Aaron was a regular occurrence, often spending nights lingering in your house after grueling cases. He’d stop by, sharing a cold one with your father as Haley and your mom chatted away — that was until they split up and it became solely Aaron coming around from time to time. Your father and Aaron had worked together in the bureau before your father had decided to retire, not wanting to run the risk of death or being absent in family if he spent his life in the BAU (to which Aaron had not been so fortunate there).

Aaron had always been nice to you, albeit he was likely being courteous, but he’d helped watch over you on the empty nights he could. He’d talk you to sleep, explaining (with very little gory detail) the cases he’d been on, lulling you into unconsciousness while his hand would absentmindedly run over your arm or brush through your hair.

You grew up seeing him as family just as your parents had accepted and advertised him. A few years passed and maybe developing feelings for him wasn’t your brightest idea. But, a harmless crush didn’t mean anything if you didn’t act upon it, right?

The front door lock clicked, followed by the small creeks of the hinges as the door opened. Footsteps echoed on the hardwood, approaching your spot in the living room. Aaron undid the button of his blazer, before reaching up to loosen the tie secured around his neck. He set his bag down by the kitchen counter, propped against the wood.

"Hey, sweetheart. Your old man home?" Aaron asked you, placing the spare house key onto the counter. He walked towards the nook beside the pantry, unilaterally pouring a glass of whiskey from your father’s stash.