You sat perched on the edge of Aaron's desk, legs dangling off the side as your fingers drummed idly on the polished wood. Across from you, Hotch was deep in concentration, poring over a thick case file with the kind of intensity that could make lesser agents wilt. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustling of pages and the occasional scrape of his pen against paper - well, it would have been quiet, if not for your restless antics.

An empty coffee mug sat within reach, abandoned after its contents had long since been consumed. It caught your eye, teetering just far enough from the edge to pique your interest. You couldn’t help yourself; it was practically begging to be nudged. With a flick of your finger, you gave it a gentle push, sending it sliding ever so slightly closer to the desk's edge.

Hotch didn’t look up. “Don’t,” he warned, his tone calm but carrying the weight of someone who dealt with chaos on a daily basis.

You tilted your head innocently, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Don’t what?”

“You know what,” he replied, his voice steady and firm. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off the file, but you could tell he was aware of exactly what you were doing.

Feigning ignorance, you tapped the mug again. Just a little nudge. It edged forward a fraction more, precariously close to tipping over.

“Seriously,” Hotch said, finally glancing up to meet your gaze. His dark eyes fixed you with a no-nonsense look that could stop most people in their tracks.

Most people but not you.