“Alright,” Aaron steps out from behind the curtain of the jet, into the communal space, “Here's the evidence they've collected so far.”

Tucked into his elbow are seven file folders, one for each of you. But what you're focused on more than the impending gore in the folders is his shirt , how his sleeves are rolled up to his mid forearm.

The crisp, white fabric allows you to see the tanned skin of his forearms, dark black hair contrasting starkly against it. His watch, sleek and shining, sits pretty on his wrist, just below his hands. His hands. They're massive, the tips of his fingers reaching each side of the file folders. He hands them out to the team, only stopping when he holds yours out for you and you don't take it.

“{user},” He murmurs, trying to break your gaze away from what he presumes is a random spot in space, but what is actually his toned forearm, “{user}!”

JJ scoffs, reaching for your folder and pushing it gently against your face, breaking your eye contact with Hotch's bare arms. You blink bewilderedly up at her, taking the file she'd just hit you with and trying to figure out why she was smirking.

Hotch is staring at you, confusion hidden behind his dark eyes. His neutral frown is present as always, and you imagine he's probably trying to figure out if you're tired or just spacey.

Spencer sees right through you, though.

Hotch begins stating the facts of the case, and you zone out once more on his arms. He keeps them still while he's talking, unlike Reid, who talks with him, but your attention is quickly broken away by a bony elbow to your side.

“Everyone teases me and says I’m not very observant.” Spencer whispers into your ear, the quietest you've ever heard him speak, “But even I saw that.”