Habit (Hotch/Garcia)

[avferreira.livejournal.com]

Title: Habit
Author: AVFerreira (aka DarkSideO'Me)
Rating: FRT
Category: Romance
Characters/Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Penelope Garcia
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: 771
Summary: It was a habit, not a relationship.

It was a habit, not a relationship.

They didn’t go on dates, they barely talked of anything other than work matters, they made no plans. All they had was this end-of-case ritual, no different in essence from how Reid always wore mismatched socks, or Rossi always had a glass of amaretto after Sunday’s lunch, even if he had to carry it with him in a flask. Something that simply felt wrong not to do.

It had started when the team had come home after dealing with Dale Shadner and his partner. She had come by that night, knowing certain details of the case would’ve been salt thrown in a too-recent wound for him. She had thought he might need to talk, but there had been very little talking and she had left quietly, sometime before dawn, while he slept soundly for the first time in months.

She had returned after the business with Christopher Summers. He didn’t ask her why she was there; he’d seen how affected she’d been by the case, and turnabout is fair play. After that, it became something they did with every case.

He would head home, when the case was over, and be with Jack while she went out with the others for a drink, or stayed behind watching a movie with Morgan or Reid. Then later, she would come to his place. He would have some wine waiting; or tea, if she’d been out drinking. They’d sit and drink, sometimes talking about the case, more often in comfortable silence. Then he’d lead her to the bedroom. She always left well before Jack woke.

They never talked about it and nothing had changed in the way they dealt with each other at work. She had taken to calling him “sir” more often, though, as if she needed to mark the fact that she expected no special treatment from him. And the ritual went on, case after case, always the same: comforting and familiar. Until Ian Doyle came along and cost them Emily.

They had driven home together from the hospital. Jack was with Jessica, and there would be no end-of-case celebration for the others. There had been no drinks, no conversation, no sex. They had lain in bed, arms wrapped around each other, wide-awake and silent in the darkness.

Finally she had begun sobbing, her face buried in his neck. He had run his hands softly along her back and kissed her hair, feeling like a traitor for not telling her the truth that would alleviate her grief, but knowing that truth might put both her and Emily at risk.

He had thought that would be the end of this thing they had. There’s a measure of magical thinking in all rituals; the subconscious notion that if done right that set of actions will ensure all’s well. And all was not well, they had lost another member of their close-knit family; their ritual had failed them.

Still, another case had come, and here she was again, sleeping in his arms. It was almost 6 AM, she’d be waking soon and leaving him again. In the beginning, it hadn’t bothered him; in fact, some days he hadn’t even noticed as she left. Now, he was always awake first, ready to see her open her eyes and smile at him, ready to claim one last kiss, one last caress, one last word before she was gone.

He felt he had made a mistake in allowing himself to want more than this comfortable little habit of theirs. He wanted whole nights, not just a few hours; he wanted every night, not just that one night at random intervals; and he wanted more from the days than just the professional.

Still, he had been refraining from asking her for more than she was already giving; afraid that the balance they’d found would be broken and he would lose even those few nights together. Tonight, he had decided to take that chance, but he was struggling with the right words.

He realised she had awaken and was watching him. He brushed his lips against hers and pulled her closer, his hand caressing the side of her body.

“Jack will be up soon,” she said, a hand on his chest.

He kissed her again and the words came, simple and fluid. “You don’t have to leave. Have breakfast with us.”

She simply stared at him for a few moments. The fear filled him. She was going to get up and leave; it really was just a habit for her.

Then she smiled, a devious glint in her eyes. “Can we have pancakes?”

Comments

[nurse-stiney.livejournal.com]

OH NOW I KNOW YOU FROM FF.NET!!! I remember this fic, and how much I loved it, and also how I probably never reviewed it, so now I'm hopefully rectifying that. :P
Secret "habit" explaining all the "sirs" = BRILLIANT. :D

[avferreira.livejournal.com]

Yes, these are all stories written a while back, and they're all at FF.net. Glad you liked it.

[melodyclark.livejournal.com]

As I said elsewhere, this is a genuinely well-conceived and beautifully written piece. It's a model for good, short fan fic. Well done.

[avferreira.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much.