Title: Time has come
Author: loonie_lupin
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Hotch/Morgan
Spoiler: Take place sometime after Rossi joined the team but not too far in the season – sequel to 'Confession is good for the soul'
Rating: FRT
Summary: "If one day you can, I'll be waiting," Morgan to Hotch (in 'Confession is good for the soul). Well, the day has come.
Disclaimer: The characters and settings are not mine but the property of their creators.

Time has come

Morgan let himself fall on the couch of his hotel room, eyes closed, exhausted after the sixteen hours he had spent working tirelessly on their new case. Their unsub wasn't playing around, and that was putting it quite madly. Frankly, the murders already committed were chilling in their brutally, and it didn't seem like the man – or woman, though Morgan doubted it – was about to stop. On the contrary, it seemed more likely that he was going to kill more and more until he was caught. Morgan had seen a lot during his career, both with the police force and then the BAU, but that case brought a whole new level of cruelty and he didn't think he would be able to rest easily until the murderer was behind the bars.

Of course he knew that, never mind the potential nightmares it would bring, he had to go to sleep. It was the only way he could be at the top of his game the next day, which was a requirement in their job, particularly when they were in the field and especially with a case like this one. In such a situation, one single mistake was already one too many and one he couldn't afford. Not when it could mean his life or one of his colleagues'.

Knowing that the more he waited, the more difficult it would be for him to make the decision, he got up. It was difficult and, quite frankly, he wouldn't have minded staying on the couch during the whole night, it would have prevented him from having to leave a very comfortable sitting place, but he was sure that, while the couch was great for sitting, it was way too small for having a good night of sleep – or, a good few hours as it was the case presently.

He barely had the time to change from his work clothes to a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt when there was a knock at his door. He nearly groaned out loud when he heard it. He really didn't have the courage to go back to work now, not when he felt like he was ready to drop and way too exhausted to go a good job, but he knew that if they had a new scene crime, or even only a new piece of evidence, he would probably have to forgo his much looked forwards stay in bed to immediately go back to the police station. Of course, it this was the case, he would have more likely received a phone call than a stop in person to get him so thankfully, it was probably something else.

He went to his door and looked through the peephole first because you just didn't spent years investigating crimes without knowing that one of the thing you should never do is opening your door without checking first. He saw that it was Hotch and reasoned that while he was probably about to hear from the case, he at least wasn't likely to get attacked, so he opened the door.

"Hey, Hotch? What's up, man?" he asked, suddenly worried that something had happened.

On the other hand, Hotch wasn't wearing a suit. It wasn't the first time Derek saw him like that but it at least meant one thing. They didn't have to go back to the police station because there was no way Hotch would go to work in such an informal attire. Of course, it also resulted in Morgan being more than a little thrown about the reason of his visit.

Hotch wasn't likely to come and talk to him for something else than work, but he didn't have any file and it seemed strange for a work-related conversation, even more since his boss had been the one to say they should rest for a while, trying not to think too much about their case before the morning after. On the other hand, when Hotch talked – and that was nothing very often from what Morgan knew – it was more with Rossi than the rest of them because they did have a history and, seeing the fact that the older agent was one of Hotch's mentor, it was easier for the chief of unit to let go of the mask with him, without worrying about being seen otherwise than always cool and collected by the rest of the team.

"Can I come in?" the older man asked and Morgan gestured him in with a wave of the hand and a step back, closing the door once they were both inside.

He walked Hotch to the couch and they sat down without a word.

"Something happened?" Morgan asked, worried at his boss presence in his room when it was so late; it was unusual to say the least.

Hotch spontaneously shook his head, reassuring Morgan that nothing was wrong, before speaking up.

"Well, nothing that has anything to do with our case anyway," he added before sighing and turning slightly, facing Morgan.

He stayed silent for a little while. Morgan didn't push, didn't ask anything to get him to talk, giving him the time he needed. He knew that Hotch had more than little problem opening up – he was the same – and remembered the last time they actually talked to each other about something pertaining to their personal life, just after coming back from Chicago and having to face Buford. It was the day Hotch admitted to having a screwed up childhood and let Morgan see the person he was behind the mask, for once. And Morgan knew he was about to see more of that person so he wasn't going to force Hotch to go faster than he wanted, faster than he could.

"Mor- Derek," Hotch began, hesitating slightly before using his first name, something that immediately caught Morgan's attention because, even though they had known each other for years, Hotch never called him that and it was something that put them instantly away from work. "You told me- you told me that you would be waiting."

The simple sentence was enough to make Morgan's eyes widen because there was no way he could have forgotten the context in which he had said that to Hotch – said that to Aaron actually. No matter their his final words, he had never really expected to hear about this conversation ever again and he was taken by surprise. Still, he tried not to let it show too much, even though Hotch being a profiler, he must have noticed the slight tensing of his body and catalogued the surprise in his eyes. Of course, if he didn't, he didn't comment on it and just went on with what he wanted to say.

"I wanted to know if you were still waiting or if it was too late?"

Morgan opened his mouth one first time but nothing actually came out and he closed it, swallowing, before trying once again. This time, something came out, not something he actually wanted to talk about but he did have to ask, did have to know, because it was important, especially since things seemed to be moving in the direction Morgan had wanted them to for a long time now.


Hotch shook his head.

"She left. She wants a divorce," Hotch explained briefly and Morgan didn't have to be a profiler to hear the pain hidden behind the simple words.

It made his heart ache for his boss because if there was a person that didn't deserve to be hurt, it was him. Their unsubs usually already did a very good job at that, he didn't need Haley to join in.

"I'm sorry," he answered automatically, the same way you spontaneously presented your condolence to someone at a burial, which couldn't be more trite.

"I'm not," Hotch said, surprising him. "It was coming, had been coming for a while. It's not Haley that I miss, it's not being able to see Jack as often as before. Well, if you could call that often. But it's better that way, for all of us," he still added and Morgan was left speechless.

Of course, he knew Hotch and Haley were having problems, the whole team actually knew, but he hadn't been aware that it was that bad, nor that Hotch had stopped fighting for the marriage he had tried so hard to save in the past. That particular thought proved the fact that Hotch was really there, really doing this, and Morgan was at a loss on how to continue this meeting.

"So?" Hotch asked again, biting his lips, and Morgan realized he still hadn't answered the question he had been asked, still hadn't say whether or not he still wanted what he had offered the year before and knew that this was the first thing to do.

Morgan offered a sincere smile and decided against using words, because they were no word that could really express everything better than action. Instead, he scooted closer to Hotch, leant into him and captured his lips in a kiss that he had intended soft and chaste, not wanting to go too far too fast. He just wanted to let Hotch know he was still more than alright to try this but hearing his boss' moan of pleasure and feeling his hands grip his shoulder, aroused Morgan and made him give into what he had wanted for a very long time now. He licked Hotch's lips, a silent command.

Much to his delight, Hotch immediately obeyed and let his lips fall apart, leaving his mouth open to Morgan's assault. The kiss soon became more heated and Morgan leant back against the back of the couch, dragging Hotch with him so the older man was all but straddling his laps while their tongues continued their ballet. Finally, Morgan broke the kiss and looked at his boss, his hands staying lightly on his hips, holding his body where it was.

Hotch's lips were red from the assault and his eyes glazed with lust and Morgan had never seen a sight more arousing but he knew that having sex at the moment would have been the worst idea possible. It wasn't what they needed, no matter how much their bodies seemed to tell them so. They were both exhausted – physically as well as mentally – and it the middle of one of the most disturbing cases they had ever seen. Plus, he really didn't want their first time to be in a hotel room, never mind his coworkers being in the vicinity. No, tonight, it wouldn't be about desire or sexuality. They had time for that anyway.

"You're beautiful like this," Morgan still had to say, caressing Hotch's reddened lips with his thumb while the older man held onto him by the shoulder, loving how he responded by closing his eyes and licking softly the digit.

"You're the one who're beautiful," Hotch answered him and the older man knew it wasn't only in his opinion; girls' and boys' attention seemed immediately drawn to Morgan whenever he entered a room at a club or a bar.

Morgan smiled, still looking up at Hotch, feeling the other man's knees press against his tights. But no matter how good it was to held him like this and watch him, he couldn't quite miss the weariness in his boss' eyes, knowing it was probably mirrored in his own. They should go to bed before it was too late to catch on a few hours of sleep to be as fresh as possible the next morning.

"Come on, Aaron, we should go and get some sleep," Morgan decided, biting back a moan of disappointment when he felt Hotch get off his laps after nodding his agreement, because Morgan wasn't the only one to know they had to sleep that night.

Hotch had just begun to walk towards the door, ready to go back to his room, when he felt Morgan grab his arms and turn his around so they were face to face, almost touching. He blinked, surprised, and looked at Morgan's amused face.

"Derek? I thought you wanted to get some sleep?" he asked, uncertain of what he was supposed to do; it had been so long since he had been with anyone other than Haley.

Morgan chuckled and basically dragged him – not that he was resisting – to the bed, forcing him to sit down.

"Yeah, doesn't mean you can't stay there for the night. Unless you want to go back to your room?" Morgan still asked, because he wasn't going to sequestrate his boss if the latter didn't want to stay.

Hotch urgently shook his head negatively and toed off his shoes, sliding into a lying position, undercover, while Morgan took place at his side and quickly spooned against him. It was a bit strange, neither of them very sure on how exactly they were going to sleep – just sleep – together but, finally, as their minds began to shut down, while falling asleep, and the nice warmth of the body next to their began to call unconsciously to them, they ended up facing each other, in a tangle of limbs, from which they wouldn't move until the following morning.