TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT

TWENTY SEVEN. RICHARD 'BIG DICK' WHITTLE

"IT TURNS OUT HIS FRIENDS USED TO CALL HIM THAT IN HIGH SCHOOL," DAISY HELD HER PHONE UP TO HER EAR AS SHE PRESSED THE ELEVATOR BUTTON. She looked down to flick a speck of lint from her cardigan sleeve, and smiled awkwardly when Hotch stepped inside just before the contraption started moving. "Someone brought it up at a work party and it stuck with him again."

"That changes everything," Rhea hummed on the other side of the line. The joyous sounds of children were in the background, as it was recess and she had a moment to herself. "You know, he came in today with the biggest smile on his face. Who knew he had feelings?"

Daisy's eyes flickered to Hotch for a second, feeling a little uncomfortable that she was discussing her date with Richard in front of him with no way for either of them to escape. "He was a lot nicer than you said he'd be. Listen, I'll call you on your lunch break, okay?"

"But-"

Daisy hung up and sent a quick text explaining everything. Hotch cleared his throat. "Everything okay?"

"Yep," Daisy nodded quickly. "Yep, yeppers."

Hotch often wished his coworkers were better liars. "You had a date?"

Daisy tucked some hair behind her ear, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just one of my friend's coworkers."

He was quiet, trying to figurer out the words to say. "That's...great. I'm happy for you."

Daisy forced a smile. "Thanks, Hotch."

Silence ensued. Neither knew what to say, and the elevator ride seemed a lot longer than it usually was. 

Hotch's head snapped up quickly when he heard Daisy make a noise. He looked over at her with raised eyebrows, watching as she dug around in her bag for something. After a moment, she found what she was looking for. 

His sweater. 

"Here," she said softly, handing it to him. "I forgot to give this back."

Hotch reached out for it, his fingers brushing against hers. Daisy's breath caught in her throat at the physical contact, and truthfully, she wanted nothing more than to kiss him. It was a strange urge, one that she hadn't felt with anyone before. But she had to hold herself back, because she knew it wasn't what he wanted. 

"Thank you," the man uttered, though he didn't move his hand. He couldn't bring himself to let her go. 

Once the doors opened, they broke apart. Hotch folded the sweater and hung it over his briefcase. He cleared his throat, staring as she stepped outside. "You know, it looked better on you."

Daisy smacked his arm lightly. "You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Hotch."

Hotch chuckled, dipping his head as they walked into the bullpen. "More special than the guy you're seeing?"

Daisy pointed a finger at him in warning. "Don't start."

"Good morning, you two," Derek looked up from his desk, watching them carefully. It came as no surprise that he was protective over his friend - he knew what she'd been through in the past and he'd be damned if he let her get hurt again. His eyes focused on Daisy. "Everything okay?"

"Better now that I've seen you," Daisy cooed, running over dramatically and grabbing his cheeks, peppering kisses all over his face. The man chuckled, feeling slightly more at ease. 

"Baby girl, you need some gloves," he reached up and took her hands in his. Daisy relished in how warm he was.  "You're freezing."

Daisy gave him a careless shrug, pulling away and dropping her bag on her desk. She started muttering about her date with Richard, talking about the music that had been playing at the bar, and how odd it was that they called it an '80s night', yet played the Backstreet Boys. 

It was only Derek that noticed how Hotch stormed into his office without so much as a greeting. 

"Good morning!" Spencer chimed, holding his coffee cup high in the air as he wandered into the BAU. Daisy grinned at the sight of her friend, glad to see him so chipper.  

"You look happy," she pointed out, and he chuckled, sitting down opposite her. She was about to ask why, but when he lifted a thick stack of paperwork onto the desktop, she made an 'ahh' sound. "Paperwork day."

"Yep!" Spencer beamed. 

Daisy dropped into her seat, resting her chin on her knuckles. "You know what, Spence?"

Spencer hummed, not looking up. "What?"

"You're lame," she teased, reaching over to ruffle his hair. He pouted, and she laughed along with Derek. "But that's what makes you so special."

★☆

The day had been slow for the most part. Hotch had been called to Dallas for a case, one that he didn't disclose to the team, because he hadn't received many details himself. He'd left in a hurry, muttering a quick goodbye. However, it had only been a few hours until he called them and requested their help. 

"Female serial killers are a fascinating field," Spencer spoke a little louder than usual, as they were on the phone with the boss. Hotch had set up in Dallas and was awaiting their arrival, but there was no time to waste, so they'd began assembling their profile as soon as possible. "We don't have much information on them, but what we do know involves throwing the rules completely out the window. Signature, for instance. They don't torture or take trophies."

"Because there's no sexual gratification when a woman kills," Derek finished the doctor's train of thought. He sat beside Daisy, having been considerably more apprehensive about her situation. Daisy was just happy to have his company. 

Spencer nodded in response. "Exactly, murder is the goal. They don't have to do anything extra."

"So, basically, women are more efficient at killing," JJ said. She was back from her maternity leave early, as she'd gotten bored holed up at home. It was sad to see Jordan go, but nice to have the usual liaison back where she belonged. 

Daisy smiled at her words, glancing up from the file briefly. Spencer hummed in agreement. "Historically, they have had body counts in the hundreds."

"Assuming the job is the stressors, what are some of the reasons prostitutes kill their customers?" Hotch asked, his voice slightly patchy from the bad connection. 

"Money, drugs, post-traumatic stress disorder," Daisy answered, crossing her legs in the plane seat. 

"At some point, any call girl, not matter how well paid, gets coerced into an activity she didn't consent to," Rossi muttered, deep in thought. 

"Aileen Wuornos used to purposefully stage paid sexual encounters as an excuse to murder men she thought would rape her," Emily pointed out, referencing a famed female serial killer. 

"But Wuornos was psychotic and disorganised," Daisy could practically hear Hotch shaking his head. "I think this girl's poisoning them before she has sex with them."

"She's using Tetramethylenedisulfotetramine," Spencer said, and Daisy stared at him. He never failed to surprise her with the knowledge racked up in his brain. The doctor looked up to meet the woman's gaze, and he smiled. "It's a popular rat poison in China, easily soluble in alcohol."

"Poison is the perfect M.O," Daisy looked down at the picture of the crime scene. "Quiet, quick, and the victims never see it coming because they think they're getting lucky. Does that mean something to you?"

"Well, at ten thousand dollars a night, these men are paying for discretion as well as sex," Hotch responded.

"She has a history with them," Rossi mused. "They see her repeatedly."

"She didn't decide to kill them in the moment," Hotch continued. "She walks in with the intent to kill them and she's doing it before she sleeps with them."

"So she's not just organised, she's also methodical," Spencer said. 

"She decides early which one of her clients are worth killing and which aren't, and she plans accordingly," Derek finished. 

  "Maybe the victims all share the same fetish," suggested Emily. 

"Both victims were in their fifties, highly visible, careful about their image," Daisy noted. "I mean, if they were kinky in the same way, they'd go to great lengths to hide it."

"And we're facing a corporate culture that'll do everything it can to keep us out," Hotch grumbled, unimpressed with the lawyer-heavy community they were investigating. 

"Actually, I had some luck here," JJ piped up. "Hoyt Ashford's wife isn't too happy with how he died."

"Fair enough," Daisy muttered under her breath. 

"She's agreed to talk to us?" Hotch inquired. 

"Yeah, but because every silver lining has a dark cloud, uh, the Hedge fund released a statement," JJ responded. "'Ashford died peacefully in his home, according to lawyer David Madison'. They're already trying to close ranks."

"Does that language sound familiar to anyone else?" Spencer's brows narrowed. 

"What do you mean?"

Spence shifted through the files until he found the one he wanted. "The press release from the first victim. Uh...'according to company lawyer, Stanton died peacefully in his home'."

Daisy reached for the piece of paper so Spencer handed it to her. She looked over it, seeing that he was right. They were practically the same. 

"Prentiss and Morgan, start with the wife," Hotch started giving orders. "See if you can get her to open up. JJ, call the lawyers and tell them I want to meet with both of them. Alvarez, you'll be with me."

"You want to play the lawyers off each other?" Rossi asked, noticing how Morgan and Emily exchanged a brief glance. 

"I think one of them wrote both press releases," Hotch replied. It was probably for the best that he was on the phone for this conversation so that he didn't see what his team members thought of his orders. "Let's see which one calls us back."

★☆

the way i said idk when id be updating next yet,,,here i am,,,