Chapter Text
Inhaling the scorching hot June air, Spencer let his gaze wander to his friends. They were heading to the Washington DC Pride Parade, and Emily had gone all out, as expected for someone who did not shy from her sexuality. Lesbian flag drawn on her cheek, a black t-shirt with ‘LESBIAN’ in the flag colors written across her chest, a black skirt and black shoes highlighted by lesbian flag-colored socks and belt. She was also carrying a huge lesbian flag on her shoulders, and Spencer was wondering how she did not get too warm with it. Penelope had also gone all out, with a pink top, bright yellow belt and blue skirt, a walking embodiment of the pansexual flag. The care had extended into the details of her outfit, including matching hair accessories – pink hair ties holding up small ponytails on each side of her head, yellow hair clips and a blue headband – pansexual flag socks, and hearts drawn across her face in the same colors. JJ had gone much more casual, with only a bisexual flag drawn on her cheek and a pin – the bisexual socks were hidden below one of her usual business casual suits. Spencer landed somewhere between the two extremes, with both his flags – gay and transexual – drawn on each cheek and pinned to his chest, and a flurry of pride flags – on his t-shirt, his messenger bag strap, his laces, his socks, even heart-shaped sunglasses gifted to him by Penelope. The excitement was palpable in the air, the crowd loud even from the secluded corner they had found themselves in.
“- I’m soooo getting laid this year,” Emily said, turning to Spencer with a wide smile. “And so are you!”
“- Emily…” he sighed. She was unstoppable once she started, and since he was the only one to be single except for her in their small crowd, she was not going to leave him alone.
“- Come on! It’s been a while, right? You should enjoy and have fun!”
He sighed again. He couldn’t decently explain to Emily that his love life was currently full. Completely occupied by an unrequited, irrational crush. Even if he were to tell her that, she would undoubtedly ask for details, starting with a name, and it was where the problem was. There was no way he could tell anyone who his crush was.
“- Hey, is that Hotch?” JJ asked, elbowing Emily as she was squinting through the ever growing crowd. Spencer had to suppress a cough – caught in the act, daydreaming. What were the odds of JJ talking about him now? A universe in which Hotch was queer was not something he was able to imagine. He was painfully aware that it was a defense mechanism, but the more unattainable he made the objects of his affections, the less his crush was taking over his life. It was hard enough already not to bask in their quiet understandings, in the soft smile Hotch was giving him sometimes, when it was just the two of them. Yeah. A defense mechanism was definitely needed if he wanted to be able to keep existing without getting consumed entirely.
The other members of his team were not moving their gaze, though, so he joined in the squinting. It took him less than a second to find Hotch – he spent enough time looking at his boss to find those broad shoulders almost instantly in a crowd – and sure enough, it really was Hotch, trying to cross through the – impressive – amount of people crowding the plaza to get to them.
He finally managed to push through, and when he finally stood in front of the small group, Spencer felt like he was just hit in the chest, air whooshing out of his lungs. Hotch was wearing a maroon dress shirt that Spencer had never, ever seen, and god, was it even legal to look that good? Was it legal to rock a simple color that bad? He could not tear his eyes away from the shirt, or the open buttons at the top, or the rolled up sleeves, showcasing Hotch's muscular forearms.
“- Hey, everyone,” he said, but none of them answered. That surprised Spencer – surely, they were not all drooling over Hotch's shirt? He was so thrown off his game that it took him a whole five seconds to realize what had stunned his coworkers into silence – glittering under the sun, a bisexual flag pin, stuck to Hotch's breast pocket.
Spencer felt his heart stop, brain completely blank and for once void of any thoughts. The world, surely and certainly, was shifting on his axis. Hotch. Bisexual. His brain could not put two and two together.
Penelope was the first one to snap out of their collective silence. She stepped forward, and without any hesitation, engulfed Hotch into one of her tight, warm, soul-healing embraces.
“- I’m so proud of you, sir,” she said, and her voice sounded like she was holding back tears.
“- Thank you, Garcia,” he answered, wrapping his arms around the tech analyst’s smaller frame.
When Penelope untangled herself from Hotch, Emily and JJ stepped forward, all encouraging smiles and warm glances.
“- That takes a lot of courage,” JJ said, with a hand on Hotch’s forearm, as Emily nodded next to her.
“- We’re glad you're here with us.”
Spencer belatedly realized it was his turn to say something, but his usually talkative brain was still reduced to silence, still trying to deal with the fact that, all of a sudden, his crush was… not as far as he'd thought. He always considered that Hotch could never reciprocate his feelings, because he was straight. But this? This was opening a very, very dangerous door – hope.
“- Yeah! It’s, uh, good,” he said, lamely, and felt a blush spread to his cheeks. God, he was such an idiot.
“- Well then, shall we get going?” Hotch asked, and Spencer knew it was going to be a very long day.
Over the course of the afternoon, they'd lost JJ, Emily and Penelope somewhere in the ever-moving crowd, and Hotch had suggested that they hold on to each other. He’d nodded, not knowing what Hotch had in mind. He didn't know what he’d pictured, but Hotch grabbing his hand was definitely not it. He couldn't stop staring at their joined hands – Hotch’s was calloused from gun use, but his skin was running hot, sending soft heat coursing through Spencer's veins. He basked in this warmth as they roamed around, pointing things at each other, Spencer ranting about the places they were passing by, and LGBTQIA+ history, and anecdotes of the team’s previous parades. He wondered if he was talking too much, but Hotch was listening with rapt attention, asking follow-up questions, and… laughing. Laughing and smiling at him so much more than usual. Throwing softly teasing comments at Spencer and making him blush. Spencer wasn't sure when the last time he enjoyed himself so much was. Surely, nothing compared to seeing Hotch’s freely given smile, and it was starting to make him giddy, light and floating. Too much dopamine flooding his brain.
He lost track of time after a while, too busy appreciating this side of Hotch he wasn’t seeing too often. So soft around the edges, like his usual armor had been slowly peeled down with every minute they spent here, together.
The other thing that had disappeared as they wandered the streets was their personal space. They’d started wandering around with their usual, professional distance despite the joined hands, but as they walked, they’d ended up closer and closer, to the point that now, their shoulders were brushing with almost every step.
Spencer wondered how the blurry stripe of people around would interpret the two of them. What meaning were they assigning to two men, smiling at each other, hand in hand? Were they thinking they were a couple? Or simply two men enjoying a beautiful afternoon out?
More importantly… what meaning was Spencer supposed to assign it, to this handhold that Hotch was treating so casually, despite the fact that it was reshaping Spencer’s world even further. How in hell was he supposed to keep his crush at bay now that he knew how nice Hotch’s hand felt holding his?
“- So, you coming here…” Spencer said, staring at his Converse like they were the most interesting thing around, trying to find another subject of conversation to escape his ever so bristling mind. “Does this mean you’re going to try dating again?”
The second he’d asked, he regretted it. That wasn’t something he actually wanted to know. He was already delusional enough to entertain a crush on Hotch – his boss, who’d been married to a woman for years, who was older, and always so calm and collected, he certainly would never consider a mess such as Spencer romantically.
“- That was the plan…” Hotch answered, and Spencer could feel the weight of his onyx eyes on him. “But I feel so rusty. It’s been a while since I’ve flirted with anyone.”
“- I’m sure you've still got it.”
“- Hmm. So I need to be a bit less subtle about it, got it.”
It took Spencer a moment to understand the implications. When he did, though, his brain just froze. Fuck. Fuck. Does that mean he was flirting with me or am I overinterpreting stuff? Was he flirting with me? Why would he be flirting with me? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He must’ve gone still and silent for too long, caught in his internal spiral, because Hotch noticed.
“- You alright, Reid?”
“- Yeah! Yeah, yeah…” Hotch did not look convinced, and Spencer would be offended if he did, because his attempt at a brush-off was not convincing.
They kept on walking, in silence this time, still holding each other’s hand. The silence was not quite uncomfortable, but not a comfortable one either – not like their quiet times on the jet home, or the times when he was hiding from the chaos of the bullpen in Hotch's office. These were easy, light silences, where words were just not necessary. This was… not that. If Spencer had to put a word on it, he’d say… slightly tense. As if Hotch’s joke – because it had to be it, just a lighthearted joke he’d thrown around, not thinking it would impact Spencer that much.
They were climbing a staircase now, trying to get back to the heart of the parade, Spencer barely ahead of Hotch, and the crowd was getting even more packed. Even more energetic. Free. Happy. So much joy and energy in the air, adrenaline and dopamine coursing through their veins.
“- They all look so happy,” Hotch said, finally breaking the silence. “I wish I was more like them.”
“- You are,” Spencer answered, stopping his staircase climb to turn around and face Hotch. “There’s no difference between them and you.”
“- I’m older. Not as brave. Not as bold. Not as proud. There’s a thousand things I would do if I had more courage, but who am I to say I even deserve happiness?”
The sudden introspection threw Spencer for a loop, and at the same time, it broke his heart. The idea that Hotch – Hotch, who’d gone through so many horrific things Spencer could barely count them, who was always ready to sacrifice himself to everyone else’s happiness – did not deserve to find his own…
“- You deserve everything you might ever want,” Spencer said before he could stop himself. “Everything. Don’t let these feelings stop you.”
Hotch scoffed at these words.
“- Even so… I’m not brave enough to ask for what's right in front of me. I keep making excuses. It’s a bad idea. There are tons of obstacles. But I know… I know I could face them. It’s just that… I’m not brave enough to put myself out there.”
There are so many things that Spencer could answer. Coming here was already huge. This is a step in the right direction. Come on, Hotch, any guy would be lucky to have you. But his brain was stuck on one part of Hotch’s speech.
“- Right in front of you?” he breathed, hoping that he wasn’t misinterpreting things. He could. Statistical type two error. Being certain that you’re seeing something, but it's not there. Your brain is playing tricks on you because you want it to be there.
Spencer wanted it to be there. Desperately.
“- Right in front of me,” Hotch nodded, just as breathless. His eyes locked to Spencer’s, burning him with their intensity. The pull of gravity changed, beckoning him to Hotch rather than the Earth. Electricity in the air, the inside of his skin a live wire suddenly. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, like he always did when he was nervous, but he didn't expect this gesture to catch Hotch's eyes – but it did, the laser glare switching its focus from Spencer's eyes to his lips, Hotch's iris almost black despite the sunlight, and Spencer felt like he was vaporizing into thin air.
Fuck it, he thought. He was surrounded by people like him. He was feeling like he belonged. There was no better feeling than being at home, accepted and loved for who he was. No longer a minority for a second. He was one of them: brave and bold, as Hotch had said. Feeling unstoppable. Either I fly, or I crash and burn. No more hesitation.
On a Thursday, in June, in the middle of a Pride Parade, surrounded by cries of joy and pressed by an endless flow of people, Spencer Reid kissed Aaron Hotchner for the very first time.
It was glorious.