Chapter Text
~1999~
Spencer almost groans as a shadow falls across his desk. He doesn’t have to look up to see who’s standing at his desk. The scent of coffee, cedar, and gunpowder is only ever this suffocating around one person. “What do you want, Hotchner?”
“How do you know I didn’t have a question about a case?” Hotchner asks.
Spencer leans back in his chair and quirks an eyebrow at the other man. “Because if it involved a case you would’ve been talking the moment you stepped through my door rather than hovering and waiting for me to respond. Now, what do you want? I’m busy.”
Hotchner snorts. “I’m sure. I was just passing by and wanted to see if you were drooling on your paperwork again. Have you heard about the new section chief?”
“How kind. And no, I haven’t. I’m assuming you have and you’re here to dangle the information in front of me like a child?” Spencer asks.
“Now why on Earth would I do that?” Hotchner drawls as he sits on the edge of Spencer’s desk, smirking a bit as Spencer frowns. “I would’ve thought that the youngest and smartest BAU unit leader would know everything about our new boss already.”
“Either get on with it or get out, Hotchner,” Spencer says.
“Keep your britches on, Reid,” Hotchner says. He pulls a folded up paper out of his front shirt pocket. He holds it out to Spencer and snatches it back before Spencer can grab it. “What’ll I get for it?”
Spencer narrows his eyes before grinning. “How about you and your team don’t end up completely covered in glitter the next time you enter your briefing room?”
Hotchner raises an eyebrow. “And you call me childish. Still, I don’t know if that’s a good enough offer.”
“How about you all don’t get dumped with glitter and you get to keep your coffee?” Spencer asks. He tenses the muscles in his legs before launching toward Hotchner to try and get the paper from the other man. Unfortunately, Hotchner slips back and away, smirking the entire time.
“Not bad, Reid, you’re getting better. Still, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen some kindergartners move faster, but at least you can beat a preschooler now,” Hotchner says as he steps backwards though the room and stops to lean against the wall.
Stepping around the desk, Spencer narrows his eyes at the other man. “Fuck you, Hotchner.”
Hotchner’s smirk turns away from a smirk and more toward a grin with bared teeth. “Promise?”
Heat rises along his cheeks, and Spencer has no idea if it’s from embarrassment, anger, or arousal. Considering the asshole currently in his office, probably some combination of all three. As he approaches Hotchner, the man reaches over and pulls the blinds closed. Spencer steps close enough to feel Hotchner’s breath and raises an eyebrow. “Presumptuous.”
Hotchner chuckles deep in his throat. “Confident.”
“With you? Same thing.” Spencer reaches over without dropping eye contact and shuts and locks the office door. As soon as he does, hands are on his shoulders and spinning him so his back slams against the door. Lips crash into his, teeth clicking together, as Hotchner pulls him into a rough kiss. Spencer manages to keep his focus long enough to snag the paper from Hotchner’s pocket without the other man noticing before he refocuses. Despite Hotchner being an absolute ass, he’s intelligent and a good fuck. He’d be a fool not to indulge.
Leveraging a bit of momentum, Spencer turns them so Hotchner’s back slams against the wall and moves his mouth down to Hotchner’s neck while his fingers work at undoing the other man’s collar. He can feel Hotchner’s hands working his shirt and pants.
“Someone’s feeling extra pushy today,” Hotchner says. He gasps as Spencer bites down on skin that will be hidden by the shirts and suits he typically wears.
“Do us both a favor, shut the fuck up,” Spencer says. He grabs the other man’s shoulders when he’s suddenly lifted. “Don’t you dare set me down on my desk.”
Hotchner hums. “That wasn’t the plan at all, but now that you mention it, I like that idea much better.”
Pulling on the short hairs hard enough to pull a hiss from Hotchner, Spencer glares at him as he feels the direction Hotchner is walking change. “Hotchner, I’m not kidding.”
“I don’t care.” Hotchner grins as he holds Spencer up with a hand under his ass, the other hand sweeping across the desk. “Oops.”
“You—” Spencer doesn’t get to finish his sentence as he’s dropped. His hair is roughly pulled as Hotchner begins biting and sucking at his neck. One of Hotchner’s hands is still working the button and zip of Spencer’s pants and Spencer tries to hold back a moan as his fingers brush against his erection. It comes out a bit strangled, and he feels Hotchner smirk against his neck. Pulling the ends of Hotchner’s shirt from his pants, Spencer sets his hands in the correct spots and pops the shirt open, buttons flying around the room.
Hotchner pauses and glances at the fabric before looking at Spencer with a flat glare. “You owe me a new shirt.”
“I consider us even, figuring the last time,” Spencer says as he undoes Hotcher’s pants and belt. He sneaks his hand into the other man’s underwear and lightly runs a nail along Hotchner’s erection. He shudders and slams both hands against the desk, bracketing Spencer. Swiping at the precum, Spencer smirks as he begins to stroke Hotchner’s erection. “You’re always so desperate and eager when you come to see me. It’s flattering, really.”
“Go fuck—fuck yourself,” Hotchner says, stuttering a bit as Spencer twists his wrist slightly.
Spencer hums, adjusting his legs so he’s able to slip off the desk and get behind Hotchner, pushing the other man’s pants and underwear to his knees. “Nah, I’d rather turn you into the blabbering mess you are.”
Hotchner reaches into his other front pocket and pulls out a condom and single use packet of lube, slapping them onto the desk when Spencer presses against his perineum. “Quit dicking around and fuck me already.”
“Patience,” Spencer chides as he grabs the condom. He opens the package and rolls it on before grabbing the lube. He makes quick but careful work of prepping Hotch with a finger, making sure there’s a good coating of lube inside him before using the rest of the lube on himself. Spencer doesn’t want to injure Hotchner, just hurt him a bit. He wipes his hand on the back of Hotchner’s undershirt.
“Come on, Reid, I think I’ve been plenty patien—” Hotchner’s words are cut off as he groans when Spencer enters him with one thrust.
Spencer huffs, moving one hand to hold Hotcher’s hip while the other grabs his shoulder. He leans close and whispers, “I’m sorry, what was that?” When Hotchner looks like he’s about to reply, Spencer pulls back and thrusts back in, aiming for Hotchner’s prostate. Judging by the shudder from the man, he hits it. “Still didn’t quite catch that.”
“Fu–fuck,” Hotchner groans.
“With pleasure.” Spencer focuses on thrusting, ensuring each thrust in hits the prostate and every pull out drags against the same area. Hotchner groans as he bends further over the desk, dropping to his elbows. The change in angle allows Spencer to thrust deeper and he has to focus on not climaxing. Like hell is he going to come before he gets Hotchner to. He moves his hand from Hotchner’s hip to his erection, encircling the hard flesh and pumping his fist in time to his thrusts. It doesn’t take too many more thrusts for Hotchner to lock up as he orgasms, moaning and shuddering as Spencer starts to thrust harder. Spencer orgasms soon after and half collapses against Hotchner, and half catches himself on his desk.
Breathing heavily, they stay there for a moment before Spencer pulls out and removes the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the trashcan. He’ll tie the bag closed before he leaves for the night. As Spencer walks around his desk, he hears a drawer open and frowns as Hotchner pulls out a box of tissues and begins to clean himself and the desk off. He glances at the box that was already on his desktop and raises an eyebrow.
“Sure, help yourself to the ones in the desk. Not like there was a box on the desk,” Spencer says as he straightens himself out. He barely catches sight of the box flying at him and swats it away from his face.
“Last time I clean up the mess, then,” Hotchner says as he straightens and sorts himself out. He stares at his damaged shirt and sighs, shaking his head. “I still say you owe me a shirt.”
“Uh-huh.” Spencer kneels and grabs the items Hotchner had tossed off the desk. “Like you can’t afford it. I’ve seen some of your suits.”
Hotchner chuckles. “I didn’t know you paid attention like that. I’m flattered.”
Spencer glares at him before rolling his eyes and working at setting his desk to rights. Once he has everything back in place, he sits back down and raises an eyebrow at Hotchner. “Did you need something else? Cuddles, perhaps?”
“You’d be more likely to smother me,” Hotchner says. He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me your famed memory forgot about the information I had on the new section chief?”
“Oh, you mean this?” Spencer asks, pulling the folded paper from his shirt pocket and holding it up between two fingers.
Hotchner’s lips twitch. “Yeah, that, go ahead and take a look.”
Spencer shrugs and unfolds the paper, looking over the information. “Erin Strauss, huh? Looks like she doesn’t have much experience in the field.”
“The fuck?” Hotchner reaches into his right back pocket and pulls out a paper, unfolding it to reveal a page that says ‘Fuck you’ in his own handwriting. “How?”
“Vegas,” Spencer says, motioning to himself. He nods his head in the direction of his unit’s bullpen. “Now, get out.”
Hotchner snorts and shakes his head, but leaves.
Spencer sighs and stares at his desk, trying to remember which piece of bureaucratic bullshit he’d been working on before he’d been interrupted.
~2003~
Aaron enters the warehouse and watches as the Organized Crime unit buzzes around the space mid-panic. He glances at Morgan and nods once before continuing toward the center of the room while Morgan steps out to bring Garcia into the warehouse. The buzzing quiets as he approaches the center of the room. A glance across the gathered agents has several of them paling. Only Anderson—the longest working agent on Reid’s team—manages to retain his composure.
“What happened?” Aaron asks.
“Doc was watching over a possible base for the McGrady family when one of their members spotted him and dragged him into the warehouse,” Anderson says. “It’s sheer luck that Doc didn’t have his credentials on him and was in a non-Bureau vehicle. We have an earbud on him, but we haven’t been able to determine a way to pull him out.”
Aaron nods, listening to the approaching footsteps of Morgan and Garcia. “Am I correct in assuming that you all have been blown with the McGrady family and that’s why Reid was there?”
“Yes, sir, that’s correct,” Anderson says. “It’s also why none of us have been able to go get him.”
“Garcia, go ahead and partner with Agent Nguyen on the tech capabilities and start setting up for two earbuds and some pin cameras,” Aaron says. He takes a moment to look over what Morgan is wearing and nods. “Morgan, start looking over the information they have on the warehouse. I’ll be right back.”
He exits the warehouse and opens the back doors of the SUV they brought over. Shifting through the clothes in his go-bag, he finds something more suitable and changes his shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone and completely nixing the tie, before pulling out a better suit jacket from his hanging bag. He’s glad he brought his long wool coat with him and throws that on as well. A glance in the side mirror and he messes his hair up a bit before returning to the warehouse. Garcia is the first to notice him and she lets out a low whistle. Everyone else turns and Morgan’s eyebrows jump up.
“Damn, you look more like a mafia boss than these dirtbags,” Morgan says. “How?”
Aaron raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. He’s seen plenty of legitimate high up mafia bosses in person. Most of them at his childhood home at one point or another as they hired his father to be their lawyer. Like hell is he sharing that bit of information though.
Morgan nods. “Right, right, prosecutor.”
It’s nice when people come up with their own explanations. “What’re we looking at?”
“Can’t really tell where they have him, the sound echoes too much,” Morgan says as Aaron starts gathering the equipment he’ll need from Garcia. Derek points at an entrance on the map. “But that’s probably going to be our best point of entry. If we do it right, they can use a parabolic mic to listen in as well as through our ear pieces.”
Before Aaron can say anything further, the sound of flesh hitting flesh and yelling sounds from the speakers connected to the computer. Aaron looks at Anderson with slightly narrowed eyes. “And when were you going to tell us they were periodically beating him?”
“I…” Anderson runs a hand through his hair. “The only things he’s said since this started were ‘Not a word’ and ‘I’m good’. I didn’t…”
Aaron clenches his jaw, trying to decide if he should punch Anderson for following whatever harebrained directive that was from Reid, or Reid for giving the harebrained directive in the first place. “Morgan, let’s go.”
They climb into the SUV—which luckily is a rental from a car rental agency and not a borrowed bureau vehicle—and drive over to the warehouse.
“What’s the plan, Hotch?” Morgan asks.
“Get the two of us in, find Reid, get them to give him to us, and then all three of us get out without being killed,” Aaron says. He turns to Morgan. “Think you can follow along with them thinking we’re from a different family?”
Morgan nods, grinning a bit. “Whatever you say, boss.”
Aaron rolls his eyes and hides his own grin as he climbs from the vehicle. He straightens his coat and places his hands in his pockets as they approach the door of the warehouse. Knocking on the door, Aaron steps back and waits. When the door opens, he quickly assesses the man who opened it and figures he’s on the lower end of the power balance with the McGrady family.
“What do you want?” the man asks.
Aaron raises an eyebrow. “One of my people wandered off and I heard you have him. I’m here to collect him.”
The man sneers. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Get lost.”
As the man starts to close the door, Aaron motions to Morgan, who slams the door open and pushes the other man back with a forearm to the neck. “No. Your bosses have something of mine. I’m taking it back.” Aaron steps into the warehouse and approaches where Morgan is holding the man against the wall. “Now, I would much rather this be an amicable meeting and parting. After all, it’s better for everyone if this doesn’t get out of hand. But, then again, I’m none too fussed if it does. Which is it going to be?”
The man stares at Aaron and seems to grow paler with every passing moment. An incredible feat considering how hard Morgan is pressing him into the wall. The man nods. “Yeah, alright, fine. Better if you talk with the bosses anyway.”
“Good choice.” Aaron steps back and Morgan follows just a moment later. As the man starts heading deeper into the warehouse, they follow. He ensures his shoulders are held back and his posture is every bit the imitation of his father while his face remains as impassive as his mother’s. Get in, get Reid, get out. Then, once they’re all safe, ensure Reid understands what an idiotic move he’d made.
They turn a corner and Aaron’s glad he has some experience in keeping his thoughts and emotions off his face. Reid is tied to a chair, his shirt ripped open, bruises and cuts littering his torso. When he looks up, one of his eyes is swollen shut and there's bruising around his cheek and blood dripping from his nose and mouth. His breathing is shallow and, judging on the tension in his jaw and shoulders, he's in a lot of pain. Anger—fury more like—rises in Aaron's chest and the urge to show these miserable excuses for men what a beating really looks like practically chokes him. Aaron bites back the urge, merely raising an eyebrow as he looks at Reid. Reid just blinks.
“Liam, who the fuck is this?” A man wearing a black sport coat asks.
The man who’d lead them in—Liam, apparently—lightly touches where Morgan had slammed his forearm as he scowls. “Dunno, said we had his person, I can only assume he means the string bean.”
“That true? This one yours?” Sport jacket man asks.
“Unfortunately, yes.” Aaron glances away from sport jacket man to Reid. “Does this look like where you're supposed to be?”
Reid huffs. “I got a little side-tracked. Didn't expect Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to nab me.”
“Even now with the lip. Be happy it's me who came to get you and not the boss,” Aaron says, adapting with the news that no one here is the head of the family. He turns back to sport coat man. “I apologize for any trouble he's caused you. I'll take him off your hands and deal with him personally.”
Sport coat man snorts. “Like hell, how do I know he isn't some fed?”
“Really? A fed? Be serious, you think the feds would hire a guy like him? Just look at him,” Aaron says.
“From what I hear, they're going after those brainiac types,” Sport coat man says.
Aaron raises an eyebrow and gives his best are-you-really-this-stupid expression. When sport coat man starts fidgeting is when Aaron finally says, “Yes, but do you really think they send those people out of their buildings? Those brainiacs are kept safe and secure behind walls while the real feds are sent out to do the hard work.”
“Fair point. How do I know you aren't a fed? You or your muscle?” Sport coat man asks.
“Do either of us look like feds?” Aaron drawls. “Government checks can't afford my socks, let alone this shirt or coat.”
“Who are you with then?”
If anything, Aaron gives the man some credit for being thorough, even if he's misled by some lies, stereotypes, and a confident demeanor. “Who do you think?”
Sport coat man scoffs and shakes his head. “Fucking knew the Fuescos were around this city. How come I haven't seen you around?”
“Because I'm sent by my boss wherever he needs me to be. As lovely as it's been chatting, I do have actual work to be getting to. I spent enough time tracking him down and would like to not waste the remainder of the day,” Aaron says.
“Maybe I should just take care of him for you, keep you from having to waste more time chasing him down again,” Sport coat man says, pulling out a gun and aiming it at Reid. “Cause I still don't appreciate having him spy on my business.”
Not even a twitch is needed out of Aaron for Morgan to pull his gun and aim it at sport coat man.
“You could, but I'd rather you didn't as he's still useful to me. Useful in ways you cannot repay,” Aaron says. He starts walking toward Reid and steps around to behind the chair and inspects the ropes around Reid's wrists. The rough hempen rope is tied in such a way that every movement from Reid has tightened the ropes and caused them to dig into his skin. Pulling a knife from his pocket, Aaron flicks open the blade and lightly taps Reid's fingers so the other man moves them out of the way. After cutting Reid free, Aaron steps back around the chair and walks over to sport coat man, motioning for Morgan to get Reid. “Put the damn gun away, no one's impressed or intimidated.”
There's a pause before sport coat man huffs and puts the gun away. “So, what, you're just going to take your man and scram?”
“Would you prefer for us to stick around, drink tea and paint each other's nails?” Aaron rolls his eyes. “I have business to attend to, as I'm sure you do as well. Let's just chalk this up to a misunderstanding and go our separate ways.”
“Fine. But if I see him hanging around again, he's a dead man,” sport coat man says, pointing at Reid as he's being half carried by Morgan.
Aaron smirks. “You see him again, it'll be because you're about to lose everything.”
As Aaron walks away, he half expects to hear gunfire. Luck seems to be with them as none sounds. The three of them exit the warehouse and Morgan finagles getting Reid into the back seat while Aaron sits in the driver's seat. It's only when the doors are closed and they’re driving away that he finally acknowledges the consistent buzzing of voices from his earbud.
“Get me an escort to the nearest hospital, Reid's in bad shape,” Aaron says.
“On it, boss man, escort joining you about three blocks from the warehouse district,” Garcia says. “And might I say, if this whole FBI thing doesn't work out for you, you could make a very good mob boss.”
He can only snort in response, glancing in the rear view mirror. Reid's eyes are closed, but he's still breathing. “You're paying for the detailing of this vehicle, Reid.”
Reid snorts but doesn't open his eyes. “Go fuck yourself, Hotchner.”
“Is that the way you talk to someone who just saved your ass?” Aaron asks, refocusing on the road. Two squad cars sandwich him and he can—finally—speed up.
“It is when that person's you,” Reid mutters. “Especially when I know you're gonna be holding this over my head for a year.”
Aaron snorts. If Reid thinks he's only going to have to deal with Aaron crowing about this for a year, he must have taken a heavy hit to the head. Only explanation for it. They make it to the hospital fairly soon after and Aaron watches as the doctors and nurses cart Reid off to be seen to. Not long after, most of the Organized Crime unit converges and begins taking up space in the waiting room. Regardless of anything else, Aaron will admit that Reid's done well with earning the trust and loyalty of his team.
“You know, I've never been able to figure out why you and Reid seem to hate each other,” Morgan says as he steps alongside Aaron.
Aaron gives a half shrug. “We've always just rubbed each other the wrong way.” Except when they don't. Aaron ignores the memory of other bruises that had littered Reid's chest just a week ago. “Always have since we started working at the BAU before it was the BAU. Though, we're not as bad as we used to be.”
“I can't help wonder if it's because you're so similar that you see the bad habits in each other and subconsciously realize they're bad habits you have, and you hate having that constant reminder of what you don't like about yourself,” Morgan says.
Turning to his agent, Aaron raises an eyebrow. “Reid and I are nothing alike.”
Morgan raises his eyebrows before laughing. “Oh, you really believe that! I'm not saying you two are identical or anything, I don't think the BAU could handle having two of you or two of him, but you have very similar characteristics.”
Deciding he's had enough of this foolish thought, Aaron turns and starts heading toward the parking lot. Anderson will contact him when the doctors finish patching Reid up.
“You really don't see it?” Morgan asks as he keeps pace with Aaron. “You both practically live for the job—I don't think I've seen either of you take a vacation in the entire time I've been in the unit—you both have this whole persona of being super serious and no-nonsense—which goes out the window the moment you two are in the same room—you both accidentally intimidate the hell out of new agents, local leos, and I'm fairly certain Strauss—who seems to hate both of you in equal measure by the way.”
He can't deny that Strauss hates both of them. She hates Aaron because she thinks Aaron is after her job. No thank you, he'd rather not go insane from the sheer amount of paperwork. She hates Reid because he's able to undermine her in ways she can't get him in trouble for.
Morgan continues, not caring that Aaron isn't responding. “You both have earned the respect of the BAU as a whole, not just your individual units—seriously, I can't think of a single agent who wouldn't go to bat for either of you—you're constantly putting the needs of your teams, the case, and the victims above your own—often to your guys’ own detriment—and I could go on, but face it, Hotch, you two are very similar people.”
They arrive at their rental and Aaron glances in the back seat, frowning a bit. There's not a huge mess there, but he's still glad they have leather seats. He motions for Morgan to get into the vehicle. “Come on, we need to get this cleaned out. Luckily the field office has a detailing service.”
Morgan stares at Aaron for a moment before letting out a huff and grinning. “Sure thing, let's go.”
~* Later that Evening *~
It's as Aaron is settling down in his hotel room that his cell begins to ring. He frowns at the device as he picks up. “Hotchner.”
There's silence from the other end for a moment before a very familiar sigh echoes down. “I finally managed to convince Anderson to get everyone to leave for the night. Just…” another sigh from Reid. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome.” Aaron pauses before continuing. “Don't ever fucking get yourself in a situation like that again. You've used up your one time of me busting your ass out of a bad situation.”
Reid snorts. “Yeah, I'll make sure to tell the next person who tries to abduct me that they can't because my coworker says I'm not allowed to be kidnapped.”
“Good, it might distract them enough for you to save yourself.” Aaron leans against the headboard, not really staring at anything. “Seriously, though, it's good that you're not dead. Who else would make me look good by comparison?”
“I'm sorry, who has the higher close rate for cases?” Reid asks. He sighs again. “Just, thank you. You might be an absolute asshole, but I appreciate you helping me out.”
“Yeah, yeah, quit thanking me, it sounds weird coming from you,” Aaron says.
“Does it? Thank you for telling me. I look forward to—”
Whatever else Reid was going to say is cut off as Aaron hangs up. He stares at the phone a moment longer before sighing. At least the dipshit seems somewhat alright. Aaron would've hated having to learn the habits and idiosyncrasies of a new coworker.
~2005~
As the explosion shakes the nearby buildings, Spencer keeps his team from running toward the sound. They're all concerned about the other agents who may have been caught in the blast, but adding themselves as potential victims won't help anyone. No matter how much Spencer has the urge to sprint over there himself. He pauses at the corner of the building that leads into the street where the explosion took place and glances at his team.
“Alright, prepare yourselves now. We have no idea what we’re about to see and there are likely bodies. Possibly of people you know. Keep an eye out for Bale and if you see him alive, capture him. Be careful, keep an eye on your surroundings, and keep an eye on your teammates. I don’t want to have to make visits to any of your families,” Spencer says. He waits for everyone to nod in acknowledgement before nodding once himself. “Let’s go.”
They stream around the building, everyone with guns drawn—just in case—and eyes peeled. Most of the building is still standing, though there’s debris everywhere. A few bodies lie around the area, the ones further from the building shifting as people start to regain consciousness and orientation. Spencer directs his team to spread out and they begin checking on people as they meet them. Radio chatter jumps up as his team and other FBI units start converging on the area and checking on the bodies. Spencer spends a fair amount of time directing agents and coordinating with EMS as he keeps a slow approach toward the building. When he spots a very familiar form on the ground, he makes a beeline there and kneels down, pressing a hand against Morgan’s shoulder to keep the man laying down.
“Don’t move, you might have injured your spine or neck,” Spencer says. “Can you wiggle your fingers and toes?”
Morgan blinks a few times and swallows. “Ye–yeah, all twenty digits. Hurt like hell though.”
“I can imagine, looks like you were thrown from the building. What happened?” Spencer asks, glancing around for an EMT or paramedic who isn’t occupied. Even though he heard everything through the radio, he needs to hear from Morgan to check the man’s memory and to ensure what he was hearing is what happened.
“We…we were getting ready to head in when Hotch told everyone to retreat. Never heard him sound like that before. Gideon tried to counter Hotch’s orders, but Hotch wasn’t having it and just kept repeating to retreat as far as possible,” Morgan says. He sighs. “I’d just gotten my group from the door when the explosion went off. Have you seen Hotch?”
“No, I haven’t.” Finally spotting an EMT who isn’t with someone, Spencer waves them over. As the EMT rushes to their position, Spencer looks back down to Morgan. “I’m going to find him though.”
“What if…” Morgan licks his lips and winces a bit. “What if he’s…?”
Spencer snorts. “Hotchner isn’t dead. He’s too much of a bastard to die that easily.”
Morgan chuckles, groaning and lightly holding his ribs. “Don’t make me laugh, you’re just concerned about him.”
“The day I’m concerned about Hotchner is the day I have myself committed,” Spencer says. He turns his attention to the EMT. “This is Agent Derek Morgan, age thirty-two, weight is approximately one ninety-five, blood-type is AB negative, and he has an allergy to sulfa medications. Possible broken ribs, definite concussion, probable lacerations and or road rash on his back.”
The EMT nods as she sets down her bag. “Understood, thank you sir. Hello Agent Morgan, I’m Carmen. Let’s see about getting you prepped to head to the hospital, yeah?”
“Sounds good.” Morgan refocuses on Spencer. “One, it’s weird you know so much about me. Two, find Hotch. Please.”
“Already planned on it, I need to rub it in that he almost got himself blown up,” Spencer says as he stands and starts walking toward the building. He gets on the radio. “Banano, Richmond, Hawkins, on me. There was a group of agents in the building when it blew, we need to check for survivors.”
He receives three confirmations by the time he reaches the building and enters. He mentally overlays the layout of the building with where he’s at and carefully picks his way through the debris toward where he knows the first checkpoint was supposed to be. As he approaches, he notices a closed door and tilts his head. Picking his way through and keeping his head on a swivel—there’s been no sight of Bale, and it’s the man’s compulsion to be at the scene of his explosions in the aftermath—it doesn’t take long to spot a set of very particular dress shoes underneath some broken pallets.
“Banano, Richmond, Hawkins, eta.” Spencer radios as he starts shifting the broken wood as carefully as possible.
“Entering the building now,” Hawkins replies.
“Right behind Hawkins,” Banano says.
“About thirty seconds away,” Richmond chimes in.
“Good, I think I found where the missing agents are. Uncertain of status. Be careful moving through the area, there’s a lot of debris,” Spencer says. He’s finally able to fully uncover Hotchner. When it seems as though the other man is too still, Spencer narrows his eyes and kneels down, setting a hand over the man’s mouth and nose. The faint brush of breath hits his hand and Spencer closes his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Fucking dumb asshole.”
“Di–didn’t know you…cared so much.”
Spencer sighs and looks back down at the other man with a scowl. “I didn’t want to deal with the paperwork. Plus, I’d already told Morgan you were alive and I hate being wrong. Now, shut up, you sound like you’ve been smoking four packs a day for twenty years.”
Hotchner blinks, his eyes sliding away from Spencer to something behind him. “B–bale.”
Without questioning it, Spencer raises his gun as he turns, aiming it directly at Bale. “Adrian Bale, you are under arrest for the murder of Samantha Hooper, Gabriel Ruiz, Tawana Sinclair, and however many people have died here.”
Bale grins and holds up his hands, a remote with a green light in his right hand. “Or, you can let me go and everyone gets to live. I rigged the remainder of the bombs up and they’ll go off the moment I hit this button.”
He’s done. His team had been up late the night before and awoken way before dawn this morning while working on their own case. They’d been called in for back-up for the CAA unit since they were in the area, and have been working with them all day to try and get Bale trapped. The warnings from Hotchner and himself had gone unheeded by Gideon—which is a whole other bunch of bullshit that will be addressed once this is done—and now who knows how many agents and civilians are dead. Spencer is done. He adjusts his aim ever so slightly and pulls the trigger.
Bale shouts as the remote is ripped from his hands by the momentum of the bullet, and shouts again when he’s tackled by Hawkins.
Spencer lowers his weapon and just stares for a moment before turning back to Hotchner. The other man seems slightly out of it, but he’s still conscious at least. “Is the rest of your infiltration group behind door number one?”
Hotchner blinks a couple of times before slowly nodding. “Best place I could find for them.”
“Alright, good.” Turning to Banano as she approaches. “Get that door open and check on the people in there. Hopefully they were well covered from the blast.”
Banano nods and turns to the door as Hawkins starts frog marching Bale from the warehouse, reading him his miranda rights.
Spencer connects with his radio again. “Richmond, are you still outside?”
“Yeah, Doc, just about to head in,” Richmond says.
“Grab a couple of paramedics and let them know I have someone here who’ll need a litter to get out,” Spencer says.
“Sir…did you…is it…?” Richmond asks.
Spencer sighs. “Yeah, I found Hotchner. He’s alive.”
The collective sighing and muttered words of relief from everyone at the site is practically a roar. Spencer glances at Hotchner and rolls his eyes, making sure he’s not still broadcasting as he says, “You hear that, asshole? Yet another reason I couldn’t find you dead. Would’ve broken everyone’s morale.”
“You can just admit…that you would’ve been upset…won’t hold it…against you,” Hotchner says, giving a weak version of his usual smirk.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Spencer starts examining Hotchner as much as he can without moving the man too much. There’s some blood seeping out of a couple of cuts and a couple of pieces of wood embedded in his forearms, but other than that he looks remarkably intact for someone who was just blown up. The sound of shifting debris catches his attention and Spencer turns to see Richmond leading a small group of paramedics over.
“Well, who do we have here, other than a lucky devil?” A man with an Irish accent asks.
“Agent Aaron Hotchner, aged thirty-four, weighs approximately one eighty. His blood type is A negative, no known medical allergies. He has a concussion, some lacerations across his torso, and pieces of wood embedded in his forearms,” Spencer says as he stands and steps back to allow the paramedics access.
“It’s cute…that you care…so much,” Hotchner says, wincing as one of the paramedics jostles his shoulder.
Spencer just stares with a raised eyebrow. “Nevermind, just let the asshole deal with this shit himself.”
A couple of the paramedics chuckle as they work and Hotchner just grins.
The radio in his ear crackles. “Unit Leader Reid, we need you out front with Gideon.”
“On my way,” Spencer responds. He glances at Hotchner. “Do the medics a favor and behave. Otherwise I’m sure they’ll be happy to drug your ass.”
He turns and starts walking away before Hotchner can respond, though he hears the other man mutter something. It’s either not important or he’ll hear about it later. Exiting the building, he immediately spots Gideon and straightens his shoulders as he approaches the man. Despite being his mentor when Spencer first joined the FBI, they had a bit of a falling out when Spencer jumped at the chance to join the Organized Crime Unit and work his way up to team lead and then unit leader there. Still, Spencer has always tried to be respectful of the man’s opinion and experience. Not today. Today, Jason Gideon can fuck all the way off.
~* Later that Evening *~
“Unit Leader Reid, Section Chief Strauss will see you now,” Agent Schulmer says.
Spencer pops himself from where he’d been leaning against the wall with his shoulder and nods to Agent Schulmer. “Thank you Mike, and congratulations on your retirement. Last day is Friday, right?”
Mike nods. “It is. Hopefully the rest of the week is peaceful.”
“I second that,” Spencer mutters before he enters Strauss’s office. He barely manages to contain his initial feelings of surprise and annoyance to a blink. Of course the entire upper management is here. “You asked to see me?”
Strauss nods. “Have a seat Reid.”
“Ma’am, I would prefer not to. I’m about five minutes in a semi-comfortable position from falling asleep. If it’s alright with everyone here, I would rather stay standing,” Spencer says.
Everyone at the table nods and mutters their agreement. Strauss looks as though she was forced to eat a lemon but nods. “Very well. We have called you here to verify events of the day, gain your perspective, and help formulate a decision for our actions moving forward.”
They’re looking for a scapegoat to blame for the clusterfuck that arose from what should’ve been a standard takedown. Spencer glances along the line of upper brass. When he makes eye contact with Assistant Director John Richards, the man barely inclines his head. Well, great, just what he wanted to do today, babysit and correct a bunch of people’s incorrect opinions. “Understood. Would you prefer I begin, ma’am?”
“If you don’t mind, Reid.”
He launches into an explanation of everything that occurred throughout the day which he saw or heard. Most of the brass remain silent and either just watch him or write down notes. By the time he finishes his tale, he wishes he had a cup of water or a throat lozenge.
“It is your opinion that Agent Hotchner’s refusal to obey commands from BAU Unit Chief Gideon is what saved lives?” one of the upper brass on the left side of the table asks, leaning forward.
“It is. If Hotchner hadn’t ignored the order to maintain course, we would have many more agents dead than the six who unfortunately passed,” Spencer says.
The same woman chuckles. “I thought I heard a rumor that you and Agent Hotchner hate each other. Why are you defending him?”
Spencer raises an eyebrow. “Because he did the right thing. Surely it means more that the animosity between Hotchner and myself is known and yet I stand here explaining that he’s not at fault whatsoever in the events of today? Despite my personal opinions of the man, I do have a professional respect for him. He takes the safety of his team very seriously and does his best to ensure they’re all taken care of. Regardless of the case, he tries to minimize any and all dangers to the people he’s working with. If my unit ever needs to partner with another unit or call in another unit for backup, I hope he’s the one who answers because I know that he’ll do whatever it takes to get my people out if I can’t.”
Assistant Director Richards leans back in his chair. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but that seems fairly conclusive to me.”
“Yes…quite the glowing review,” Strauss says. She taps some papers on the desk and nods. “Thank you for your insight, Unit Leader Reid, please ensure you are careful heading home.”
Spencer turns around and heads for the door. He pauses at the entrance and turns back around. “I know it wasn’t asked, but it would feel remiss of me to remain silent on the subject of Unit Chief Gideon.”
“Oh? And what is your opinion on that matter?” Strauss asks.
“Retire him. Or move him to teaching at the academy full time,” Spencer says. “Don’t misunderstand, I appreciate everything that Jason Gideon has done for me. I’m well aware I wouldn’t be here if not for him. However, the man who mentored me and the man who was in the field today are not the same. I worry what will happen to the agents with him the next time he’s out in the field, regardless of what capacity he’s working in.”
The woman from before leans forward again. “Why regardless of his capacity?”
“Jason Gideon has a…gravitas to his opinion and actions within the BAU. Understandably so, he’s one of the original founders. However, that means those who would defy him when he gives an erroneous order is an exceptionally small pool of people,” Spencer says. “Keeping him in the field will just ensure the eventual deaths of more agents. While not all of the agents in the BAU are on my team, I do consider them mine, and if I have to lose any more of my agents due to his ego, trauma, or whatever it is, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Understandable,” Assistant Director Richards says. “We will take that into consideration as well. Have a good night, Unit Leader Reid.”
Spencer nods and exits the room. He leans against the door for the barest moment before heading for the elevator. Going home his ass, he’s got more work to do.
~* One Month Later *~
Aaron drapes the towel around his neck and pulls on his underwear and pants. He still occasionally feels a twinge of pain from some of the wounds he’d gotten from the whole Bale fiasco, and has the occasional bout of vertigo. Enough that he’s on a lighter workout regiment than he usually uses. He only hopes it’ll be lifted soon. As he dries his hair, the door to the locker room opens and shuts and he glances in the mirrors to see who stepped in. Spotting Reid leaning against the door is both surprising yet not. While most of the unit has been hovering since Aaron returned to work, Reid has just been keeping an eye from a distance. It’s the first time they’re this close since that whole mess.
“A meeting’s been called between the BAU unit leaders, the support staff director, and the section chief,” Reid says. “I kind of figured that you hadn’t read the notice that went out when you weren’t fifteen minutes early like you always are and ended up volun-told to come get you.”
Aaron sighs. The feeling that this is when he ends up fired creeps up his spine. Even though it seems as though Jason is who the brass have singled out—rightfully fucking so considering that he’d been told by two unit leaders that Bale was a lying sack of shit—for punishment for the Bale incident, he knows that Strauss will do all she can to get rid of him. He glances over his shoulder at Reid and gives his best effort into his usual smirk. Based on Reid’s furrowed eyebrows, he falls flat. “What do you say we play hookie? Can find a place to hide away from Strauss and then just claim we kept missing each other.”
The sound of the lock on the door sliding shut echoes in the room before Reid’s footsteps approach. Arms settle around his waist from behind and Reid places a couple of light barely-there kisses up his neck to whisper in his ear, “That does sound tempting, and I can think of a couple of places where no one would even think to look.”
Unease redoubles in Aaron’s stomach. The fuck is Reid doing? What is this gentle shit? A moment later, Reid bites Aaron’s shoulder. Hard. The unease leaves and Aaron has to keep himself from sighing in relief.
“Too bad for you I have a feeling this meeting is important. Quit being a baby and finish getting dressed,” Reid says as he pulls away. “I’ll wait for you outside.”
When the door closes, Aaron releases the sigh he’d held back and hurries to get dressed. The slight ache from his shoulder where Reid bit him is oddly comforting, and Aaron chalks it up to Reid being the one constant since the whole BAU got turned upside down. Chaos can be erupting throughout the entire department and Reid will still be the same pain in the ass bastard he’s always been. Aaron steps out of the locker room and falls in step with Reid as the man pushes off of the wall and starts down the hall toward the elevators. The entire trip to the meeting room next to Strauss’s office is done in silence and Aaron is thankful that Reid doesn’t try to push anything. As they enter the room, everyone looks up.
“So glad you could join us, Agent Hotchner,” Strauss says.
Reid snorts. “Yeah, cause he totally had advanced warning about this meeting when you sent out the email forty-five minutes ago during the time when everyone knows he’s been using the training facilities to help recover from being blown up.”
Strauss narrows her eyes at Reid. “Agent Reid, mind your tone.”
Reid doesn’t say anything else as he slips into his seat. Aaron just keeps his mouth shut as he takes the open seat next to Reid. The timing of the email does explain why Aaron hadn’t known the meeting was even called to begin with.
Strauss clears her throat. “Due to budget constraints, we are unable to have a separate position for unit chief within the BAU. I have been instructed that one of the unit leaders is to work as both unit chief and unit leader. There will be a slight pay raise for whomever is placed in this position, but it will not amount to the same salary the unit chief position alone had been. It was also recommended that the person to take this position should be chosen amongst yourselves.”
“So whichever poor schmuck ends up being placed in that spot will have a doubling of their workload and yet won’t receive double the pay?” Liam Barnes, CAC unit leader asks. He gives a low whistle. “Talk about a bunch of bullshit.”
“I agree. I am working with the other members of upper leadership to ensure the pay increase is as high as I can wrangle. I am also working at negotiating more vacation time and increased support staff for whichever unit leader takes up this position,” Strauss says. She looks around the table, barely glancing at Aaron and wholly skipping over Reid. “I don’t like this any more than any of you, but unfortunately my hands are somewhat tied.”
Violet Zhang, the unit leader of the White Collar Unit, frowns. “I don’t imagine you called us here just to inform us of this change.”
“No, I didn’t. I need to submit your nomination for unit chief by the end of the day,” Strauss says. “I’ve tried to negotiate more time considering I was just informed about the whole of these changes today, but the upper brass are refusing to relent.”
Reid drums his fingers along the table and frowns when his phone chimes. He pulls the device from his pocket and starts looking through whatever information was sent to him.
While the other two unit leaders and the support staff director, Hector Boggs, begin discussing what’s going on, Aaron leans back and listens to them. Whoever ends up in this position is going to inherit a lot of stress, but they also have an opportunity to promote some change in the unit. Aaron’s been arguing with Gideon for ages that they needed to update the computers and other technology within the unit. Each time Gideon had just waved him off and said profiling didn’t require fancy gadgets. It doesn’t, but when those gadgets make the jobs of his agents easier and safer, Aaron’s willing to give it a try. Just as the voices of Barnes, Zhang, and Boggs starts to get heated and Aaron debates stepping in, there’s the sound of a whistle. Silence permeates the room at the sound.
“I nominate Aaron Hotchner,” Reid says as he stands, still focused on his phone. He glances at Strauss. “I have to go, my unit’s been called out to Boise.” He strides toward the door and says over his shoulder, “Whoever gets the position, send me a text and I’ll send you my congratulations and condolences.”
Everyone in the room is quiet for several moments after Reid leaves. The only thing Aaron can think is how that was unexpected.
~2008~
Aaron waits for the call to connect, staring into the bullpen of the New York office. He still can’t believe that after all these years Joyner called him for assistance. A click of the line being picked up pulls him from his thoughts.
“Unit Chief Hotchner, how can I be of service today?” Reid asks, his tone slightly less mocking than the last twenty times he’s said that.
Aaron hums. “You must be in a good mood, you’re not being nearly as irritating as normal. Is your team in the middle of a case?”
“That tends to happen when one gets to sleep in their own bed for the first time in a month,” Reid says. “And no, we just got back in last night. Why?”
“We have a possible terrorist ring in New York threatening to bomb public locations. I was going to ask if your team could assist, but considering you all just returned, don’t worry about it,” Aaron says. He’d rather the Organized Crime Unit get some rest and downtime.
Reid doesn’t say anything for a moment, though Aaron can hear movement from his side of the line. What Reid says next is a bit muffled. “Anderson, you’re in charge until I get back. Our unit chief and his band of merry heroes got themselves into a bit of trouble with a possible terrorist ring. I'm going to pop up to New York and make sure they don’t get themselves killed.”
While whatever Anderson says in reply is inaudible, Reid’s reply of, “Shut up, Anderson.” is perfectly clear. Aaron waits for Reid to return the phone to his ear before saying, “You don’t need to come up here, Reid, I can handle this myself just fine.”
“Oh no, the last time you were around a bomb you almost got yourself blown up. I don’t trust you to not try again for shits and giggles,” Reid says. “I should be there in about four hours.”
Aaron stares at the phone after Reid hangs up and shakes his head before going off to find his team to let them know—warn them—that Reid is on his way. He only realizes he’s smiling slightly as he opens the door of the office he borrowed. Pausing for a moment, he manages to straighten his expression into something more fitting for the situation. At least watching Reid and Dave interact is always entertaining.
~* Later that night (or really, really early in the morning) *~
Aaron barely hears the knocking at his hotel room door and sighs as he stands and goes to answer it. If he has to deal with one more person checking up on him to make sure he isn’t ‘dying from grief’ or whatever they’re expecting at the death of Joyner, he’s going to throw something. The knocking sounds again as Aaron steps up to the door. Rolling his eyes, he unlocks the door and slides the chain. He barely has the door open when Reid comes barreling into the room.
“What is it with your team and bombs? Seriously? Are you all somehow defying physics and probability to encounter this many bombs? Do you know how often the average person encounters a bomb? Never. Yet, you and Morgan have both managed to almost be blown up twice in less than five years,” Reid rants as he paces in the room a bit before stopping and staring at Aaron.
Aaron slowly closes the door and raises an eyebrow. “Hello Reid, come on in, so good to see you.”
“No, no, you don’t get to be a sarcastic asshole when I had to find you after you were almost blown up! Again!” Reid’s eyes narrow as he approaches Aaron.
Aaron can only back up as Reid closes in. He feels the wall against his back and tries to determine what kind of pissed off Reid is. Given how often he sees Reid pissed off at him, Aaron should be better at figuring this out by now. “Reid, I’m sor—”
“ Don’t . Don’t you dare fucking apologize unless you know what you’re apologizing for!” Reid is practically hissing and his body almost vibrating.
There’s something in Reid’s voice and expression that keeps catching Aaron off guard. He’s not able to put his finger on it, but it’s a little disconcerting and it makes his heart feel like it’s breaking. Before Aaron can fully delve into what the emotion he’s seeing is and why it’s making him feel the way it is, there’s another knock at his door. Reid takes a step away from Aaron and motions for him to answer the door before stepping around the corner of the wall. The sound of the bed sinking explains where he went. Despite wanting to ignore whoever is at the door and focus on Reid, he straightens out his shirt a bit and opens the door for the second time in as many minutes. Derek looks up and gives a half smile.
“Hey, just checking to see how you’re doing?” Derek says.
And there it fucking is. Aaron holds back the urge to scream, but barely. “I’m fine. Getting ready to turn in for the night. Something I can help you with?”
“Actually, I was thinking I might be able to help you,” Derek says. “I heard the doctors say that you’re not allowed to fly and figured I’d offer to drive with you back to Quantico.”
“That’s really kind, but I’m grabbing a ride back with Reid. Figured it would be a good time for us to go over what happened and get a jump on the after action reports,” Aaron says. Given everything that happened, he cannot spend time around Morgan until he’s managed to get his temper and agitation back under control. He respects Morgan and wants to avoid chasing him away from the unit if possible.
Derek raises his eyebrows. “Huh…that’s a choice. Should we expect only one of you to return and have a corpse in the back?”
Aaron barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes before saying, “We’re not that bad.”
“I don’t know, there’s a bet going around the unit as to whether or not you two will end up fighting or fucking,” Derek says.
“I know. I’ve got twenty bucks on us fighting,” Aaron says. He takes a moment to enjoy Morgan’s shocked expression before slowly closing the door. “Good night, Morgan.”
It’s after the locks latch that he hears Morgan chuckle before muttering, “Still that same sense of humor. Thank fuck, scared the shit outta me today.”
Scared. Realization hits Aaron like lightning. That’s what he’d seen in Spencer’s expression. Fear. It’s a sobering realization to know that the man he’d seen literally laugh at a man holding a gun to his head was afraid for Aaron. He brushes his thumb across his fingertips as he enters the main part of the room and looks at Spencer. If he didn’t know the man, he’d think he was praying. He’s hunched over, feet on the floor, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. Spencer is hidden by his hair as it curtains around his face. That same ache from earlier hits his heart and Aaron wants to make it right, make Spencer feel better. While Spencer may rebuff his efforts, Aaron at least has to try.
Approaching the other man carefully, Aaron kneels down and sets one hand on Spencer’s knee. He then sets his other hand at the juncture of Spencer’s shoulder and neck. Then it’s a matter of waiting. His thumb traces back and forth over Spencer’s neck, barely brushing over the skin there. Eventually Spencer looks up, and that same fear is hanging around the corners of his eyes.
Spencer clears his throat. “Avoiding Morgan by getting a ride with me? You might regret that by the time we return to Quantico.”
“I don’t think I will,” Aaron mutters. He swallows, the words almost catching in his throat. “I’m sorry that I scared you. You’re right, I don’t know what it was like to find me after I’d almost been blown up twice. I never meant to hurt you, not like that.”
The fear seems to strengthen as Spencer stares at him with wide eyes and Aaron starts to wonder if this was a good idea. If he just made it worse, he doesn’t know what he’ll do.
A shadow of Spencer’s usual scowl appears, but it’s not as potent as normal. “You…I can’t…stupid asshole…” Spencer swallows before whispering, “I never meant to care like this…”
“I know. I didn’t either. Yet here we are.” Aaron keeps his voice low, feeling as though anything louder would break whatever is going on. The thought that’s been swirling around in his head for the last several months—years if he's being honest—rushes past all the barriers he’s put up against it. He knows Spencer. And while he could be dead wrong, something tells him he isn't. Aaron takes in a deep breath and plucks up his courage. “Honestly, I don’t want to even imagine life without you.”
“Wha–Aaron, what do you mean?” Spencer asks.
The sound of his name from Spencer’s lips sounds so sweet. After over a decade of nothing but ‘Hotchner’ to hear ‘Aaron’...he feels like he can finally admit that he wants to find out all the ways his name can sound coming from those lips. “I mean that I think we should give it a shot. Give us a shot.”
“All we ever do is bicker and fight,” Spencer mutters. His hands unclench.
“That’s not all we do. Besides, we’ve gotten better at actually listening to each other,” Aaron whispers. He moves the hand on Spencer’s knee to his forearm.
“What if this is just hormones and chemicals and emotions due to what happened today?” One of Spencer’s hands moves to cradle the hand Aaron has on his neck.
Aaron hums. “Possible, but I don’t think so. This has been happening for longer than either of us realized.” His hand travels up Spencer’s forearm to his elbow.
“Someone’s going to end up hurt.” Spencer’s other hand ends up on Aaron’s shoulder.
“We’re already hurting. Together we can support one another.” Aaron didn’t notice when he closed the distance between them. He can feel Spencer’s breath on his neck as he adjusts his hand to rest against Spencer’s back.
Spencer swallows. “This…this could ruin us.”
“Or it could be the best thing we ever do,” Aaron murmurs as he leans closer. He pauses just a hair away from Spencer’s lips. “Tell me no and I’ll back off. We’ll pretend this conversation never happened and keep going how we’ve always been.”
Spencer’s hand tightens on Aaron’s shirt, his breathing a little harder than normal. His bottom lip disappears for a moment as he bites it. “Yes.”
Forget leaping, his heart has gone to the stratosphere. He pulls the other man into a kiss as he climbs up onto the bed, pressing Spencer back to the middle of the mattress. Unlike every other time they’ve kissed, there’s no bite or clash. It’s soft and gentle and feels all the more dangerous for it. He could get drunk off this feeling. Even though he knows Spencer’s body and how it feels, he can’t stop himself from tracing every inch of the man he can reach as they kiss. When his hands brush along Spencer’s ribs, he gasps and Aaron takes a moment to tangle their tongues together before retreating and trailing kisses along Spencer’s jaw to his ear.
“Tell me, darlin’, what do you want? Anythin’ I can give you, I’ll give it,” Aaron whispers. He nips at Spencer’s ear before trailing kisses down his neck. Spencer moans.
“Give me a reminder that you’re here, that I didn’t lose you before I had you,” Spencer whispers. He keens as Aaron sucks a hickey into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.
Gently dragging his teeth against the mark he just made, Aaron leans back a little. “As you wish.” He climbs out of the bed and Spencer gives a soft sound of disapproval. “I’ll be right back, darlin’, just gonna grab some lube.”
He rifles through his go-bag and pulls out the small bottle he’d put in there the last time he’d gone to Spencer’s place and had never removed. He holds up a condom with a raised eyebrow and is somewhat surprised when Spencer shakes his head. As he returns to the bed, he removes Spencer’s hands from the buttons of his shirt and pulls him back into a kiss. Taking over undoing the buttons on Spencer’s shirt, he can feel Spencer’s hands trace up his arms and down his front. Feels the ever familiar tug of his shirt being removed from his pants. There’s no tug and no clatter of buttons flying around the room. He feels dexterous fingers quickly unhook each button and soon he has to pause in removing Spencer’s shirt to slip his own off his shoulders. His undershirt is pulled off just as quickly.
As Aaron finishes undoing Spencer’s shirt, he pulls it down along his arms and holds it at his wrists. Trapping his hands behind him, Aaron takes his time in tracing a few of his favorite spots with his tongue and lips, pulling the sweetest of whines from Spencer’s throat.
“A–Aaron, please,” Spencer pants.
Aaron looks up and raises an eyebrow. “Please, what, darlin’?”
“Please let me touch,” Spencer whispers. “I–I need…”
“Alright darlin’, I get ya.” Aaron releases the bunch of fabric and helps pull the sleeves and shirt from Spencer’s wrists. “Another night, perhaps?”
“Yes.” Spencer’s hands are back on Aaron’s chest as soon as they’re free of their fabric confines. They work together to rid Spencer of his pants and underwear before Aaron lays him down and trails open mouthed kisses down his body. A light bite to Spencer’s stomach elicits a sigh while gently scratching his nails down his ribs causes him to shiver.
It’s incredible how all these reactions that he knows feel new and exciting. How he feels as though he’s discovering something for the first time all over again. He skips past Spencer’s erection and continues his way down to the man’s knee before jumping over to the other knee and starting his path back up. A hand brushes through his hair and Aaron looks up along Spencer’s body and meets his eyes. One of the best sights in the world in Aaron’s opinion.
“Aaron, please, I need you,” Spencer says, his voice low.
Aaron nods as he moves up, placing a kiss on Spencer’s hip as he removes his own pants and underwear. He hadn’t realized how confining they’d felt until they were removed and he kisses Spencer’s hip again in relief. “Of course, anythin’ you need.”
Still, Aaron takes his time lubing up his fingers and slowly working Spencer open. While his left hand is busy, his right holds down Spencer’s hips and Aaron licks up Spencer’s cock. The taste of him is almost as good as the gasp Spencer releases. Even better is the bitten off moan from Spencer as Aaron wraps his lips around his erection and sucks. He starts bobbing his head, taking more into his mouth at each pass, as his fingers brush against Spencer’s prostate.
“Oh, fuck, Aaron,” Spencer says. A harder press against his prostate makes him keen. “Please, please, please, fuck me, please!”
Pulling his fingers from Spencer causes a slight whine which gets slightly louder as Aaron pulls off his cock with a slight pop. Aaron uses whatever lube is left on his hand to start lubing his erection, adding a bit more just to be sure he’s not going to hurt Spencer. He lines up with Spencer’s hole and starts to slowly press in. They both moan when the head is in, and Aaron takes half a second to wipe his hand on the sheets. There’s another bed in the room, he doesn’t care if they mess this one up.
Spencer pulls him up to kiss as he wraps his legs around Aaron’s waist. After a moment, there’s pressure from Spencer’s legs and Aaron starts to slowly thrust in. It only takes a few more slow thrusts in and out for Spencer to pull away from kissing him. When Aaron catches his eyes, something in Aaron settles at seeing that familiar fire and defiance in his eyes.
“You know me, I’m not made of glass, Aaron,” Spencer says. He leans up and nips at Aaron’s jaw. “Make me feel it.”
Aaron grins and his responding kiss is a little rougher than the others have been. Their tongues meet and part, and when Aaron pulls back he thrusts in with a little more force. Pressure from Spencer’s legs makes the next more forceful than the last and they continue until Aaron’s only slightly less rough than they usually are. Still enough that Spencer should fully feel it come morning. Aaron returns to Spencer’s neck, adding more hickies to the ones he’s already left. Spencer whines and moans and keens, his hands scrabbling against Aaron’s back. There’s no burn of nails cutting into him and while he misses it, he knows his back is too torn up as is. Hopefully after he’s healed from the road rash he can get Spencer to leave scratches again.
“Aaron, please, almost there, please,” Spencer gasps.
Slipping his hand down to Spencer’s erection, he starts pumping in counter to his thrusts. His mouth trails up to Spencer’s lips and he whispers, “Come on, darlin’, let go for me. Wanna see how pretty you are when you come.”
A few more thrusts and Spencer orgasams. Aaron captures his mouth in a kiss, swallowing the keening moan. A couple of thrusts later and Aaron tips over into his orgasm. He blinks as his heart settles down and he realizes he’s practically smothering Spencer. Yet as he shifts, Spencer lets out a slight whine. Aaron kisses his cheek and carefully pulls out of the other man.
Spencer blinks and sighs. “I know I need to clean up, but I don’t wanna move. Just give me a moment or two and I’ll get up.”
Aaron huffs. “Not a chance. You’ve deprived me of taking care of you for long enough.”
“I—what?” Spencer’s eyebrows furrow.
Climbing out of the bed, Aaron sets a hand on Spencer’s chest. “Stay. Relax. Let me take care of you, please?”
Confusion still lines his face, but Spencer nods and settles back into the bed. Aaron is quick in the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it with warm water as well as grabbing a spare towel. When he returns to the bedroom, Spencer is drumming his fingers along his stomach. Taking his time, Aaron makes sure he’s thorough in wiping Spencer clean and drying him off. He carefully pulls Spencer from where he’s laying—they definitely made a mess of the sheets and he’s definitely leaving a really good tip for housekeeping—and pulls him over to the other bed. Aaron sits and pulls Spencer into his lap, initiating another kiss. This one is just to kiss. To feel the man he has a feeling he’s growing to love. Aaron examines that thought and—while he figures it’s true—decides it’s one too many revelations for the night.
“I think it’s time to go to sleep, what do you think?” Aaron asks.
Spencer hums. “Probably, considering the drive back to Quantico and the meeting we’ll probably be pulled into by Strauss and whatever other members of the upper brass happen to stop by.”
Aaron groans and rests his forehead against Spencer’s shoulder. “I’m already pretty injured, we could always get Garcia to put some makeup on you so you look horribly injured and then we can claim a car crash.”
Spencer chuckles. “What about the SUV?”
“Dave knows people. They’ll take care of it,” Aaron says.
Spencer snorts. “Of course he does.”
When Spencer stands and starts to look around the room, Aaron’s eyebrows furrow and he doesn’t realize he made any sort of sound until Spencer turns to him with concern. He swallows and speaks around the lump in his throat. “Sorry, I…I just thought you’d…that you’d stay?”
“Oh.” Spencer returns and starts running his fingers through Aaron’s hair. Aaron’s eyes close and he gives a slight hum at the sensation. “I think that despite how well we know each other, we might need to communicate a bit better.”
Aaron hums in acknowledgement. It sounds about right, and—honestly—there haven’t been many times in all the years he’s known Spencer that the man has been wrong.
Spencer chuckles and pauses in his ministrations. “Aaron, do you want me to stay the night?”
Aaron slowly opens his eyes and looks up at Spencer. “Yes, please.”
“Alright, I’ll stay.” Spencer nudges Aaron’s shoulder. “Scoot over and let me under the covers, it’s cold.”
“You’re always cold,” Aaron says as he slides over, wrangling the covers down so they can slip under them.
“What can I say? I was raised in the desert, I don’t do this winter shit,” Spencer mutters, yawning at the end.
Aaron grins. “Lucky for you, I consistently run warm.”
As they lay down, Spencer hums and scoots closer to Aaron’s body heat. “You know, you’re never getting rid of me now that I know you’re practically a furnace.”
Wrapping his arms around Spencer, Aaron hums and places a kiss in his hair. “Good.”
It doesn’t take long for them to fall asleep. And though neither would say anything, they get the best sleep they’ve had in years.
~* Later the Next Afternoon *~
Aaron watches as Spencer shifts in the driver’s seat for the fifth time in as many minutes. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”
“You’re still recovering from a concussion, you’re not allowed to drive. Honestly, we probably shouldn’t have had sex considering your injuries,” Spencer says. “Besides, I’m fine. Just dealing with the folly of my own decisions and this pain in the ass bastard who decided he needed round two when we got up.”
Aaron smirks. “But I’m your pain in the ass bastard.”
Spencer huffs and grins. “Yeah, yeah you are.”
~2009~
Derek will admit that a lot has changed since the disaster that was New York. It’s hard to believe it’s been over a year since then. He’s been given more responsibilities so Hotch isn’t quite as swamped and so that Hotch can get away every once in a while to see whoever it is he’s dating—the man thinks he’s slick, but the whole unit can tell that he’s started seeing someone a little over a month after New York—which, honestly, Derek is more than happy to facilitate. Whatever it takes to keep Hotch from returning to his no-nonsense-ever attitude. The man has been caught smiling, actually smiling, more in the past year than in the nine years prior. Though, there must’ve been something about that time of year or that case, because from what he’s heard from Anderson, Reid started seeing someone a few months after New York as well. He can’t help but wonder what it would take to get Hotch and Reid to go on a double date, but then he doesn’t want to see them return to their old bickering. As amusing as it was, they seem more amicable now than ever. Which everyone in the unit is all for.
“Heading out Mister Derek?” Louisa asks.
Derek sighs. “Yeah, it’s been a hell of a couple of days, and I’m looking forward to sleeping and having the day off.”
Louisa nods and pauses, staring at something behind Derek. “I’m sorry, sir, but do you have your visitor badge?”
Derek turns around and his blood freezes, yet at the same time he feels fury rise in him. “Foyet.”
“Hey Derek, miss me?” Foyet asks.
“You little bitch,” Derek growls as he starts approaching Foyet. “I’m gonna tear you apart.”
“Hawkins! Grab him.”
Derek feels arms wrap around his waist, lift him up, and pull him away from Foyet. He struggles a bit, but the arms around him don’t budge. “Sorry, Derek, Doc’s orders.”
Twin footsteps echo around the atrium and Derek turns to see Hotch and Reid walking away from the elevator bank. They’re in step and their focus is zeroed in on Foyet. Not a crease in their suits nor a hair out of place on either of them. Hotch’s shoulders are pulled back and he stands with the same posture as always, expression impassive. Reid’s hands are in his pockets and even though curiosity is evident on his face, it’s different from what Derek is used to seeing on the unit leader. Colder. Even knowing them and knowing that they are two of the most honorable men he knows, Derek’s willing to admit he’s intimidated. Hotch and Reid stop about ten feet away from Foyet. Silence.
Reid tilts his head. “This is George Foyet, aka the Reaper?” He hums. “I don’t know. I thought he’d be taller.”
If Reid’s smart ass comments get them killed, Derek is gonna kill him.
“Yes, this is Foyet,” Hotch says. “I’m surprised you came here. I would’ve thought ambushing someone in their home would be more your style.”
Foyet grins. “That was the plan, but something got in the way.”
Hotch raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize moving would inconvenience you that much. I would apologize, but honestly I don’t care.”
Derek blinks. Since when did Hotch move? He startles when he notices Reid walking in a circle around Foyet, much closer than he’d originally been.
“I still can’t believe that you’re the Reaper,” Reid says. “Based on everything I’ve heard, I expected…more. It’s a bit disappointing, really.”
Foyet sneers as Reid returns to Hotch’s side. “More? How about I show you why all of Boston fears me?”
Reid tilts his head and smirks. “Go ahead, give it a shot.”
Derek feels Hawkins freeze, though he’s not much better. The fuck is Reid thinking?
“What?” Foyet asks, confusion rising on his face.
“You heard me. Give it a shot,” Reid says. He holds his arms out to the sides. “I won’t even move.”
“Someone with a death wish? Well, guess I’m your genie,” Foyet says as he pulls out his gun, aims and fires at Reid. At least, he tries to fire. The revolver just clicks. Foyet pulls the trigger a few more times and stares at the gun. “What?”
The sound of someone clearing their throat feels as loud as the gunfire should’ve been. Reid grins—though it’s more of a baring of teeth—at Foyet as he holds up his hand. Between each finger is a blue tipped bullet. “Lose something?”
“How?” Foyet keeps looking between his gun and the bullets in Reid’s hand. When Reid closes his hand and reopens it to show the bullets gone, Foyet sneers. “Magic tricks won’t work forever.”
“Maybe not,” Reid says, pulling one of Foyet’s knives from his pocket. “But they worked well enough on you, so I’m satisfied.”
“Reid, are you done antagonizing Foyet?” Hotch drawls.
“Not even close, but I can stop,” Reid says.
A single hand motion from Hotch and several armed FBI agents step forward and place cuffs around Foyet and start reading him his miranda rights.
“Whatever jail you throw me in, I’ll just escape,” Foyet says, grinning. “I know all of the jails in this area!”
Hotch nods. “That’s true, and it would be a concern if you were being jailed in this area.”
Foyet’s grin shrinks a bit. “What?”
“Considering the last time you went to prison, the judge agreed to send you to ADX Florence,” Hotch says.
“ADX Florence?” Foyet turns pale and his eyes widen a bit.
Reid nods. “Considering the level of violence you’ve shown in your crimes and your escape, it’s the only place we can be sure you’ll stay sequestered in. I’d wish you luck—it’s known as the Alcatraz of the Rockies for numerous reasons—but honestly, I can think of nothing I wish for you to have less.”
Everyone watches as Foyet is dragged off, struggling and shouting. An agent steps over to Reid and holds up several evidence bags, and everyone’s attention switches over to him as he starts to empty his pockets. Bullets, two knives, a cell phone, another cell phone, three separate wallets, a glasses case, a handkerchief, some receipts, and a bouncy ball all end up in the evidence bags.
“Sorry for the prints, but gloves would’ve been a bit suspicious,” Reid says to the agent.
Hawkins finally releases Derek, but Derek can’t help but stare at Reid. “How the hell did he manage that? We all were watching him, no one noticed.”
“Doc is really good at sleight of hand,” Hawkins says, patting Derek’s shoulder.
Derek turns to Hawkins. “That’s a little more than just sleight of hand.”
“Hey, Morgan,” Reid says.
Turning to the unit leader, he watches as Reid tosses something to him. Catching the item out of reflex, Derek looks down and his eyebrows furrow at the magazine. “Thank you? What do you want me to do with this?”
Reid raises an eyebrow and frowns slightly. “I just figured you’d want it back.”
“Want it…” Derek pulls out his gun—which is much lighter than it should be—and blinks when he realizes the magazine is missing from his gun. “What the—how!?”
Hawkins pats Derek’s shoulder again. “Doc is really good at sleight of hand. Come on, let’s grab a drink and you can wrap your mind around it.”
“How did no one notice? How the hell did I not notice he basically disarmed me?” Derek asks as they move toward the entrance.
“Because he’s that good. It’s hit the point that if anyone on my team is missing something we just automatically check with him. Honestly, I think sometimes he doesn’t realize he’s done it. I only know of one person who’s been able to come close to catching him,” Hawkins says.
“Who? ‘Cause I’m starting to think the only way anyone would catch him is on camera, but even that I doubt,” Derek says.
Hawkins shrugs. “Hotch.”
Derek snorts. “Somehow, that makes sense.”
~* In the Atrium *~
Spencer and Aaron take some time to finish directing the various agents in finishing up their tasks and collecting evidence. Copies of video recordings are made and sent off, fingerprints are gathered from various surfaces, and a couple of people are calmed down. Spencer spends a good fifteen minutes talking to Louisa after brewing her some tea to make sure she isn’t shaken up too much. By the time everything winds down, Spencer joins Aaron at the side of the Atrium and leans against the wall.
“That went better than expected,” Spencer says. “I still think it was a stupid risk.”
“It worked. And aren’t you glad that I moved in sooner than we originally planned?” Aaron asks.
“Of course I am. Knowing your luck you would’ve been stabbed,” Spencer mutters.
Aaron brushes his shoulder against Spencer’s. “This whole thing wouldn’t have worked without you. Thank you.”
Spencer raises an eyebrow even as he feels a small kernel of satisfaction at the words. “You getting sappy on me, Hotchner?”
“See if I compliment you ever again, Reid,” Aaron mutters, rolling his eyes.
Spencer hums. “I don’t know, I'll give it a day.”
Aaron scoffs, though amusement rings in his tone as he says, “Fuck you, Reid.”
“Promise?” Spencer asks, grinning. He pops off the wall and starts walking away as Aaron tilts his head back and laughs.