Hotch sat quietly in the dimly lit living room of his apartment, a mug of cooling coffee cradled between his hands. The quiet hum of the city outside filtered through the windows, the only sound breaking the heavy silence.

He glanced at the stack of paperwork on the coffee table, all the legal documents confirming his adoption of you. It was a big step, but he knew it was the right one.

He had spent weeks trying to get you to open up, to trust him. Your past was a tangle of uncertainty and emotional distress, having drug addicts for parents, neglecting you for what felt like an eternity, a long string of foster homes, and fleeting connections that had never lasted.

Hotch had hoped that his quiet stability could be the one constant you needed. But you were still like strangers under the same roof, hesitating around each other as though unsure of the new roles you were trying to play.

Hotch heard the soft shuffle of footsteps in the hallway. You appeared in the doorway, your shoulders tense and eyes wary. “Hey,” Hotch said softly, offering a small, encouraging smile. “Come on, let’s watch a movie.”