Anthony took me shopping today,” was the immediate reply. Anthony, Hotch’s little best friend, in his senior year of highschool. Only a year younger than Jack. Hotch was already grieving him moving away, too, though he did hold out some hope that Anthony would apply to Northwestern. His choices were still in the air. “He helped me pick this out. He said his friend has one and he used it when he broke his foot in soccer and it was really good.”

Hotch accepted the gift and waited to open it until Hank was seated beside him, carefully close. The wrapping was loose and wrinkled, and inside was a huge white ghost shaped...thing. Stuffed animal...pillow? Hotch had no idea, but he smiled.

“It’s a squishmallow,” Hank said proudly. “For you to put your foot on.”

It had been a leftover from Halloween, in the bargain bin, but the perfect shape Anthony had said. There were cuter ones, shaped like sea creatures and Disney characters, but the ghost...they both thought Hotch would like it best. He loved Halloween, and he’d missed spending it with Jack.

“I love it, thank you,” he said, and his voice was soft and genuine. He did love it, and he handed it to Derek expectantly, waiting for him to take the hint and put his foot on top of the little ghost named Boo. It was probably the softest thing he’d ever felt in his life and his foot sank right into it. It felt like a hug. He slid his arm around Hank’s small shoulders and pulled him in for a side hug, kissing him on top of the head and smiling. “I really love it. Thanks kiddo.”

Fran didn’t leave right away, instead sticking around to visit with Derek and Penelope in the kitchen about Thanksgiving. The holiday was coming up in two days and she had a big cooking party planned for the next day – a cooking party Penelope was over the moon excited to attend. “That’s big time stuff,” Derek whispered as his mom went to check on Hotch. “She’s never invited me to her cooking party.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a terrible cook.”

“Don’t you go getting a big head, missy.”

In the front room, Hank was telling Hotch every single detail of his night with grandma and his day spent shopping with she and Anthony. “He’s gonna come over tomorrow,” Hank said with a grin. “He said he’d play video games with us. You promised.”

“I did,” Hotch nodded, remembering vaguely that he’d mentioned Minecraft in a pain filled haze. “I’d love to play with you, but you’ll have to be patient with me. Jack once tried to teach me to play MarioKart and I spent most of the time going backwards on the course.”

Okay, so that had been more on purpose than anything. He didn’t want to play at all, and Jack was young enough that he thought it was hilarious that his old dad couldn’t get it.

“Minecraft is so easy, anyone could do it.”

“What did I tell you when we got here, Hank?” Fran asked, folding her arms with a stern but very soft smile. Hank’s shoulders slumped and she nodded adamantly.

“Bed time.”

“That’s right. Bed time. Go brush your teeth, sweetheart.”

She turned her back and headed into the kitchen again to rejoin her son and Penelope, leaving Hotch on his own. He watched Hank walk dejected down the hallway and couldn’t stand the sight of it, so without a word he got himself upright, tucked the squishmallow beneath his chin, grabbed his crutches and headed down the hallway after Hank. It was the fastest he’d moved in two days and it felt nice, having a purpose. When Hank finished brushing his teeth and getting into his pajamas, he found Hotch waiting on his bed, lying down with his foot on the ghost and the book resting on his chest.

“How’d you get here so fast?”

“A magician never shares his secrets.”

“Are you gonna read to me?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do, let’s dive back into King Arthur’s court huh?”

Hank crawled beneath the blankets and squeezed up against Hotch, pinning him against the wall. Hotch would have found it easier to be on the outside, but that would have left his injured foot open to being bumped and it seemed like a better idea to put it near the wall, give it a buffer with his good foot. Of course that was going to make it more of a challenge to get out of bed but sometimes you just had to cut your losses.

Derek was livid when he walked his mom to the front door only to find that Hotch was gone. Fran frowned at the lack of pillow and Derek knew right away. “He went to put Hank to bed, huh?”

“I should have done it myself.”

“Go home ma, it’s fine. I’m sure he’s okay, and if he’s not...that’s on him for being stupid.”

“Sit down with Penelope and relax for a while, let him do what he wants to do. He’s been at everyone’s mercy for two days now, it’s got to be wearing on him. If he wants to tuck his son in, let him. How much damage can he do?”

Derek had to admit that was probably the best option. He would be having surgery in less than a week now, that would correct any damage he’d caused by being stupid...at least he hoped it would. But what he really hoped was that Hotch was being smart, whatever he was doing.

After an hour of silence, Derek couldn’t take it anymore and decided to go check on them. What he found made him a little misty eyed. Hotch and Hank were both fast asleep, Hotch’s foot propped up on the ghost, him snuggled under one of Jack’s old Avengers throw blankets while Hank was curled up against him under his sheets. The book was splayed open on Hotch’s chest.

“Let them sleep,” Penelope whispered, and Derek nodded, flicking the light switch off and closing the door.

“He’s due for meds in an hour,” Derek whispered in the hallway. “I’ll get in trouble if I let him miss them for sleep. Don’t want to get yelled at by Jess again.”

Penelope scoffed but nodded, she wasn’t about to argue with him. “Let’s go watch some trashy TV until then.”

An hour slipped by in the blink of an eye, and Derek almost hesitated to get up. He really didn’t want to have to wake Hotch up, it felt cruel, but it would be worse to let him wake up suffering. They would all pay for it.

Creeping slowly into Hank’s room, he found them in exactly the same position that he’d left them, snuggled close together. He leaned over Hank and nudged Hotch’s shoulder just enough to get him to blink sleepily up at him.

“Time for your meds,” he whispered and Hotch angled himself up onto one elbow and accepted the pills on his tongue and the sip of water without trying to take anything in his own hands. Derek was glad when he whispered a slurry thank you and dropped back off to sleep. He might regret letting him stay there, but he couldn’t bear moving him. Some part of him knew how badly both of them needed this.

“I thought you were going to move him,” Penelope said when he wandered back into the living room on his own. He just shrugged and flopped down beside her with a sigh.

“Couldn’t do it. Gave him his meds and let him stay.”

“Good boy.”

The house fell mostly silent, just the sound of the TV on low volume cruising well into the night. Derek and Penelope fell asleep beside one another on the couch halfway through their first movie and didn’t wake up until the puppy started whining and whimpering to be let outside. Derek sat up first, craning his neck from one side to the other to work out the kinks and then the same followed with his back. He was too old to be falling asleep on the couch like that.

The middle of the night in Chicago was still noisy, sirens and shouts the same at 3am as they were at 3pm. He’d always taken comfort in that. Derek didn’t like silence. He sat himself on the back steps and watched Paige wander around the yard with tired eyes. She seemed interested in the shed, sniffing at the door and wagging her tail excitedly. Derek frowned and stood, walking through the ice cold grass in his bare feet toward the shed door. He found the door slightly ajar, and knowing he’d closed it the last time he was inside, found his chest tightening as he reached for the handle.

“Someone in there?” he called, pushing the door open enough to let some of the light from the backyard in. What he found surprised him. “Trey?”

A young boy, a boy who had only the month before celebrated his fourteenth birthday at Derek’s house, sat up in the pile of dirty rags and squinted into the harsh silvery light. “Hey D,” he muttered, wiping his tired eyes.

“What the hell are you doin’ in my shed?”

“Needed a place to sleep…” the boy replied, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Derek flipped on the light and watched as the kid shielded his eyes and turned away until they adjusted. “Damn D. Why?”

“Why the fuck aren’t you at home?”

“Mom got picked up two days ago and she locked me out. I got nowhere else to go.”

“You been sleeping in here all that time?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you just knock on my door?”

Trey looked at him incredulously, as if he should know the answer already. “I ain’t your problem, D. Not a stray cat you gotta feed.”

“Nah, but you’re gonna break into my shed and sleep in my oil rags though. Boy, stand up.”

Trey stood and stretched his arms up over his head before folding them over his chest, curing in around himself. Suddenly he was ashamed of how he was living, the choices he’d made. “I ain’t stealing anything.”

“You think I don’t know that? But you coulda knocked you knucklehead. I got plenty of space...would you rather freeze to death?”

“I was gonna knock but I saw Aaron out here on crutches, didn’t think you needed any of my problems D.”

“Man, get inside. Now. I’m freezing and I’ve only been out here a minute. You gotta be damn cold.”

“I’m alright.”

Derek rolled his eyes and reached out, grabbing the boy by the back of the neck like a mama cat scruffing her baby, shoving him out into the frigid November night. Penelope sat upright when she heard them come inside, pulling a blanket around herself a little protectively. She squinted while she felt around for her glasses, wondering how in the world Derek managed to find a human in his backyard when he only went out to take his puppy to pee. “Who is that?”

“It’s all good babygirl, go to bed,” Derek said before turning to the boy who had followed him inside. “You, sit. Now.” Trey did as he was told and plopped down in the kitchen chair closest to the back door, easy flight if he had to get out. Derek tossed a banana at him and nodded, insisting that he start eating immediately. How long it had been since the kid ate he had no way of knowing but there wasn’t any food out in the shed so he figured he had to be hungry.

“What’s going on?”

“We’ll talk in the morning Penelope. Go check on Aaron would you? Make sure he’s all good, then go to bed.”

“You are so bossy,” she said with a little smirk, but she did what she was asked anyway, returning only briefly to let him know that Hotch was still all good and fast asleep with Hank. Just like they’d left him.

“Alright kid, you tell me everything I need to know while I make you something to eat.”

“D, you don’t gotta do that.”

“The hell I don’t. Get to talkin’.”

Trey sighed and bit into the banana, considering what he was going to say carefully while he chewed. He was starving. He hadn’t eaten anything since school lunch, and he’d only gone to school to get warm and eat. He had no intention of doing his homework.

“My mom got picked up on the corner,” Trey said finally, unable to make eye contact. His mother was a constant source of shame for him. “She got no money for bail and I got no key. Landlord says he don’t want me alone in the apartment, I’ll cause trouble so he won’t let me in.”

“Bullshit.”

“Yeah, well, mom’s two months late on her rent so I guess he ain’t gotta let me in anyway.”

Trey finished his banana in time for Derek to hand him a plate of scrambled eggs with some toast and a glass of orange juice. The kid started wolfing it down like he hadn’t eaten in days and Derek hated the sight of it. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate with Hotch and surgery and Thanksgiving...now he had a homeless kid sitting at his table and he couldn’t just turn him away.

“Listen up, kiddo. I got a lot of history with your mom and I’d do just about anything for her, I think you know that. Aaron and I took Max in when he needed us and she wouldn’t let us take you, she was still getting child support from your dad. I don’t think she is anymore, not according to Max.”

“Nah, he dipped. Think he’s in prison in Kentucky or some shit. He was running drugs down south and got caught.”

“Yeah, well, your dad’s a piece of shit and we both know that. Whole world’s better off with him behind bars, he’s nothing to you but a gene pool kid. You’re not him.”

Trey had never even met his dad, he was just a child support check for years. A story his mom liked to tell. A cautionary tale, maybe. It had stopped Trey from doing a lot of things he would otherwise have been drawn to, causing trouble and getting mixed up in bad things that were way too easy where he lived. He’d long since stopped wishing to know his father, knowing damn well he was better off, just like Derek said. But now his mom was going down that same path, leaving him on his own, and Derek was the only safe place he knew. Max had moved in with Hotch and Derek right after turning sixteen, and his mom had been okay with that, she’d never gotten child support from his dad – she didn’t even know who his dad was. Losing Max meant one less mouth to feed, one less kid to talk back when she got it in her mind to act like a parent for once. She wouldn’t let them have Trey, though...maybe now, Derek thought. Maybe now she’d consider it. Especially if they were going to charge her, put her away for a while. Maybe force her to get cleaned up.

“She using again?”

“Yeah,” Trey whispered sadly. “She spent all the rent money on H, that’s why she was out on the corner. We got a pink slip.”

“Dammit, Trey, why didn’t you come to me sooner? I would have helped out.”

“Man, D, I already said it – I ain’t your problem. I know you and my mom got history but…”

“No but. She saved my life when I was a kid and I’m gonna do everything I can to repay it.”

“She dumped your ass.” At that, Trey smiled and Derek let out a little chuckle. “Dumped you hard from what I hear.”

“She sure did, but before that...she stood by me when I was going through hell.”

He’d been dating Trey’s mother Serena when he met Carl Buford, and though he never told her what Buford was doing, Derek always thought she had some idea. She had to have, she’d become protective of him in a way that girlfriends usually didn’t. He’d been bothered some at the time, being emasculated in a way that a teenage boy didn’t take to easily, but he could recognize now that she was trying to help him. She was trying to save him, and maybe in some way when she realized she couldn’t...Derek couldn’t help feeling responsible for the path she’d taken. That kind of responsibility over another person at her age had to have taken a toll, and if she knew what was happening to him and was unable to stop it...he knew he had a lot to do with the path she chose. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he was the only one who needed to feel guilty, but he bore some of it and he knew he couldn’t help her the way he could help her kids.

“Look, I can’t make any promises until I talk to Aaron and I’m not about to wake him up at this time of night. He got hurt pretty good and things are gonna be rough for us for a while, but in the morning we’ll talk about having you come stay with us. Maybe take you in the way we did your brother, huh? Jack’s room is empty now that he’s off at school, we still got Max’s bedroom up there too. You take your pick tonight, sleep in a damn bed. When you wake up in the morning we’ll have a talk with Aaron about what we’re gonna do. And if you sneak out, kid...don’t you dare come back, understand?”

Trey sighed and nodded, finishing up the last of his food. “I understand. I won’t leave.”

“Better not.”

Chapter Text

“Dad!” Hank called, rushing down the hallway. His hair was flying around his head, unruly, standing up in every direction. In an attempt not to have a knee catch him in an unfortunate place, Derek sat upright on the couch and waited for his son to crash into him. He’d been lounging for the last hour, unable to sleep alone in his bed, unwilling to actually get a start on the day. Just sitting. He’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, expecting Hotch to call for him or to hear Trey getting up and sneaking around in his house, probably trying to find his way out, and instead finding only his own unruly thoughts keeping him up. The rest of the house slept like the dead. 

“Hey kiddo,” he said, opening his arms for his son to come flying into them happily. “How’s daddy?”

“Still sleeping.”

“Yeah? That’s great. You must have some magical powers.” At that Hank beamed, his wide smile full of gaps where baby teeth had once been and adult teeth hadn’t yet begun to peek out. He curled up against Derek’s side and quietly told him about the book they were reading and about the wild dreams he’d had, about his stay with Grandma Fran and everything else his sleepy young brain could put into words. He was always extra talkative first thing in the morning when Derek’s brain couldn’t even begin to keep up. It felt like sludge. 

“Where’s Paige?” 

“Out in the yard with Aunt Penny. You wanna go out there? Bet she’d like it if you threw the baseball around for her.”

“Can we have pancakes for breakfast?” Hank asked, standing and giving his father the side eye. He could sense that his dad wanted to get rid of him for a minute, that he wanted some silence and he figured he could leverage his compliance into a yummy breakfast. He wasn’t wrong. 

“Yeah. I’ll make you pancakes. Now get.”

“I’m getting.”

Hank scurried outside, leaving Derek sitting alone in the living room with his murky thoughts. How was he going to approach this? Thanksgiving was the next day, they had a lot of preparations to make, and then there was the weekend to get through. A weekend he would have to spend altering their entire home into something Hotch could live with and maneuver through, something he could be independent enough inside of that he didn’t lose himself to clawing depression. Derek was well aware that the possibility was there, he knew how badly he’d take being forcefully house-bound and the thought made his skin crawl. He had a limited amount of time to give them as good a head start as he could, and then early Monday morning was Hotch’s surgery. The closer it got, the more he dreaded it. The anesthesia, the cutting, the waiting. Savannah told him repeatedly that it was going to be fine, walked him through the process from the nerve block they would administer to the coming home and recovery, she’d been through it so many times he knew it by heart and it was still eating him alive. Trey was providing some distraction from it but it wasn’t the good kind. 

“Good morning,” Hotch’s voice floated down the hall, followed by the click of his crutches against the hard wood. He was moving slow, terribly slow, but Derek smiled as he watched anyway. The man was beautiful in the morning, hair standing up in jagged salt and pepper spikes, pillow creases on his cheek and arm. He wanted to wrap him up and hold him tight, but instead he sat and watched as Hotch came closer and closer, finally maneuvering himself to the couch where he sat and propped his feet right up on Derek’s lap like he owned the place. “You look troubled.”

Derek sighed. “I am.”

“Are you upset with me?” It seemed like a perfectly natural question to ask, and Derek hated that more than just about anything. 

“Why would I be? You do something stupid I should know about?”

“No, but I had an inkling you wouldn’t be thrilled with me going to Hank’s room.”

“Ah, yeah. That. Well. I was a little mad but you slept the whole damn night so what do I know huh?”

Hotch smiled and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, reclining against the arm of the couch happily. Derek rubbed at his knees with nervous hands and the pressure against Hotch’s stiff joints felt heavenly. He’d be perfectly happy never to move from this spot. 

“So what’s troubling you if it isn’t me?” He asked, curious but treading lightly. There were a few possibilities that flashed through his mind, from something simple like Thanksgiving anxiety (happened every single year without fail) to complex, like telling Hotch they absolutely could not keep the puppy. 

“We have to talk,” Derek started, stating the obvious. Hotch had clearly already figured that part out. “I went outside with Paige last night and found Trey sleeping in our shed.”

“Trey?” Hotch asked, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Max’s little brother?”

“Yeah. Guess he’s been in there a couple of nights.”

“Sleeping in the shed?” he asked, still trying to catch up. “Where is Serena?”

“Jail. I called ‘em this morning, she’s not going anywhere anytime soon. She’s got no one to post bail.”

Hotch frowned. “You don’t want to post bail do you?”

“Hell no. Let her sit there. It’s the best place for her…” he let that last word drag out, stretching like taffy through the air. Hotch knew what came next, his eyes instinctively moving toward the staircase illuminated in a shaft of golden morning light. 

“Is Trey upstairs?”

“Yeah. He’s in Max’s old room.”

“Derek…”

“I know. We’ve got a lot going on. I get it. But he’s locked out of his mom’s place and she’s two months behind on the rent. He’s got nowhere else to go. I can’t just send him packing, man.”

Nodding, Hotch closed his eyes and let his mind catch up to the information. It was a lot to take in first thing in the morning, especially without any coffee to get his engines revving.  

“What’s your plan? I’m assuming you spent all night coming up with something.” 

“I told him I had to talk to you first, before we do anything.”

“I don’t doubt that. What do you want to do?” That was always Hotch’s favorite place to start – find out what Derek wanted and then pare it down to what could happen and what couldn’t. He wasn’t quite the realist that Hotch was, though they’d both found themselves meeting in the middle more and more lately. Hotch opening up to more, Derek angling toward pragmatism. Slightly. 

“He’s got nowhere else to go. I want to go pay the rent up, take him in to get his things, change the locks so none of Serena’s loser assholes get the idea to rob her while she’s away...but he can’t stay there by himself, he’s only fourteen Aaron.”

“Does he want to stay here?” Another loaded question, but Hotch liked to paint with broad strokes first. He needed a big picture before hunting down the details. 

“I don’t know. He’s not like Max was. That kid hustled you with a sled, man. He was so damn clever at a young age. Trey’s smart but not that way...he needs to stay in school, he needs more support than Max or he’s gonna end up in a bad place. No way Max would have ever broken into our shed to sleep, right? But Trey, that’s his first thought. Too proud to knock on the door.”

“Do you think we can give him what he needs?” By that he meant many things, it was multi-faceted but simple. He was injured in a way that drastically altered their lives, in a way that made him more or less useless for much of what is required when parenting a teenager. He couldn’t just get up and move around easily, he couldn’t get in the car and drive anywhere or pick him up in the middle of the night if he got himself into trouble, he could offer love and support but that was temporarily the extent of his abilities and he was coming to terms with that. 

Derek just nodded and continued rubbing the ache out of Hotch’s legs. “I know we can.”

“Alright,” Hotch said, ready to buy in if Derek thought it was the right thing to do. He still had some reservations but they weren’t going to have a lot of time to sort it out, and some part of him knew they’d manage somehow. It wouldn’t be pretty, but they would make it work. “So he comes to stay with us for a while.”

“What if we got Serena to let us become his legal guardians? Like she did with Max.”

“We tried that before, Derek. She said no. In fact, I believe she told you exactly where you could shove your paperwork for Trey and it was wildly inappropriate.”

“That was when his dad was still passing her his filthy cash. He’s locked up now. She’s not getting squat from anyone, that’s why she got picked up.”

Hotch looked skeptical, but he wouldn’t say no to Derek. Not when it came to Serena and her kids. It had been some stroke of fate that he’d met Max on that birthday so long ago, that he’d felt such a strong pull toward the kid that he told him his name when he shouldn’t have – he had an alias, but he couldn’t lie to him. Something about Max had enchanted him, and years later when they became his legal guardians he was glad he hadn’t ever lied to him. The kid spent his youth being lied to by adults he should have been able to trust, and Hotch was one of the first adults not to do it. Even if it had been dangerous for him to do so. 

When they took Max in, Jack was still home. He was a year older, though Hotch had assumed Max was the older of the two – he was just small, and a little less mature. It hadn’t really settled in yet just how much his job had changed Jack’s outlook, his maturity, his everything. Max hadn’t lived a charmed life, but he also hadn’t been in witness protection twice before his teenage years and he certainly wasn’t in the house when his mother was murdered. 

Both of his parents were alive, so far as they knew. Serena didn’t know who Max’s father was but all of the candidates were alive and kicking. 

“Jack gets home today,” Hotch said quietly. “His plane lands at 7:16.”

“I’ll be there to get him, don’t worry. I won’t forget.”

“I know.”

He had more to say, but he needed coffee. It would provide a useful distraction while he thought over the potential pitfalls of their decision to take in a teenager on a whim. With Max it hadn’t been a last minute decision, the boy had been spending so much time at their house already that it felt right to just ask him to stay. They hadn’t been acting under duress, they just saw an opportunity to help and took it. This time felt rushed and it gave Hotch a sick feeling in his stomach as he contemplated whether they could be doing more harm than good. 

“I’ll get the paperwork started,” Hotch said finally, swinging his legs off of Derek’s lap with the intent to grab his crutches and go get some coffee. Derek made no move to stop him, only watched with a look of confusion on his face. Hotch had been easier to convince than he had anticipated, and maybe that had a lot more to do with their shared need for adrenaline. Their lives had slowed down considerably over the years, a natural progression perhaps, but they needed a spark every now and then. 

“You can’t drive,” Derek said, following Hotch into the kitchen. “Remember?”

“I’m sure Penelope would drive me down to the lawyer’s office. Or I could make some attempt at being current and do it through email.”

“You can’t.”

“I know. I’ll be fine out there, I need to get out of this house anyway. I’ll buy Penelope lunch for her trouble.”

“Guess that leaves me the dirty work, huh? Lock picking and changing, and a trip to the jail to talk to Serena.”

“Somehow I don’t think she’d like to see my face. I believe she called me your honkey boy toy last time we were in the same room.”

“Aw, she didn’t mean it like that.”

“No?”

Derek smiled and poured some coffee into Hotch’s waiting mug. He could maneuver with the crutches but holding a coffee mug was going to be outside of his capability. “Okay, maybe she did. But I bet she’s come around…”

“Doubtful. You can go visit her, I’ll keep my distance.”

Derek could see the wisdom in that, and before he could formulate a proper response Trey wandered into the kitchen. He was dressed completely, his jacket and shoes on like he was ready to hit the road. 

“Where you goin’ T?” Derek asked, folding his arms over his chest in an act of defiance toward Trey’s obvious attempt at saying goodbye. 

“I heard you guys talkin’. You don’t need me making things harder and my mom probably won’t go for it anyway. She still don’t like him.” 

“I knew it,” Hotch muttered, sipping his coffee with a little smirk. Derek rolled his eyes. 

“Doesn’t matter if it’s hard or if she’s a pain in the ass. We’re doing this if you want it...I guess if you don’t, that’s up to you.”

Trey looked thoughtfully from Derek to Hotch and back again, his body language suddenly small and unsure. Like a fourteen year old being buried beneath problems far too big for him. 

“Just stay with us a while. We can hold off on paperwork if you want. We can just give you a bed and some food, I’ll go talk to your mom today and tell her you got a roof over your head. Take it slow.”

Trey nodded. “I was jealous of Max,” he admitted quietly, stepping a little timidly into the kitchen. “When he got to live here and I got left...there. I hated him for a long time, wondering why you guys chose him over me.”

Hotch glanced over at Derek and kept his mouth shut, this wasn’t the place for him to interject. Derek’s history with that family ran deep and Hotch was an outsider, no matter how he cared for the kids themselves. 

“We never chose him, you got that all wrong kid. She said no, plain and simple. We were gonna take you both.”

“Yeah,” Trey sniffled a little. “I know that now. She told me.”

Derek approached Trey and pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms tight around the boy’s shoulders. “We wanted you then and we want you now. Get everything else out of your mind, okay?”

“Okay,” Trey whispered right into Derek’s chest, wetting his shirt with tears. Hotch watched with a broken heart. “Can I stay? Please? I promise I’ll be good. I’ll help you guys out...whatever you need…”

Hotch abandoned his mug sitting on the counter and left the room, headed toward their bedroom where he could make a phone call to their lawyer and get things started. He may have had questions when it was just he and Derek, and he didn’t regret a single one, but hearing Trey’s voice made it all crystal clear. They really didn't have a choice. It was more than the right thing to do, it was the only thing to do.

“Trey,” Derek said, squeezing the kid even tighter. Like he was squeezing the tears back in. Putting them back where they belonged. “I know you will kid. I know.” He had a feeling he knew where Hotch went, what he was doing now, and he smiled against the boy’s hair and nodded. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll make it work.”

“Whatever you need,” Trey said again, his voice cracking. Derek nodded. 

“We’re gonna be at my mom’s a lot today getting ready for Thanksgiving. You’re gonna regret that offer real quick.”

“I love to cook…” he said, though Derek was pretty sure that didn’t mean anything like what his mom was going to be requesting of all of them. Making boxes of mac n’ cheese and hot dogs was not exactly where Fran Morgan’s requirements were in order to cook for Thanksgiving. Derek was shocked sometimes that she didn’t require anyone offering to cook to have a full culinary degree. 

“You say that now,” was what he said, and Trey let out a sad little laugh. “You haven’t met Thanksgiving until you’ve been to my ma’s house, kid.” He had a suspicion that Trey hadn’t really ever had Thanksgiving, period. He was in for a real surprise. 

Chapter Text

Hotch and Fran built puzzles. It had started as something he did with Jack when their lives were slow and quiet, when they had to spend more time inside the walls of their apartment than out in the world. It was a way to still experience the world – Jack liked the food puzzles, donuts and cakes and cookies and candy, bright colors. Hotch liked the photography, especially exotic places around the world, places he thought he might never get a chance to see if they had to stay in witness protection. Of course that was a little dramatic, they weren’t really prisoners, he could decide at any time to take his chances with Peter Lewis...and some days he was right there on the verge, other days he looked into Jack’s wide eyes and thought he could stay forever if it made certain that Jack would be safe. But now they were out of protective custody, and the minute they were out Jack dove headfirst into teenager activities – going to the mall, the movies, joining sports and every single excuse to hang out. Hotch missed him, and their little card table with the puzzle on it began collecting dust.

Derek didn’t like to sit down that long, he couldn’t focus on puzzles. They made him antsy. He’d tried, and Hotch appreciated that, but he wouldn’t ask Derek to do it if it only made him uncomfortable. And then they’d gone to Fran’s for Thanksgiving that first year and he helped her clear off her kitchen table with its little puzzle full of autumn gourds with a black cat in the center. “I’ve got a card table,” he said, and that was it. He brought it over and they set up two folding chairs right beside a window overlooking the street and when he needed to clear his head and sit in quiet he would head over to Fran’s to put a few pieces into the puzzle and drink coffee with her.

She bought one special just for him this year, knowing he wouldn’t be able to help with the cooking. And with Sarah and Desiree trying to find their footing as future leaders of the family, she decided she could stand to take a step back on the preparation and sit with him, put effort into her relationship with him – that’s what the holiday was about for her, anyway. Being surrounded by people she loved, nurturing those connections, and she’d spent the last few days praying about their current situation. What she came up with was a puzzle – she saw it in the store when she was picking out the turkey, one of those silly little end caps with big yellow clearance tags pasted on the fronts. It was a farm scene full of reds and oranges and yellows, browns and blues, gorgeous expanse of cloudless sky and turkeys with their great tails fanned out like colorless peacocks. She set the puzzle up on the card table and put it beside her recliner, the recliner Hank had come home from his long shifts and lounged in, fell asleep in, read his Bible in. Hotch could recline there with his feet up and she could sit beside him in a folding chair with a view of her kitchen as everyone worked, and she could quietly enjoy some coffee and build a puzzle with her son. (No in-law about it, she hated that term. Law had nothing to do with love.)

He’d spent the morning with Penelope dealing with lawyers and CPS, getting paperwork ready to legally take over guardianship of Trey. Fran thought it was a sweet if not slightly misguided decision, but she’d never cared much for timing. That wasn’t something humans could trouble themselves over, there wasn’t any way to control it. “God put him in your lives right now,” she said when Hotch told her where Derek was, what he was doing. “For some reason. You might not see it now, but I believe it’s for your benefit as well as his.”

“I think Derek needs it,” was Hotch’s response and she hummed and nodded and filled his coffee mug as he sorted the pieces of the puzzle by corner, edge and color.

Penelope got along with Derek’s sisters in a way that made it feel like she’d been here every year, that she’d never been anywhere else. She let them handle the meat while she prepared vegetables and they talked about their love lives (or lack thereof) and work and Derek. Penelope tugged at them until they spilled stories of him as a little boy, stories that warmed her heart and frightened her simultaneously, stories that made her love him even more.

“Will Trey be eating with us?” Fran asked, taking that monumental first step and placing the four corner pieces in their respective places. Hotch nodded.

“He and Derek will be here soon.”

“What about Jack? Will he be able to make it back?”

Hotch hummed. “His plane lands this evening. He was going to stay in New York with Sean, but I know he felt too guilty not being here after my injury. I told him it wasn’t necessary, that things were more than handled…”

“But he’s your son.”

“Exactly.”

The noise from the kitchen was warming, it was amiable chatter and laughter and bled into one beautiful song. Hotch had never known family holidays like this, not growing up, and not as an adult. They were always forced, loud people trying to talk about their accomplishments like it was a race. Dressed to the nines in their Sunday best, showing off. Fran encouraged sweatpants, pajamas, she didn’t want to see anyone in fancy dresses or tied up in suit jackets. Around them, Hank swirled with his airplane toys, reenacting a scene from some movie he’d watched with Derek the week before. A war movie, probably, Hotch had slept through it like usual. He loved to sleep through movies. He’d slept through more movies than he’d seen, that had to be a fact.

“What time do you think they’ll arrive?” Fran asked, and Hotch studied her for a moment. She was nervous, something in her demeanor had changed the longer she contemplated what he was out doing. Taking Trey to his apartment to gather his things, to change the locks, to pay the rent so they didn’t get tossed out. That was all easy, but then there was Serena and that was always ugly and raw and why did he need to do it before Thanksgiving?

“They should be here anytime,” was Hotch’s reply. He kept his voice cool, like he wasn’t also worried about the same thing she was. Like he wasn’t thinking about all of the ways Derek’s talk with Serena could go, all of the cruel things she would hurl at him while her body was forced to detox in jail.

When Trey walked in alone an hour later, Hotch knew it had gone as bad as it could. “Hey, Aaron?” Trey asked, approaching the chair he sat in. Fran had moved into the kitchen to help with the stuffing and the pies, to help them figure out how to maximize the space in her small cooking area. “D’s out in the car, he seems weird. I think my mom was pretty mean to him.”

“Thank you Trey,” he replied, reaching down to push the lever that would lower his feet. It gave a lurch and a jolt and he flinched at the way it jerked his foot painfully. Trying to hide the reaction, he turned his face to the side and sucked in two long, slow breaths until his foot stopped singing and then he stood, reaching for his crutches. “Go see the ladies in the kitchen, they’ll find something for you to help with.”

“You uh...you need help or something?” Trey asked, watching Hotch tuck his crutches under his arms.

“I’ve got it. Thank you.” He did, mostly. He wasn’t too bad on the crutches after a few days, even going down the stairs wasn’t awful. Not yet. Once it snowed, got icy, he’d have some trouble for for now he just held them both in one arm and used the railing to hop down one at a time. Derek had parked on the street just down the block, his car situated in a dark patch between streetlamps. Hotch could see his face illuminated only slightly by the sickly pale lights and hoped he could get himself into the car before Derek tried to stop him.

It didn’t work. Derek saw him coming and jumped out of the car, jogging over to him. “Hey, hey, you’re supposed to be inside…”

“Derek, I’m allowed to get up and move around. You can’t be so worried about me.”

Derek’s features fell at the reprimand and Hotch felt awful. “Sorry. I know.”

“Help me get into the car? It’s cold out here and you look like you need to talk.”

Kind of an olive branch – Hotch could have gotten into the car on his own, he would have figured it out, but it made Derek feel useful and provided a short distraction from the whirlwind inside of him. He had a headache, the kind that pulsed behind his eyes and set him on the verge of tears. Pressure and anxiety teaming up.

“Tell me what happened,” Hotch said, cranking the heat up to maximum and turning on the seat warmer. Always cold, Chicago winters got into his bones so deep he thought he might never be warm again and it was only November. It was barely beginning.

“She’s gonna sign the papers,” Derek started, resting his head against the window. “She’s pissed though.”

“About what?”

“Oh, you know. We’re not bailing her out, we’re gonna just let her rot in there, take away her kid…” That was the PG version of what she’d said, anyway. What she’d actually said was littered with the words “cracker ass” and “fags” and other things he’d heard a million times out of her mouth, to the point that he was desensitized to her particular brand of venom. She was all bark and no bite, anyway. That part hadn’t bothered him even a little, in fact it made him laugh and when he laughed she began too...that had actually lightened things up, he just didn’t want to repeat any of it to Hotch. It would hurt him. He knew Serena well enough by this point to read between those lines, anyway.

“Is that all?” Hotch asked and Derek shrugged, defeated.

“She told me that Trey’s been on this travel basketball team, he got a scholarship from the rec center for kids who were good enough to make the team but couldn’t afford it. She thought it was weird because she never applied for it, she was going to find a way to pay but he came home and said he made the team and the payment was taken care of.”

Hotch felt something twist in his stomach at the pale, sick sound in Derek’s voice.

“She didn’t know any of the coaches, and even if she knew their names...fuck, Aaron, she’s been high for so long now she really didn’t have any idea. They travel all over the area for games, right? Sometimes an hour or two away, and one of the coaches, he gives Trey rides because his mom can’t. And she said she thought he was giving a lot of the kids rides, like a team thing. But Trey told her it was only him.”

That something in Hotch’s stomach gave a heave and twisted tighter until he thought he might be sick. Derek didn’t look at him, only stared straight ahead out the window that was quickly fogging up.

“Did something happen?” Hotch asked after a long pause. Too long. And it stretched out even longer, his words hanging in the air heavy.

“I don’t know,” Derek said finally, words released like a death rattle. “She said she looked at him when he got home from an overnight trip and he looked just like I did after my first trip up to Buford’s cabin. Like the light had gone out in his eyes.”

Hotch couldn’t ask another question. He just waited for Derek to say more, or nothing at all.

“She asked him if they won, he said they did. She asked him what they did to celebrate and he said they went out for pizza. She asked if the whole team did and he said no, just he and Coach Robbins. She asked if everyone was staying at the same hotel and he said everyone else went home, but Coach Robbins was too tired to drive so they were staying. She asked if there were two beds in the room and he said yes but he wouldn’t answer any other questions because he had homework to do.”

Derek’s voice was a droning monotone, quiet with a strange buzzing sound like an underground hive of wasps. Hotch reached over and rested one hand lightly against Derek’s thigh, drawing his eyes, meeting him in that quiet place that was filled with so much pain Hotch thought he might suffocate and it wasn’t even his pain.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, because he knew what he wanted to do...he knew exactly how he wanted to proceed...but maybe it wasn’t the way it needed to go. They didn’t actually know anything happened. Serena was unreliable at best, strung out on heroin at all hours of the day. For all they knew none of it even happened.

“I need to talk to him,” Derek said finally, and Hotch nodded. He took a chance and leaned over, moving his hand from Derek’s thigh to the back of his neck, hooking him and pulling him close. Their foreheads bumped and there they stayed while Hotch listened to the ragged low sound of Derek counting his breaths, trying not to cry, trying to tamp it down. “I need to ask him if anything happened…”

“What do you need me to do?”

Derek turned his eyes up at Hotch with a look of such deep pain that Hotch couldn’t stand it. “You’ve got surgery to worry about. I don’t want you in this mess, I stepped in it, it’s mine.”

“We’re married, our names are both on the papers as his guardians, you might have stepped in it but it belongs to us. What can I do?”

That made Derek cry, the thought of dragging Hotch into a mess that he didn’t have any place in. That he shouldn’t have been part of. Of course that was silly, Hotch was the one who met Max first, Hotch was the one who forged that connection between the two families – Derek hadn’t seen Serena since graduating high school, not until Hotch mentioned meeting a kid who needed some help. Taking Max in had been his idea first, and it was Derek’s history with Serena that sealed the deal but it only tied them all up together in ways they could never have anticipated.

“Could you and Penelope look into this Robbins guy? Kraig Robbins. Kraig with a fuckin’ K. I uh...I don’t know anything about him. No date of birth or anything to give you.”

“We’ll find him.” Hotch could do that. With Penelope’s access and his connections, they wouldn’t have trouble finding out everything about this man. Whether it was the right thing to do or not never really crossed Hotch’s mind. That adrenaline thing again, maybe. Pursuit of justice, adrenaline, right and wrong. He didn’t really care what it was called anymore. There was a time when that would have been important to him...not now.

“How do you feel?” Derek asked, straightening up, sucking in a breath, trying to come around. Pull himself together. Hotch let his hand slip from Derek’s neck to his shoulder, down to his forearm.

“I’m fine,” he said, and it was for the most part the truth. His leg was sore from the knee down, stiff knee and a bone deep ache that made for difficulty sitting or moving but he was otherwise not doing too badly. It was the best he’d felt since it happened, and he knew it was fleeting so he was embracing it. “I was putting together a puzzle with your mom.”

“Yeah?” Derek asked, swiping at his eyes, the tears that held firm there. He was going to cry again, it was just a matter of time. “A good one?”

“It’s cute.”

“We should uh...we should get in there huh?”

“When you’re ready.”

Derek nodded solemnly and scrubbed his hands back over his face, over his head, dragging hard at his neck. Hotch hated watching him suffer, hated when he took everything on himself and then had the audacity to berate himself when it became too much. Like he was weak, like the world’s problems should easily rest on his shoulders. Everything was designed that way, and Hotch knew Derek would let him take it on...he just had to ask.

“Jack’s plane lands in an hour,” Hotch said quietly, slipping his hand inside of Derek’s and slotting their fingers together. “We should go together. Maybe we can get a drink and wait. Just us.”

“My mom will be pissed if I don’t at least go in and say hi.”

“She’ll understand.”

“Let me pop in and say hi. I’ll be right back.”

Derek didn’t wait for Hotch’s approval before getting out of the car and bounding toward his mother’s apartment building, leaving Hotch in the car with the engine purring and the heater on full blast. Hotch began adjusting the seat, trying to make himself more comfortable, straighten out his leg a little. Cars weren’t built for tall men with leg injuries, that was for damn sure. He had himself somewhat comfortable by the time Derek slid back into the driver’s seat and popped the car into gear. They didn’t speak for at least a full mile, and when they did Derek’s voice was throaty and gruff. The way it always got when he was on the verge of tears.

“How do I ask him if his coach…”

“How would you have wanted your dad to do it, if he’d still been around?”

“My dad would never have let something like that happen right under his nose.”

Hotch nodded and let out a little sigh. “I know. We’re playing pretend here, though. If your dad suspected someone was being inappropriate with you, how could he have asked you in order to get your full cooperation?”

“My dad woulda just asked, he never worried about the right way to say anything...he just knew. He would have put me in his cruiser, bought me a grape soda, and asked me about my life like I was his partner and we were just out on the beat.”

“Trey likes Fanta Orange,” Hotch offered, rubbing his thumb into a dreadfully sore place on his knee. The hinge was rusty from disuse, that’s what it felt like. He needed some WD-40. “And he loves your old truck. Take him out for a drive, go shoot some hoops with him, meet him where he lives.”

“I’m gonna have to tell him.”

“Do you really think his mom hasn’t ever said anything about Buford before? I bet she said some pretty nasty things when she was high as a kite and mad about us taking Max in.”

That thought made Derek’s heart squeeze and he struggled against panic to draw a breath, his hands squeezing tight around the steering wheel. “She wouldn’t.” He knew she would, though. And Trey had probably been young enough not to understand it, not really. Youth and innocence had a way of glossing over ugly truths. He remembered the exact moment when the knowledge became apparent in Jack’s eyes, what had happened to his mom, what had happened to his dad. He’d asked Derek about it because asking his dad about Foyet felt too real, too painful. “I sat on his hospital bed,” Jack had said with big tears in his eyes. “I didn’t understand, I just thought he was sick.” And of course Derek just hugged him and said that was more than could ever have been expected of a boy his age to handle, no matter how the guilt ate at him now over leaving his father when he was at his lowest point. “You couldn’t have known, your father wanted it that way.” But Derek could remember months later, when Hotch called him as he walked out of the prison holding Carl Arnold, when he could scarcely speak around the pressure building in his chest and his words came out in strangled gasps. Hotch would never have wanted Jack to witness that, to know about that, to have that taint his life.

“He’s the same age I was,” Derek whispered, staring intently at the red light in his face. It glowed and bounced over the windshield, and Hotch closed his eyes. “Same damn age.”

“Let Garcia and I do some digging. We still don’t know if Serena can be trusted, she’s not exactly in her right mind.”

“I know.” And he did. He’d scoffed at first when she said it, because he knew she was just as likely to be looking for a way to hurt him as anything else. Open up old wounds for her own amusement. It was still possible.

“If he’s anything like Buford was, you won’t find anything in his records.”

“No, but I think Garcia and I know how to read between the lines.”

Derek nodded and floored the gas, speeding through the deserted downtown streets. Everyone was gearing up for the holiday, they had the place to themselves.

“I hate this shit. We’re never done with it. Nothing is ever good.”

“You don’t mean that,” Hotch said a little indignantly. He didn’t want to get his feelings hurt, Derek didn’t mean to make it out like they didn’t lead good quiet lives. Like they hadn’t made it out, made something out of all the years of trauma.

“I don’t know, maybe I do,” Derek huffed. “No matter how much therapy we do, no matter how high we climb, no matter what we do...it’s always there. The memories, the pain, it’s always there. I don’t know how you did it, staying in Virginia all that time with your dad around every corner, with Foyet on everything. I know it hurt like hell. I work at my old school, I live down the street from the rec center, I see pieces of Buford everywhere, they’re like a stain on this neighborhood.”

Hotch didn’t have an answer to that, but he didn’t think Derek really wanted him to say anything. He needed to let out some of this steam before he exploded. They managed to get to the airport with plenty of time to spare, but that drink didn’t sound very appealing now. Instead they just sat in the car with it idling in the parking lot and watched planes take off and land in the night sky. One of them would be carrying their son who would pick up on this mood right away.

“What if Jack talks to him?” Hotch asked, turning his head only slightly to gage Derek’s reaction. “What if Jack just asks him how basketball is and what his coaches are like? He could get a feel for it.”

“I don’t want Jack to know. He’s just a kid, Aaron.”

Hotch hummed and nodded. He was grasping at straws. “We could see if Max knows anything. He took Trey out for lunch last weekend, he might have felt it if something was off.”

“You don’t think he would have said anything to us?”

“I don’t. I think he’d keep it quiet. He’s coming to your mom’s tomorrow…”

“I’m just gonna ask him. Maybe on Friday, or over the weekend.”

“I think that’s for the best. If you need me to do anything, Derek...please just tell me. I’m injured, not useless. You’re not on your own here.”

“I know. It just feels like I should be. You’re hurt, you shouldn’t be taking all of this on when you need to be resting.”

“Trey is more important than my foot. I’ll manage. Just don’t cut me out and try to do all of this on your own, please. I’m your partner and breaking my foot didn’t ruin me.”

An airplane dropped low overhead and drowned out all other sound. Hotch lifted his hand to cover his ear, forever too sensitive for loud noises and getting worse as he got older. Derek craned his neck to peer up into the sky, watching as the lights on the belly of the plane slipped over them and down onto the runway. “That’s probably Jack’s plane,” he said, changing the topic abruptly and Hotch nodded.

“Let’s go inside.”

“I’ll go, you can wait out here.”

“Derek I can’t sit in this car another minute, I need to get up and move.” His foot was on fire, the blood pooling there. He had to get up and move, he had to do something because every second he sat there nudged him closer to the thought that his foot might actually explode from the pressure. He didn’t think that was possible, exactly, but the kind of week he was having...well it wouldn’t have been that surprising either. If you’d told him how easy it would be to break bones in his foot, he would have called you a liar...right up until he stepped over his new puppy and did exactly that.

“Yeah, okay. I hear you. Let’s go get our kid huh? I’m tired of being the only one who rags on you for trying to do too much. I miss my partner in crime.”

“It’s bad enough with one of you, two is going to be a nightmare.”

Derek helped Hotch out of the car and onto his crutches, hanging close by while he got his bearings. He leaned back against the door, closing his eyes against the pain in his joints at the movement, and when he figured it was about as good as it could get he opened his eyes and leaned forward to give Derek a kiss. Derek, realizing suddenly how little real physical affection they’d had the last few days that wasn’t deeply entrenched in him just taking care of every day things for Hotch, slipped his hands over Hotch’s narrow hips and held him close. Thumbs grazed beneath the elastic waistband of his track pants, tracing the lines of bone and sinew, pressing his own hips against him.

“You think Jack’s alone?” Derek asked, warm breath against Hotch’s waiting mouth. Locked in a series of small, delicate fluttering kisses. Hotch blinked stupidly and felt his breath hitch in his throat.

“You think he’s bringing someone home for the holiday? Like a…”

“Boyfriend or girlfriend or something? Yeah. Kids do that.”

“Jack wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t he?” Playing coy had always come naturally to him, a fact that was endlessly troubling to Hotch who struggled with reading those kinds of cues. It wasn’t that he couldn’t tell, it was that it instantly gave him pause and made him reconsider every word spoken up to that point, made him wonder if he’d missed some intricate web of lies. And now that he wasn’t with the BAU, now that his life wasn’t bent on reading these cues, he’d done his best not to worry about them. He didn’t need to know if Jonesy who owns the bodega on the corner is selling things he shouldn’t or if the kid who works the counter at his favorite coffee shop skims the tip jar every now and then when it’s two days before his paycheck and he’s hungry. (And okay, that wasn’t exactly true because while he turned a blind eye to Jonesy and his ways, he’d mentioned to Tony that stealing from the tip jar is stealing from his friends and if he needed a sandwich he could always just ask Hotch when he came in, he’d be more than happy to spring for a bagel or a sausage muffin rather than see him sink to that level. Tony’s immediate response was to bristle at the sanctimonious man admonishing him for stealing two dollars from a jar, but he eventually softened up.) “Come on, we gotta get moving or we’ll miss him. Your slow ass is gonna have to pick up the pace.”

“Derek I’m starting to think you know something I don’t. Is Jack bringing someone home with him?”

Derek only smiled and kissed Hotch again, this time lingering in place, refusing to answer. It was frustrating, but solid. Derek wasn’t going to budge.

Hotch would just have to wait and see.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t exactly what he’d been thinking when Derek mentioned that Jack might be bringing someone home with him. The implication being that Jack may have been seeing someone, Hotch worked himself up as they moved slowly through the parking lot and into the airport. The harsh lights set him on edge and he narrowed his eyes into little slits, waiting out their adjustment. Derek didn’t seem to have any trouble, but he didn’t have to maneuver on crutches so he could hide the shock a little easier. They found a perch on which to wait, just outside the security check, Hotch standing with his foot resting on a chair beside him while Derek paced back and forth, checking his messages. His anxiety was troubling Hotch.

“Derek,” he said when he made a pass close enough to hear. “Why don’t you come sit down?”

“Not right now,” he said, taking longer steps. So much nervous energy, like electricity crackling over his skin. “I’m sorry. Got a lot on my mind.”

“I know. You’re not going to solve the world’s problems by pacing the airport, though.”

Derek shot Hotch a glare that said back off, and there was a time in Hotch’s life he might have sent the glare right back but not anymore. There was more he could say, and maybe he would, but not now. He turned his attention to the security gate and waited to see his son’s face instead. Jack had only been gone for four months, but it felt like a lifetime. How he’d gone from barely seeing the boy in his young years to being attached and used to having him around constantly was a miracle that he still hadn’t fully grasped.

Airports are a funny thing. Silence flooded all of the spaces, employees hidden in alcoves or behind computers like beings in stasis...just waiting. Hotch watched a man at a computer staring at the screen like he was waiting for something to happen, every now and then glancing up and to the left, then the right. No one was coming, but the anticipation that vibrated off of him said they would be soon. He was charging up.

And then the deafening roar of hundreds of footsteps coming down the marbled hallway, three planes worth of passengers descending on the quiet waiting area all at once. A hum of voices, a symphony at first with no real discernible words or individual voices followed by conversations breaking out louder than others. Holiday plans, where the baggage claim was, who was going to call for the cab or find the shuttle. The noise hurt Hotch’s ears and Derek stepped instinctively toward him, a protective habit they both had. Strength in numbers. Always have back-up. You could take the men out of law enforcement but you can’t take the law enforcement out of the men, that’s what all of Fran’s neighbors loved to say when the two of them slipped back into their old habits. Going to the bathroom as soon as they entered a restaurant, surveying the landscape, noting safe zones and exits before being able to sit down and eat with their families. Some might call it PTSD, and maybe in some ways it could be construed that way, but neither of them thought it crossed any lines. They were just cautious.

“There he is,” Derek said, pointing toward Jack’s head bobbing in the crowd. He was turned to the side visiting with a tall man in a ballcap, and Hotch...well it wasn’t exactly a sigh of relief when he recognized the face, but it was something. It wasn’t a significant other.

It was Sean. “Did you know Sean was coming?”

“Jack mentioned it,” Derek said with a little smile. His face did look relieved and for that Hotch was grateful. He deserved that moment of peace. “You know how it is with Sean. Can’t count on anything until you see it with your own eyes, that’s why I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t stand the disappointment if he flaked.”

“Thank you,” Hotch replied quietly. As Jack approached, the crowd dispersing around them, Sean seemed to almost draw back. He slipped into step behind Jack by a few paces, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder, and Hotch knew it wasn’t likely he’d brought anything else. Sean traveled light even before prison, but now he lived by what he could carry with one arm. It hadn’t been all bad for him, he’d managed to find the right sorts of people in prison to count as comrades. Keeping quiet, keeping his nose clean and his head down, he made do. It was a short stay in a minimum security – Hotch had managed that much on his brother’s behalf. He didn’t belong there, not really, and he could have pulled some strings and had him released...but they both agreed, in the end, that maybe it was for the best. Sean didn’t have a history of accepting responsibility for his shortcomings and failures, so this would be a lesson. He was in prison while Hotch was in witness protection, both of them released around the same time, both willing to start trying to rebuild. And they did for a time, until their mother died and the link that connected the two of them became weaker.

“Hey,” Sean said with the demeanor of a child hoping that dad didn’t know he’d broken out a window with a baseball. “I heard you might uh...need some help for a while.”

“It’s good to see you,” was Hotch’s reply, an immediate olive branch. Derek had already wrapped Jack in a long hug, holding him tight and close. Sean approached Hotch cautiously and struck out his hand for a shake, noting the way Hotch’s demeanor cried out to stay back. But Hotch took his hand and pulled him close, leveraged the hand shake into a hug. “I mean it. It’s good to see you.”

Sean relaxed into the hug, shoulders sagging against his brother and he nodded, hugging him back harder. “You too.” That statement was loaded and Hotch gave him a little pat on the back, a nod, a smile.

“How long are you staying?”

“I’m uh...I’m between jobs now so I can stay as long as you need. Maybe fly back to New York with the kid after Christmas.”

Christmas was over a month away, and Hotch knew Jack was only going to be staying for the week and then heading back. They hadn’t even discussed Christmas plans yet. He stalled there momentarily when Jack approached with his arms open, waiting for a hug from his father patiently. Hotch leaned toward him, still stationary with his knee on the armrest of the chair and pulled his son close.

“Hey buddy,” he said, like he was talking to five, ten, fifteen year old Jack...not a grown man living on his own in a city hundreds of miles away and doing just fine. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, dad.” Hotch knew he was obligated to say that, but he could feel the truth in it and that made him feel good. That Jack hadn’t been so desperate to escape him and their lives that he would dread coming home. The possibility had been very real for a long, long time.

“Where’d you park?” Jack asked, holding his hand out to Derek expectantly. “I’ll go bring the car around so dad doesn’t have to walk.”

“Let’s go together.” Derek wouldn’t just hand his keys over, even if Jack was a great driver. He wanted a minute alone with Jack and Hotch thought he might have some reasons for it that had nothing to do with the driving situation...was he coming around to the idea of Jack being involved? Maybe, maybe not. It wasn’t Hotch’s business, not right now anyway. They were both men who could do what they wanted and if he needed to be let in on it, he would be.

It was Jack behind the wheel when the car came to a stop and idled in the pick up lane, Derek jumping out to open the door so Hotch could slide into the backseat of the car. Sean got in the passenger seat, Derek taking up his perch in the back with Hotch, allowing his leg to be propped up on his lap. He could tell immediately how much more comfortable this was for Hotch and wondered why neither of them had bothered to think of it before.

“Where to?” Jack asked and Derek instructed him to head for home.

“We’ll drop Aaron off, then we can head to my mom’s house to check on the food and grab Penelope and the kids.”

“Does Hank know I’m coming back?”

“Nope, we kept it a secret.”

“Cool. I brought him some presents from Yankee Stadium, he’s going to lose his mind when he sees some of this stuff.”

Hotch smiled and rested his cheek against the cool window, closing his eyes. He’d never been able to tolerate being in the backseat, it had always made him feel sick, but the relief it gave him over the pain in his leg was more than enough to counter any of the feelings of illness. In any case, he was surprised when they pulled up at the house in and Sean helped him get into the house while the car pulled away into the cold Chicago night. Sean who had spent some of his formative years caring for his older brother’s mysterious injuries, never really understanding where they came from until much later. Feeling guilty that it was never him, that he hadn’t known, that he hadn’t helped. Part of his ongoing rehab program was making amends, and maybe now he would find the courage to finally make this one...the most important one. It was a long time coming.

(x)

Thanksgiving was good, a welcome distraction from the heavy burden of life for their little family. They whole up feeling whole, with Hank sleeping in Jack’s bed with him, hardly able to leave his side out of pure shock and excitement. He’d missed Jack terribly, he’d been so lonely since he left for college. Jack and Hank woke early and ate a bowl of cereal while Derek helped Hotch shower. He tried not to think too hard about how that looked, though it was hard. Adult minds wandered down dark alleys that a child’s mind wouldn’t dream and in this instance, he wished he could be so innocent as Hank not questioning the mechanics of their dads showering together.

Meanwhile, Sean was helping Trey get a few of his boxes unpacked in his bedroom, trying to get to know the kid, to bond with him a little. They were going to be roommates for a while, at least until Jack or Penelope left, whichever came first. Sean had an air mattress and some blankets, he was good to go.

He was also flirting with Penelope in the kitchen, insisting he could make her a vegetarian breakfast to die for. “I worked in this vegan cafe for a while,” is where it started, and while he couldn’t stand the food, he’d gotten very good at making it. He figured it had a lot to do with his palate not being accustomed to the overly healthy flavors of the meat substitutes and needing to spice them up until they tasted like food. When the cafe closed down due to a change in building ownership (and some ongoing drama surrounding their lease), he almost missed the stuff. Penelope didn’t mind his flirting in the least.

“Fran will smell it on our breath,” Hotch insisted as he sat patiently allowing Derek to bandage up his foot. He could have done it on his own, but it was such a simple thing for Derek to take control of he figured he could allow it. As long as it didn’t become a distraction. “You can’t make food.”

“She does breath checks?”

“She does,” Derek said. “She allows the kids to have something small – cereal, a piece of toast, a fruit. But the grown ups have to come with an empty stomach. She was a cop’s wife, she has her ways.”

“Bet that’s easy for Aaron,” Sean muttered, staring mournfully into the fridge. He was starving and not at all accustomed to eating on any sort of schedule. Sean didn’t really do much of anything on a schedule these days. He was used to floating around, coming and going as he pleased. Sure, there had been some adjustment after the time he spent locked up when every single part of his life was categorized and itemized and accounted for. He’d gone a little crazy trying to emulate that kind of routine for some time, until he realized it didn’t serve him and now he was back to his free floating nature. He was doing better, though. Balancing his need for freedom with making good choices. Better choices, anyway. He wasn’t perfect and never would be.

He’d continued smoking cigarettes, a fact that bothered Hotch sometimes (but Sean was sure it was because he was jealous, - he’d enjoyed it so much and given it up for plenty of very good reasons but it was obvious he missed it), but he’d given up drinking alcohol entirely. No drink, no drugs, just his nicotine. Penelope followed him outside with Paige while he smoked in the backyard, careful to mind the direction of the wind so she wouldn’t have to smell it. She spared him most of the anti-smoking lecture, a kindness he mistook for her flirting back. Or maybe it wasn’t a mistake, maybe it was. “So that’s the dog that tried to kill Aaron?”

“The very same. She’s not a very good assassin yet. Give her a few years.”

“She’s cute.”

Penelope nodded and crouched beside the puppy, scratching her behind her big floppy ears. “Yeah...she’s okay…” she whispered in a sing-song voice dripping with love. If Derek tried to pull the we’re giving her back thing again she might just lose her mind.

“I can’t believe they won’t let us eat anything...look at those kids munching up that cereal while we starve.”

“You’ll never want to see food again once you see what we made. Believe me.”

“Are there veggie options for you?” Sean asked, taking a long, slow drag on his cigarette. It didn’t even taste good, not without coffee and toast to go with.

“I made a few things. Why? Are you giving up meat?”

“No, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t being left out.”

“Oh...really…” she said with a smirk, her eyes twinkling. Sean couldn’t help the smile he gave her back, charming and wide. He wasn’t hiding anything and she didn’t mind one bit. From the first time she saw him, she’d been smitten. Of course some of his choices over the years had put her off but he was doing better now, making something more of his life.

Showing up to Fran’s with their convoy on foot, they noticed how many people were sitting on the stoop enjoying the unseasonably warm day. It was overcast slightly, gray clouds dancing around the sun, but the breeze was almost warm. They had opted to walk, knowing that the street would be loaded with cars and Hotch said he wouldn’t have any trouble at all navigating his way on crutches. “I’m going to be sitting all day,” he’d said, insisted really. This would be the only time he’d spend upright until the trip back home. They went slowly, giving him time to set the pace while everyone else carried the dishes they’d been responsible for.

Derek handed the crutches off to Sean and insisted on helping Hotch up the stairs, mostly to keep him close. It was easier to put Hotch between him and the railing and help him hoist himself up the stairs one by one than it was to watch him try to maneuver hopping and crutches all the way up. The last thing he wanted was to deal with his mother asking why he had let his husband do that all on his own.

Inside, Fran had the recliner all set up for him with an electric blanket preheated. “She’s already pushed four people away from that seat,” Sarah said, helping them navigate the tight spaces so Derek could get Hotch situated with his ice packs. “Can I get you something to drink?”

She brought them each a coffee and all but pushed Derek out into the crowd, forcing him to mill around. Hank had already taken off toward where the kids were playing in the hallway while Jack and Trey slipped through the crowd to find Max who had shown up early that morning and helped get everything ready. There had to be at least twenty people inside the apartment and another thirty milling around on the stairs and the stoop. It was overwhelming, but Hotch’s corner wasn’t too bad. Sean took a seat on the folding chair beside him, poking around at the puzzle.

“This is yours, huh?” he asked, knowing his brother. “You were born old.”

“It’s calming,” Hotch replied a little indignantly.

“Yeah. Keep telling yourself that, old man.”

When enough people had managed their way through, Sarah and Desiree announced that it was time for the prayer and could everyone squeeze inside the apartment. People flooded the place and Hotch found his foot being bumped into more than once, an electric bolt of pain shooting up his leg each time. It was Derek who led everyone in prayer, at his mother’s request, though he still hadn’t made his peace with the church. He would do just about anything for his mother, and he always managed to keep it carefully neutral, more about thanks and love than God. Hotch beamed with pride watching him pronounce love and family over the meal, at least until one of the kids from downstairs rushed past his chair and slammed into his legs, her own feet going out from under her. He let out an involuntary yelp and sealed his mouth shut tight, tears springing to his eyes almost instantly. The little girl started crying over the collision and Hotch felt awful, he wanted to reach out to soothe her but his own body was locked up from the pain. Sean scooted around the table and put his hand on Hotch’s arm, placing his body between his brother’s injury and the rest of the crowd while the girl’s mother tended to her crying daughter.

“You okay?” Sean asked in a concerned whisper and Hotch did his best to nod – what else could he do?He wasn’t going to die and the kid was crying, she hit him so hard it probably knocked the wind right out of her. “I’ll get Derek when he’s done.”

“No, don’t. It’s fine.”

“It could be worse, Aaron. She ran into you full speed man.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m having surgery on Monday anyway. Don’t worry about it.” Sean hated that strange defeatist attitude, it was wrong on just about every level. He’d never heard his brother say something so pathetic – he’d never seen him give up, that was really the biggest problem. Hotch was a fighter, to the point that it drove Sean absolutely mad, but he didn’t seem to have any in him.

“Damn,” Sean said, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m tired, Sean,” was the reply and that sounded even worse. “I’ve been in constant pain for four days now, I’m just...tired.”

“Where’s the fight?”

“Sean.”

It was a warning shot fired, one that Sean didn’t much care for. He wasn’t looking for a fight but this wasn’t his brother. “I think you broke more than just your foot,” Sean said finally, standing up and stalking over toward Derek standing in a circle of older women who all appeared to be flirting with him.

“Talk to you a sec?” Sean asked when he had a break between the women gushing over Derek’s speech. Derek assured them he’d be right back and slipped over to the side, standing huddled close to Sean, waiting. Sean was going to complain about something, that much was abundantly clear by the look on his face. “What’s up with him?”

“He broke his foot, Sean. What do you expect?”

“You ever seen him act so damn defeated though? It’s like he’s given up on everything.”

Derek glanced through the crowd of people and watched as Hotch lay in his chair, eyes closed, and it did strike him as sad. Hotch wasn’t exactly much for parties, it was fairly common to find him stuffed off in a corner somewhere having a deep conversation with one person, usually Anthony or Yvonne, but this time he was just on his own. His features were pinched in pain and even from this far away Derek could tell it was more than just the usual ache.

“What happened?”

“Couple kids were playing tag and the little girl slammed into his leg pretty good. She was crying so you know she hit him hard.”

“Maybe we oughta move that chair huh? I’m sure my mom thought he’d like to be in the mix but maybe it’s more dangerous than it’s worth. Give me a hand.”

Hotch wouldn’t budge, though. Fran put the chair there for a reason and he was going to stay, even if he spent the whole day being bumped into. At least there was a little of the fight Sean had been missing, it was just direction in the wrong way. Derek settled for getting him a couple of ice packs and setting up camp in a chair just to the side of his legs so if anyone was going to bump something, it would be him.

And they did. He ended up with wine on his jeans and gravy right down the front of his shirt. At least Hotch wasn’t getting it, though.

(x)

It was Jack that approached them about Trey’s situation, after the festivities of the day had concluded and they were nestled back in their quiet home. Hank was playing Minecraft with Trey up in his bedroom, half asleep and half buzzing on his two pieces of pie covered in whipped cream. It was a combination only a seven year old could manage and Trey was handling it like a saint, tucking him in beneath a warm blanket and handing him a controller and power over a new world. Their distraction gave Jack the time to find his father leaning up against the bathroom counter, hips digging into the edge for support so he could brush his teeth without assistance. He was getting by.

“Dad,” Jack said, nudging the door closed behind him. Hotch watched in the reflection of the mirror, trying to mask the concern on his features.

“Yeah bud?”

“Trey said something to me today about his basketball coach that seems...strange.”

“How so?” Hotch felt his stomach twist and he spoke around the toothpaste quickly, brushing a little faster to disguise the way his whole body tensed up.

“You can’t tell him I told you,” Jack started, sitting on the edge of the tub. He’d always loved this bathroom, how big it was, the tub that was more like a pool – at least when he was smaller. It didn’t seem so big now that he was full grown, now that he was as tall as his father.

“You know I can’t promise that,” was Hotch’s reply, spitting into the sink and swishing water around in his mouth before washing it all down. “If it’s something important, I have to deal with it.”

Jack sighed miserably. “I know. I know that. I just don’t want him to be mad at me.”

“I may already have an idea, and if it’s what I think it is...his mother voiced a concern to Derek already yesterday so it wouldn’t be on you.”

“So you already know?”

“I said I may have an idea. I don’t know anything. Serena mentioned that she had concerns about his coach. He doesn’t have practice again for a few days, we figured we had time to find a way to talk to him before letting him go back. Serena isn’t exactly the most reliable source.”

Jack nodded and turned on the hot water, knowing that a bath was on his father’s list for the night. Derek had mentioned needing to start filling the tub while he was unpacking all of the leftovers his mother insisted on sending home with them; the tub took forever to fill. Hotch watched his son find the right temperature and waited patiently, holding onto the counter for support while he stood on one foot like a damn flamingo waiting for information he didn’t want to hear.

“He asked me if my coach ever asked for favors or called me special.”

“What kind of favors?” Hotch saw a dark look flash over Jack’s features and frowned. “Okay. You didn’t ask. What did you tell him?”

“I said I didn’t think any coaches should be asking for favors from kids, first of all. And I said that sometimes my coaches called me talented, but never special. They also called me knucklehead and made me run laps for talking back. He laughed at that.”

Hotch scrunched up his nose at the thought of his quiet, thoughtful son talking back but then he’d been raised by Haley and Derek who had no qualms about speaking up or making a joke (ill-timed or not). Jack’s personality was a reflection of that more than his own reserved nature.

“Did he say anything else?”

“No, he just shrugged and changed the subject. Please don’t tell him I told you.”

“I won’t.”

“Do you think his coach is…”

“That isn’t something you need to worry about. Let us handle that. Why don’t you tell Derek you started the bath for me, and then go play Minecraft with the other guys? You’ve been playing adult all day...go be a kid. That’s what coming home is for.”

“Really? I thought it was to help my lame dad who decided to get himself hurt at the holidays.”

Hotch feigned hurt as he used the counter to hop over to the toilet and begin unwrapping the copious amounts of bandages Derek had wrapped his foot in today all because he mentioned in an off-hand way that his foot was cold and he couldn’t get a sock over it. Derek solved the problem with gauze and ace bandage. No more cold toes, but he had bandages over an inch thick surrounding his foot.

“Well you thought wrong,” Hotch replied with a smile. Jack watched him unwrap his foot and scrunched his nose at the look of his foot beneath the bandages. Scrunched his nose in the exact same way his father did, a near mirror image of him. The foot was swollen with deep purple and red bruising, it looked a lot more gruesome than he’d imagined. When he broke his wrist sliding in to home plate years ago, clipping the catcher’s cleats with his thumb and jamming it all the way back the wrong way, it hadn’t looked this ugly.

“Dad…”

“Jack, it’s okay. It looks worse than it feels.” Not entirely true, but close enough. “Jack. Really. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Dad it’s not fine...you didn’t even fall, you just stepped weird. How bad would it be if you fell?”

Hotch sighed and stretched his leg out, resting his heel gingerly against the floor. “The doctor said the same break could have happened to anyone, you don’t need to worry that I’m fragile.”

“It’s just...with your heart...and everything else…”

“It could have happened to anyone.” Hotch knew there was nothing else he could say, this was what his son inherited from him. An anxiety that knew no bounds, and nowhere to put it.

“Is the surgery dangerous for you?”

“No surgery is without risk.”

“That isn’t what I asked, dad.”

“Why don’t you call Savannah and talk to her? She was going to try and make it back for the holiday but wasn’t able to. She will be here in a few days. You can call her now, though. Go. I’m getting in the bath and you don’t want to see that.”

“Wait for dad.”

Hotch narrowed his eyes at his son, taking on the sharp appearance of a hawk. It made Jack smile. “I can get in on my own.”

“Suit yourself,” Jack finally said with a dramatic eye roll. He wasn’t going to win this argument. He’d spent years learning when to throw in the towel, how far he could push his father before the point of no return and was, in his own humble opinion, an expert.

Hotch waited until Jack had shut the door with a resounding click behind him before rising to his full height and hobbling toward the tub. It was easy enough to get in, sitting on the edge and using the edges to slowly lower himself into the scorching hot water. The pillow was still resting in the same place it did the last time he was in a bath and it cradled his sore foot easily above the surface of the water. He breathed in the steam, a quiet sigh of pure relief after a long, loud people filled day. The silence of the bathroom surrounded him, blanketed him in warmth and peace. Steam filled the air, layering itself thick over all of the surfaces, and Hotch’s skin where it sat beneath the water was turning bright pink. He laid his head back and closed his eyes, thought of those old cartoons he would watch on Saturday mornings alone at the kitchen table, squinting to see the tiny television from where he was perched with his oatmeal. Watching Bugs Bunny sitting in a cauldron full of onions and carrots and boiling water, ready to be rabbit stew for the sake of the viewer’s laughter. He could remember giggling madly over the absurdity of it, wondering each time if he’d ever be the wiser. This time he was the one in the stew pot, cooking himself. He could see why Bugs might not have minded for a time.

“Aaron?” Sean’s voice drifted through the thick wood door. “You decent?”

“No.”

“Cover yourself up, I need to talk to you.”

“Go away,” Hotch drawled lazily, eyes still closed. Sean huffed out something barely audible and wandered off, or so it sounded, but he came back quickly and with a vengeance. He threw a towel down into the tub, the terrycloth slapping the surface of the water noisily and sinking as it became heavier and heavier until it obscured most of his chest and down to the fronts of his legs. It was cold at first and he shivered, but it warmed up quickly.

“We need to talk.”

“It could have waited.”

“Aaron...you guys are adopting a teenager?” Sean asked, not listening to his brother. He just plopped right down on the toilet and started in. “Now? You think now is a good time to take on a teenager?”

“Timing isn’t often up to us. He needed someone now.”

“I know, Aaron...I get it...but damn. You couldn’t have come up with a better option? One of Derek’s sisters maybe?”

“He knows us, we had guardianship over his older brother too. Why does it bother you so much?”

Sean groaned and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Because I can feel it, that kid’s gonna be a lot of trouble. And maybe it won’t be his fault, maybe he’s a really good kid...he seems like a good kid…” Sean sighed and shook his head. “But your body’s not gonna just bounce back after surgery. You can say it’s fine all you want but there are a lot of risks for you that no one is talking about. Things are going to be hard and I think you’re both ignoring exactly how fucking hard it’s going to be.”

“If you’re saying all of this because you think I’m going to beg you to stay…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m staying whether you ask me to or not. You guys are going to need the help, and if I don’t stay then Jack will and he’ll fail all of his classes for it. Can you live with that?”

“You’re both going back to New York.”

“Make me,” Sean said with a sideways smirk. “I’d love to see you try.”

The tub was too comfortable, too warm, and he was too relaxed. It was a perfect storm. But it stopped his leg from throbbing, it slowed his pulse to a crawl and made everything around him almost melt.

“That foot is gnarly. Wonder how it’ll look once it’s been sliced open.”

“I wasn’t ever going to win any beauty pageants,” Hotch replied, a little smug. He knew he was an eye sore with his clothes off. Maybe at one point in his life, so long ago now he couldn’t remember, he’d taken his shirt off with some confidence. Not in years, though. There were scars that cut up his torso into chunks, some tight and hairless, some scars deeper than others with puckered skin clinging to the edges. He’d long ago ceased feeling shame over them, it didn’t suit him, but he still didn’t go out of his way to expose them either. His foot was only going to match the rest of him soon. He wasn’t much of a sandals guy anyway.

“You want to get out? You’re looking a little pale. I can go get your husband to get your slippery ass out of here.”

“Another minute,” was the quiet reply. He was a little dizzy from the heat but getting out and back to the reality of hobbling around with one working leg sounded worse than riding out the gentle wave of dizziness. In the water, he could almost pretend the throbbing wouldn’t return.

(x)

The weekend before the surgery was predictably filled with activity. Derek was working on updating the house, adding bars to the bathroom walls so Hotch could maneuver on his own as much as he could. The easiest way to get a stubborn old mule like him to comply was to make it as easy as possible for him to be self-reliant.

Derek was certain that the post-op pain would keep him bed bound for at least a day or two, maybe more if they were fortunate. It would buy him some extra time to sort the house out. He’d managed to send Jack and Sean on an errand that would take them long enough that Hotch could nap peacefully, Hank had stayed at grandma’s house for the night to do all of their annual Black Friday shopping, Penelope was with his sisters dealing with all of the Thanksgiving leftovers delivering them to people in need all so he could have time with Trey all to himself.

“Hey D,” Trey said, holding Derek’s screw gun while he watched the older man poke molly screws into the holes. He was taking mental notes – he liked this stuff. Building. “My mom called this morning.”

“Yeah,” Derek grunted, pushing a little too hard into the drywall. It kicked up around his thumb and made the hole bigger than he wanted. Hearing about Trey’s mom put him on edge. “What about it?”

“She sounds bad.”

“She’s detoxing. That’s what happens when you’re an addict and you’re forced to stop doing the thing you’re addicted to.”

“Yeah...I know...I just feel bad, man. That’s my mom.”

Derek sighed and rocked back on his haunches, squaring up with Trey. “You want me to do something about it?”

“I don’t know. No. Yeah. Maybe...her bail’s not that much.”

“Trey, kid, we talked about this. If you’re gonna live here, she’s gotta stay in there and get clean. You said you wanted to live here. I got too much going on right now with Aaron to deal with all the crazy shit your mom will bring down on us if she’s out and using.”

Trey nodded, but Derek could see the sadness in his eyes. He hated to be the cause of that, he loved his own mom so much that he’d probably make all the bad decisions in the world to try and save her too. Lucky for him, his mother didn’t need saving. She was often the one doing the saving.

“I’ll see if I can pull some strings to make sure she’s getting the help she needs,” Derek said finally. “I’ll go see her again in a couple days, see how she’s doing. But you stay away. Don’t take her calls. Not yet, okay?”

“I don’t know if I can do that…”

“Just a couple of days. You both need a little space. Let the dust settle.”

Trey didn’t like it, but Derek could tell he wasn’t going to fight back. Not yet anyway. He had it good, better than he’d had in a while and for the time being he wasn’t about to blow it.

“While I got you here,” Derek said, his voice a little quieter as he went back to the job at hand. His heart squeezed in his chest. “I need to ask you something.”

“Jack told you, didn’t he?”

“Told me what kid?”

“He told you what I asked him. About my coach.”

“Maybe he did, but I actually heard something first from your mom. She’s worried about you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Derek watched out of the corner of his eye as Trey shifted uncomfortably and started to fidget with the box of screws.

“I thought that too,” Derek offered, working a little too hard to keep his voice casual. He had to be careful here. One wrong move and he’d lose his opportunity. He had to draw Trey in without being too intense, too preachy. Unfortunately it was starting to feel like he was being predatory himself, baiting the kid into talking to him.

“What’s that mean?”

“I thought your mom woulda told you. She loves to listen to herself talk, ‘specially when I piss her off. You mean she never once mentioned Carl Buford’s name when she was pissed at me for taking Max in?”

He was losing the casual air now. Just saying Buford’s name made his stomach twist in knots and his fingers lose feeling. Trey shrugged.

“I guess she mighta said his name once or twice but I didn’t listen much. She yells a lot, I kinda just tune it out.”

Derek laughed at that, the kind of laugh that ended in a shaky sigh. “Why?”

“Your coach kinda sounds like him, that’s all. Things he used to say and do.”

“What’d she tell you my coach does?”

“He ever single you out? Give you rides or stay in the same hotel room with you? He ever give you presents or pay for things he’s not doin’ for other kids?”

“He knows all about my mom. He’s just being nice.”

Derek had to stop himself from scoffing – he’s been around plenty of evil men in his time and everyone said the same thing. They never thought these guys were capable, they seemed harmless, they seemed nice. That was the game.

“He ever touch you, T?”

Trey dropped the box of screws, metal crashing to the floor and scattering everywhere. He stared at Derek incredulously, like he could will the words to be taken back but they hung there heavy between them. Trey searched Derek’s features for sincerity, for anger, for a hint at what he would do with the answer.

When he couldn’t decide what to say, he grunted and stood up instead. “This is bullshit.” He stormed out of the bathroom and down the hall toward the front door, blowing past Hotch who was lying on the couch with his foot propped up and reading a book. Or maybe he was sleeping with the book in front of his face, Trey never could tell these days – he seemed like he slept a lot. Derek had assured him it was normal, mending broken bones was hard work and Hotch spent so much of the night awake that he had no choice but to pass out during the daytime. Whether he was reading or sleeping, it didn’t really matter because he didn’t make any attempt to stop Trey from storming right out the front door. The door slamming behind him woke Hotch with a startle and he sat upright, his book hitting the floor with a thud, pages scrunching beneath the weight of the cover.

“Derek?” he called, confused and tired. Derek came walking down the hallway without any urgency, looking defeated.

“I asked him,” he said, as if Hotch could fill in the blanks without any trouble. His sleepy mind worked over the statement, trying to stitch it together. “Trey. I asked him about his coach.”

“Oh,” Hotch said, nodding and sliding back into his pillow. His whole leg ached from the knee down, ached so deep that it hurt in his stomach. “I guess he didn’t appreciate the intrusion.”

“Guess not.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“I dunno man. I probably wouldn’t.”

Derek leaned in the archway, watching Hotch. The way the afternoon sunlight danced over the flecks of silver in his hair and cast him in a golden glow. He was beautiful, even when his features were taught as he tried to mask his suffering.

“Where do you think he’ll go?”

“His mom’s place, probably. I’m not gonna follow him.”

“He’ll come back,” Hotch said after a drawn out silence. “I’m sure he will.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because he trusts you. Because if what we think is happening actually is...he knows you’ll help him.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“He’s going to make sure you know it.”

Derek hummed and nodded, realizing he had no choice but to accept that answer for now. He wasn’t going to try and follow the kid, so he had to trust that he’d come back. In the meantime, he approached Hotch and crouched beside him, tangling his fingers in the mop of messy black and silver hair and scratching at his scalp for a moment. Mindless touch.

“Can I help with anything?” Hotch asked. A silly question, maybe, but he was sure he could sit on the edge of the tub and at least hold things while Derek installed the old man kits. Derek just shook his head and leaned forward, resting his forehead against Hotch’s temple.

“Nah. You need to sleep. I’m gonna put Jack and Sean to work.”

Hotch hummed and closed his eyes, content to rest beside Derek as long as the other man would allow. They sat like that for a long time, Derek trying to draw the strength to continue. He had so much to do and such a little time to do it, but worse than that, his heart hurt.

He almost fell asleep where he sat, resting against the slow, rhythmic breathing of his husband who didn’t need much coaxing to sleep these days. His hand dropped to the pillow behind Hotch’s head and he found his own head becoming heavy, his eyelids closed, his shoulders sagging. He was so close to sleep that he didn’t hear the front door creak open quietly or the footsteps as the young man approached him apprehensively.

“D?” Trey whispered, tapping him on the shoulder gently. Derek let out a soft snorting noise, rising out of the grip of sleep and gazed up at the young man towering over him with tears in his eyes. “You got a minute?”

“All the time in the world, kid,” Derek whispered, yawning. He untangled himself from Hotch’s sleeping grip and rose to standing, arching his back, stretching and popping his vertebrae effortlessly. He didn’t think it had been that long that he’d been sleeping there on the floor but when he glanced at the clock he was shocked to find almost an hour had passed. No wonder he was so sore. “I’m hungry...you wanna hop in the truck and get some take out?”

“Yeah,” Trey replied, and Derek could see that he’d been crying. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot. “Sounds good. We can bring Aaron back a shake or something.”

“You know what’s up, huh?”

Trey let out a soft, sad little laugh and nodded. “Yeah. I got his number. He ain’t no mystery.”

Chapter Text

Derek’s truck was the kind of old that looked like it wasn’t going to start, not in a million years. There were spots of rust around the wheels and more on the bumper, the paint chipped in places all adding up to looking like it belonged in a junkyard, not on the road. But he babied that truck, he took such good care of it that it almost purred...if it had the sort of engine that purred, anyway. It made the typical clunk and rattle sound of old engines but ran like a charm. He’d driven Hank around in it as a baby, lulling him to sleep over and over again at the expense of his wallet. The thing guzzled gas like none other.

The interior smelled like leather and fast food. He’d never had the audacity to tell anyone not to eat in there, the only rule was that it had to be cleaned up. No fries on the ground, no soda spills on the console. Jack kept it in decent shape, forgetting only once or twice to give it a wipe down after but Max had always left it in better shape than he found it. Max had, on more than one occasion, mused aloud about inheriting the truck someday. “In your dreams, kid,” Derek would say, but he’d give it to the kid in a heartbeat anyway.

Trey, though...he really loved this thing. He loved everything about it. He wanted to learn how to build things, to work with his hands, to hunt and fish and do all sorts of things a kid like him hadn’t been closer to than watching a movie. Rumbling around in the truck with a soda in one hand and fries squeezed between their thighs, eating burgers dripping with cheese, that was Trey’s happy place. Derek’s burger had more pickles and lettuce than meat while Trey’s was nothing but a pile of meat and cheese. No sauce, no veggies, just two patties and a few gooey slices of cheese.

“Talk to me, kid,” Derek said when they finally reached an open stretch of highway. Just driving now. They’d get Hotch a milkshake on the way back, right now they had some talking to do.

“First off,” Trey replied, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He was careful not to get it on his clothes. “He never touched me. I know that’s what you think, and me leaving the way I did today didn’t help.”

“No it didn’t.”

“Well, he didn’t. That’s the truth. But he wanted to. He asked me. The first time I just pretended to be asleep, like I didn’t hear him. The second time he asked when we were eating pizza and watching a game.”

“But he didn’t do anything?”

“Nah. I told him I wasn’t no fag.” Trey looked at Derek, shame flooding his features, and Derek tried to mask the hurt. “I didn’t mean it. Not like that. I just thought if I said that...he’d stop asking. You know? I don’t care about any of that it was just all I could think to say. Like if I told him I only liked girls...that’s stupid of me. I know.”

“That stopped him?” Derek asked, his voice low and calculated. Shame still burned in his chest and he set his burger down inside his tub of fries, no longer hungry.

“He said he wasn’t either, but he left me alone after that.”

“Okay...so why were you talking to Jack?”

“Cos D. He left me alone, that don’t mean he stopped. I started noticing my friend Brad started acting weird and then I saw him in coach’s office one night. I don’t think Brad stopped him…”

“T…”

“So I went back and told him maybe I wanted to experiment a little. You know? Like maybe if he came back to paying attention to me he’d leave Brad alone...it was my fault he went after him in the first place, wasn’t it?”

“It was not, absolutely not kid. It was his fault. He’s sick.”

Derek didn’t know where he was exactly, he’d just gone on autopilot. Taking an exit, driving down dark bumpy roads, not too keen on having any light illuminating the emotion on his features.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t really work anyway. So now I guess...I don’t know what to do. I got no proof he’s doing anything to Brad and he won’t talk to me about it.”

“You did the right thing telling me. You’re really fortunate he backed off when you pushed him away...most kids aren’t so lucky.”

“I guess you weren’t, huh?”

“I wasn’t. I never had the guts to say no, though. I thought it was the only way, my life was a dead end without it. Like if I told him no I’d end up a banger like everyone else and my mom would have to live with my failure. I had no clue. Trey, you weren’t this man’s first, I guarantee it. And Brad won’t be his last. We gotta go talk to the police.”

“D…”

“It’s the only way to stop him. He’s gotta be locked up.”

(x)

“Hank! Your soup is almost ready, come on buddy!” Hotch was up, fiddling around in the kitchen with his knee on a chair, his bandaged foot dangling over the edge. It wasn’t comfortable by any stretch but it allowed him at least some relief, enough that he could function as a parent for his child. “Come on buddy, you have to get the table set.”

“Coming daddy!” Hank was rushing down the hallway with Paige trailing after him, nipping at his socked feet and barking in her high-pitched voice. When Hank saw the empty soup cans on the counter he frowned, scrunching up his nose. “Not the straight noodles…”

“I know you like the curly ones but we don’t have any of those left. They’re the same thing buddy.”

“No they’re not.”

Hotch smiled and shook his head, always amazed at the way children dug in on things. He could understand it, they looked different therefore they couldn’t possibly be the same. The simplicity of them being nothing but flour, water and salt was well-beyond the grasp of a second grader.

“Well, they’re close. You don’t have to eat the noodles if you don’t want to but I’m kind of limited here right now.”

“Uncle Sean could go get the one with the noodles I like.”

“Tomorrow Hank, okay? We’ll stock up tomorrow. Tonight you’re eating this.” His foot hurt and it was making him a little less patient than normal and Hank didn’t care for it, not one bit. He opened his mouth to argue but took note of the look on Hotch’s face and decided to get the bowls and spoons ready instead. He’d complain to Derek later about Hotch making him eat the noodles he didn’t like.

Derek’s entry came at a quiet moment, when Hank had slipped outside with Paige and Hotch was stirring the soup waiting for it to heat entirely through. He’d had to take more than one break, sitting down exhausted by the simple act of pulling things from the fridge, from the cupboards, getting the pot, the spoon, opening the can. Things he took for granted as simple. Effortless. Derek slipped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Hotch’s waist, nuzzling in behind his ear. “Let me finish that for you, baby,” he whispered, nipping at his ear lobe. “Go sit down. Trey brought you something.”

“Hank’s upset with me,” Hotch added with a smile as he grabbed for his crutches, more than happy to make his way back to the couch and let Derek take over with Noodle Gate. His foot hadn’t been feeling too bad most of the day but being up and moving reminded him that he had a long way to go.

“Why?”

On his way back to the couch, he regaled Derek with the story of the canned soup, the wrong noodle shape, Hank’s offense at the insinuation that they were the same. Derek couldn’t help but laugh. “The kid’s just mad that you’re hurt. I don’t think he’s ever cared so much about noodles.”

“Well tonight, it’s a dinner deal breaker.”

Derek’s answer was to remove all of the noodles from Hank’s soup, chop them up into little nibbles no longer spiraled, and dump them back in. It was a dare, more than anything, and it amused Hotch to no end. As he sank gratefully into the embrace of the couch, he felt good. He’d been up and moving for a while, he’d earned this rest. Right after Derek and Trey left, he’d started to get antsy, had to move his body or he’d perish was the long and short of it so he got up and took Paige outside even though Sean said he was going to do it as soon as he finished putting together the walker and getting their bedroom set up for him to be virtually non-ambulatory for a few days. She was turning around in circles chasing her tail and whining though so Hotch decided he could do it.

The crutches weren’t hard, he’d been on crutches plenty of times over the years and knew all of the ins and outs. They weren’t hard, but they were cumbersome, especially where sliding glass doors were involved. Once he was outside standing on the back porch breathing in the fresh air, his whole body relaxed into the feeling, even his shoulders that ached from the exertion of moving him around the house on their own. No more itchy need to move and to get out, everything eased. Paige ran around in the yard nipping at tall blades of grass and chasing her baseball excitedly. She’d been keeping him company, sticking close to him, sitting on his lap when he felt good enough to let her. Sometimes his legs hurt so bad he couldn’t bear it, and he knew that was about to be worse so he tried to enjoy her as much as he could in the meantime. Once they were back inside, Hank had announced he was hungry and took Paige back to his bedroom with him so he could finish cleaning while Hotch tried to figure out what he was capable of cooking. Noodle Gate was a less than desirable ending to his adventure, but now that his foot was propped back up on the ghost pillow under a big ice pack, he felt a sense of pride.

“How’s Sean’s list coming on?” Derek called from the kitchen. Hotch shrugged and closed his eyes.

“He’s been at it all afternoon. You and Trey have a good drive?”

“Yeah. We did, I’ll talk to you about it later. Your milkshake is on the table. It’s probably half melted by now.”

“It’s fine, thank you,” Hotch said, swiping his arm out to the side to grab the shake. His hand slipped in the condensation on the outside of the cup as he pulled it to his lips and relished the icy treat.

“Tomorrow I just wanna hang out. Enjoy our last day before the surgery. Maybe go get something really good for breakfast, just you and me. A date, huh?”

“I’m not sure I know how to do that,” Hotch replied, licking his lips. “It’s been so long.”

“Well, let’s start with a huge stack of pancakes and some coffee, we’ll figure it out from there. You think you’re up to that?”

“One last day of fun before I’m out of commission? Yeah. It sounds great.”

In truth, Derek was just feeling beat. Exhausted. Between the holiday and Penelope being in town, Sean and Jack looking for things to do and the whole situation with Trey, he was ready to just be alone with Hotch. Even if it only lasted a few hours – he didn’t have high hopes for Hotch being up for much more than a diner breakfast but he wasn’t going to be upset about that. If they had to lay in bed all day, he’d be up for that too. As long as it was just the two of them.

“You look ready for bed,” Derek said, wandering through the living room to collect dirty dishes and fold renegade blankets. Hank was eating his soup with a frown on his face, he knew better, he knew they were the same noodles but he wasn’t going to say a word. “Want me to see where Sean’s at in there?”

“Sure,” was Hotch’s reply, because he was tired and ready for bed, but more than that he could tell Derek was. “That would be great.”

“You want a shower tonight?”

“I’ll wait until tomorrow.”

(x)

They started their day with a shower. Not just a shower, but the kind that makes you wonder whether it would be feasible just to live in there. Waterproof everything, do your whole job in there, cook in there, live with the water pouring over your head. As Hotch contemplated the validity of this painkiller induced fantasy, Derek scrubbed at his body with the washcloth like he was bathing a child. “You need a shave,” Derek muttered, inspecting the stubble that seemed to multiply overnight. “Or are we going for mountain man while we’re rehabilitating?”

“Why not?” Hotch asked, turning his honey brown eyes up at Derek innocently.

“Sweetheart, you do whatever you want.”

That wasn’t the answer Hotch wanted. He was hoping Derek would counter with something simple, like neither of them liked when he grew a beard, like it was itchy, like food got stuck in it, but nothing. He just gave in.

“I’ll shave after the shower,” Hotch replied glumly and Derek grinned.

“How about I help you out now?”

By that he meant straddling Hotch’s lap in the shower chair, his naked skin against Hotch’s, wet and hot as he got as close as he could and shaved every angle with a meticulously steady hand, leaving no nicks and no stray hairs. He was far too skilled at it now to make mistakes, even when he could feel Hotch getting hard beneath him.

“Oh,” Derek said quietly, looking down into Hotch’s eyes, their noses and foreheads bumping. “Really?”

“I can’t help it,” Hotch replied, feigning innocence. He couldn’t, not really. He was only a man.

“Do you think we could?”

“I think anything is possible…”

It was hard work, but they managed with a little grace, a lot of patience and more than a few laughs. The rest of the morning, as they got ready to spend the day out and about in Chicago (which Savannah warned them was ill-advised and was going to end badly) everyone was giving them the side-eye. They knew.

“That was a long shower,” Penelope said as she slid eggs onto their plates. “Really...really long…”

“It’s not easy bathing an invalid,” Derek muttered, eyeing Hotch for the blush that would inevitably burn in his cheeks.

“Yeah. I’m sure that was it.”

Derek looked up at her pointedly. “Mind ya business, babygirl. We're going out for breakfast, save this for Jack. He has a flight today, might be the last home cooked meal that kid has for a while.”

(x)

Breakfast at their favorite diner wasn’t as nice as they’d hoped – it was crowded, and they wound up sitting in the doorway waiting for a booth for nearly 45 minutes. They spent most of the time talking in hushed whispers trying to figure out another place to go that was close, had things they would both want, and could accommodate Hotch on crutches. Some of their favorite places were far too small, not at all accessible, a fact they’d never had to consider before and were now more than a little irritated by. Derek made it a point to write himself a note with the intention of calling each of those places to ask them what they did to accommodate mobility aids, and if they did nothing, then why. He was more than a little incensed by the time they got to their table. They’d been sitting there on a cracked vinyl bench, Hotch’s feet propped up on his lap after the third person walked by a kicked them in the cramped space.

“Not how I wanted the day to start,” Derek said, helping Hotch slide into his seat before propping his foot up on the opposite bench. “You good?”

“Sit down,” Hotch instructed, his own voice a little agitated. “Please. You’re fussing.”

“I’m not fussing.” He did sit down though, right beside Hotch, and though he opened up the sticky oversized menus it was only for show. They both knew exactly what they wanted. Once the order was in and their waitress brought the carafe of coffee to the table with two stained mugs, things improved.

“What’d you do sugar?” Gloria asked, leaning over the table to slide Hotch’s little dish of jelly to his place. Three little containers, all orange marmalade, just the way he liked. Derek didn’t use jelly though he did sometimes steal a little of Hotch’s.

“Broke my foot,” Hotch replied quietly when Derek nudged him with his elbow, as if he wasn’t going to answer. He was quiet, not rude. But then, they were both a little raw this morning, a little on edge and he tried not to let that get under his skin. “I tripped over our new puppy.”

“New puppy!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together. Her long red nails clacked. “Do you have any pictures?”

Derek pulled out his phone and began thumbing through his gallery until he found one of Hotch and Paige snuggling on the couch watching a movie.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” she gushed, looking from Hotch to Derek back to the photo. “She’s a darling!”

“She’s caused a lot of trouble since she moved in,” Derek said, but his voice was lighter now that he was looking at the sweetest picture on his phone. Hotch was asleep, peaceful and covered in two of Hank’s blankets, one black and blue and yellow Batman blanket and the other neon dinosaurs. The colors were a stark contrast with the black and silver hair, and the puppy curled up against his chest.

“What’s her name?”

“Paige,” Hotch replied. “For Satchel Paige.”

“Of course. You boys and your baseball.”

“YO! GLORIA!” came a gruff call from the kitchen. Gloria stood and shouted something obscene back to the cook about being disrespectful before hurrying off toward the grill to grab some dishes. That was Derek’s favorite part of this place, how it was like being at home. A loud family that loved and yelled at each other, not like a stuffy restaurant at all.

Gloria brought them their meal, a huge shared plate of scrambled eggs and a stack of pancakes, two corners of wheat toast for Hotch and a little plate of avocado and tomatoes for Derek. When they finished their buffet style meal, she boxed up a piece of pie for them and wished Hotch luck on his surgery in the morning.

The rest of the day was shorter than they’d planned, but exactly the way Savannah predicted. They tried to watch a movie but Hotch found himself too uncomfortable sitting that long with his foot down and it was too packed to prop it up on anything. Ultimately they left halfway through the movie disappointed and ready to go home and take a nap instead.

That part was predictably good. Hotch took his painkiller and floated off to sleep against Derek’s chest for hours, only waking when Derek started to pull away saying he had to go get started making dinner. They had a schedule to keep to and Hotch had to stop eating soon.

“You sleep,” Derek said, kissing him on the sweaty skin at his temple. “I’ll come get you when it’s time to eat.”

(x)

“What in the convict’s last meal is this nightmare?” Penelope asked, staring at the kitchen counter covered in food. None of it went together, the flavor profiles were all over the place and she was more than a little horrified. Derek, on the other hand, looked rather proud of himself.

“It’s a bunch of Aaron’s favorite foods.”

“Yeah...but they’re not meant to be eaten together like this…” Savannah crowed from her perch near the window while she watched Paige and Hank play outside.

“It’s an abomination.”

“I just wanted him to be happy,” Derek muttered, a little less thrilled. “I couldn’t decide what to make. You know how he is, he’s probably not gonna eat for a week after tonight...I wanted him to have something he really likes if it’s his last meal for a while.”

“He can eat solid food as soon as he feels like it,” Savannah pointed out quietly, trying not to be too harsh with the man who was clearly hiding a lot of anxiety in the mess of foods on the counter. And not hiding it very well.

“He won’t though. You know him. Anesthesia makes him sick, he’ll be…” his voice trailed off as Hank began to pull the glass door open, letting the muddy puppy into the kitchen to get her little paw prints on the tile floor. Derek sighed miserably.

“Let’s keep the chicken and the potatoes,” Savannah offered. Penelope reached for the mop and followed the little boy and his dog dutifully until Hank’s shoes were off and the mud was off of the dog’s feet and on their floor. “I’ll make a salad, and we’ll have ice cream for dessert. We can freeze a lot of this for meals later. It’s good to have things on hand so you don’t have to cook, especially during the first week. I know he’s tough but surgery is going to be hard on his body and you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

Derek stared at the mishmash of foods he’d spent hours preparing and suddenly, with a flash of clarity, saw what they saw. A mess. His sink was full of dishes, and his counter looked...well...confused. “Yeah. Okay. That’s a good plan.”

Savannah grinned and pulled him in for a hug, her warm hand against the back of his neck, pressing her cheek against his. “I know.” She paused and gave him a kiss on the cheek before releasing him and clapping her hands together. “Let’s clean this mess up, get him out here and start eating. I’m starving.”

Once the three of them had cleaned up the mess Derek made, and the kitchen began to look like their home again, Derek found his anxiety ramping up again. There was a tightness in his chest, squeezing his heart and lungs painfully. “I’m scared,” he said when the two women had seated themselves at the table with glasses of wine after a job well done.

“I know you are,” Savannah said with a soft incline of her head. “I get it. I’m going to be there scrubbed in and ready if they need help. I know his medical history. But Derek, they won’t need me. This is a routine in and out procedure. They’ll probably keep him overnight, be ready for that. I know they’re saying it’s an outpatient deal but not with his history. It’ll be at least a one, maybe two night stay, and that’s a good thing. Did they prepare you for that?”

“They said it would be a decision to make post-op, something about putting the cart before the horse. They wanted to prepare us for the possibility but keep us hopeful that everything would go smoothly enough to go home. But you think that’s too optimistic?”

“I’d pack a bag, that’s all I’m sayin’. Penny and I will be here with the boys, you plan on staying with him. If you get to come home, great...but if not, we’re all ready.”

(x)

Dinner was quiet, no one really knowing what to say. Hotch sat and ate in silence, trying to force as much food into his nervous stomach as he could. He knew it was the last he’d eat for a while too. Not just until the next day, that was a pipe dream. But each bite made him feel sick. He wasn’t exactly nervous about the surgery, either, he was just feeding off of the energy from everyone else. Trey was watching him like a hawk with this too cool to be worried but very worried look in his eye, Sean was avoiding eye contact entirely, and Derek and Hank looked...well, just plain scared. Like they were never going to see him again. Penelope and Savannah were carrying on a quiet conversation among themselves, the only people who didn’t seem to think this was his last meal.

“How was Jack’s flight home?” Savannah asked, reading the room. Someone had to do something to save this meal before it got too damn depressing. “I know he wanted to stay.”

“Uneventful, he said he did some homework and it made the trip go fast. He’s already got a ticket to come back on the 17^th, and he’ll be staying through the first week of January. It’ll be nice to have him home for longer than a couple of days.”

“Is he liking school?”

“He likes the city,” Sean chimed in with a grin, coming to life. “That kid is always asking me to go with him on some historic tour or to just go see some random building. He’s really into all of the old architecture and the history of the city. I’ve lived there for almost twenty years and I’ve seen more of it since he moved there than I ever did before.”

Hotch smiled at that, at the way Sean was becoming a big part of Jack’s life. Maybe that was how it was always meant to be. Sean wasn’t in a place to be good for Jack when the kid was little, it would have been a disaster, but now that Jack was an adult and living on his own for the first time...this was where Sean could shine. Doing time had cleaned him up a little, reminded him that he did still have plenty to lose even when he felt like he was at rock bottom. He was still Sean, still cared more about his own freedom and lack of real obligations than ever trying to hone in on a career or get a better apartment than something one would consider a “bachelor pad” at best...but he was good for Jack. And he was here, in Chicago, tying himself to Hotch and his family until they didn’t need him anymore.

That wasn’t nothing. “You never took me on any historic tours when I visited,” Hotch muttered with a smile. Sean rolled his eyes.

“You never visited, you just came to solve murders. Besides, I said he’s asking me, not the other way around.”

“So Trey,” Penelope interjected, noting an icy chill between the brothers suddenly. They weren’t exactly arguing but she knew them well enough to see how easily it could go there, how it could turn from friendly ribbing to all out arguing. The hurt ran deep in their family, and they tried to move past it but it was just too much sometimes. Families could be complicated, and Sean was here now so she would salvage that the best she could. “What are you up to this week?”

“School,” he grunted, shooting Derek a piercing glare. He hadn’t been to class in over a week, not since his mom was arrested. Some of it was the holiday break, but mostly he’d just be showing up to eat breakfast and lunch, not bothering to do any of his work or even make attendance. Derek was going to spend the time Hotch was in surgery sitting in the principal’s office with Trey getting his attendance sorted and filling out guardianship paperwork.

“Don’t take that tone,” Derek said with a soft smile. “You’re gonna go back, and you’re gonna start acing those easy ass classes. No reason you should be failing woodshop kid.”

“I don’t even like woodshop, my mom just said it was what all the guys took when she was in school and it was an easy A.”

“Yeah, well, it ain’t an easy A. You take woodshop you can start doing what I do, fixing up old houses or building furniture. I took it in high school, didn’t get no easy A.”

“Yeah yeah.”

“How is your math grade?” Savannah asked, quirking an eyebrow. Derek poked at his plate and shifted in his seat, waiting for Trey to admit his entire report card was dismal.

“I’m gonna turn it all around. I promise.”

“Well, you have a whole house full of people who want to help you do that. As long as you put in the work, we’re all here. You got more geniuses under this roof than any kid has a right to, don’t waste it.”

“Derek, don’t be so hard on him,” Penelope said, nudging him in the shoulder. “Lighten up. He’s only a freshman. He has time.”

“Hey, uh...D?” Trey asked, his voice lowering an octave. “You got a minute? I need to ask you somethin’. In private.”

“Yeah kid,” Derek said, scooting himself back and excusing himself from the table. Everyone watched as the two of them left, making their way out onto the back porch. The conversation, had in the shadow of the evening sun, looked serious.

“What’s the deal?” Sean asked, looking at Hotch who only shrugged.

“It’s their business,” was his reply and everyone left it alone after that.

(x)

“What’s up kid?” Derek asked in a hushed voice, like the squirrels hunting over the icy winter ground for their hidden treasures would want to listen in on them.

“Brad called me, he asked if I’d come over tonight...he said wanted to talk…”

“And you think he wants to talk about that?”

“I don’t know. It sounded serious. Maybe he does. It ain’t like I haven’t asked him to talk to me before about it, but he always says nothing’s going on or it’s none of my business. Maybe coach is just using him to feel me out? I got a bad feeling about it…”

“You want me to come?”

“I know it’s the night before Aaron’s surgery and everything but I’m a little scared coach is gonna be there and like...I dunno...threaten me? Try to shut me up?”

“I’m not about to let anything happen to you kid. Aaron will understand if I have to leave for a bit tonight.”

Trey looked at him sadly, his dark eyes reflecting the orange from the setting sun, and he wondered at Derek. The first person who he’d ever been able to count on. He’d spent all day working himself up to asking for Derek’s help, preparing himself for Derek to say no, that he’d like to help but that it’s a bad time and Trey would just have to do it on his own...like usual. Every adult he’d ever known had given him that same answer time and again, and he usually did figure things out on his own. But Derek said yes, Derek said he’d come, he’d protect Trey and the kid didn’t quite know what to do with that feeling.

“Thanks D,” he said finally, his usually too-cool teenager voice fraught with emotion. Derek pulled him into a hug and signed.

“Everything’s gonna be okay.”

When Derek told Hotch, after dinner, that he was going to take Trey over to meet up with Brad he wasn’t met with any resistance. He thought maybe Hotch would have something to say, some reason why they shouldn’t go, but he only told them to be safe and by that he meant for Derek not to go unarmed. They may have been out of the BAU for years now, but old habits die hard, and once your life has been put on the line enough times you didn’t go into any situation unprepared. Derek strapped his ankle holster on, kissed Hotch on the mouth, told him he loved him and left without any real fuss.

“Don’t wait up,” he said as the door closed behind him.

(x)

Surgery didn’t really bother him anymore. It used to. He would spend the days prior agonizing over every little detail, making sure all of his ducks are in a row in case of the worst. He would look over everything, from the state of his refrigerator and stash of essentials like toilet paper and soap to things like calling his lawyer just to double check that all of his paperwork was in order. Just in case. His lawyer, a friend he’d managed to keep in touch with since law school, would laugh and tell him he was the most finicky bastard he’d ever met but he would do every little thing Hotch asked of him thoroughly nonetheless. And when Hotch pulled through the surgery (whether it was life-saving surgery or a simple dental procedure) he would inevitably get a card in the mail a few days later making fun of him.

Now, with a spouse, a big family, a grown son and a few others...he didn’t worry as much. His affairs were in order, and he had Derek to lean on for the rest. He called his lawyer the night before the surgery anyway, but that was mostly to talk. It was sort of tradition at this point.

“Terry,” Hotch said, swishing the water in his glass. It was going to be the last thing he ate or drank until after the surgery, officially. It was the perfect temperature.

“I was wondering if I’d be getting this call…” Terry sounded like he was in his car, the sounds of muffled traffic floated through the background.

“Did Derek already call you?”

“He did. How are you holding up big fella?”

“It’s just foot surgery.”

“Says the man who called to make sure his affairs were in order before having a root canal.”

“It was an extraction, and there’s nothing wrong with being cautious.” Especially as a single father, he almost added but decided to leave the wounded pride be. Terry was only teasing. He made big money every time Hotch’s predisposition toward anxiety made a little work for him, he wasn’t complaining. Hotch was easy, anyway. He was so organized.

“So I hear this was because of a puppy. He cute?”

“She, and yes. She’s very cute.”

“You’ve got a good surgeon over there I expect?”

“From what I understand. Derek’s ex-wife is a friend, she recommended him.”

“Good to have a doctor in the family.”

“And a lawyer who puts up with your middle of the night phone calls. Are you just heading out for a date or coming home?”

“Neither, if you must know,” Terry said with a guffaw. “I’m on my way to pick up my kid. It’s my weekend.”

Hotch frowned. He realized, all of a sudden, that he’d forgotten to send a card to Terry. How old was his son now, eight? Ten? He couldn’t remember. That was new for him, he always remembered those things. He had a day planner full of birthdays and holidays, phone numbers and addresses. He had a spreadsheet that he kept updated year-round for labels when it was time to send out Christmas cards. How did he forget Terry? (It dawned on him rather slowly that he hadn’t only forgotten Terry...he’d forgotten to do the cards at all. He usually sent them out just after Thanksgiving and he hadn’t even begun. It left an ache in his stomach that settled deep. Now he was a little anxious about the surgery.)

“Those days are difficult,” was what he said, knowing that Terry would understand exactly what he meant.

“They are indeed. Austin’s not too upset about it, though. He’s got two bedrooms, two Christmases this year…kid’s going to make bank from Santa.”

“He deserves it.”

“He’s nine, by the way. I know you wanted to ask and felt too guilty about it.”

“I’m sorry, Terry. I’ve been a terrible friend.”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind. I’ll tell Austin to expect the keys to a brand new Beemer to make up for it.”

Hotch laughed and finished the last of his water, feeling a little remorseful that it was gone. “I’ll get him some keys but you’ll have to buy the rest. You can take it out of what I pay you.”

“That would hardly cover a used ‘94 Honda Civic, Hotch.”

At that Hotch smiled and felt the anxiety melt away. “Thank you Terry.”

“Don’t mention it. Just come home from the surgery in one piece so I can mail you a card...I’ve got a really good one lined up.”

“I bet you do.”

(x)

When Savannah found him, it was late. Far past his bedtime, but there he sat on the couch with his nose shoved in a book. The lamp beside him cast only enough light to see the pages, illuminating his angular features and drenching the rest in shadow.

“Aaron?” she asked, tiptoeing into the room. She was sleeping on an air mattress in Hank’s room, a fact that bothered Hotch to no end but there wasn’t much he could do about it. She said she didn’t mind, that their air mattress was better than her own bed right now. “Why are you still up? You need to get some rest.”

“They’re putting me to sleep right?” he asked, a smirk toying with the corner of his lips. She smiled and nodded.

“I suppose, but you know that’s not as good as the real deal.”

“In my experience, it isn’t much different.”

“Fair enough. Mind if I join you? Hank snores and I’m still a little jet lagged, my body hasn’t caught up to Chicago time yet.”

“Have a seat,” he said, sweeping his arm out to the side to knock a few of the blankets off of the couch, clearing her some space. He had his foot propped up on a stack of pillows piled on the small coffee table, it was more comfortable for reading this way. She took the seat beside him and moved in close, peering over his shoulder to get a glimpse of what he was reading. It occurred to him that this sort of relationship, one this friendly and this close with the ex-wife of your current husband wasn’t exactly normal. But then there weren’t many normal relationships he had in his life, not important ones anyway. He’d never chosen someone because he was supposed to, rather because he could feel the connection in his soul.

“I can’t believe you’re not fast asleep reading that,” she muttered, hinging forward at the waist to reach for the television remote. “I’d rather watch infomercials. I wonder if they still advertise the ShamWow or those horrible ovens.”

“At this hour all you’re likely to find is Family Matters and the 24-hour news cycle.”

“I’ll take Urkel.”

“Suit yourself.”

They sat in quiet companionship for almost thirty minutes, him listening to the soft sounds of her laughter, her listening to the gentle flip and rustle of the pages, until finally the time came that they both knew sleep was in order or they’d really pay for it the next day.

“Isn’t Derek home yet?”

“No,” Hotch replied, hazarding a glance toward the front door. He’d been waiting up, exactly what Derek had told him not to do. Something about this meet up was making him anxious, knowing that Derek thought it could be serious enough to take his weapon instead of arguing with Hotch that it wasn’t necessary really threw him for a loop. Hotch hadn’t heard a word from them all night, not even a quick text and he was more than a little concerned. They had gone hours ago.

“Is that why you’re still up?”

“I don’t trust the situation.”

“Yeah...I’m sure Derek’s got it handled, though. You know him. Mister prepared for everything.”

“I’m not sure about this one, though,” he said almost too quiet for her to hear. There was a darkness in what he said and how he said it. She knew what he meant, Derek had let her in while they were married, he told her everything. Or...enough, anyway. He would always keep some of it to himself and both Hotch and Savannah knew that.

“Well, he’s gonna be pissed if he gets home and finds you sitting out here wide awake when you have a wake-up call at 4am. Let me help you to bed. I’m saving your marriage right now.”

Hotch considered her words carefully, glancing back down at the words on the page, and sighed. She was right. Derek was going to be in a foul mood when he returned no doubt and the last thing he’d want to find was Hotch wide awake hours before they had to be at the hospital, even if he was awake only because he was worried about his husband. His heart was in the right place, Derek just wouldn’t see it that way...not initially anyway.

“Okay,” he said, finally, sliding his bookmark into place and preparing himself to stand. It had been hours since he moved and he knew it was going to hurt. Savannah grabbed his crutches and held them in place while he worked himself up to standing, taking his time, pausing every so often to work the kinks and aches out of sore joints and tight muscles. When he was upright, balanced on one leg, she helped slide the crutches into place and reached for his foot pillows. She knew the drill.

“Easy,” she said as he angled himself toward the hallway stiffly. “No hurry.”

He grunted and hopped on his good leg, the good leg that hurt from doing all of the work the last few days. As he moved down the hallway he found himself dreaming only of the day he could use his other leg, put his foot on the ground and not feel pain. The day he could return to his regular activities.

The countdown started in the morning. For that he was thankful.

Chapter Text

“Rise and shine sleepyhead,” Savannah said, clicking on the lap beside him. She knew better than to flip on the overhead light, that was cruelty saved only for the teenagers of the species after several failed wake up calls. Hotch wouldn’t need all of that, he was a light sleeper. He made a noise, something like a stifled groan as he shifted his head and squinted in her general direction. He was blind, she knew that. Blind enough that she was probably a vague dark blur in his line of sight. He frowned as she handed him his glasses and waited for him to put them on, to adjust to the low light of the room. “Derek’s at the police station, he’s been there all night. It’s a long story but you don’t need to worry, he’s okay. So is Trey. He’s just not going to be finished in time to take you to your appointment…” She could see it before he masked it, the hurt that crossed his otherwise stern features. His hair jutted up in all direction, flattened near the temple from sleeping in one position long enough, spiked up in other places. There were bright red pillow creases in his cheek that gave him a softness that his sharp features tried to hide. “He promised he’d be there when you wake up.”

“Okay.” The hurt stayed, in spite of how he tried to tamp it down. He was almost sixty, he wasn’t going to cry because his husband couldn’t see him off to the dismal land of general anesthesia...even if he felt like it. She could see him fighting an internal battle with the information and touched his arm.

“Let’s get you up.”

They were startled halfway through getting ready by Sean appearing in a doorway looking about as haggard as Hotch had ever seen him. He hadn’t shaved in days, there were bags under his eyes, and Hotch thought if he got close enough all he would smell was stale cigarette smoke. No whiskey though, Sean hadn’t had a drop since getting out of prison and he really needed to tell his brother how proud he was of that...he just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Never seemed like the right time.

“Can I help?” He asked it as he was grabbing for Hotch’s bag, packed and ready by the door, not really giving them a chance to say yes or not. It didn’t take him long to get the car warming up and packed. “It’s slippery as fuck out there, give me a minute to de-ice that sidewalk or we’ll all die.”

“We have to leave in ten minutes.”

“I’ve got it.”

Sean set to work quickly, throwing the rock salt down all over the sidewalk followed by a heavy dusting of coarse sand. He wasn’t taking any chances with Hotch (or Savannah) slipping on that ice rink they called a sidewalk. Chicago wasn’t messing around in winter, they were just lucky it hadn’t snowed yet. There were several inches in the forecast, and it was entirely likely there would be a heap of the stuff on the ground by the time they brought Hotch home. That was a problem for the future, though.

“Let me help you to the car,” Sean said, extending his arm to Hotch who was trying to maneuver his way down the steps on his own. Savannah was occupied with Penelope, making sure she knew the morning routine, getting Hank off to school, all of the ins and outs of drop off. She almost never had opportunity to do it, but he knew how it went. She’d heard Derek moan about it plenty.

“I can get it,” Hotch said and Sean just glared at him.

“I said let me help you, jackass.” Sean nabbed one of Hotch’s crutches and ducked beneath his arm, supporting his weight on the way down. One step at a time, slowly, until they reached the bottom and he relinquished the crutch back into his brother’s hand. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Hotch didn’t respond, just set his jaw and began working his way slowly down the walkway to the car, trying not to hit any of the still icy patches the best he could. Sean was following too close behind him to let him actually fall but it would give him a good scare anyway. He’d never felt older in his life.

“You want me to come with?” He was looking at Savannah as he asked, helping fold his brother gingerly up neatly into the waiting and very warm vehicle. She shook her head and nodded toward the house.

“I’ve got it. You stay here and help Penelope with Hank and the pup, she’s gonna need you.”

(x)

The police station was the same as he knew it when he worked there, the same as it ever had been. There were never any significant updates, not here. Downtown, uptown, places where there was more money, they got all of the upgrades. Down south it was like a time capsule. Derek could walk right to where his father’s desk had been, spin around in a chair that his father probably touched forty years ago, look up into a light fixture that his father had looked up into in the doldrums of night when things were quiet.

Trey was sitting at a desk that had once been his, giving a statement to an officer Derek didn’t know. The boy’s hands were neatly clamped in his lap. Across the station his friend Brad was giving a statement to another cop, and sitting alone in a holding cell was their coach proclaiming the boys to be liars at the top of their lungs. Shouting obscenities about how Derek got violent with him. (He didn’t, it was exactly the opposite and for once the police believed him.)

“Hey,” Derek said, walking up to the woman who sat at the front desk. She was filing her nails, which seemed to him unnecessary – they were already hardly more than stubs, but maybe it just gave her something to do. “You mind if I step outside to make a call? I was supposed to be home hours ago.”

“Go ahead.” She seemed uninterested, barely even looking up at him. He made eye contact with Trey and inclined his head toward the door, letting him know he’d be right back. Trey seemed to understand, he nodded anyway.

He kept the call to Savannah short, just enough to tell her everything was fine, but he wasn’t going to make it home in time for his commitment. “You’re going to break his heart,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

“I know, but I can’t leave. This is important. He’ll understand.”

“No he won’t.”

Derek moaned. “You’re not helping.”

“Okay, okay. He’ll understand, of course he will. Aaron always understands. But Derek,” she said, sitting upright and swallowing hard, trying to sound clear and awake. “You be there when he wakes up. He’s going to understand because he always does, but he shouldn’t always have to. He takes a back seat to things a little too willingly.”

“I know,” Derek replied, feeling guilty. It wasn’t like he had a choice, it wasn’t like he wanted to be here, this thing happened so fast. He wasn’t expecting their coach to be there, he wasn’t expecting an ambush. He just wanted to support Trey. “I know.”

“I know you do. Go take care of that kid...he’s out of surgery around 10 if everything goes according to plan. Be there.”

“I will.”

He had eight hours to finish with the police, meet with Trey’s principal and guidance counselor (and probably a slew of his teachers, if things went well) and get to the hospital. There would be no sleep and probably very little time for food, but he’d be there.

It was for the best that he didn’t tell them everything that happened.

(x)

“He’ll be here when you wake up,” Savannah said, folding her arms and smiling. She was in blue scrubs, her hair pulled back underneath a surgical cap, the white coat almost blinding. Ready to help if needed, a fact that Hotch didn’t take lightly. A fact that might bring him to tears after the surgery when he couldn’t manage his emotions. He knew what the next few days looked like, a world seen through the high shine of impossible to predict tears.

“I know,” he said, because it made her feel better. He didn’t really trust that the situation wasn’t going to meander off course, that Derek wouldn’t have to stay gone longer. It bothered him a little, but there wasn’t any reason for him to get upset. Things were happening outside of their control and he had to just roll with it or be dragged along behind it. There was no stopping the motion. “Is he okay?”

“He sounded a little rough. I think the shit hit the fan last night but he’s not saying a word until it’s finished. Gotta let him handle it, y’know?”

“I do.”

(x)

Derek didn’t thing going into the school looking the way he did was going to earn him any favor, but there was no time to go home and shower and change. And no shower in the world would erase the black eye or the stitches above his eyebrow that were definitely going to leave a damn scar. No shower in the world could fix how rough he felt.

On no sleep, they walked into the school, both still in yesterday’s clothes, both with deep purple crescents beneath their eyes. Derek’s a little more pronounced thanks to a man’s meaty fist pounding him into the pavement.

“You shoulda fought back,” Trey muttered quietly as they walked down the empty hall toward the administration office. Derek made an irritating puffing sound and shook his head.

“Kid, there ain’t no way in hell I’m pawin’ up on some white man from the suburbs. He attacked me and there’s no question about it this way.”

“Yeah but he made you look weak.”

“You think I’m weak?”

“Naw, D, but Brad doesn’t know you like I do…”

Derek scoffed. “I’m not here trying to protect my ego from Brad, kid. I’m trying not to get my ass locked up on the morning my husband’s goin’ into surgery. Come on now. You know I coulda had him, but now he’s behind bars and we’re hitting your school to try and get you back in good standing. I think I did what I needed to do.”

Trey nodded and stayed silent, not wanting to make Derek angry. He couldn’t understand why he’d just stayed there letting the man attack him while they waited for the cops, but Derek knew better than he did about these things.

“You look rough Coach Morgan,” the lady at the front desk said, carefully avoiding eye contact. She knew he wouldn’t want her prying. “How’s Aaron?”

“In surgery now, we gotta make this fast. Is Doug in?”

“He’s in his office, let me buzz you guys in. Good morning Trey,” Shelley said with a smile. They were on a first name basis, he spent a lot of time here. More than he did in class.

“Good morning Ms Turner.”

Doug was the guidance counselor for Trey’s grade, and he was well aware of Trey’s record without even having to pull the file. This was a regular occurrence. He didn’t expect to see Derek with the kid, though.

“Coach Morgan,” Doug said, standing and offering his hand for a shake. So formal. “I thought you were taking some leave.”

“I am, but I had some personal business to tend to.”

Doug looked at Trey, and then at Derek a little confused. “I’m not following. Bring me up to speed.”

It didn’t take long for Derek to give him the run down of the situation and hand over the important paperwork for his file, everything that said for the time being Derek was his temporary guardian. “We’re working on the custody papers now, they’re just gonna be hung up for a few days.”

“Of course.”

“It’ll be permanent soon. Working with the prison system isn’t exactly fast but in the meantime we got these temporary papers...so what do you need from me? I want to get him into basketball.”

Doug regarded Trey this time directly, the kid was old enough not to have the adults speaking around him.

“You’re not passing any of your classes right now,” he said very matter-of-fact. “You have to be passing all of your classes in order to join sports, I’m sure you know that.”

While Doug was speaking directly to Trey, Derek still decided to interject. He could see Trey getting ready to say something he shouldn’t, something that could very well get him kicked right out of this office. “Basketball starts in three weeks, Doug. So does wrestling. If we can get him up to passing in three weeks…”

“You’ll need to meet with each of his teachers and make a plan for his grades to improve. Making up for past due assignments, re-taking tests, extra credit work. That’s the first thing…” he began, and then he stopped and sighed. “No. The first thing, I suppose, is showing up. Every single day. And then you make a plan with your teachers.”

“Done deal.”

(x)

Hotch didn’t just wake up once from surgery, it was multiple times. The first was in recovery where they spoke to him and he couldn’t remember anything they said more than a second after he answered. He was numb from the waist down and his head felt like it was full of fluffy clouds. The second time he woke up, it was to get sick. Anesthesia always made him sick, and he barely managed to stay awake for them to change his gown and his sheets. He was sleeping again before he was entirely cleaned up. The third time he woke up was in a small room with a boxy TV hanging from one corner and a curtain drawn between he and an older woman. He could hear her voice, she’d been talking for a while and it had penetrated his dreams. She had a grating sort of voice that made him feel anxious, but when he opened his eyes he saw Derek sleeping in a chair beside his bed and that made everything feel less intense. He smiled at the sight, at least until he caught the faint color of bruising against his cheek and the tiny spidery black stitches above his brow. He reached out with one hand that barely felt attached to his still mostly numb body and touched one of the stitches, let it poke his fingertip.

“What happened?” he mumbled in a sleepy sort of whisper. His heart began to hammer around in his chest with no real discernible rhythm, just chaos. “Derek?”

“Hmmmm?” Derek hummed, lifting his head and opening his eyes. He noted the look of concern on Hotch’s features and offered him a casual smile, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I’m okay baby,” he whispered, kissing his hand again. “Promise.”

“Derek…” he said again because he couldn’t seem to find any other words. Derek shook his head.

“It’s nothing. I was just a little jealous that you were gonna be the only one with a new scar. Come on, don’t worry I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Hotch’s body was made of static. His foot was propped up beneath a blanket, but he couldn’t feel it and he couldn’t see the bandage, it was just a vaguely foot shaped lump at the end of the bed. Everything from his waist down was numb and that was likely to hang around a while, to help manage the pain without narcotics because narcotics made him sick.

He was hungry though, and when the nurse came in to go through the first of many post-op rounds, he told her as much. “You’re hungry?” came a sarcastic quip from where Derek had been watching silently. “I must be dreaming…”

“I’ll bring you a packet of saltines and some apple juice, how does that sound?”

“Do you have cranberry?” Derek asks around a deep, intense yawn. His head hurts and he’s exhausted, he could probably sleep a full day and still feel tired. “He prefers cranberry.”

“Sure, we’ve got that.”

“And a jello? Orange?”

“Of course. We’ll keep it light to start.” He’d already been sick more than once, the last thing she wanted to do was aggravate it. But she could tell he needed something, he looked a little lightheaded and weak.

The jello was for Derek, though, and he knew it.

When the nurse left, Derek stood and stretched himself out, arching his back, touching his toes, groaning and finally settling on the edge of Hotch’s bed. His head was pounding now.

“Sorry about this morning,” he said, and Hotch was able to briefly look past the injuries to his beautiful face to see the exhaustion settled in there.

“It’s okay. Savannah told me where you were.”

“She give you the whole story or just the Cliff’s Notes?”

“She said you’d tell me later.”

“I will. I promise. It’s a lot to take in and I’m too damn tired to jump into it...but everything is good now.”

“Were you arrested?” He was looking at the stitches again, only this time he was wondering about the other guy. Whether he looked worse. What happened.

Derek laughed and shook his head. “No, Aaron, I was not arrested. I guess I could have been if I didn’t play my cards right but I did everything on the up and up. I’ll give you the details later. How was your morning?”

“A lot less exciting than yours.” Hotch yawned too. “Savannah was with me the whole time.”

“I knew she would be.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s at home with Hank. He wants to come see you so I told them to bring us some dinner later and we’ll watch a movie and hang out until his bed time. They’re working on getting you a private room here shortly.”

“You don’t have to stay…”

“Yes I do. They’re gonna bring me a cot, Savannah’s gonna bring me some blankets, I’m staying so please don’t argue.”

“Okay.” He didn’t have an argument in him, so he just smiled and watched with lazy eyes as Derek settled back into his chair, leaning on the bed so he could be close. There were a million things Derek wanted to say, to tell him, to ask him and Hotch the same but for right now he managed only one. “Thank you Derek.”

And that was the last conversation for a while. Both of them were out of words and had no trouble falling asleep and staying that way until the new room was ready hours later. A room without the grating voice from beyond the curtain, a room with a view of the now snow-covered street, a room he would stay in for more days than he would prefer.

Chapter Text

“Mom,” Sean said, opening the front door with a look on his face that betrayed his attempt to hide the surprise. He’d been expecting his food delivery. He and Penelope had a hankering for some vegan food and there was a little Indian place that did delivery not far from the house. Expecting a delivery driver and the intoxicating smell of curry but opening the door to his mother’s pinched scowl set against the backdrop of a Chicago snow storm was unpleasant. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not allowed to visit my sons?”

“No, it’s not that...it’s just that you never have…”

“It’s cold out here,” she said, ignoring his statement. “Are you going to invite me in?”

He thought long and hard about it. Of course he was, of course, but some part of him knew it was a mistake. That he should offer to take her out to lunch or something, not let her inside of his brother’s house without his brother knowing first. He thought about the vampire rules in The Lost Boys and knew those same rules applied to their mother. Never invite a vampire in. She wasn’t exactly a vampire of the blood sucking kind, just generally the type to suck the life force of her sons...or their happiness.

“Come in, mom,” he said finally, only because he saw the delivery guy pull up and start grabbing for his bags of food. He was starving. Hotch could kill him later...he wouldn’t even be home for a couple of days anyway.

She stepped over the threshold and left her bag behind, expecting Sean to pick it up and bring it inside. It wasn’t huge, just a small expensive leather bag, some vintage Coach she would snub if anyone complimented it. “Oh, this old thing?” she would say with false modesty. Sean looked at the bag hopefully, there was probably only enough inside for a day or two. That hope was dashed to bits the minute she spoke.

“The rest of my things will be here in a day or two, depending on the snow storm. I didn’t want to chance the airline losing my luggage.”

“So you had it shipped?” Sometimes he just couldn’t understand his mother.

“I did. You can’t trust airlines these days. My luggage may have ended up on the other side of the world. I’ll be staying in a hotel downtown, of course. No need to prepare me a room here.” The way she said it put him on edge. She was looking at the house like she was inspecting it for vermin, and truthfully she probably was. This living situation, as she referred to it, wasn’t exactly up to her standards. The type of thing she’d expected of either one of her sons though she’d long ago gotten used to setting the bar low for Sean. A locking door was a luxury in his life, but Hotch...he was the prize. He was successful, well off, had made a name for himself in some very impressive circles and was currently residing in a home in an area of Chicago she would never have dreamed of even passing through let alone living in. She could only imagine what type of person Derek was, to drag her son so low.

“Good, cos there isn’t any room anyway. We’ve got a full house right now. Hang on mom.”

Sean walked back toward the door to get his food, noting the young man in the still open doorway who looked a little out of sorts. Probably wasn’t often he approached a house in this neighborhood with a woman in a fur coat standing in the open door. With an apologetic smile, he offered the delivery guy a generous tip for coming to him in a snow storm.

“What is that smell?” she asked without turning around. Sean let out a laugh.

“My lunch. Penny!” he called out to her while he pulled the small containers of rice and curry out of the plastic bag. His mother was wandering through the house, inspecting everything, running her finger along surfaces and checking for dust.

“That was fast!” Penelope said, entering the room with Paige in her arms. The dog had only been in the house a short time and was already completely spoiled. “I’m starving. What did you order?”

“I think the better question is what didn’t I order? I think I got almost everything. My eyes were bigger than my stomach and I sort of felt guilty asking for delivery in this mess so I wanted to make it worth it.”

“Is that curry I smell?!” Savannah asked, padding down the stairs with her long hair tied up in a bun, her pajamas still on. She’d come home from the hospital when Derek showed up and gone right back to bed, only now crawling out to the smell of food.

“Sure is!”

Grace Hotchner watched them with piqued interest, trying to figure out who was who without asking. She expected her son to introduce her and stood on propriety, she would not introduce herself no matter how rude her son was.

It was Savannah who spoke to her first. “Hi, I’m Savannah,” she said, sticking her hand out for a quick shake. Grace smiled daintily and accepted the offer.

“Grace Hotchner,” she said and Savannah gave her a look of surprise before looking at Sean.

“Your mom?”

“Uh...surprise?”

“Oh don’t be an oaf, it’s unbecoming. Don’t worry, I don’t plan to take up space in your house, I only wanted to announce that I’ve arrived. There will be a car coming for me in an hour. Where is Aaron?”

“He’s being admitted to the hospital overnight,” Savannah said. “For observation. He has a complicated medical history and anesthesia can be dangerous. There isn’t anything to worry about though, it’s just precautionary. He should be in his room now, I can get you the number if you’d like to call.”

Grace glanced at Sean curiously. “That’s Derek’s ex-wife, mother. She’s a doctor.”

“He has an ex-wife?”

“Who’s hungry?” Sean asked, choosing to ignore his mother for Savannah’s sake. She didn’t deserve to be subjected to his mother’s unfounded scrutiny.

“Starving!” Savannah sighed, making her way toward the kitchen where Penelope had spread everything out. “Think I can get Hank to eat any of this?”

“Derek said he likes the samosas,” Sean pointed out with a smile. “I asked already.”

“Look at you!” Penelope exclaimed, punching Sean playfully in the shoulder. “Such a good uncle.”

Grace stood staring at the mess of people surrounding the table, her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t met Hank yet, though Hotch had told her plenty about him. He practically gushed about the little boy.

“Is Hank home?” she asked, taking one timid step into the kitchen. “I’d like to meet him. Aaron thinks the world of him.” All at once, in looking at Savannah, it clicked. “You’re Hank’s mother.”

“I am…” Savannah drawled with an uneasy smile. “Derek and I were married for a couple of years, but I got a job that took me overseas so we thought it best to end the marriage. It was a decision neither of us took lightly.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Grace said, softening up a little. “I’m sorry for earlier. I had forgotten that Aaron told me about your situation. He so rarely opens up to me.”

“It’s okay. It’s really nice to meet you. I’m sure Hank’s gonna love having a third grandma to spoil him.”

Hank, as if on cue, came rushing down the hallway in his bare feet, shirtless, exclaiming that he’d finished his homework.

“Homework? At your age?” Sean asked, frowning. “You should be out building forts and causing trouble, not doing boring old homework.”

“I just had to read a chapter of my book and do some math, it’s not that hard.”

“Yeah, for you maybe.” Sean grinned wide and tapped Hank on the shoulder, turning him toward Grace. “Hey, this is my mom. Her name is Grace.”

“You can call me whatever you like,” she said with a smile. “Jack calls me grandma. You don’t have to do that, though.”

Hank looked up at his mom curiously, questioning. Savannah smiled.

“She’s daddy Aaron’s mom, so she is your grandma too. You can call her that.”

“I get to have three grammas? I thought you only got to have 2.”

“You’re very fortunate.”

“Three grammas! And another grampa?”

Savannah glanced at Grace and deferred to her, she knew that was a complicated situation and wasn’t keen to interject. Grace just put on a soft smile and shook her head.

“No, I’m afraid that Mr. Hotchner is long gone. Three grandmas and only one grandfather. I’m presuming that’s what you meant by another.”

“My father is alive, yes,” Savannah said softly. “Only one grandpa.”

“That’s alright. I’ve got two dads, I don’t need more grandpas.”

“Well put!” Penelope interjected, trying to guide people back into the kitchen before the food went cold. “Come come. Some of you have places to be...blankets and extra clothes to take to the hospital...movies to watch with a currently laid up member of the family...eat.”

Grace didn’t care much for curry, but she did nibble on a samosa while listening to Hank talk about the book he was reading. She was remarkably good with children, much better with her grand babies than she ever was with her own sons. Sean never really could reconcile the mom he had with the grandmother Jack had, and now she’d already warmed up to Hank in the same way. It wasn’t exactly jealousy, but there was some small resentment there. The warmth in her body language, the curiosity in her voice, she’d never shown him much of that. Aaron maybe none at all.

“Will you go see your father in the hospital?” she asked and Hank nodded excitedly.

“He said I could bring some movies. I want to watch Big Hero 6! Do you know that movie?”

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with it.”

“Maybe you could come watch it with us!”

Savannah and Sean exchanged concerned glances, knowing that would be the last thing in the world Hotch would want as a surprise. Grace took it in stride.

“Perhaps another time. I think your father would like a quiet night with just the two of you, he’s had a big day. Would you show it to me soon though?”

“Yeah!”

Her car arrived before things got too strained, and Sean walked her out with a lot more ease than he walked her in. She’d warmed up to all of them and some part of him wondered if her cold front had been more to do with always being kept at arm’s length than the location or choices her son had made with his life.

“I’ll call you in the morning,” Sean said, sliding her bag into the car before wrapping her in a hug. “Once I’ve had a chance to talk to Aaron. We’ll make plans. When do you go home?”

“I bought a one way ticket. I’ll leave when I’m asked to leave, I suppose. Your uncle Newton is at the house taking care of the animals and the grounds. I’d like to help here. I know he’s as stubborn as an ox but with a family this size...please let me help.”

“Bet Hank would love to see the house and the orchard and the donkeys. You still got those damn goats?”

“Of course. I can’t very well turn them out no matter how much of a bother they are. I’ve got blue ribbons to win and a reputation to uphold.”

“Hank would love it. And uh...they’re adopting another kid, an older kid. You’ll meet him if you hang around. Be nice to him.”

“I’m always nice.”

At that Sean laughed and she pursed her lips, offended.

“I raised you better than to insult your mother like that.” She couldn’t keep up the offense for long though and let out a small chuckle. “I will be on my best behavior. I don’t have a lot of time left on this planet, I’m not getting any younger and I’d like to know my son’s family before I go. Against all odds, he keeps on giving me grandchildren...unlike you.”

Sean ignored that jab, deflecting instead. Keeping the focus on Aaron was better than letting her shine the spotlight on his incredible failure to thrive. “This kid makes four,” Sean said quietly, timidly. Grace’s eyebrows shot up.

“Four?”

“Jack, Hank, Max and Trey. You’ll meet the other two. They’re great young men. Max is a little older than Jack. He and Trey are brothers, they come from a really difficult situation...anyway, mom, you gotta head. I’m sure this guy wants to hit the road. I’ll call you after I talk to Aaron.”

She kissed him on both cheeks, standing on her tip toes in order to reach. Her baby boy, her youngest, was so much taller than she was. “I love you darling.”

“You too ma.”

(x)

Savannah barely had a chance to say hello before she was pulling Derek off to the side, just out of earshot while Hank distracted Hotch by crawling up onto the bed with him to show him the stack of DVDs he brought ranked from first to last.

“Did Sean call you?” Savannah asked in a hushed whisper. Derek nodded.

“Yeah. She’s really here?”

“She is, and it was...well it was a rough start, but by the time she left things were nice. She seemed to really like Hank.”

“Aaron said she was like that. She was better with Jack than she ever was with him.”

The look on Savannah’s face was painful and serious. “She wants to help, and I totally...I get it if you guys don’t think that’s a great idea. Or if he doesn’t want to see her. But maybe she could take Hank a few times? Go to lunch or the movies, get to know him at least? He’s been talking about her non-stop, especially after Sean told him that she had a small hobby farm. She has goats? That woman has goats?”

“And a donkey, and a prize winning hog, and some hens. She runs the local 4H group and offers her land up to children who need the space to keep their show animals for the local fair. She’s got a lot of hired help, y’know, but I guess she gets her hands dirty with the animals a lot. She was raised on a farm.” He glanced back at Hotch and then leaned forward, closing the distance. “She’s not all bad, but it’s complicated between them. Childhood hurt never healed up, that kinda thing. She’s a big fan of sweeping things under the rug and so is Aaron, but that means you gotta tread lightly or you’ll step on something dangerous. Feel me?”

“I...think so.”

“Mr. Hotchner was a real piece of work, to put it lightly.”

Savannah nodded. She’d seen plenty of families in that situation working in the ER over the years. She knew Derek’s familiarity with men like that, men who had power and a community to back them up in their devilish ways. “Maybe she’s ready to air things out. Maybe she’s tired of not knowing her son and his family.”

Derek shrugged helplessly. “It’s not up to me, girl. I’ll talk to him tonight though.”

There wasn’t much time for that, as it turned out. Hank put Big Hero 6 on and sat with Hotch on the bed, trying to keep him awake through the whole thing by whispering in his ear about plot points, Easter Eggs, trivia and so on. He’d only seen the movie about one million times, and while Hotch had seen it once or twice, Hank talked to him like he never had. It didn’t bother him any. He was laid up in a bed, unable to do much more than sit while the nerve block wore off. He had to ask Derek to help him into the wheelchair and then into the bathroom more than once, something he knew in his younger more prideful years would have been almost too much to bear but now he was simply grateful he had someone to do this for him. With him. A man who would slide beneath his arm, lift him easily from the bed to the chair, joke with him while being so gentle...it brought him to tears more than once. The anesthesia, as it wore off, made him a little extra emotional and there was one point where he sat on the toilet sobbing over the turn his life had taken. Not poor me, or even about the pain that was slowly starting return to his foot and throbbing up his leg, but simply that he should be so fortunate.

When he was at his most emotional, Derek thought that was his moment. “Hey, so I got something to tell you…”

Hotch, still sitting on the toilet with tears in his eyes (after doing nothing, his body had lied to him, or maybe he just wanted a moment out of bed) offered Derek a small smile. “My mother is here.”

“How’d you know?”

“Hank told me he’s got three grandmas and he really likes his new one because she has goats. I don’t know many old women who keep goats.”

“She wants to help.”

Hotch, shifting on the toilet to try and feel his too heavy legs, shrugged. “She’s welcome in our home. If Hank wants to know her, I won’t stand in his way.”

“I uh...I actually thought maybe it might be good for Trey too. He’s been really into farming and hunting lately. Maybe, if it seems like a good plan, he could go spend a couple weeks this summer with her at the farm.”

“It’s not a farm.”

“Yeah, well, to an inner city kid it might as well be man. We got that house down there, we could all go. Get the kid out of the city for a bit, see if he really likes all that animal shit as much as he thinks he does. She might be good for him.”

“She’s not good for anyone but herself.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Hotch, with tears in his eyes, shrugged again. “Don’t I?”

“It’s okay to feel hurt that she wasn’t a good mother to you, but she’s been a good grandma to Jack hasn’t she?”

“She has.”

“Alright, so it’s fair to assume she’d at least be good for Trey and Hank too. It might be a loss for you but you got me, and hell you got my mom man. My mom thinks you walk on water.”

“I can’t walk at all right now.”

“Yeah, well, I doubt she’s holding that against you...wanna get up off the pot?”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Buddy, you have a catheter for the piss and you haven’t eaten a single thing in twenty four hours. Whatever your body is telling you is a damn lie. Come on, Hank has some other thrilling movie he wants to show us before his mom comes to grab him for the night.”

“I am hungry. A little.” He turned his saddest doe eyes up at Derek while being lifted off of the toilet.

“Let me guess: you want a Popsicle.”

“Yes. And pudding. Pistachio. The green kind.”

“You’re nasty, you know that? Where in the fuck do I get green pudding?”

Hotch smiled and rested his cheek against Derek’s shoulder, standing on mostly numb legs. “The store.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right, why didn’t I think of that? You’re so damn annoying sometimes you know that?”

“I know.”

The bathroom, oversized and cold, tiled from floor to ceiling, suddenly felt too big. Derek held Hotch closer, one hand inside the loosely tied back of his hospital gown. He needed to get Hotch into real clothes, into a sweatshirt and real pants. The doctors said he could and they just hadn’t bothered yet. The catheter had stopped him but he brought his pants with the snaps up the legs, it was doable now. With one hand splayed over the small of Hotch’s back, over the warm skin there, he smiled.

“I love you.”

“I know that too.” Hotch smiled back and took one long, deep breath. A breath so big it filled his lungs until they burned, fit to burst, and then exhaled, speaking as the air made its way out. “Tell Sean she can come over when I get home. I don’t...I’m not ready to talk to her yet but I will be.”

“You sure?”

“No, I’m not. But I think Hank deserves this, and you’re right about Trey. If that kid needs anything it’s more love, and someone who will give him attention in ways we can’t right now. She can do that. I’ll figure it out if you get me my pudding. That’ll help.”

“Oh…” Derek said, nudging Hotch’s chin until they were nose to nose, eye to eye. Until Hotch’s features blurred in his vision. “It will huh?”

Hotch hummed. Derek smiled. He didn’t mind this part, the part where Hotch was soft and said what was on his mind instead of hiding. He had no filter for a few more hours.

“Pistachio, huh? Not chocolate or vanilla or butterscotch?”

“Pistachio.”

Derek, leaning forward for a soft kiss, grinned. “Yessir.”

Chapter Text

“Under no circumstances will you put your hard earned money into my building,” Fran said through gritted teeth before Derek could even say hello to her. He’d been sitting there watching Hotch sleep for what felt like forever, noting the soft changes in his breathing. His chest seemed tight, his breathing shallow. The anesthesia, they all figured. He never had handled it well. He didn’t seem to be in any discomfort so he made it a point not to worry.

“Okay, which one of those nosy little hens in that building has been running her mouth?”

“Mr. Greenlaw came to my door to tell me that you’ve been avoiding him, he mentioned some kind of a deal and asked if I would find you. He said it’s time sensitive.”

“Ah shit. Sorry ma, things got a little hectic with Aaron and then with Trey, I’ll call him.”

“And you’ll tell him no. There is no deal.”

“It isn’t that simple. He’s gonna sell it to someone, ma. Can we talk in person about it? Come down to the hospital and have coffee with me.”

“Nope. I don’t want to see you right now, I only want to see my good son. You…”

“Ma…” Derek whined, knowing she was really only half kidding. She was mad at him and that made Hotch her good son. “I’m sorry. Please have coffee with me?”

She was silent for a minute, but he could hear her making noise on the other end of the line. Cleaning, probably. She cleaned when she was angry, when she felt a loss of control. Their apartment had never been so clean as it was the weeks after his father died. She put plastic on the furniture and gave everything the white glove treatment, and while it didn’t bring him back it did make her feel like she wasn’t spinning out of control. He’d inherited that special skill from her. Control your environment with a rag and some all-purpose spray. He liked Windex, the smell of ammonia made everything feel clean. She preferred to go scorched earth with bleach.

“Okay. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria in an hour. You’d better…”

“I know. Have a good explanation young man. I do. I promise.”

Derek sat and waited in the cafeteria, leaving Trey in the room with Hotch. “You got this kid?” he’d asked and Trey made a dismissive puffing noise, like it was anything hard. What could happen? Hotch was sleeping, he had a little button to pump himself up with morphine if he wanted and Trey had the television remote. He got out of school to take care of a family situation, and sure he was supposed to do homework (which he did bring with him) but he sort of just hoped that Hotch would wake up and talk to him instead. “Do your math,” Derek scolded and Trey sighed. He thought about mentioning the breathing thing but thought better of it. He was being silly.

“Yessir.”

“I’ll be downstairs in the caf with my mom. Call if you need anything.”

“Won’t need nothin’, D. Go. Tell mama Fran I said hi.”

Fran walked into the too bright cafeteria on time, right down to the minute, and sat with her purse on her lap. A telltale sign that she was upset and if he didn’t give her the answers she wanted she could easily just stand up and leave. “Talk.”

“Hello to you too, ma.”

“Hello Derek. Talk.”

She wasn’t playing around, and he knew she wouldn’t be but he’d been a little hopeful that maybe she’d go easy on him given the situation. Given the fact that they were meeting in a hospital, his husband was upstairs...she could pull a punch or two, but no deal. She pursed her lips expectantly and cocked her head to the side. He could see how tired she was, but it didn’t dull her anger even a little.

“Alright. Look. Mr. Greenlaw approached me a while ago, kinda floated the idea that he was gonna sell the building and would I be interested in a deal. I said no thank you, because I’m not ma. I don’t wanna own your building. But he said he was looking to sell, for real this time, not the way he always swears it up and down when the shit’s hitting the fan. Said he needed to cash it in and get out, he was ready to retire. Brought it up again a week later, and then again. Said he was gonna sell it no matter what, and told me what I’m about to tell you. The city’s after the building, they wanna tear it down and turn it into a parking lot zoned for food trucks because that makes money. He also said he’s got two real estate fatties knocking at his door wanting to turn it in to luxury condos, gentrify the damn neighborhood. First your building, then the next and the next. Price everyone out of the hood. Ma, I know he told me all that to convince me to buy but I also know he’s for real.”

Fran nodded sympathetically, not looking the last bit surprised. She’d heard it all before. Living where she did, it was nothing new.

“The city has wanted that building for years. Right now it’s a lot for food trucks, ten years ago it was a park, and before that office space. What makes this time different?”

“Mr. Greenlaw’s gonna sell it to one of them, that’s what makes it different this time. You and all your hens’ll be out on the street, either cos your building’s been torn to the ground or you’ve been priced out of your own home.”

“So, what, you buying it is a magical fix?”

He squirmed in his seat. “No. It would be a terrible financial decision for me. The building needs a ton of work, but if I put a buncha money into it then I gotta get it back somehow right? Raise rent? But I can’t do that, because none of you guys can afford more than what you’re paying right now. There are some grants I’ve seen, I can apply for a few of them to make the building better but I can’t be there full-time for maintenance when it’s done, I got a job and a family and...I don’t know ma. What else can I do? I can’t let them turn you all out on your asses.”

“Language.”

“No, this warrants a little fire ma. What do I do?”

“You cannot save everyone, Derek. You just can’t. And I think you’re about to learn that the hard way. What does Aaron think? He’s the sensible one.”

“I haven’t told him yet.”

She let out an incredulous laugh and shook her head. The story just kept getting better. “Oh, you silly stupid man. You’re considering a huge financial investment, a bad one mind you, and haven’t even told your husband?”

“I was gonna, I had Greenlaw draw up his offer the damn day before Aaron broke his foot. Was gonna talk to him about it but when’s there been time to ask him to think about this? He’s been pretty occupied with other things lately.”

“Okay, that’s a good point. But you’ll have to. You can’t make this decision on your own.”

“Once he’s home and thinking clearly. I gotta call Greenlaw and ask him for a little time. If we go through with it, it’ll be a good project to keep Aaron busy while he’s laid up...and if not, well, I’m sorry ma.”

“Don’t be. It isn’t on your shoulders. We’ll all land on our feet.”

He looked doubtful but had no time to argue before his phone was ringing with Trey’s number. The last number in the world he wanted to see. “Yeah?” he asked, his heart jumping into his throat.

“I uh...they’re taking Aaron to get an emergency scan or somethin’...somewhere downstairs...he woke up all weird and shaky and said his chest hurt really bad and that he couldn’t breathe? It was scary. Dude’s always pretty pale but he was like, white white. Like a movie ghost. And his lips were kinda...blue...the nurses came in and then some doctors came in and they took him out of here really fast. You gotta get up here D.”

“I’m on my way. Stay there.”

“Yeah. That’s what the nurse told me too. Her name is Ruth...she told me to call you and tell you that she’s gonna be at the nurse’s station waiting to talk to you. Hurry D.”

Derek stared at his mom for a full second of silence after Trey ended the call, not sure what to say or how to say it. She seemed to know immediately. “Mom,” he whispered. “Something happened to Aaron. I have to go upstairs.”

Her demeanor, once frigid and angry, melted immediately into the soft woman he knew he’d always been safe with. “Go. I’ll be right behind you sweetheart.”

“Yeah…” he said, barely breathing. He had trouble standing, felt like his legs would give out from beneath him. He thought about Hotch’s chest, about his shallow breathing and felt a squirming, gnawing guilt at not saying anything. It seemed so small, but he knew something was wrong and pushed it aside. “Going.”

“Derek. It’s going to be alright.”

He looked at his mom with terror in his eyes. “I wasn’t there. I should have been there.”

“Trey took care of it like the strong young man he is. Aaron is with the doctors, right?”

Derek nodded, pressing his hand to his sternum. The anxiety building in his chest was choking him. Fran reached out and ran her hand up and down his forearm calmly.

“Come on sweetheart. We need to go upstairs. You can do this.”

One foot in front of the other had never been so hard.

(x)

“He’s getting a chest CT right now,” the nurse said, looking at her computer screen. “His symptoms are consistent with a pulmonary embolism. They’ll do the CT first, and if it doesn’t show them what they’re looking for he will likely be given an ultrasound. If that’s the case, it’s possible they can administer treatment to dissolve it non-surgically. It’ll be touch and go for a bit here but I’ll let you know when I have any information.”

“How…”

“He’s been sitting more often this week than usual, and given his history on blood thinners it doesn’t surprise me. It’s one of the reasons they insisted on admitting him.”

“How does this just...happen?”

“Very likely he’s had a DVT go unnoticed for a while, maybe it didn’t swell or cause him pain, maybe it wasn’t worse than the pain in his foot so he didn’t notice. It’s hard to say, really, but it’s a good thing he was here and not at home.”

“Can I see him?”

“Not yet,” she said quietly. “If you insist on being there I can try, but in a situation like this it’s sometimes better to keep distractions to a minimum. In my experience, a patient in this scenario works themselves up with worry for their spouse or family if they can see them, which will exaserbate the symptoms we’re attempting to control. Once we have an official diagnosis and treatment plan, I’ll let you know. That boy in there looks terrified.”

Derek looked back at the room and sighed. “Yeah. Probably thinks he did something wrong.”

“He did everything right. He listened to the patient and didn’t delay getting us in there, he saved your husband’s life.”

“I’ll uh...I’ll let him know. Thanks nurse.”

Derek walked hesitantly away from the nurse’s station, like if he moved slow enough she might just get that phone call that told him he could go to Hotch but it never happened. Hotch was alone and he would stay that way for some time. As he entered the room, he found his mother with her arm around Trey’s shoulders consoling him quietly. The boy’s hands were shaking when he looked up at Derek.

“Sorry, D,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“That nurse out there said you did everything right. Said you saved his life.”

“He coughed up blood. His whole chest was…”

“Hey, don’t go there kid. He’s being taken care of right now. They said he should be back up here soon.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but he was hopeful and that had to count for something.

Trey scrubbed his hands back over his head and let out a small, helpless whimpering sound. “His chest was...what were all those scars?”

Derek glanced at his mom and then back at Trey like an animal cornered. It hadn’t occurred to him that they would expose his chest, but then if he’d coughed up blood what choice would they have? His mother didn’t know much either, not really. He’d always tried to keep that from her. She knew he lost his ex-wife, and they’d spoken some about it being job-related like her own husband but Hotch hadn’t ever given her the details. It was something he preferred not to speak about. Might always be.

“It was a long time ago, kid. We used to catch serial killers for the FBI, I ever tell you about my job?”

“Sorta. That’s kinda cool.” Trey sounded only half convinced. Lifeless.

“Yeah, well, we didn’t only catch serial killers but that was a lot of it. And one of ‘em we caught didn’t stay caught. He broke out of jail and came after Aaron in his apartment, nearly killed him. Left him alive with a threat though...we had to put Jack and his mom in witness protection to try and keep them safe.”

Fran was listening just as enraptured as Trey to a story she only knew in bits and pieces. Her heart broke for Hotch. “Oh God” she whispered, putting it together.

“They were sent away and he thought he’d never see them again. The guy hacked him up good...the damage he did is probably a lot of why this happened today. Anyway, the guy was really smart and we didn’t catch him in time. He killed Jack’s mom and tried to kill Jack too but Aaron got there in time.”

“You were there,” Fran said quietly. He nodded, unable to make eye contact with her.

“I pulled him off of Foyet’s body. One of the worst days of my life. We failed him. I failed him.”

“I didn’t know about Jack’s mom. He never told me.”

“He doesn’t remember it, he was only four when it happened. He was so little, hiding from this man while he killed his mom in the other room. He knows the story but he doesn’t remember much about that day. We heard it all, though. Garcia had us on the line while we were trying to catch up, trying to get there...Foyet was on the phone with Aaron, taunting him...we heard the gunshot.”

The nurse walked in with a clipboard in her arms, stopping in the doorway while Derek finished his sentence. “Mr. Morgan? It looks like the medication they administered is dissolving the clot as hoped. They’ll be bringing him back upstairs in about ten minutes. We’ll need to keep a very close eye on things for the next few days so if you need to make arrangements for a longer stay now would be a good time. As difficult as it is to help him move we’ll need to make sure he gets out of bed more now that the nerve block has worn off in order to avoid further clotting. Once he’s up here, we’ll go over everything.”

“I can do that,” he said, nodding. “I’m getting antsy being cooped up in this room anyway.”

She nodded and turned to walk out without saying another word, leaving the three of them in the wake of their conversation. Her interruption had been a welcome, if just a little too short, reprieve.

“He doesn’t like to talk about any of that,” Derek said, turning back to them. “What I just told you. Better just to keep it between us that you know.”

“Someone should call his mother,” Fran said, dropping the previous conversation entirely. She had resolved to go home and pray about it, and that was where she would leave it for now. “I’d be happy to if you want. She will want to see him, and I think...given what’s happened...it would be cruel to make her wait until he’s home. Especially if we don’t know when they’re going to let him leave now.”

Derek handed her his phone and balled his hands up into fists at his sides. “Yeah. Call her. She can come down. Do not call Jack. He’ll be back next week for his Christmas break and unless something else happens I don’t think he needs to worry. That kid needs a break.”

After hearing everything Derek just said, Fran couldn’t agree more.

(x)

Grace didn’t waste any time getting to the hospital. She was in the room before they brought Hotch back up.

“Derek,” she said quietly, holding her hand out. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“You’ve met?” Fran asked curiously. Derek nodded.

“At Haley’s funeral.”

Grace smiled sweetly, if not a little forced. “I had a funny feeling about you then. The way you touched her casket so tenderly, the way you put your hand on my son’s shoulder...you’ve been so good to him. I hope he’s been good to you as well.”

“He’s great. Wouldn’t trade him for anything. Not even court-side tickets to the 91 Chicago Bulls.”

“Damn D. Warn a guy before you go and say something so mushy.”

“You’ll live.”

“So what exactly happened?” Grace asked, setting her purse on a chair and approaching Fran with a smile, as if she’d forgotten her manners momentarily and had to correct course. “I’m Grace Hotchner. I don’t believe we’ve met yet.”

“Fran Morgan. Derek’s mother.”

Grace smiled and nodded. Her demeanor had softened considerably since the day before.

“He developed a pulmonary embolism, a blood clot. They said it was small, seems to be dissolving with the meds they gave him so they don’t have to take him to surgery.”

“My husband had one while he was in the early days of his cancer diagnosis. He spent a lot of time in bed. They put him on blood thinners afterward and he didn’t have trouble any longer. Of course, there was still the cancer...and then his heart gave out before the cancer could finish its job…in the end the embolism was the least of his troubles.”

Fran’s eyes went wide, a sudden realization that the doctors opting to keep Hotch in the hospital didn’t seem as absurd as she’d originally thought over something like a quick foot surgery. His family history was frightening, and his own medical history was nothing to snub. Her chest ached for him and all of his troubles.

“Does he know I’m here?”

“Not here at the hospital, no, but he knows you’re in town.”

She glanced at Trey who was sitting quietly beside the doctor’s table, staring at the empty place the bed had been. Everything seemed to be a little overwhelming to her, a fish out of water. She was trying to integrate herself into a life that she’d never been part of. The road blocks were proving to be substantial.

“You must be Trey,” she said, approaching him. Derek watched apprehensively. He wanted to believe she wasn’t as cold as she seemed, wasn’t as uppity and snobby as she sounded. Hotch was always quiet about her but Sean had plenty to say and it was rarely flattering.

Trey blinked up at her confused and nodded. He was still in shock. “Yeah. You’re Aaron’s mom?”

“Grace,” she said, extending her hand to him. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” he said with an exasperated, nervous smile. He may have been wise beyond his years, but he was still just a teenage boy and they were ruled by their stomachs. She nodded.

“Me too. I was just sitting down to lunch when I was called. Would you join me in the cafeteria for some food? My treat.”

“That okay D?” Trey asked and Derek smiled, nodding. How could he say no?

“Yeah. That’s cool man. Mind your manners, that’s my mother in law not one of your little homies.”

She looked at Derek seriously when Trey laughed and reached for his jacket. “I don’t want to blindside my son in his condition. Would you make sure he doesn’t mind my being here?”

“Yeah...of course. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“All the same, I would appreciate him being given ample warning. I can come back another time if he isn’t up for it.”

“May I join you for lunch?” Fran asked. Grace smiled wide.

“Of course.”

“I would love to have an opportunity to get to know the woman who raised Aaron...he’s quite a man.”

(x)

They may have crossed paths in the hallway with as quickly as Hotch was brought back into the room. The railings were up on each side of his head and he lay at a slight incline though his head had lulled off to the side, his eyes blinking slow. Not quite awake, not quite asleep. There was some color in his cheeks, not much but he wasn’t as pale as Trey had described. The medication must have been doing its job.

“He’s in a lot of pain,” the doctor said while his nurses set to reattaching all of the tubes and wires when his bed was locked in place. “We’ll try to manage it the best we can, but his dose is already fairly high and I’m afraid he won’t be able to tell us if something feels off if we raise it any higher.”

“How long until he’s in the clear?”

“Oh, well, that’s...hard to say. The initial clot is dissolving rapidly. We’ll do another scan in a couple of hours to check his progress. The problem is going to be finding a regimen to keep him from clotting again, and getting him active enough to prevent it.”

“I can take him for walks,” Derek offered.

“That would be a good start. We’re working on getting a therapist up here for regular intervals of exercise, as well. He’s non-weight bearing, which means getting him out of bed...while great for his health overall, is not going to do much to stop him developing clots in his legs. I’ll let the two of you visit while I get the orders in and set up a game plan.”

“Thank you doctor.”

Once they were alone, Derek sat down on the bed beside Hotch. He wasn’t going to bother with the chair, it was too far away. He needed to be closer.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“Where were you?” Hotch asked quietly, blinking slowly up at Derek as if he was calculating how he got there, where he’d come from. His voice sounded raspy and far away.

“Downstairs having coffee with my mom. We had some business to talk about.”

“What business?”

“Nothing important right now…”

“Tell me?” Hotch begged, only because he was looking for anything to distract him from the pain in his chest and the pain in his leg. Derek could see it, he could hear the desperation.

“Alright, look, I was gonna tell you last week but then all of this happened and I just didn’t wanna bother you...my mom’s landlord wants me...us...to buy the building. He’s gonna sell it and he’s got offers from the city and a few real estate companies but he’s offering it to us at a steal.”

“He tries to get you to buy it every year when he starts thinking about taxes,” Hotch rasped with a smirk. Derek couldn’t help the way his chest felt tight at the sight of that smirk after the day he’d had.

“Yeah, I know...but this time he’s serious. He drew up a real offer.”

Hotch pressed his palm against his sternum and winced at the intake of breath. The clot was dissolving, the pain was decreasing, but it was still there and still alarming.

“And you’re thinking about it.”

“I am. It’s really stupid, Aaron. Terrible financial decision...but if we don’t, my mom and all those people are gonna be out on their asses. No one’s gonna let ‘em stay. The city’ll demo the building, the developers are gonna turn it into luxury condos or some fancy retail spaces. Trying to turn this area of town around.”

“Let’s talk about it…” Hotch whispered, letting his head drop until it rested against Derek’s arm. “Later.”

“You got it, baby.”

“The room…” Hotch started, licking dry lips, chapped lips. “Smells like my mom. She’s here.”

“You’re wild, you know that?”

Hotch smiled his loopy, strained smile. “She’s worn the same Chanel perfume since...as far back I can remember…”

“Yeah, she’s here. I called her, I got scared when they told me what happened. She’s downstairs having lunch with my mom and Trey. She wanted me to tell you she was here first, make sure you didn’t mind her being here first.”

“That’s kind of her.”

“Yeah. Sounds like something you’d do, if I'm bein' honest.”

“It’s okay for her to come up. I’d like to see her.”

“You got it.”

Derek slid his arm around Hotch’s shoulders and pulled him close, trying to get as comfortable as he could on the small bed. He tugged the blanket up over Hotch’s arms and adjusted the lay of his gown so his skin was exposed as little as possible. “You cold?”

“Always.”

“I can get more blankets.” Derek made a move, just a slight shift like he was going to get up and Hotch answered with a soft groaning sound.

“Stay…” Hotch whispered, leaning heavily against Derek. “Don’t go again.”

Chapter Text

He spent a week in the hospital, though the ongoing threat of danger from the clot dissipated by the day. His mother sat by his bed side tirelessly, prattling on and on about things happening back home. So long as she had a captive audience, she was going to take advantage of it. Between the accident and the embolism scare, he'd softened up some when it came to her and she was going to sit here and milk it for all it was worth. It was the first time he'd done more than send her an impersonal card with nothing but a signature in years, the first time he hadn't just called at a time he knew she would be unavailable and leave a quick message for her. The check-in.

His leg ached from the knee down and anytime he moved an electrical pulse shocked through his muscles, but his chest didn't hurt anymore so he was going to count himself fortunate and try his best to enjoy the sound of her voice. The family gossip was never dull. Sometimes he wondered what she was telling everyone else about him, her divorced and widowed and now gay son who also happened to be married to a black man. Her southern friends must have all been terribly scandalized by such news. His life had her clutching her pearls in public repeatedly no doubt, but that wasn't new. When he was a teenager it was drugs and unruly behavior, now it was just his love life.

"Your uncle opened another church," she said, clasping her hands in her lap quickly. She looked like she was sitting at afternoon tea, her knees locked, her ankles crossed. A former debutante, she would never grow out of certain behaviors. "I told him he should be careful lest he start to look like one of those mega church charlatans. You know the type I mean." She waved her hand flippantly through the air, as if she were swatting at an imaginary fly, and let just the slightest smile quirk up her lips.

"With two small congregations?" he asked her seriously. His uncle had spoken to him about his new church, in fact. They'd flown out to Virginia and Derek helped him examine at least three churches structurally before he settled on one that had good solid bones. It was a single little white chapel, no more than fifty could possibly fit inside, and the pulpit was meager at best. He was a big man, Hotch's uncle, and he filled out the space spectacularly.

She huffed her disapproval immediately.

"That's how they all start, Aaron. One minute they're running two small churches in neighboring communities, and the next they're buying stadiums and living in mansions."

"That may be, but I don't think Uncle Teddy has those kinds of aspirations."

She made a snorting sound that made him laugh and she didn't bother to continue the conversation. Perhaps she was being a little alarmist. Aaron had always loved his uncle Teddy, in fact at one time he'd considered following in his footsteps and becoming a preacher too. He used to sit in the front pew at his little Baptist church and sing his hymns with his whole heart and hold his prayer book so reverently in his lap, even when he was so small that his feet dangled high above the floor. Teddy was well over six feet tall and nearly three hundred pounds, he was a behemoth of a man and the most gentle person Aaron had ever known. If he could be even a little like his uncle, he would have been happy. Being sent to boarding school had solidified his desire to preach, having fallen so far and crash landed there in hell, finding the chaplain who told him anyone could be redeemed, even him who felt so hopeless…it had all felt like his path.

Until it didn't.

Until he gave in and followed his father into law for reasons he now couldn't even recount, and nearly let his mother talk him into parlaying that into a political career. He'd come so close to saying yes to a run at politics when his mother convinced Haley he would be great at it, and deep in his heart he knew he would have. But it would have eaten him alive even faster than law had, it would have left him a husk of a man before he was middle aged. He was far too empathetic for a career that involved so much deception.

The FBI had been the first thing he'd done for himself, but some part of him always held onto watching his uncle in the pulpit. He could no longer see himself standing there, that was a boy's dream, but it filled him with warmth anyway. The idea of it was so pure inside of him that he held it close even still.

"How is Uncle Teddy anyway?" he asked, because she couldn't resist gossiping but even more than that, she couldn't resist his interest.

"Oh you know, he's trying to lose weight. His doctor says he's got high cholesterol, and if he's not careful he'll wind up having a heart attack just like Edward."

Aaron hummed and thought about his father for a moment, someone he didn't consider often anymore. He'd wasted years of his life thinking about Edward Hotchner to no avail, there was no point in it. Now it was with a calmness that he saw his father, fallen and bedraggled, a desperate man who couldn't understand happiness. A man who craved control, whose life was so far out of his control that he couldn't cope. Aaron had hated him at one time, now he simply pitied him. He figured that was growth.

"I'm sure he would love it if you brought your family down when he opens the doors of the new church in January."

Aaron looked down at the lump of his bandaged and swollen foot at the end of the bed and considered. Teddy had floated the idea already, but it was hardly more than a month out, and he wasn't sure whether he'd be up for traveling by then. He left the invitation open, didn't automatically turn it down at least.

"I don't think I can make plans like that right now," he said quietly and she nodded her understanding. "We have discussed it."

"Is Derek a believer?" she asked, and he could tell she'd been wondering for a while. Their ceremony was light on the religion, it had enough that Aaron was satisfied but not so much that it made Derek uncomfortable. He was coming along in his own walk with faith, day by day, occasionally sitting down in the wee hours of the night with questions for Aaron to answer for him. If he could. Sometimes he couldn't. His intimate knowledge and love for the Bible was intriguing to Derek, but he'd been so burned by the ideas that floated around when he was a child that…old habits died hard.

"Derek's relationship with God is his own," Aaron replied. "He keeps it private."

She hummed a little and he shrugged.

"Some scar run too deep to ever really heal," he added, as if she'd pressed him further. "But he's always searching and I think that's the important thing."

"Of course," she said, and that she could understand. She'd been searching a long time too, and she had her doubts sometimes just like anyone. "I hope he finds what he's looking for."

(x)

He was released from the hospital in the evening, after finally clearing the entire checklist of requirements. His legs ached now from the thigh down, it was a deep ache that settled into his bones and every movement was agony but he pulled himself upright and used the crutches to get from the car to the steps anyway. Because Derek was watching, and Derek needed to see him upright. Every day he spent in that hospital bed had pushed him closer to the brink of hopelessness - Derek needed movement, and he thought everyone else did too.

The house was strung with lights on the outside, warm white lights on all the trim, beside the gutters, around each window. In the front window, through the open curtains, Hotch caught a glimpse of their lit Christmas tree. Hank and Trey were hanging a mess of decorations on it as they approached while Savannah and Penelope looked on, pointing out sparse spaces or areas that were much too full. Sagging branches and empty branches.

He'd been worried about the tree, about ruining Christmas. His fears were so far unfounded, Christmas appeared to be in full swing thanks to their family.

Inside, the house was lit by twinkling lights and a flickering fire, and Aaron was so glad to be home that he nearly started crying. It wouldn't have surprised anyone to see it, either. Derek shut the door behind them and helped him out of his jacket one arm at a time, the other still propped up against his crutches.

"Chair or bed?" he asked, indicating the living room with its new and very unfamiliar furniture options. He'd swapped out their old broken in couch for one that folded out into a bed, and set up a recliner beside the fire. Hotch didn't love the new look of the place, he loved his old lived in furniture, but the sentiment was sweet.

"Bed," he said, because he didn't think he'd have the energy or the willpower to move his body again for a while once he got settled. He would rather be in a place where falling asleep would be comfortable. The sofa bed looked directly at the fireplace, and had a lovely view of the tree as the kids continued to decorate it. Hank had rushed over to hug him before returning to his job, but Trey hadn't said a word yet. Aaron couldn't blame him, not after the whole coughing up blood thing. He would give Trey some time.

It was clear from the start that the mattress on the sofa bed was not the one it had come with, Derek must have purchased a separate and much higher quality mattress that would no doubt not fold into the sofa with any sort of ease. Or even at all. But this was an accommodation for a temporary injury, not a permanent change. He wanted to ask where his couch was, but he held off - the answer would probably upset him.

"Once you're a little more settled, I have a lot of paperwork for you to look over. Guardianship and adoption papers for T, the sale agreement for my mom's building, a few grants your mom told me to look into if we're gonna pursue the building…"

"Mom went home," Sean said, entering the room with a string of lights wrapped around his shoulder like a lasso. "She wanted me to tell you that she'll be back for Christmas. She wants to see Jack."

"Are you going home too?" Hotch asked and Sean shook his head quickly, without any thought.

"Not on your life. I already told you that you can't get rid of me that easily. If I don't stick around and help, it might be the end of your marriage. He doesn't know how much of an ass you can be when you're…"

"I think he's got a good idea."

At that Sean laughed. "Doubtful."

(x)

Two days of sleeping with very little else was about all Hotch could muster. His legs ached fiercely and the only thing that helped was when Derek sat with him and rubbed them, but he couldn't just sit and do that all day and all night. He was miserable.

"This is normal," Savannah said when Derek was at his most anxious. She yawned, the middle of the night wake up calls starting to upset her system. She was going to have to fly back to her work site soon and she was almost looking forward to the flight - at least she would sleep. "He had surgery and a blood clot. His body is experiencing side effects of healing. Just try to keep him comfortable and get him up walking when he's feeling up to it. His muscles need to move."

Derek settled on a bath, figuring that it would be easy enough to talk Hotch into that. He would be warm, he would be comfortable, and Derek could sit with him and see him naked. It had been a little too long.

They didn't bother with the crutches. Hotch hated them and if Derek was there, it was easy enough just to support him for the short trip. Derek let him hop a few times before scooping him up into his arms and playfully carrying him the rest of the way against Hotch's weak protest.

"Derek," he whined but he was smiling and Derek was laughing and it was the first time in a few days that they'd done either of those things. Being in the hospital had given them some false sense of hope that things would be easy, but without all of the monitors and the nurses on call and the IV medications, everything was a lot harder.

But not a bath. A bath was easy. He'd run the water until it was steaming and now he just had to undress Hotch and help him into the water without getting his foot wet. Once he was down in the water, he began unwrapping the bandage from his foot - they'd gone with a thick layer of cotton inside of a stiff ace bandage, no need for a full cast so far. If he couldn't be trusted with that, they had threatened more intervention but he promised.

Their days bled together in a mix of forced (coerced) activity, a lot of sleeping, and gift shopping. Each morning Aaron would help Derek make a list for one member of the family, and then Derek would take either Savannah or Penelope out with him to get that shopping done. They were picking people off one by one while Sean helped Aaron with his physical therapy - that help started out being against his will, but after a while they settled into the routine and Aaron began looking forward to it. Sean was good at this. Good at motivating his brother, good at forcing him to make progress, good at being gentle when it was needed.

"You remind me of uncle Teddy," Aaron said as Sean went about their post PT routine of getting the ice pack and the water bottle and the snack. Once Aaron was set up with everything he needed, they would flip on the television and catch a daytime soap opera - didn't matter which one, they barely watched, just invented stories of their own. Sean was good at making voices and coming up with characters that would make his brother laugh.

"You saying I'm big and fat?" Sean asked. Aaron let out a little laugh.

"No. I just think you…you're good at this. That's all."

"Are you guys still thinking about heading down next month to visit him? Sit through his church's opening?"

"If they say I'm okay to travel, I would like to."

"Yeah…I was actually…he asked me to come down and help him get things started. You know I went to seminary for a while before I decided to try and get into law school?"

"You never told me that."

"I didn't want anyone to know. Mom would have lost her mind."

"How did you hide it?"

"It's not hard to hide things from people who never call."

Aaron felt guilty for it, but he had a point. He'd hidden plenty of things from his family over the years. "He wants you to preach?"

"Assistant Pastor, that's what he offered. He said that the area this church is in would be well-suited to my particular brand of hardships…"

"Yeah," Aaron agreed, thinking about where the little chapel was located. "It would, actually. I think it's a great idea. You really want to leave New York?"

"I've had my fun there. I'm ready to try something new." Sean paused and dropped his voice an octave, as if there was anyone else in the house who might be listening to them. "Did Jack tell you he was looking at seminary school?"

Aaron's breath caught in his throat. "No," he whispered. "He didn't."

"Well he's just kicking the idea around right now. Teddy talked to him. Don't tell him I told you…he'll talk to you about it when he's ready."

Aaron was silent for a moment, letting his body relax into the sofa bed, letting his painful foot sink into the pillows beneath the ice pack.

"Would you be upset?" Sean asked when he couldn't quite get a read on the situation. "I know you've spent a lot of money on his school…" Aaron shook his head.

"I don't care about the money. I want him to do exactly what he wants with his life without worrying about what I want. He's always got my full support."

"He's a lucky kid," Sean said, finally settling into the bed beside his brother. "All of your kids are damn lucky."

Aaron wasn't entirely certain about that, all things considered, but it was nice of Sean to say. He barely paid any attention to the show they put on, his mind too deeply entrenched in the idea of Sean having a pulpit, of Jack going to seminary school. Not in his wildest dreams did he ever see this happening.

(x)

Christmas morning came in the blink of an eye and Aaron was mobile enough to get himself out to the living room hours before anyone else got up. It was just he and Paige sitting beside the fire, stoking it, preparing the house for guests. They were going to try and squeeze everyone inside their humble little place for the day.

Usually they would go to Fran's, it was tradition, but Derek insisted that they not make Aaron travel. He needed to be able to retire to his bedroom when his body said it was time, he needed to be comfortable and the only way to ensure that was to have everyone over to their house.

Seeing Aaron at the table beside the back door, his head resting in his arms, gave him pause. It was like being slammed back through time to the moment when everything changed - Aaron with his head buried in his arms on the table, Paige at his feet. Only this time his leg was propped up on the chair beside him, and he looked peaceful, not in pain.

"Merry Christmas," Derek said, coming up behind Aaron and slipping his hands over the mounds of his shoulders. "All good?"

"Great," Aaron said with a sleepy smile. "Just needed to take a rest before I put on the coffee."

"The house looks great. You didn't need to put the sofa bed up yourself, you know."

"You've got too much on your plate today as it is, I managed a few things."

"You sure you're all good?" Derek asked, his fingers kneading gently into Aaron's neck and shoulders. Aaron almost started purring.

"Great," he replied. "Just tired."

"Let me get that coffee going, that'll perk you right up."

"No…" Aaron almost whined. "Please stay." His shoulders were so sore from a month of crutches, nothing could ever have felt better in that moment than Derek's hands working at his muscles.

The family began trickling in as Derek and Penelope worked on breakfast. Sean had insisted on cooking but he'd done so much of it for them already that Derek asked him to just go around and pick people up, make sure everyone got to the house safely and with as few cars as possible. Sean had muttered something under his breath about being a chauffeur, but in the end he did it and had a good time. The house was full, the kids were all trying to figure out which gifts were for each of them - even the big kids, the ones who were legally adults behaved like toddlers when faced with bright wrapping paper under a lit tree. Jack and Max and Trey were on their hands and knees beside Hank, and when Cindi showed up with Anthony he was happy to join them. They were shaking boxes and trying to sneak peeks inside damaged, ripped up corners to no avail.

Sarah and Desiree joined Aaron on the couch to talk about a book the three of them had read recently while Fran and Savannah started a noisy game of Hearts at the kitchen table.

"I can't believe this is your life," Penelope said when she and Derek had a moment to breathe. The counters were lined with pastries and juices and scrambled eggs and various breakfast meats. They'd cooked a ton and no one came empty handed. "I mean, I really can't believe it. Can you?"

"No," he said, his chest tight with emotion. He'd always dreamed of it, but he never saw it happening. Not in a million years. He'd spent so much of his life running away from commitment, afraid of what it might mean, afraid he couldn't do it, afraid of losing someone he loved. It was easier if you never got attached. "Pretty incredible, huh?"

"So incredible! Fairy tales have nothing on you, Derek Morgan."

Trey wandered into the kitchen after getting his fill of gift guessing, and Derek clocked his distress right away. "What's up kid?"

"I'm kind of…this is a lot, D…"

"Take the dog out, she probably needs to pee anyway. Get some fresh air. That's what Aaron does when it gets overwhelming."

"He feels like this too?"

"This is a lot for him, yeah. If he could get up and walk on his own he'd already be outside, guaranteed. He's kinda trapped."

"Should I take him out to pee too?" Trey asked with a smirk, and Derek laughed.

"You might ask if he wants to join you."

(x)

Trey and Aaron sat on the back porch for a half hour in total silence, breathing in the icy Chicago air. The train rumbled by, screaming on its tracks, startling Paige as she sniffed around the shed. Trey blew smoke rings with his cold breath and Aaron stared up into the bright white of the sky.

"Here," Aaron said, pulling a card from the pocket of his sweater and handing it to Trey. "Derek told me to give it to you out here."

"What is it?"

"Open it."

Inside the envelope was a card with a soft velvet wreath design on the front, a card that didn't have any words inside or outside. Just a simple, pretty wreath. Inside was a piece of paper with a location, date and a time printed in Derek's quick, sloppy handwriting. "You're adopting me? For real?"

"For real. Your mom signed the papers and I talked to some people who could expedite things. If you still want to go through with it."

He couldn't help it, he leaned over and wrapped Aaron in a hug that was so tight it knocked the breath from his lungs. He'd been avoiding Aaron since the hospital, since the fear that coursed through him while he watched someone he cared for coughing up so much blood. He'd never seen anything like it and it haunted his dreams. The fear was still there, in fact it was worse somehow, but so much better.

These guys…they wanted him around. They wanted to care for him, and help him become a man. They wanted to give him a chance. No one ever wanted to take a chance on him, he'd been left for dead enough times.

"Thank you," Trey said with tears in his eyes. He might be in high school, but he was still so young. Aaron could see how very very young he was, and he hugged him back, patting him between the shoulders.

"Welcome to the family. It's nice to have someone else to sit out here with when it gets too loud in there."

As if on cue, Anthony joined them. Previously he'd been Aaron's main cohort, and now there were three. They liked the quiet, and they stayed outside until they were forced to join everyone for the present opening and food.

"Derek," Trey said, hanging back while Anthony helped Aaron into the house. Anthony was taller than he was, he was bigger and could support more of Aaron's weight. "Thank you."

"You bet," Derek said, pulling the kid into a hug. "Merry Christmas."

Fran cornered Derek on his way to the too full living room, pushing him back into the kitchen and waving her own card in his face. "You did it? You bought the building? Why? Why would you do that?"

Derek grinned and let her poke her finger into his chest and give him all the what for that she needed to before he finally spoke.

"Aaron looked at all of the paperwork and it's not that bad. There are some grants we can get our hands on to help fix it up a bit without it affecting your rent."

She couldn't argue, it was already done, but she was still mad. "Can you get out of it if you have to? Will it ruin you?"

"The city would buy it in a heartbeat, if that's what you mean. It won't ruin us. Do you really think Aaron would sign his name to something that had the potential to put his family in trouble?"

She had her doubts, but she had to give him that one. Aaron wasn't the type to make sentimental decisions when it came to finances. At least not that she could imagine, though she had some suspicion that Derek's sentimentality might have affected him some. It was Aaron's one real weakness - Derek. Making Derek happy.

"Aaron's mother helped," he offered when she didn't quite look convinced that things would be alright, that their investment wasn't a bad one. "She's got a lot of connections. We'll be okay, ma. And you and all your little friends will get to keep having your Saturday morning coffee gossips at the mailboxes, only maybe we can get rid of the roaches and the exposed wiring."

She smiled hesitantly, choosing to ignore the insults to her building. They didn't have roaches…anymore. "Grace helped? There's a lot about that family that I don't know."

"You and me both."

(x)

After most everyone had gone and left just the stragglers who were still staying in their house, Aaron sat in his recliner with his sore foot under ice and his electric blanket on full blast to stave off the chill that would inevitably come from the ice pack. He had his Bible open on his lap, reading silently while the boys all helped Hank put batteries into his toys or build sets that needed building. Once everything was cleaned up and operable, Trey and Derek went out to the garage to put up some of their new tools while Jack had retired to his own room with a book alongside Max, each of them having brought mountains of homework back with them for their holiday. When he was bored of playing with the last toy for the moment, Hank made his way over to Aaron and crawled up into his lap, curling himself up until he fit perfectly.

Aaron read his Bible every day without fail, though he kept it quietly to himself. He knew how Derek felt about religion - he'd come a long way, but he wasn't there yet. And there was no rush, at least not so far as Aaron saw. Hank was curious though, and Savannah encouraged it heartily. She was deeply religious, a missionary doctor from a line of missionary doctors. Aaron had always taken the quiet road, preferring to lead people by action and love, not by talking - he never would have made it as a preacher. But when Hank settled in, he was happy to begin reading aloud - the story of Jesus' birth, the story of Christmas. His foot throbbed mercilessly and more than once he heard the pain come through in his voice, but Hank didn't seem to notice. In fact, while he read, he failed to notice that the room began filling up again. He didn't notice Derek and Trey enter the kitchen and hang out in earshot silently, he didn't notice Jack and Max returning to the front room for a snack and stopping to listen, he didn't notice Penelope and Sean stopping in their quest to finish cleaning the last of the dishes. Everyone listened to him read to Hank about the baby in the manger.

He looked up to find Jack smiling at him from across the room. Jack who had strayed for years, who had wrestled against fear and anger over everything he'd lost. Jack who still hadn't told him that he was giving real consideration to a change in schools. Jack who had always loved to do what Hank was doing, curling up on his father's lap as he read his Bible at night.

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord," Aaron read, though he didn't need to look at the words they were so well etched into him, and without hesitation from the kitchen Sean broke in, still towel drying his dishsoap hands. His voice rang out clear and crisp.

"And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger,"

"And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying: Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men," Jack finished and looked at his father just in time to catch him swiping tears from his eyes. "Merry Christmas, Dad," Jack said, and without further words, he vanished back down the hallway. Everyone else went back to their business, and Aaron closed his Bible and sat holding a now sleeping Hank in his lap. He was more than ready to shut his eyes himself.