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“I still don’t understand why I have to fuckin wear this, Mar, I feel like a piece of meat at the butcher, all wrapped up in twine and ready to be sold.”
“Don’t be overdramatic, Y/N. You’re the one most qualified to do the hip-hop piece for the open house, and you look the best in this outfit, which everyone will like.” You groan, pulling at the black, ruffled corset pinching your breasts uncomfortably. Martha, your boss, smacks at your hand before tightening the laces in the back, making you hiss.
“You horrible, horrible person. You’re not even pretending that we’re not using sex to bring in business for the studio,” you say, glaring accusingly at the woman in front of you. Martha McNamara, although meek-looking in her pregnancy, you know to be a shrewd, clever business woman. Her sweet, blonde-hair-blue-eye exterior hid the inner shark from everyone but not you. You had been the bait in too many business schemes to be fooled.
“No, I am not, because you and I both know sex sells, Y/N. Besides, you have to admit you look really good in your western garb,” she says, gesturing at your form fitting black corset, red bustle, white and brown ruffled skirt, and black jewel drop jewelry. “You look like the pinnacle of western sexy.”
“You mean, I look like a country cowboy prostitute,” you retort, leveling her with a deadpan look.” She rolls her eyes and smiles at you before grabbing your shoulders.
“Oh, sweetie, I don’t think you’ll complain about how you’re dressed when you catch the attention of that tall, dark, handsome cowboy over yonder.” She looks discreetly to the mirrors that frame the room, pointing at the reflection of a familiar man who just entered the studio flanked by a busty blonde woman and a muscled black man. “Look at that suit, dear, ohh, I’d let him lasso me any day.” You blush, smirking at her as you turn around, breaking free of her grasp.
“You’re married, Mar, and even if you weren’t, I call dibs.” You raise your hand, waving over at your boyfriend and the two friends accompanying him. You grab Martha’s hand, pulling her over, excited to finally introduce your close friend to the man in your life. “Aaron, Penelope, Garcia! What are all of you doing here?” you ask, hugging Penelope and Derek quickly before leaning up on your toes to press a quick kiss to Aaron’s lips.
“I thought we’d surprise you by coming to your open house. It’s circled so many times in your calendar, you seemed excited about it. Also, Penelope and Derek wanted to come watch and go on a double date afterwards.” You swoon at his observant tendencies and at the adorable prospect of going on a double date with your Aaron’s coworkers.
“You didn’t have to come see me, it’s just an open house, and I always get so embarrassed when people I know watch me dance. Still, thank you for coming, and I hope you enjoy the show! Aaron, Penny, Derek, this is Martha McNamara, the owner of the studio and eternal slavedriver,” she tugs one of your hair-sprayed curls at that, making you laugh. “Martha, this is Aaron, the boyfriend I’ve told you so much about, and this is Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan, his coworkers and friends.” The three of them give polite smiles and greetings, but Martha is too busy staring up at Aaron with eyes wide open. You wave a hand in front of her face, making her turn quickly on the heel of her foot.
“JD!” she calls, sneaking quick looks at the tall, imposing yet handsome man she just met. A boy dressed in outlaw garb, about your age, steps out of the hallway.
“Yes, Martha?” he asks, bright green eyes confused at her alarm. Martha points a finger at Aaron, jabbing it in his direction.
“Tell me, do you see him? Do you see him too?!” At this, you facepalm, shaking your head. You throw up your hands in frustration.
“I told you he was real, Mar, JD! You’re not hallucinating, I do actually have a long term boyfriend, despite apparent popular consensus.” JD ambles forwards, his expression morphing into an expression of disbelief identical to Martha’s.
“Holy shit, he’s actually real, Y/N?” You roll your eyes and slap the top of the cowboy hat sitting on his head. “Hey, you can’t blame us for not knowing! How were we supposed to believe you when you show no interest in guys like whatsoever, no matter how many of them ask you out! We thought you were just saying that so the male students would leave you alone.” You scoff, posing with your hands on your hips, indignantly.
“Well, that would make me a liar, which I ain’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Erica wanted to do a soundcheck before the open house starts. I hope you will take this opportunity to think of a way to make up for this,” you say, patting Aaron’s arm and sashaying past the two naysayers. As you pass JD, you flip the hat off his head, making him laugh at your immaturity. You stick your tongue out at him and flip him the finger in return, before waving to the three adults and rounding the corner. When her skirts disappear behind the wall, Martha adopts a sheepish look and faces Hotchner.
“I’m so sorry about that, Aaron. We pick on her out of love, you must understand. And she’s such a tiny, meek little thing…” Aaron offers a small smile to her, nodding.
“Don’t worry, I’m well aware of the joking nature of your friendship. Y/N speaks very highly of you, Miss McNamara. That reminds me, congratulations. You’re due soon, aren’t you?” Martha laughs, and Penelope claps her hands, giddy at the idea of baby talk.
“Yes, yes, I’m due in about two weeks, any day now. Y/N and my husband have been so attentive. I’m almost definitely sure that Y/N only loves me so much for the bundle of joy I’m carrying,” she says, laughing while tenderly cradling her tummy. “That darling girl helped us name her, you know. Susanna. Isn’t that the cutes-”
“You’re so old.” Everyone’s eyes snap towards JD, whose posture got slowly tenser and angrier the more he looked at the smarmy bastard in the suit. He forces eye contact with Hotchner, who adopts a wary, placating look.
“Well, I am older, yes, that’s a fact,” Aaron says, nodding. This calm response seemed to only anger JD further as he crosses his arms in front of his chest and juts his chin out defiantly, squaring his legs wider.
“You’re an old fogey, and Y/N should be with me instead of you.” Penelope squeals, quickly smacking Derek’s bicep as she clutched onto it, but she stops as JD turns his vindictive glare towards her before looking at Aaron again. “Y/N is flighty, an airhead, easily distracted. She can be manipulated; she’ll leave you eventually,” he says, smirking. “She’s way too attractive for a fossil like you, and when I make her realize that, she’ll run straight to me.” JD says, sure that he’s hit a soft point, sure that an older dude like Hotchner must feel insecure about his ditzy, absent-minded young girlfriend. His smirk falls when the blonde lady steps into his space, a bright blue manicured finger pointed at him.
“Now you listen here, you scrawny rat of a boy, and you listen good, Hotch-,” Aaron interrupts her, a firm, placating hand at her elbow. She steps back, a petulant look on her pretty face, but she relinquishes the fight all the same. His leer comes back full force as Aaron pats Garcia’s shoulder but falters as Aaron steps closer to him, making JD have to tilt his head even further back.
“Your wide, tense posturing suggests that you find me intimidating, as you should. I have a good career, while the redness of your hands tells me a lot of your time is spent around hot oil, probably resulting from your part time job as a fry cook. Your scowl deepens every time you have to tilt your head up, no doubt because it reminds you of how much taller and bigger than you I am. The overpowering smell of drugstore cologne indicates either poor hygiene or persistent body odor, possibly both. To compensate for your hygiene issues and diminutive stature, you likely drive a large car, like a jeep or truck, likely in a bright, eye-catching color. The way you’re puckering your lips tells me that I’m right, and that the battered red truck in the parking lot must be yours. Its battered state confirms your lack of disposable income, in contrast to me who has more than enough disposable income to take care of the woman who you claim will soon recognize you as the better option. Finally, your decision to confront me about my love life in front of your teacher and my coworkers and the confidence in which you did so implies that you have notable narcissistic tendencies, tendencies that Y/N would have noticed long ago and stayed away from. Because of this narcissism, you seem under the assumption that you could provide for and take care of her when, in actuality, you are an immature little boy, and she would be repulsed by you.” Aaron takes a step back, an almost smug uptick of the lips on his face, while JD seems to boil with shocked rage. He grits his teeth, seething, as Garcia gasps, a look of pure, unadulterated glee at the vicious smackdown her boss just laid down. JD opens his mouth, snarling when he is interrupted.
“God, Aaron, babe, it’s always so hot when you talk profiling. Gets me all tingly inside.” Derek and Penelope turn around and see you behind them, your hands innocently clasped in front of you but your eyes anything but innocent as you wink at Aaron. Garcia grabs your arm pressing herself against your side, while all the fight leaves JD’s face as he just stands there, his wide eyes searching your face, praying you didn’t hear everything.
“Y/N? What are you doing here? How long were you standing there?” She asks. You pat her hands, your head on her shoulder, a giddy smile on your face.
“Oh, Erica sent me in to find speaker number seven, and I couldn’t find it,” you say, pointing at the tiny black block obscured behind Aaron’s feet. “I shouldn’t be surprised I didn’t see it, after all-” You drop the smile of your face, directing a cold, dismissive glare towards JD. “I’m apparently flight, airheaded, and EASILY MANIPULATED.” JD straightens up, his hand reaching out for you, and you shut him out, holding up a finger.
“I suggest you walk away, sweetie. Just. Walk. Away.” He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, shut down by your steely, angry eyes, and walks away dejected. When he disappears into a back room, your smile makes a reappearance and you squeeze Penelope’s arm before skipping over to Aaron’s side, taking his hand and grinning as you look up at him.
“Shut up, Y/N,” he says, grinning back at you. You giggle, entwining your fingers together and leaning on him.
“Your dirty talk is magnificent, babe.”
“You’re ridiculous.
“You’re possessive apparently.” Hotch looks away from you, embarrassed, and you titter, wrapping your arms around his midsection. “And adorable.” He looks down, raising one eyebrow at you.
“Y/N, I’m an FBI Agent. I carry two guns, I’ve shot people. I’m twice your size.”
“You are also adorable, possessive or no,” you say, reaching up and booping his nose lightly with your finger. He rolls his eyes, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips and brushing his nose against yours. “You just eskimo-kissed me, babe. You just keep proving my point. Penelope, does he not prove my point? He just eskimo-kissed me!” She and Derek laugh as Hotch glares at Penelope, daring her to say yes. You pat his cheek, making him face you, before you lean up and kiss him again.