Title: A Bitter Rain
By: Sam
Pairing: Gideon/Hotch
Rating: FRM
Prompt: Rain and chocolate
Kink: Bruises
Pairing: Gideon/Hotch
Disclaimers: Not mine, no money made.
Summary: When Hotch shows up on Gideon's doorstep in the middle of night covered in bruises, both men have a decision to make.

***

The shrill ringing of his doorbell coincided with the crack of the bat as Chipper Jones caught up with the pitched fastball, turning the solid contact into a one hop to shortstop.

"Come one, come on..."

The bell rang again as he frowned at the screen, willing the ball to be caught. Getting up from the old armchair with one eye still on the ballgame, Jason Gideon muttered a curse as the Nationals fumbled the double play. "Damn. Alright, I'm coming!"

Shaking his head, the profiler sighed as the game went to a commercial for a new pitcher and resumed his walk to answer the door, only to frown again as he noticed the weather sluicing down the windows outside for the first time. A glance at the clock let him know it was just after 10...

Whoever this was, it must be something serious to bring them out at this time of night in this weather. It may still be late September, but the rain pouring down from the night sky had to be freezing.

Reaching the door, Gideon flipped on the porch light and opened the door before whoever it was could ring again. Only to stare in shock at the man actually standing under the bright light, wet and shaking, water dripping down his face from his wet hair with only his soaked suitcoat to keep him warm.

"Hotch, what - ?"

But that was all he managed to ask before the other man raised his head, giving him a good look at the split lip and the ugly bruise coloring one cheekbone and spreading upward; staining the eye a mottled and angry red.

Stunned, it took a moment for Gideon to take it all in. "My god. Who did this?"

--

"My god. Who did this?"

Hotch winced, but answered him. "Hailey. Hailey - she was angry. I didn't come home right away...she expected -" Taking a deep breath, he asked, "Could I come in?"

Hotch could see the older man visibly getting over his shock; pulling himself together, standing taller and stepping to the side. Could see the shock giving way to concern and Hotch hated himself for it.

He also saw the moment it registered just who it was Hotch had named and the next, when Gideon purposefully decided not to push - for now.

"Of course. Bathroom's down the hall on the right. I'll get you some clothes. You must be freezing."

Right on cue, a single drop of rain found its way down the back of his neck, causing an involuntary shiver, and Hotch offered his mentor a wan grin. "Just a little. Thanks."

"Nevermind that," Gideon gruffed, ushering him inside. "Just get in here before you freeze."

Doing as he was told, Hotch stepped inside, absently noting the drone of a baseball game coming from the living room while trying not to brush Gideon as
he closed the door, not wanting to get his friend wet for his trouble. Rather than allow the water dripping off of him to pool, Hotch made his way to the bathroom where he could drip on title instead of hardwood or carpet as he removed his jacket and tie, draping both over the shower stall. His shoes squelched as he shifted to take them off; they went by the tub while his socks, slacks and button up joined his jacket over the rack.

That's right; think of the methodical, every day tasks and the fact that your life's turning upside down won't bother you so much. Hotch sighed. Compartmentalize, repress, focus on the job at hand - he knew the coping mechanisms for what they were, all too well.

His tshirt and boxers were soaked as well but he wasn't sure what to do about that until Jason popped his head in the bathroom door, handing him the promised pile of clothes. "Here," he said optimistically. "These ought to fit. Towels are in the side closet there. When you're finished, anything that doesn't go to the cleaners, bring them to the laundry room and we'll throw them in the dryer."

"Ok, thanks." Again Hotch offered a washed out smile.

"Don't worry about it," he waved it away. "The Nats were losing anyway. And Hotch?"

"Yeah?"

"No hiding in the bathroom all night, ok?"

A small laugh escaped at that puckish admonishment, forcing its way passed his lips despite the fact - ok, probably because of the fact, that Gideon had caught him wanting to do just that. "No hiding. Got it."

"Good."

"Hey Jason?" Hotch called and Gideon popped his head back in the door.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about the Nats," he offered out of a need to offer something to balance the scales, just a little; a part of his mind skittering over the idea of how *normal* this all was. Commiserating over a ballgame...

"No worries. There's always next time."

Hotch felt his hands sink into the dry clothes he had been given, his fingers twisting in the thick and thin cotton at the very idea of another 'next time' for him. "Yeah. Next time."

--

"Don't move."

Held in place by the gentle command, with his clothes tumbling in the dryer Hotch sat on Jason's couch and tried not to think too much; but of course that was impossible. He still had to figure out what he was going to do. Find a place to stay for the night, or go back home. Rationally he knew he was in danger should he just surrender to the status quo and return home to his wife and child, but what else was he supposed to do? He had responsibilities, promises he had sworn to keep and hadn't, preferring to work late at the BAU than go home and risk Hailey's wrath over the smallest of things...

He realized he had come to Gideon's more for her than for himself. More than not wanting to be hurt, Hotch didn't want to hurt *her*. He had come so close to just losing it tonight...and that scared him.

"Here."

So lost in his thoughts, he never realized Gideon had returned until he handed him a mug of...hot chocolate? The thick, sweet aroma hit his nose, reminding him of falling leaves and warmth on cold nights and he looked up in surprise to Gideon's wry smile.

"Thought it might make you fell better."

Despite his predicament, Hotch felt an answering smile flicker across his lips. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Gideon sat across from him, actually on the coffee table instead of using the chair, and favored him with his trademark open, patient gaze. "Want to talk about it?"

Unexpectedly, the bitterness rose up in him, finding a voice in response to the gentle question. No, he didn't. But now he was here, he rather doubted Jason would just let him leave. Or rather, he *would* if that was what Hotch truly wanted...but just by coming here, it was clear that it wasn't so he might as well.

"What's to talk about? I'm an FBI agent and my wife beats me on a regular basis, so..." But the words dried up, catching in his throat and he couldn't. Too long; he had kept it all inside too long...

Suddenly drained by the unplanned admission, now that it was out in the open, he just felt exhausted; numb. The long day tracking down paper trails and interviewing witnesses, chasing leads that went nowhere, the dread that clawed at him, preventing him from going home until he could put it off no longer and Hailey had been well and truly pissed...

...the resulting attack and the sheer amount of effort it took for him not to hit her back, not to give into his own demons and just react. To give as good as he got...

It had been that last thought that had frozen him and kept him from striking back. And she knew it. It would seem that, when it came to her husband, Hotch wasn't the only profiler in the house.

Knowing Jason was waiting, Hotch shrugged tiredly. Taking in a breath, he tried to work around the knot of dark emotion keeping the words locked in his throat. "What else is there to talk about?"

Drawing in a breath, the older man asked him, "Why didn't you say anything?"

Good question. The sadness in Gideon's voice hit him like a hammer to his chest - guilt, regret, blame...Hotch hadn't told him, Gideon hadn't seen it sooner... Unfortunately they both knew the answer to that one; they saw it all too often in their line of work not to know.

Neither had wanted to acknowledge what they hadn't wanted to know. Neither had wanted to hurt the other. So. They both said nothing.

He worked late. He was never home. He placed his job, his team, over the needs of his family. His choice, his responsibility, his to reap the rewards for his cold and insensitive nature...

Just for a moment, his conscience panged sending his eyes to flicker up and away, again admitting that just by being here, he's revealed more than he wanted to. Too much. He knew he was right when he felt Gideon's hand land on his shoulder and it was all he could do not to flinch.

He hadn't realized there was a bruise there.

"Aaron - none of this your fault."

The bitterness welled up at the expected words. Of course it was - who else? Hailey was his wife, Jack his son - who else was to blame for the fact that Hotch was never home to be with them, if not him?

Hotch looked at his hands to avoid looking into those too knowing eyes; eyes that would have darkened to near black with concern, with worry, for him. He didn't deserve the kindness. "I know that."

There was silence for a moment and then a sigh as Jason said, "No. Apparently you don't."

He startled as that gentle hand brushed his face, brushed the bruise that covered his cheekbone and blackened his eye. And how he was going to explain that one at work tomorrow, he had no idea. "Jason, I - " But he suddenly found that he had no idea what to say. Maybe he had come here more for himself after all. But this...this was a bad idea. It had been too long since anyone had touched him in any good way.

And this was Jason. It was all too easy for him to just let go and give in to the desire they had been skirting for years. "I should go."

"Stay." Gideon urged softly. "Don't go back to someone who hurts you."

"She's right," Hotch tried again. Tried to make himself believe it. "I won't change who I am, Jason, and I'm never home. She was angry, she - "

"She *hit* you!" Gideon exploded, losing control for just a moment while Hotch flinched at the unexpected outburst; at the hand back on his shoulder, the fingers tightening over the thin cotton of his borrowed tshirt.

"She didn't mean it."

"Do *not* give me that bull." Unable to make Hotch meet his eyes, Gideon had settled on the kind-yet-firm mentor voice he had used to such success with his lecture students when they inevitably tried pulling a fast one, usually around exam time. And since the rational part of Hotch knew he was making excuses for an abuser and yet he found himself unable to stop, he said nothing.

With a sigh, it was Gideon who broke the silence.

"Hotch, what would you tell JJ - or Spencer - if one of them came to you in the middle of a monsoon, in the middle of the night, wearing signs of abuse from their significant other on their face?" The older man asked shrewdly. "Let me guess - she's made an effort not to hit you where we could see it before, hasn't she?"

Feeling himself giving in, Hotch leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes, mourning as the move forced Gideon's hand to drop away. He still made the move anyway. "I would tell them to leave; to get out while they still could. And yes, she's usually more careful about...hitting me."

"Good advice, don't you think?"

Opening his eyes in a mild glare, he retorted, "I think that's why I came here; so I wouldn't have to. Just let you do all my thinking for me..."

He was ashamed at the knee-jerk reaction the second the angry words left his mouth. That had been unfair and it wasn't Gideon's fault Hotch's life was one big mess right now.

Rather than responding to the mild outburst, Gideon chuckled. "How often does she confront you with that one? I already know she likes to play the passive-aggressive card, calling me your second wife."

"She can get away with that one in public," Hotch agreed. "Pass it off as a long-suffering joke."

"So." Gideon looked at him expectantly; like he used to when Hotch was his student instead of his equal. "Are you going to take your own advice, or do I have to sic Garcia on you?"

"Why not Elle?" Hotch, snorted.

"Because Elle would undoubtedly go after Hailey instead," Gideon said with some amusement. "She's very protective of her family. And I think we can avoid the unnecessary bloodshed. Garcia will only mother hen you to death."

"Probably. But on that note, I doubt we'll ever have cause to worry about Spencer - not with Morgan and Garcia between him and just about everyone else out there."

"That's true. Those three do seemed joined at the hip these days."

"I don't think it's the hip you're thinking of, Jason."

"No, probably not." Gideon huffed affably. Smiling down on him, once more he offered, "Stay?"

Opening his eyes again, for a moment they shared a knowing gaze, the older man once more sitting on his coffee table. Stay or go; fight or flight. He had choices. He didn't have to accept the guilt and the blame for his wife taking her frustrations out on him. He shouldn't. It wasn't his fault.

Someone provoked still had the responsibility not to lash out in anger. How could he have forgotten?

It wasn't his fault.

But it would be. If he stayed, what would happen tonight, what he needed to
happen...it would be.

"It's not your fault, either," Hotch told him, just to be sure Gideon *knew* that. Wasn't Jason's fault that he hadn't known, hadn't seen something Hotch had hidden all too well. Wasn't his fault that Aaron felt more for him than he did for his own wife.

He watched as Gideon thought that over for a moment, hearing everything Hotch hadn't said, but had meant. Nodding once, decisively, the older man agreed. "No. It's not." Holding out a hand to Aaron, he stood up and added, oddly shy. "But this is."

Taking the offered hand, he nodded in return. "This is. And mine, too."

"Yes."

Allowing Gideon to pull him up, the two old friends shared a rueful smile, acknowledging and accepting that fact before coming together slowly in a kiss, gently touching, discovering.

And when Jason lay him down on his bed, touched him and gently traced the bruises peppering his skin and made him come with a tenderness that brought tears to his eyes, that was Aaron's fault, too. For wanting it, for needing it; needing to erase Hailey's rage with a love that could accept him and understand.

When Jason held him, cuddled warm and safe against him, their bodies tangled together reassuringly under the comforter and sheets that smelled of sex and fresh linen, he admitted that they couldn't go on, not like this. That *he* couldn't go on like this.

Because he honestly had no idea how he was going to explain his eye to the rest of the Team in the morning. Not to mention showing up in the same suit he wore the day before...

"Hotch." Gideon sighed above his head; the vibrations of the one word causing his chest to rumble under Hotch's cheek where he had it pillowed over the other man's heart.

"Yeah."

"Go to sleep. We'll figure something out."

He sighed, feeling his hand caught up and brought to Gideon's lips for a chaste, reassuring kiss. That one, small gesture shouldn't have been enough to ease the knot of anxiety in him, but it was. It meant he wasn't alone. It helped.

It also helped that Gideon hadn't let go, holding their hands resting on his chest as Hotch finally let go and fell asleep to the sound of the rain falling outside and the lingering smell of hot chocolate.


end