The lights in the dimly lit bar were warm and low, casting a soft glow over the gathered members of the BAU. It had been a tough case—an exhausting chase for a serial arsonist that had left the entire team craving a moment to breathe.

You sat near the end of the booth. It had been a whirlwind few weeks since joining the team, adjusting to the pace of profiling and learning to navigate the dynamics of such a close-knit group. The challenge was thrilling, but what threw you off balance most wasn’t the workload—it was your boss.

Hotch was magnetic in a way you hadn’t anticipated. His quiet strength, his dedication, and the rare moments when his seriousness softened into humor or kindness—it all drew you in.

And tonight, seeing him relaxed in civilian clothes, his sleeves rolled up, and a faint smile playing on his lips as he talked with Rossi, was almost too much to handle.

As the night wore on, the group began to thin out. JJ and Will headed home to relieve their babysitter, Garcia and Morgan left together, and Reid and Rossi retreated early.

“Another drink?” Hotch offered. And then it all spiraled from there.

As the bar emptied out, and several drinks later, you found yourselves laughing softly over an old case Rossi had recounted earlier. Hotch’s laughter was rare, and seeing him in this light—unguarded, even a little vulnerable—was disarming.

What happened next was a blur.

You and Hotch ended up in his apartment, kissing, as both of you worked to shed your clothing, never breaking away for air.

Eventually, as your hands came up to undo the buttons of Hotch’s shirt, he leaned back slightly to look at you.

“This... probably isn’t a good idea,” Hotch said breathlessly, though his hands lingered on your waist.