Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Hate—Verb: To feel extreme enmity toward : to regard with active hostility

~*October 6, 1997*~

The door to the bullpen squeaks as it opens and shuts, reminding Aaron that he needs to see if he can get someone from maintenance to come by to oil the hinges, again.  After the last time of being told off for doing maintenance work himself, he’s determined to make sure Franklin Davidson absolutely understands how much of a wreck the BSU offices are.  Though, they did get a new maintenance person—Jim Sanders, if Aaron remembers correctly—so maybe his request will actually be listened to for once.  He keeps half of his attention on the hall and watches as Jason leads what looks like a college kid around, introducing the kid to various members of the unit.  Is the young man a relative?  Someone who’s interning with the BSU?  Aaron frowns, wondering if he’d missed a memo.  He spots a well tailored suit a little bit away and moves to his door and leans against the frame.

“Dave,” Aaron says, catching his mentor’s attention.  Dave nods to Aaron, finishes his conversation with Agent Savage, and steps over.  Aaron nods toward the kid following Jason.  “What’s with the kid?”

Dave smirks.  “New agent with the unit.  Training under Jason.  It’s funny you call him ‘kid’ when he’s only five years younger than you.”

“Five years?”  Aaron’s eyebrows furrow and he frowns.  “How is that possible?  The FBI requires agents to be at least twenty five.”

“Because certain requirements can be waved if the agent to-be has enough potential,” Dave says before shrugging.  “Of course, it doesn’t hurt when Jason is demanding exceptions be made on your behalf.”

Aaron raises an eyebrow.  “So we have a kid who looks like a good stiff breeze can knock him over working with us because Jason recruited him based on some nebulous potential?”

“Actually, I think it might have been the three doctorates and handful of other degrees that did it,” an unfamiliar voice says.

Hiding the wince he can feel trying to sneak out—he’s really stuck his foot in it—Aaron turns and finds the young man who’d been following Jason around standing nearby, hands in his pockets, a slight frown on his face and furrow to his brows.  Great.  He’s so glad he can make an ass of himself on his first impression.

The young man shrugs.  “Of course, it may have also been the IQ of 187 or that I can read twenty thousand words a minute.  I never asked.  Gideon got caught up talking with his wife and sent me to introduce myself to you two.  He’d said you’d be the best people to introduce myself to since we’re supposed to be working together and one of you would likely be willing to show me around more of the building.”

“A fair point.  I’m Dave Rossi, and currently help Jason and Jill run the unit,” Dave says.

“Aaron Hotchner,” Aaron says, holding out his hand.  “I’m one of the agents who focuses on serial crimes.”

The young man glances at the hand and gives an apologetic smile.  “Sorry, I don’t shake hands.  The amount of germs passed during a handshake is staggering.  I’m Spencer Reid.”

Aaron nods and pulls back his hand, though part of him wonders if Spencer is snubbing him a bit for his comments.  It would make sense.  “I’m sorry for my words earlier.  I’m sure you’ll be a good agent, I was just a little caught off guard.”

Spencer hums.  “I’m used to it.”

There’s an awkward silence for a few moments before someone in the conference room calls for Dave to look at something.  Dave glances between the two of them and nods.

“Reid, I’m going to leave you in Aaron’s capable hands to finish your tour of the building.  I need both of you back here by three for a meeting,” Dave says.  He grins and says, “Good to meet you,” before turning and whistling a tune as he heads for the conference room.

The awkward silence reignites before Aaron clears his throat.  “Where has Jason shown you?”

“Basically from the atrium down to here,” Spencer says.  He shrugs.  “I haven’t seen anything other than that.”

“Alright, well, let’s at least familiarize you with some of the main locations of the building.  Cafeteria, the archives, mailroom, and the lecture rooms,” Aaron says.  He motions for Spencer to follow him as he makes his way through the department and into the cool gray cement halls of the basement.  “Feel lucky you weren’t here during the summer.  Horrible smell in the offices, though at least they kept cool.”

“Often it’s smells that people become used to the fastest,” Spencer says, peering around the hall.  “How long have you worked here?”

“I’ve been with the BSU for a little over five months, worked for the bureau for a little under two years,” Aaron says as he pushes the button for the elevator.  “I was a prosecutor for a few years and was doing well, but I felt I could be doing more, so I switched career tracks.”

“Interesting.  What did you do with the bureau before working with the BSU?” Spencer asks.

They step onto the elevator and Aaron selects the button for the ground floor.  As the doors close, he glances at Spencer.  “I was a sniper on FBI SWAT in Seattle.”

Spencer raises his eyebrows.  “Impressive.  I assume you’re good with guns then?”

“Just a little, yeah.”  Aaron quirks an eyebrow.  “You have to be at least decent if you’ve passed your gun qualifications.”

A flush rises on the younger man’s cheeks.  “I barely passed, and honestly, I somewhat question whether or not I actually passed.”

The sense that it might have been a bit soon for Jason to bring this kid into the unit rises again, but Aaron bites back the comment.  He doesn’t need to make an even worse impression on his new coworker.  “Well, it’s not necessary to carry a gun to be a profiler.  I’m pretty sure that Jason doesn’t carry half the time.”

“Yeah, but he’s Gideon.  People look at him and assume he knows what he’s talking about,” Spencer says.  He huffs and leans against the wall of the elevator.  “Most people tend to assume that I’m just some kid.  It’s a little annoying, to be honest.”

Given the first thing Spencer heard Aaron say was essentially that point, Aaron keeps his mouth shut.  Doesn’t point out that bemoaning that people assume he’s just some kid is exactly what a kid would do.  The elevator slows to a stop and the doors open.  “Come on, first stop, the cafeteria.”

As Aaron leads Spencer around, pointing out various rooms and people within the building, he finds himself wondering if all of the bits of information and “fun facts” that Spencer keeps spouting is some attempt to prove how smart he is.  It’s good and all that he has this immense well of knowledge, but something about the delivery feels a little forced.  Still, he’s determined to make up for his early misstep.  They don’t have to be friends, but so long as they can get along professionally, Aaron will consider it a win.

~*3:35 pm, the Archive Department*~

“You were a prosecutor, how are you not aware that the Southern Poverty Law Center has been researching and keeping watch on hate groups?” Reid asks, eyebrows furrowed together as he frowns.  “Morris Dees warned Attorney General Reno about the dangers of militias six months before the attack in Oklahoma City.”

Aaron can feel his eyebrow twitch.  “Maybe because I was busy working my actual job and focused on the cases I was involved with, and not spending inordinate time reading thousands of different newspapers because I was bored in a college class?  Besides, the attack in Oklahoma City doesn’t relate to militia groups.  McVeigh has no known association with any extremist group and Nichols is associated with the sovereign citizen organization.  While they likely should be listed as a terrorist organization, they’re not a militia.”

“Hold on,” Reid holds up a hand, leaning against the short bookshelf.  “Did you just call sovereign citizens an organization?  That’s incorrect on so many levels that I honestly hope I misheard you.  Also, despite Nichols’s involvement with the bombing in Oklahoma City, to call everyone who falls under that ideology a terrorist is asinine.”

“Don’t tell me you actually believe they’re correct?” If he finds out that Reid thinks those nutjobs are right, he’s going straight to Jason and informing him that his recruit is insane.

Reid’s face shows nothing but contempt.  “Absolutely not.  The basis of their ideology is inherently flawed and lacks even the slightest hint of credibility.  Even still, just because someone has an anti-government belief does not mean they’re going to utilize violence.  To label all of them as terrorists would not only be a waste of time and resources, but would only serve to further fuel their belief that the government is false and only aims to financially subjugate people.”

Aaron sighs, barely holding back on his urge to roll his eyes.  “Yet, if they were being watched and tracked, it’s possible the bombing might not have happened.”

“How?  Pathologies surrounding radicalization have not been fleshed out in a way that successfully predicts when someone will become violent,” Reid says.  “Without a way to accurately predict what causes violent radicalization, the kind of scrutiny you’re recommending is no better than some of the authoritarian governments of the world.”

“There’s a difference between monitoring people for no reason and monitoring people with concerning beliefs to ensure they don’t start to act on those beliefs,” Aaron says.

Reid nods.  “There is, and it’s a very thin line where if the wrong person is doing the monitoring we can have an entire country being monitored and then in legal trouble for being rationally irritated.”

“You’re purposefully misunderstanding my point, Reid,” Aaron says.

“You’re not looking at every variable, Hotchner,” Reid snaps back.

Before Aaron can respond, a loud whistle sounds, startling both of them.  They look toward the entrance of the archives and spot Dave as he stalks toward them.

“You know, I’m fairly certain I made it perfectly clear that you both were to return to the unit by three pm,” Dave says as he nears where they’re standing.  “Considering it’s currently three forty, I left the unit worried that something happened to one or both of you.  Then to find both of you knuckleheads in here arguing over I don’t care what…”  Dave turns to Reid.  “Everything Jason has told me led me to believe that you’re quite the intelligent and capable young man.  Perhaps he was wrong if you don’t think to check a clock once in a while.”  Dave turns to Aaron.  “And I know you know better!  Wherever you decided to lose your usual punctuality and responsibility, find it.”

Heat curls along the back of his neck and on his cheeks as embarrassment floods Aaron.  He’d been doing so well at impressing Dave lately, of course he had to go and screw it up.  “Dave, I—”

Dave holds up a hand.  “I don’t want to hear it.  We’re going to the conference room and you both are going to sit and listen and not say a damn thing.  Understood?”

They both nod and mutter, “Yes, sir.”

“Good.  Move.”  Dave waits until they pass him to start following behind them.

Guilt curls in his stomach as Aaron tries to keep his focus on returning to their department.  A shift of movement in the corner of his vision catches his attention and he glances that direction from the corner of his eye.  With his hands in his pockets and a slight slump to his shoulders, Reid appears completely nonchalant.  As though they hadn’t just royally screwed up and wasted Dave’s time.  Holding back the frown that wants to cross his face, Aaron just keeps walking.  Though, he’s starting to wonder whether or not Reid is even a good choice for the bureau as a whole and not just their department.

~*One Month Later*~

Spencer furrows his brows as he looks at the file on his desk.  He recognizes it as the consultation he did for Gary, Indiana and could have sworn he turned it in to Gideon for final approval.  He pulls the post-it note off the front and his eyes narrow at the handwriting.  Hotchner.

More detail is needed for a thorough consultation.  Also, ensure proper formatting is followed. -A.H.

“Asshole,” Spencer mutters, flipping open the file and inspecting every instance of red ink on the pages within.  Flipping the file closed, he snags it before heading to Gideon’s office.  Gideon’s office is more like a broom closet with a desk shoehorned into it and a single fluorescent light from the ceiling.  Still, Spencer knocks on the doorframe.

Gideon looks up.  “Spencer, what can I do for you?”

“Just wanting to check if you want me to send my rewrite of the Gary, Indiana consultation to Hotchner for review rather than giving it to you to give to him,” Spencer says.

“That works, he’ll pass it to me once he’s looked it over,” Gideon says.  “Still settling in alright?  Is anyone causing issues?”

It’s tempting to tell Gideon that Hotchner has been subtly trying to get Spencer to quit.  To give him proper credit, Hotchner hasn’t done anything explicitly against any regulations, nor has he been obviously hostile—barring whenever the two of them start arguing over a profile.  Or an aspect of psychology.  Or literature.  Or about standard procedures.  Or…basically, anything that can be argued over—so there’s not much that Gideon would be able to do anyway.  Besides, it’s not as though Spencer hasn’t dealt with assholes and bullies before.

Spencer nods and flashes a quick grin.  “Absolutely!  Everyone’s been great.”

Gideon nods.  “Good, good.  Let me know if you have any problems.”

“Will do.”  Turning away from Gideon’s office, Spencer makes his way through the maze of desks to his own.  Right before he turns the corner to his desk, the scent of cedar, coffee, and gunpowder meets him, and he frowns.  Hotchner is standing at his desk, reading over a file.  “Something I can help you with, Hotchner?”

“Just wanted to see when you might be able to finish the rewrite on the Gary, Indiana file,” Hotchner says, flipping the file he’d been reading closed and turning to Spencer with a raised eyebrow.

Spencer steps around and retakes his seat, tilting his head a bit as he observes Hotchner.  “I was just confirming with Gideon that he wants me to give you the rewrite rather than giving it to him to give to you.  Figured it would save everyone time.  I’ll have it to you before the end of the day.”

“If you can get it to me by lunch, that would be preferred.”  Hotchner taps his file against Spencer’s desk before walking away.

Spencer narrows his eyes as he watches the other man until one of the mobile white boards blocks him from sight.  He hates it when Hotchner touches his desk.  To be fair, he dislikes anyone touching his desk, but it’s a certain disdain for Hotchner in particular.  Flipping the consultation open, Spencer glances at it once more before pulling out new forms.  If Hotchner wants it to be more detailed, who is Spencer to deny him?

An hour later, Spencer sets the updated consultation in Hotchner’s in-box.  “There’s the updated Gary, Indiana consultation.”

“Thank you, Reid,” Hotchner says without looking up from his own paperwork.

As he returns to his desk, Spencer leans back and waits.  Thirty seconds later, Hotchner appears with the Gary file in his hand.

“Is this supposed to be a joke?” Hotchner asks.

Spencer tilts his head and furrows his brows.  “I’m not sure I follow, Hotchner.  Didn’t you tell me to make it more detailed?”

Hotchner sighs.  “Detailed, yes.  I’m sure this is just a hundred pages of babble and tangents.”

“You’ll have to read it to find out, won’t you?”  Spencer spots Rossi and Gideon walking nearby and mentally smirks.  He raises his voice just a tad as he says, “I really do appreciate that you’re being so thorough in looking over my paperwork.  The notes you’ve left on every page of my reports have been very insightful.”

Hotchner narrows his eyes and mutters, “You dick.”  He then smirks and clears his throat.  “Glad to be of help.  I know it’s probably a bit of a shock going from academia to the bureau.  You’ll get the hang of it soon.”

Oh, that absolute twit.  “Of course, I adapt quickly.  Please let me know if there are any changes that need to be made to the updated consultation.”

As Hotchner walks away, Spencer grabs a random file from his pile and flips it open.  He watches Rossi and Gideon walk away from his peripheral vision and sighs.  So, that ended up being a draw.  At least Hotchner didn’t get the last word in.  Glancing over the file he’d grabbed, he starts working on it.  Might as well, it’ll have to get done eventually anyway.  Sometime later, footsteps stop in front of his desk and don’t move.  When Spencer looks up, Gideon is standing there, flipping through a file, pencil tucked behind his ear.

“Gideon, how can I help you?” Spencer asks.

Gideon hums before looking up.  “There’s been a slight change to the unit’s schedule today.  Since the current training class is taking longer in Hogan Alley than expected, we have access to the gym earlier and the self-defense trainer wants to see our unit to make sure everyone is maintaining their skills.  Head up and get changed.”

Heart dropping, he can’t help but feel a thread of unease.  “I’m not really the physically inclined sort—”

“So the practice will do you good,” Gideon says, he returns to his file.  “Don’t be late, Spencer.”

Watching the man walk away, Spencer sighs and trudges up to the gym.  He’d hoped he was done with this when he left the academy.  Luckily, he does have some clothes that should work for working out and he changes before slinking out of the locker room and into the gym.  Various members of the unit are already there and chatting in groups of two and three.  Hanging out at the back of the space, he observes who’s talking with who.  Agent Banano and Richmond are talking with their heads bent together while Agent von Winter stands off to the side, clearly listening but not speaking.  Navjaro and Davidson seem to be teasing Adams, though he seems more amused than insulted.  Spencer holds back a scowl when he spots Hotchner talking with Barnes.  While Spencer likes Liam Barnes, he has no idea how the man can stand being around Hotchner.

“Alright!  Listen up, I’m going to pair you off and see how you fair against your opponent.  I’m not going to make it fair by weight or height since the criminals won’t make it fair,” Agent Daws says.  “When I call your name, come to the front and do your best.”

The first few bouts of sparring go by and seem to be more or less what Daws expects since he nods after each one.  Agent Banano receives a compliment on a maneuver she uses to take down Agent Barnes.

“Agent Hotchner and…” Daws inspects his list.

Spencer feels his heart drop.  He just knows he’s going to be called.

“And Agent Reid,” Daws says.

Fuck, he hates being right.  He peels himself away from the wall and stands opposite from Hotchner.  Hotchner glances at Reid before turning to Daws.

“You sure you want me to face off against Reid?  We might need medics on standby,” Hotchner says.

Oh, that motherfucker.  Spencer’s eyes narrow and he puts in his mouthguard.  He probably won’t be able to beat Hotchner, but if he can give him a bruise, that’ll be a success in his book.

Daws frowns.  “Then that’s your goal, not to send Reid to the hospital.”

The whistle blows and before Spencer can blink, Hotchner is in front of him.  Spencer barely ducks the punch thrown at him before a hand grabs his shoulder and throws him off balance.  He manages to latch onto Hotchner’s arm and keep his feet.  The arm he grabbed pulls him into Hotchner’s chest and Hotchner’s other arm isolates Spencer’s other arm.

“Come on, Reid, tap out.  You’re a nuisance, but I don’t want to severely hurt you,” Hotchner says, his voice low and words slightly muffled from his mouth guard.

Spencer snorts and uses one of his legs to knock Hotchner’s leg out from under him while throwing all his weight into the other man.  They both fall to the mat and there’s a scattering of ‘Oooh’s and ‘Ouch’s from the watching agents.  Spencer scrambles away, but before he can get to his feet, his ankle is grabbed and yanked from under him and he falls to the mat.  He manages to turn onto his back before Hotchner can pin him down.  When his wrists are grabbed and held down, he struggles against the hold.

The shine of the gym lights, the smell of the sweat and mats, the murmuring from the crowd, and the feeling of someone on top of him pinning him down sends his heart racing.  He keeps flashing between now and when he was in high school.  Sounds start to not translate correctly.  He needs to get away.  Now.  Thrashing, he gets a leg up around the neck of whoever is on top of him and presses down.  The grip on his wrists disappears and he darts off, ignoring the voices calling after him.

~*~

Aaron lays on the mat and tries to get his breathing under control.  The hell was that?

“Banano, go find Reid and get him back here,” Daws calls.  He approaches and kneels next to Aaron.  “Hotchner, you alright?”

“Little winded, but yeah,” Aaron says.

Daws hums.  “Good.  Congratulations on not sending Reid to the hospital, but that doesn’t mean that I want to send you.  Take a break, get some water.”

“Yes, sir.”  Aaron climbs to his feet and wanders off to the side, grabbing his water bottle and taking a drink.  The cool liquid soothes his throat and he can’t help but scowl a bit.  Whatever happened with Reid at the end there was not normal.  The other man had been struggling throughout the whole bout, and then to somehow pull off that move?  Something’s going on with the man.

“Hey, Hotch, you good?” Liam asks as he approaches.

Aaron nods.  “Just wondering what the hell that was.”

Liam shrugs.  “Luck?”

“Maybe.”  He watches the door Reid ran out of.

~*~

“Doc?  Hey, Doc, can you hear me?”

Spencer blinks and peers out from where he’d hidden his face in his arms.  He’d run to one of the less used corners of the building, so he’s a little surprised anyone found him.  A little surprised anyone came looking for him to be honest.  He swallows and meets Agent Banano’s eyes before looking away.

“Come on, Doc, I need you to talk to me,” Banano says, sitting on the floor opposite him.  “What happened?”

Spencer shakes his head.  “Nothing.  Just lost where I was for a moment.”

She remains quiet.

“It shouldn’t happen again.  I was being careless,” he says, trying to get her to either say something or leave.  Either would work for him.

“You had a flashback, didn’t you?” Banano asks.

He keeps his mouth shut.

After a bit of silence, she sighs.  “Well, you were losing that anyway, so it’s probably best that you got out of there when you did.”

“Of course I was.  Have you seen me?” he asks.  “Anyone in that gym could snap me in half.”

“Only ‘cause you’re fighting wrong,” Banano says.  When he raises an eyebrow at her, she grins.  “You’re trying to keep up with the other guys and use power.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, you have some evasive maneuvers, but I can tell that you’re trying to be like them.  You’re not, and you probably never will be.  You’re not made for heavy hits, Doc, you’re made for speed and agility.  You have to fight with it.”

“I…I don’t know how,” he mutters.  He startles slightly when she pokes his forearm.

“Then you learn.  You’re pretty good at that from what I’ve heard,” she says.  “I can help, if you want.”

He remembers the sparring between her and Barnes.  She’d managed to best Barnes and had done such with minimal hits to herself.  Nodding, he says, “Please.”

She grins and stands, holding out a hand to him.  When he accepts it, she pulls him up.  “Come on, Doc, let's get back to the gym and see what we can do.”

They return to the gym, Banano chatting about training they can do and what she thinks he could do for exercise to help him further.  As much as he doesn’t want to exercise, he knows that it would probably be a good idea.  He glances around the gym, noticing that everyone’s partnered up and is practicing rather than sparring in front of the whole group.  He spots Hotchner and—as much as he hates to admit it, even to himself—feels like he should apologize to the man.  Hotchner may be a dick, but he doesn’t deserve to have someone practically kick him in the throat.

“Ready to get started?” Banano asks.

Spencer hesitates.  “Give me a moment, let me go and make sure Hotchner is alright.”

Banano frowns.  “You sure that’s a good idea?  Granted, Hotch isn’t the retribution sort normally, but you two get along like fire and gasoline.”

“He’s a dick, but I still need to make sure that I didn’t hurt him, especially since I didn’t intend to,” Spencer says.  “I’ll be quick.”

“Alright.”

Even though he’s the one who decided to do it, he still mentally curses that he’s doing this.  He waits to the side as Hotchner and Barnes finish up with their current set and clears his throat.  Both of them turn to him.  Barnes’s eyes widen and he glances between Hotchner and Spencer.  Hotchner’s eyes narrow slightly and he pulls his shoulders back just a bit.

“Hotchner,” Reid says.

Hotchner nods.  “Reid.”

“I wanted to make sure you’re alright.  I didn’t…well…I’m pretty sure none of us expected that to happen.  I’m sorry,” Reid says.

“I’m fine.  Though don’t think I’ll be so nice next week if Daws matches us up again,” Hotchner says.  He turns back to Barnes and motions for the other agent to start fighting again.

Ignoring the urge to kick at the back of Hotchner’s knee, he turns around and finds Banano and Richmond talking and stretching.  They both turn to him as he approaches.  Spencer catches Banano’s eye and says, “Teach me how to kick his ass.”

Banano’s returning smile is all teeth.

~*One Week Later*~

Aaron watches the final moments of the sparring bout between von Winter and Richmond.  They’re fairly evenly matched as far as physicality goes, but it’s obvious that von Winter has a bit more training and practice than Richmond.  The fight ends with Richmond on her stomach on the floor with both of her hands behind her back.

“Good!  Well done, both of you,” Daws says.  “Alright, Hotchner, Reid, you’re up.”

“Don’t kill the kid,” Barnes mutters as he claps Aaron’s back.

Aaron snorts as he approaches the ring, settling his mouth guard in place as he watches Reid.  The man seems less nervous than last week and he nods when Banano says something to him before he approaches, putting his mouth guard in as he enters the ring.

“Let’s not have a repeat of last week, shall we?” Daws asks.  “Go.”

Taking a few quick steps toward Reid, Aaron’s surprised when Reid moves backwards.  He takes a few side steps to the right and Reid copies him.  Looking further at Reid’s stance, he notes the man isn’t as tense.  It’s also less anchored than Aaron’s own stance is.  He snorts.  Reid has been getting training from Banano.  That explains a few things.  Loosening his own stance, Aaron feints left and catches Reid on the right, pulling the other man into a grapple.  Reid wriggles and shifts before seemingly turning boneless and slipping from Aaron’s grip.  A flash of movement from his right and he swings with his left.  The punch connects, but Reid moves with the hit and backs up a bit.

“Watch the face,” Daws says, sounding bored.

To be fair, he hadn’t been aiming for Reid’s face.  Though it was slightly satisfying to hit it.  They circle each other for a half a second before Reid ducks in and out, landing a couple of body shots before he starts to retreat.  Aaron manages to snag Reid’s shirt and pulls him back in, his elbow connecting with Reid’s diaphragm.  As Reid coughs, Aaron pulls Reid’s hands behind his back and manages to get the man to his stomach.  Before Daws can call it, Reid manages to somehow land his elbow in Aaron’s diaphragm and wiggle from the hold.  Aaron watches and waits.  Spotting when Reid would be easiest to bring back down, he lunges and knocks the man’s legs from under him and pins the man again.

“Winner, Hothner!” Daws says.

“Not quite so terrible this week,” Aaron says.  “Still slower than a preschooler though.”

He releases Reid and stands, starting to walk toward the sidelines when his feet are knocked out from under him and he lands on his back, the breath being knocked from him.

“And you’re still an ass,” Reid says.

“Knock it off, both of you.  Opposite sides of the gym, now,” Daws says.

Aaron climbs to his feet and goes to the sidelines.  He glances at Barnes as the man approaches.

“Well, he still didn’t win, but you have to admit the kid put up a helluva fight this week,” Barnes says.

“And showed poor sportsmanship at the end,” Aaron says.

Barnes snorts.  “As though you didn’t poke at him beforehand.”

He shrugs.  Not his fault if Reid can’t handle a bit of humorous criticism.  He watches as Banano grins and starts talking with Reid, her hand motions showing she’s discussing the fight with him.  Aaron holds back on the urge to roll his eyes.  The day Reid is actually a competent fighter is the day Aaron dies from shock.

~*December 23rd, 1997*~

“So you lost for once, Hotchner, get over it,” Spencer says.  He wishes the man would leave him alone.

Hotchner snorts.  “You licked my ear.”

“And?”

“You licked my ear!  Who does that?” Hotchner asks.

Spencer shrugs.  “Surprising someone usually makes them have to mentally reset.  To be fair, there’s not much for you to mentally reset, so it might’ve been a bit underhanded on my part.”

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

“Like you can talk.”

“Boys, quit fighting,” Rossi says from where he’s leaning against a desk.  “It’s good you’re both here.  Gideon’s out on a case and he needs assistance.  All three of us are going.”

“Why all three of us?” Hotchner asks.

“Because I don’t see enough of your pretty faces here,” Rossi says, rolling his eyes.  “It’s a difficult case and it should be good experience for both of you.  Grab your go-bags and meet me in the atrium.”

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to grab his bag and get to the atrium.  Neither Hotchner or Rossi are present yet, so he leans against a wall that has good line of sight from the elevators and pulls a book from his messenger bag.  The quiet murmur of people as they pass through the space keeps him from fully delving into the book, and he feels someone lean against the wall next to him.  A slight breeze enters the atrium from the back doors that face one of the academy buildings and the scents of coffee and cedar hit his nose.  Hotchner.  At least the man is being quiet.

“I’m glad to see you two can behave yourselves.  Let’s go,” Rossi says as he breezes past.

~*Three days later*~

Even though there’s barely a moment to think as he runs and tries to determine a way out of this situation, he can’t help but return to the circling thought of how he ended up being chased by a serial arsonist turned murderer.  While he has no proof, he can’t help but think it’s Reid’s fault.  At least the dick is stuck running for his life as well.  He’s pulled from his thoughts as Reid grabs his shirt and pulls him down an alleyway.  If it weren’t for the fact that they’re hoping the arsonist follows them long enough for the would-be victim to get away…if it weren’t for the fact that somehow neither Aaron or Reid have their guns…if it weren’t for the fact that they need to hope the unsub didn’t get a good enough look at their faces because Jason and Dave were seen a couple of days ago…well, there are a lot of ‘what ifs’ going around.  As Reid pulls him into a tiny space between the buildings, Aaron raises an eyebrow at the other man.

“So this is your best plan?  Hide?” Aaron asks, keeping his voice low but unable to keep the derision out of it.  

Reid rolls his eyes.  “Like you have a better idea.  We’re both wearing dark colors, it’s night time, and we’re in pretty deep shadows.  So long as we’re not loud, the unsub shouldn’t detect us.”

“Then we’ll need to shut up, won’t we?” Aaron asks in a near whisper.

“No sh—”

Hearing a scuffle near the entrance of the alley that leads to this tiny spot, Aaron puts his hand over Reid’s mouth and presses the other man further into the alcove while glancing toward the entrance of their space.  There’s not a whole lot of room in the space, and even less now.  Hopefully they’re far enough back to keep themselves from being seen.  Something wet touches the palm of his hand and Aaron turns to Reid with a scowl.  Did he just lick him?  Again?  Seriously?  What’s fucking wrong with this guy?  Reid’s eyes are narrowed and he raises an eyebrow before giving an obvious glance down to Aaron’s arm.  Glancing down, Aaron realizes that Reid can’t move his arms up very much because of how close the walls are and how closely they’re pressed together.  If he hadn’t put one hand on Reid’s mouth and one on his shoulder to press him back, he’d be stuck as well.  Reid can handle being silent for a little while longer.  Raising his eyebrow back at Reid, Aaron turns his attention back toward the unsub.  He can hear the arsonist moving around in the alley, slowly approaching where they’re hiding.  Teeth biting into the palm of his hand snaps his attention back to Reid.  Holding back the urge to shout at the idiot he’s currently having to deal with, Aaron clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes.  There’s a burning defiance in Reid’s eyes and part of Aaron wants to smother it.  He reaches over with the hand that isn’t over Reid’s mouth and settles it against Reid’s neck without thinking about it.  Every inch of Reid freezes for a moment before one of Reid’s arms moves ever so slightly and brushes against Aaron’s side.  He stares at Reid—who’s eyes still show that burning defiance, though possibly brighter than before—trying to figure out what’s going on when he hears the ever-so-slight snick of his pocket knife being opened and feels the tip lightly press into his side.

A cough from the unsub as he shuffles away and out of the alley catches both of their attentions, though neither look away from the staring contest they’ve entered.  Aaron listens for as long as he can to track the man.  When there’s no sign of the unsub in their general vicinity, they wait an additional five minutes—Aaron’s hands still on Reid’s mouth and neck, Reid still holding Aaron’s knife against his side—before they both relax just a hair of a fraction.  Aaron releases a breath and feels the slight rush of air from Reid doing the same.

“Think he’s gone, how about we get out of here without either of us maiming the other?  I’ll remove my hand from your neck, you close my knife and put it back into my pocket, and then I’ll remove my other hand from your mouth and back away.  Sound good?” Aaron asks, still keeping his voice low.  They stare at each other for a few moments before he feels the slightest of nods from Reid.  Aaron removes his hand from Reid’s neck and feels a thread of tension bleed out of the other man.  A moment later and the click of the knife being closed seems to echo through the alcove before there’s a more obvious jostle as it’s returned to the pocket it had been retrieved from.  Listening to the alley for a moment, Aaron removes his hand from Reid’s mouth and backs away and into the alley.

Reid takes a quiet breath in the alcove before following into the alley, scowling at Aaron.  “You ever do that again and I will stab you in the ass.”

“Was that your plan?  Huh, I probably would have been fine then, considering your strength,” Aaron says.  He turns and makes his way out of the alley.  The sounds of Reid following accompany his progress, and when they’re both out of the alley, he turns to the doctor.  “How the hell did you get my knife without me realizing that’s what you were going for?”

“You learn a thing or two growing up in Vegas,” Reid says, glancing along the street.  He runs a hand through his hair and starts walking toward an intersection.  “Come on, I’m sure Gideon and Rossi are wondering what’s keeping us.”

Aaron snorts.  “I doubt it.  Shouldn’t we try calling a cab?”

“Why?  We’re just over a mile away from the precinct,” Reid says.  As they approach a fenced off area, Reid smirks and points at the fence.  “Of course, we can always shave a few minutes off if you want to cut through the city impound lot.  There may or may not be a couple of dogs on patrol though.”

“I think I’m good not being chowed on by Fido, thanks,” Aaron says.  Knowing his luck, they’d ignore the walking stick of a man and go straight for him.

Before Reid can respond, there’s a shout of ‘Found you!’ from behind them.  They turn and spot the unsub running toward them.

“Fuck….” Reid glances at Aaron, the unsub, and the fence.  “Get over the fence, run like hell, and have the whole precinct get into the parking lot.  I’ll have him follow me there.”

“What?  No, let’s just run!”

“And let him get away?  Come on, Hotchner, we’ve got about five seconds.”

At this point, he can recognize when Reid is going to be exceptionally stubborn.  Rolling his eyes, Aaron takes a few steps back and gets a running start to climb over the fence.  He looks down at Reid as he’s at the top.  “If you end up dead and cause me to do more paperwork, I’ll bring you back to life to kill you myself.”

Reid laughs.  “Not the first time I’ve run for my life, Hotchner.  Go.”

Aaron drops to the ground and takes off running.  He can see the lights of the precinct in the distance and keeps that as his focus.  When he hears distant barking, he scrambles on top of a car and keeps running, using the roofs of the vehicles to keep out of the immediate reach of the dogs.  His legs are screaming at him as he leaps from line of cars to line of cars.  Air puffs out in vapor clouds as he runs.  The fence between himself and the property of the precinct comes into view and Aaron uses a cargo van to give himself a boost and climb over the fence faster.  He drops to the other side and rolls as he lands.

“Aaron?”

Looking up, he’s met with an obviously concerned Dave and Jason.  Aaron manages to pant out, “Unsub chasing Reid—front of precinct—probably a minute—before they’re there.”

Dave and Jason stare at Aaron for a moment before they both run toward the precinct.  As they enter the building, he can hear them yelling and he slowly climbs to his feet and walks around the building and leans against the front facade to wait.  Not as though he can do much with just a pocket knife.  Police officers stream out of the building and take up hiding spots in various positions within the parking lot.  Luckily, this isn’t where the patrol cars park, otherwise this dumbass plan would never work.  Less than thirty seconds later, Reid comes into view, scrambling as he turns the corner with the unsub not far behind him.  As they sprint through the parking lot, the police fan out behind them and block off any access to the surrounding neighborhood.  Aaron narrows his eyes and starts inching his way closer to the front doors.  He has a feeling that the unsub is going to do something remarkably desperate.  Lights turn on and aim at the unsub.  It’s Leonard Higbie, the man they interviewed a day ago.

“Leonard Higbie, you are under arrest for the murder of three people, along with a laundry list of other charges from your firestarting activities,” Detective Vance says, approaching with a gun held up and pointed at Higbie.  “Put your hands in the air and get on your knees.”

Higbie shakes his head, his gaze fixated on Reid.  “No, no, no, no…”

Aaron is about a foot away from Reid when Higbie moves.  There’s no gun but that wouldn’t be Higbie’s style.  As the man raises his arm, a burst of fire flies out directly at Reid.  Or…rather where Reid had been standing.  Aaron continues pulling the skinnier man away from the burst of flame, even as gunshots ring out.  Reid struggles against Aaron’s hold.

“Stop wriggling, you’re going to hurt yourself and then I’ll get blamed for it,” Aaron says.

“I’m fine, we need to check on Rossi,” Reid says.

“Dave?”  It hits Aaron and he scans the crowd.  On the opposite side of the front of the building, Dave is leaning against the building, his hands pressing into his eyes with Jason in front of him.  It’s obvious that Jason’s talking, even if the words aren’t audible at this distance.  Aaron points them out as he says,  “Jason has him.  Just take a breath and stop for a second.”

Reid watches Dave and Jason interact for a few moments before taking a deep breath and relaxing a bit.  When Aaron thinks he can release the other man without him falling flat on his face, he does.  Turning to the rest of the activity in the parking lot, Aaron watches as the police begin to tape off the area and switch over to crime scene preservation and evidence gathering.

"It's a good thing you listened to me for once,” Reid says.  He grins a bit as he also watches the police move around.  “Might have strained the BSU’s relationship with this precinct if their bullpen was turned into a barbeque pit.”

“You’re a menace, Reid,” Aaron says before moving away from the other man and going into the building.  There’s paperwork to do, and he’d rather focus on that than deal with Reid any longer.

~*January 28, 1998*~

Aaron knocks on the door to Dave’s office and waits for his mentor to wave him in.  He still has no idea why there’s all this secrecy around the meeting, and it’s starting to get to him.  There haven’t been any major problems with any of the recent cases.  Nothing’s been amiss with consults or the single custodial visit this month.  The other agents have been turning in their reports on time and with the appropriate detail and information—it’s taken a bit for Aaron to wrangle everyone into doing what they need to, but it’s working now—and those agents who are working the teaching aspect within the academy are pitching in when they can on cold cases.  As far as he knows, everything should be great.  So why the secrecy for the meeting?  And why is he worried?

“Go ahead and close the door, Aaron,” Dave says, finally looking up from the paper he’d been writing on.

Aaron closes the door and takes his usual seat when Dave motions for him to.  “Is there something wrong?”

“On the contrary, everything’s as close to perfect as it can be,” Dave says.  He leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together over his stomach.  “Which is why my news couldn’t come at a better time.”

“News?”  Is Dave getting married again?  His last marriage has been exceptionally short and Aaron had barely met the woman before it seemed like they were divorcing.

Dave nods.  “I’m retiring.”

“I’m sorry, I must’ve misheard you, did you just say that you’re retiring?” Aaron asks.

“You heard correctly.  I’m retiring,” Dave says.  “Finally received notice of when my last day is, and it works rather well considering the other news for the unit.”

There’s more?  What in the hell is going on?  “Other news?”

“The unit is being restructured.  We’re receiving more and more requests from police departments and other agencies than previously expected.  While we’re doing everything we can to train state and local officers in what we do, there’s only so much that can be taught and you and I both know sometimes it takes a precise touch or understanding to do what we do,” Dave says.

“Restructured how?” Aaron asks, mentally setting aside the knowledge that Dave’s retiring to be examined later.  Preferably when he has a moment to himself and isn’t being bombarded by new information.

“Jason’s and my position are going to be condensed into one unit chief position.  The agents in the BSU—which is being renamed as Behavioral Analysis Unit or BAU for short—will be sorted into one of four units.  Crimes Against Adults, Crimes Against Children, Organized Crime, and White Collar.  At the head of each unit will be the unit leader, who reports to the unit chief,” Dave says.  He grins.  “Following along?”

Aaron nods.  He doesn’t understand why Dave is explaining this to him separate from the other agents.  Wouldn’t it be easier to explain it to everyone once instead of over and over again?

“Each unit will be divided up between a field team and an office team.  Each field team will be led by a team leader, this will work as a safeguard for if the unit leader cannot leave the office for whatever reason and needs to remain in Quantico while the field team goes to an on-site case.”  Dave leans forward and catches Aaron’s eye.  “I’ve recommended for you to be the team lead of the Crimes Against Adults unit with the understanding that when Agent Thompson—who is being made the unit leader—retires in September, that you’d be nominated for unit leader at that time.”

Staring at Dave with wide eyes, Aaron can’t help but think there’s been some mistake.  “I…I don’t know what to say.”

Dave shrugs.  “Don’t have to say anything.  Though, I would appreciate a promise from you that you’ll try to get along with Reid.  Or, at the very least, make your disdain for him a little less obvious.  I know he’s just as bad and Jason’s going to talk to him about it, but the two of you…well, let’s just say that I don’t foresee either of you leaving the unit for a very long time.”

“I’ll try if he will, but I’m not going to let him walk all over me,” Aaron says.

Dave stares at Aaron for a moment before raising an eyebrow and muttering, “Hmm…interesting.”  He clears his throat.  “So, we have a lot of work to get done in a short time, because the restructuring is expected to be completed by the end of March.”

“When’s your last day?” Aaron asks.

“February 28th,” Dave says.

A month.  A whole month until Dave leaves.  Aaron runs a hand through his hair, unable to figure out why the thought leaves him feeling more than a little unmoored.  “Alright.  I guess we have a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it.”  He meets Dave’s eyes.  “What do you need me to do?”

~*~

“Spencer, walk with me,” Gideon says as he approaches Spencer’s desk.  “Grab a jacket.”

Spencer glances at his work before snagging his coat and scarf.  He dons the outerwear as he follows Gideon upstairs and outside.  They walk for a fair bit in silence, crossing from the parking lot to one of the wooded areas surrounding the building.  While he wants to press Gideon for what’s going on, Spencer just pushes back that urge and tries to take in the peace and fresh air—even if it’s still incredibly cold outside.  He buries his face in his scarf a bit more and wonders if whatever chat Gideon wants to have couldn’t have been done inside.

“There are going to be a lot of changes in the unit very quickly, and I wanted to give you a heads up,” Gideon says.  “Dave is retiring and—from what he told me—his last day is February 28th.  The whole unit is being restructured and that’s supposed to be completed by the end of March.  We’re also receiving a new name, switching from BSU to BAU—the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Spencer blinks, taking in all of the information and sorting through the relevant bits.  “Alright.  Restructured how?”

Gideon jumps into explaining how the unit is being divided up and even goes on to explain the different agents who are being recommended for what position.  That Hotchner is being recommended for team lead of CAA isn’t surprising, but Spencer can’t help but mentally scowl.  Gideon’s preferred subject is crimes against adults, so Spencer already knows that’s where he’ll be.  It means he’ll have to actually listen to Hotchner.  He’s half tempted to beg that Gideon place him in a different unit, but he knows that probably wouldn’t go over well.

“Which brings me to what I need from you,” Gideon says.

“What you need from me?” Spencer asks.

Gideon nods.  “I need you to try getting along with Aaron.  He’s a good man and a good agent.  I fully expect he’ll be an exceptional leader.  The two of you can’t keep arguing like children.”

“Understandable, and it has been rather unprofessional of me.  I’m sorry.  I’ll try,” Spencer says.  Of course, if Hotchner starts something, Spencer isn’t going to just allow the other man to walk all over him.

Gideon stares at Spencer for a moment before nodding once.  They continue their walk and when Gideon begins pointing out various birds nearby, Spencer starts subtly herding the man back to the building.  It’s entirely too cold to play I-spy the subtle difference between a rusty blackbird and a slightly dirty crow.

~*One week later*~

Music pulses as lights strobe and the bodies in the room press and sway to the beat, the combination of body heat and exertion in the enclosed space driving the temperature up.  Spencer hates it.  If it weren’t for the particulars of the case, he would much prefer to be at the precinct.  As is, he’s stuck in the club keeping an eye out for their suspect.  There are three other police officers from the San Francisco department and Hotchner—because of course fuckin’ Hotchner is here—in the crowd with Spencer.  Rossi and Gideon along with the detectives are spread between the bar and the upper balcony areas.

“Spencer, any signs of Franklin?” Gideon’s voice crackles in his ear.

Pressing himself to the wall, Spencer says, “Negative, moving toward the patio to check out there.”

“Be careful, that’s going to be just beyond the range of the ear pieces,” Gideon says.

“Will do, just a quick peek.”  Spencer ducks between a couple of gyrating groups and manages to catch a break in the bodies.  The outside air feels blissfully cool as he exits the building, the ambient noise dropping by quite a bit.  A couple of small firepits dot the “patio” of the club.  Really, the owners had bought the lot next door, fenced it in, and turned it into a space for people to go outside.  Honestly, it’s probably a really smart business move.  He makes a slow lap around the area, glancing over the various groups gathered around.  They can’t arrest Franklin just yet, but they’re waiting on confirmation that Franklin is away from his residence so the team of police officers there can use the search warrant for his apartment.  They need to keep Franklin away from home for as long as possible to search the space for some indication where he’s keeping the women he’s kidnapped, or else he’ll kill them and go to ground.  Right as Spencer reaches the section closer to the building, his earpiece crackles back to life.

“—get him.  We can’t have O’Neal recognize you or Reid and tell Franklin what’s going on,” Rossi says.

Before Spencer can ask what’s going on, Hotchner exits the club and beelines for Spencer after a glance around.  Hotchner grabs Spencer’s elbow, his expression a thunderous scowl, and drags him toward the back of the patio.

“The fuck is going on?” Spencer hisses.  As they reach the back wall of the patio, Spencer yanks his arm back.  “Hotchner, the fuck is going on?”

Hotchner glances at Spencer before turning his focus back to the door.  “Sean O’Neal came to the club with Franklin.  One of the other cops tried to see if she could split them up, but they’re sticking together.  Considering you and I interviewed O’Neal about Franklin’s activities, we can’t have him pointing us out to Franklin.  As such, you and I have been told to remain out of sight until further notice.”

“So, we’ve been put in time out?  Great,” Spencer mutters, leaning against the fence.  He frowns slightly, glancing around the space.  “Question, what do we do if they come out here?  There aren’t any exits from the patio that don’t lead back into the club and it’s a fairly open space.”

“What do you—” Hotchner looks around the fenceline before his scowl deepens.  “Best hope that they don’t come out here then.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow.  “Oh, so that’s it then?  Just hope for the best?  Seriously?  Sometimes I think you might not be completely useless, but then you go and prove otherwise.”

“And what would you recommend?  This fence is too tall to jump, there aren’t any places to hide, and there aren’t many people out here,” Hotchner says.  “You’re supposed to be the genius, not me.”

“Weren’t you using your seniority within the bureau as supposed reasoning for why I should listen to you just a couple of days ago?” Spencer makes another visual pass of the patio.  There are a couple of larger groups, but Hotchner and him would stand out in those groups.  The smaller groups would likely be too awkward if they were to join them.  The few booths and tables that aren’t occupied are mostly toward the back of the space, so they would stand out just as much as they do standing here.  When Spencer glances toward the doors of the club, he spots Franklin exiting the building with a beer, talking with someone over his shoulder.  He calculates the chances that whoever Franklin is talking to isn’t O’Neal, and comes up low.  They have about two seconds before this case is blown.  Spencer runs through several options on how to best hide himself and Hotchner from view and comes up with one option.  The only plus side to it is that Hotchner’s going to hate it.

“—dle then m—”

Spencer stops Hotchner’s talking—seriously, had the man not realized Spencer wasn’t paying any attention to whatever he’d been yammering about?—by turning and pressing the other man against the wall, their faces centimeters apart.

“What the hell are you doing?” Hotchner asks, his hands already shifting to push Spencer back.

“Franklin and O’Neal just stepped onto the patio,” Spencer whispers.  “Unless you want to explain to Gideon and Rossi that we ended up ruining this case because we were seen, then you’d best appreciate that I can think quickly.  Or do you have a better idea for stopping them from immediately realizing we’re here?”

Before Hotchner can say anything there’s scraping nearby from a pair of chairs being dragged.  The voices of Franklin and O’Neal are much closer than expected.

“So you—”

Too loud!  Spencer surges forward and presses his lips against Hotchner’s.  Hotchner freezes.  Spencer smirks.  This is going to get him into so much trouble, but it’s worth it knowing that same dumbass look is on Hotchner’s face as was on it in December when Spencer licked his ear during sparring.  Banking on Hotchner not immediately yelling and on his hair hiding Hotchner’s face, Spencer moves so he’s able to mutter, “Too loud.  They’re at a table about ten feet away and your talking volume can carry.  Either be quiet, or I’ll make you be quiet.”

Dark mahogany eyes blink before the shocked befuddlement transitions to the more familiar scowl.  “What was—”

Hand fisting in Hotchner’s shirt, Spencer pulls him forward and kisses him again.  He hears and feels a growl from the man and feels a thrill of delight at irritating Hotchner.  This time Hotchner seems to respond and move with Spencer, whether due to force of habit or trying to confuse Spencer isn’t clear.  Not that it matters, Spencer’s decided he has two goals now.  The first, keep O’Neal from recognizing them.  The second, piss Hotchner off.  Pulling away from Hotchner just a bit, Spencer raises an eyebrow.

Hotchner clenches his jaw before whispering, “Are you going to do that every time I sp—”

He pulls the other man into another kiss as he loops one arm over Hotchner’s shoulder and taps out ‘Too loud’ in Morse Code on the man’s head.  When hands land on his hips and pull him closer to Hotchner, Spencer blinks in surprise.  Hotchner’s eyes narrow slightly before they flip and Spencer’s back connects with the fence as Hotchner presses him against it.  Hotchner’s lips then drag against Spencer’s lips and jaw as the man leans toward Spencer’s ear.

“Would you quit it?”  Hotchner growls.

Well, at least he finally realized sibilants carry more in whispers.  “Why?  Afraid you’ll feel an emotion rather than the pole in your rectum?”

“I don’t care what you think, you’re loco.”

Spencer scowls.   Every instance of when his classmates—whether in school in Vegas, the few times during college, or more recently at the academy—called him some variation of ‘crazy’ flitters through his head, tinged with the concern that maybe his time is running short before his mind is stolen from him like his mother’s was.  Hotchner’s smug expression tips his irritation closer to fury and he glares at the man.  If it weren’t for the fact that he doesn’t want Gideon or Rossi to be pissed off about the case being ruined, the search warrant becoming useless, or, worse yet, the women being killed, Spencer would absolutely punch the man in his face.  It might be predictable, but he pulls Hotchner back in, their lips connecting.  Ignoring the reemergence of the growl, Spencer tilts his head to the side slightly and lightly sucks Hotchner’s bottom lip, pulling the flesh far enough out to slightly bite at it.  Hotchner groans.  He presses Spencer further into the fence.

Well, that’s an interesting response.  Mind switching from irritation and anger to irritation and curiosity, Spencer nips at Hotchner’s lip again.  The hands on his hips tighten ever so slightly.  When he pulls on the short hair on the back of Hotchner’s head, a muffled groan sounds.  Hotchner moves from Spencer’s lips to his jaw and down to his neck.  Teeth graze the skin there and Spencer has to hold back his own groan.  With Hotchner’s head out of the way, he sees there’s no way they’re going to be able to sneak past Franklin and O’Neal to get back into the club.  A shift of shadow from one of the nearby firepits shows that the plants in the corner aren’t just decorative, but are blocking off a small section of the patio.  

How they manage to get from the section of wall they’re at to the corner hidden by the plants, Spencer has no idea, but apparently they did such without arousing suspicion from Franklin or O’Neal.  It looks like it’s going to be a while until either of them move, so Spencer is stuck with Hotchner.  Of course, at the moment, it’s not an atrocious thing.  If it weren’t for the fact that he just knows it would inflate Hotchner’s ego, he’d admit that the man is a pretty good kisser.  Of course, that’s also ignoring that the kissing involves a lot of teeth and biting.  It makes Spencer’s nerves sing.  He’s annoyed that an objectively attractive exterior is attached to such an obnoxious and repugnant personality.

Spencer manages to take control of the kiss again and he turns them so Hotchner is pressed against the wall.  He has to hold back a groan when he realizes he’s half hard.  Yet, he feels an answering hardness press against his thigh.  Kissing and nipping along Hotchner’s jaw, Spencer makes his way to the man’s ear.

“It’s a pity we’re at work and in public,” Spencer mutters.  He runs his tongue along the shell of Hotchner’s ear and lightly bites his earlobe.  Hotchner muffles his groan in Spencer’s shoulder.  “We could easily finish this up, but I doubt that you’d want to chance someone figuring out what happened.  It’s too bad you’re too chicken to take a slight risk that no one else would care about.”

“Fuck you, Reid,” Hotchner mutters as he pulls Spencer’s face back to his own and into another biting kiss.

Spencer smirks into the kiss.  “Promise?”

Hotchner thrusts his hips and both of them groan at the slight friction.  A moment later and he's pulling Spencer's head back by his hair.  The pain dances along his spine straight to his dick.  Hotchner hums.  “In your dreams, Reid.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Spencer says, the words turning to an unintentional groan as Hotchner begins to bite and suck at a new spot on Spencer’s neck behind his ear.

The crackles of their earpieces coming back to life forces both of them to freeze.

“—swear if either of you are dead or if you're both too busy arguing to respond, I'll assign you both to archive collection for the next week,” Rossi says.

Lips and teeth reanimate as Hotchner drags them from the spot he'd been working on.  Spencer chokes back a groan, glaring at the other man as Hotchner straightens up and smirks.

“Dave, just caught signal again,” Hotchner murmurs.  “O'Neal and Franklin are both on the patio talking.  Reid and I haven't been seen, but we haven't had a chance to get past them yet either.”

There's a pause before Rossi says, “Is Reid still alive?”

“Unfortunately.”

Spencer rolls his eyes.  “Need me for something, Rossi?  Or just ensuring my well being?”

Rossi snorts.  “I know you can take care of yourself well enough, Reid, just ensuring that I don’t have to take you or Aaron to the hospital.”

Before anyone of the three of them can speak, Gideon is on the line.  “We received confirmation of evidence for both Franklin and O'Neal in Franklin's apartment.  Move in for the arrest.”

His gun is in his hands without thinking about it as Spencer creeps from behind the plants and onto the patio.  Undercover local leos are subtly moving people from the patio to inside the club.  Hotchner’s light steps sound behind him. Taking in a breath and pushing back everything else that's happened tonight, Spencer moves toward their suspects.

~*Three days later*~

“Hotch…Hotch…hey, Earth to Hotch.”

Aaron blinks back into himself and turns to Liam, who seems slightly concerned that it’s taken him however long it’s taken for him to get Aaron’s attention.  “Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied.  What do you need?”

“Oh no, what I came here for can wait,” Liam says, sitting opposite of Aaron and leaning against Aaron’s desk.  “What I want to know is what caused you of all people to get lost in thought.”

“Nothing…”  He catches sight of Liam’s expression and immediately pivots.  “Nothing you can help with.  Someone I know did something I would never expect them to do a couple of days ago and I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

Liam hums, his eyebrows raising.  “You wanna give me a bit more information?  Might be able to help ya.”

Oh, he can see how well that conversation would go.  Yeah, while on their last case, him and Reid were in danger of blowing the whole operation if the unsub or his friend caught sight of them.  There was nowhere for them to hide without being painfully obvious.  Reid’s bright idea—stupidest move ever—was to make it look like they were just two club goers making out.  Of course, it then devolved into a make-out session—probably would’ve devolved even further had their ear pieces not caught signal—and Aaron has no idea why he can’t get the goddamned memory out.  Of.  His.  Head.

“Come on, Aaron, I don’t need names and details.  Just…an overview,” Liam says.  “Clearly this is buggin’ you pretty bad if you’re spacin’ out about it.”

Aaron sighs and runs a hand through his hair.  “I don’t even know why I can’t stop thinking about it, but someone kissed me the other day, and I never would have expected them to.  Never would have expected myself to practically make out with them in response.”

“Hot damn, my man,” Liam says, grinning.  “I didn’t know you were looking for a relationship.”

“Absolutely not,” Aaron says, “Especially not with this person.  Honestly, I feel the same way about them that I feel about Reid.”  Probably because it is Reid, but Liam doesn’t need to know that.  “Which might be part of the problem.”

The Texan gives a hum.  “They attractive?”

Fighting against the initial instinct to thoroughly deny it, he considers whether or not Reid could be attractive to someone who is fooled by his scruffy nerd facade.  Aaron shrugs.  “Sure, I suppose.  I find it hard to separate their appearance from their personality, but I can see how other people might find them attractive.  Definitely not my usual type.”

“Fair.”  Liam leans back in the chair.  “This might be a bit too personal, but how long has it been since you’ve been with someone?  Not just in a ‘been on a date’ kind of way, but in an ‘adult activities’ kind of way.”

Aaron raises an eyebrow as he stares at Liam.  “That is a bit personal, particularly considering that we’re at work.”

Liam holds up his hands.  “Got it, no need to answer.  Honestly, you don’t need to answer anyway.  I get the feeling that you’re stuck on the thought because there’s something you want, but you refuse to admit it to yourself.  You don’t want a relationship?  Great, if you feel the same way about this mystery person that you feel about Reid, then it’s safe to say that you hate their guts.  Don’t need to like someone to knock boots with ‘em.”  Liam grins and shrugs at Aaron’s glare.  “Just sayin’, might be a good idea to relieve some stress.”

“Liam.”  Aaron pauses for a few beats before saying in as deadpan a tone as he can manage, “You give the worst advice.”

Liam grins.  “Is it the worst advice, or is it advice you don't want to hear?”

“Back to the original reason you came by, what was that again?” Aaron asks, hoping to get the other man to drop the subject.

“Right, well, gotta question for the big man on campus—” Liam smirks at Aaron's snort, “Oh, no, you can't deny it.  Anyone with eyes can see that you're being set up for a leadership position once this whole department shuffle thing is done.  Just a question of where.  Now, my question is when is the Bureau going to get our department out of this godforsaken basement?”

Aaron shakes his head.  “I have no idea if there are even plans to fix the plumbing issues down here, let alone getting us new offices.”

“Ah, was worth a shot,” Liam says before tapping twice on Aaron's desk.  “Got to get back to work, see ya later!”

Watching the Texan walk away, Aaron gets the feeling that Liam's question was more of an excuse than it was an actual question.

~*Later that night*~

As Aaron pulls himself from the perils of paperwork—he should have known something was going on when Dave started handing him all of the paperwork back in December—he finds the bullpen around him dark and empty.  Sighing, he glances at what's left.  He could leave it for tomorrow, but it's only a couple of cases.  He needs to grab the casefile for one of them, so he pushes away from his desk and heads for the archives.

The room is quiet, but not dark as he was expecting.  A quick search through the room grants him the answer.  Reid is leaning against a shelf, flipping through a file with a speed that seems as though he's just trying to appear busy.  Aaron knows differently.  He'd tried tripping Reid up a couple of times, but the man hadn't been lying when he'd introduced himself.  Movement from Reid interrupts his thoughts and Aaron watches as the other man turns and reaches for the top shelf.  His sweater vest and shirt rise up with the movement, revealing a strip of Reid’s waist.  Heat rises to the back of his neck as Aaron realizes he's been staring.  He turns and walks away as silently as he'd arrived.  Maybe Liam is right and he needs to get laid.

~*One Month Later*~

Hotchner has been acting weird.  Not in his usual stick-up-his-ass holier-than-thou sort of weird either.  Spencer thought that maybe it was because Rossi's retirement date was approaching and Hotchner didn’t know what to do with genuine emotion, but Rossi's last day has passed and Hotchner is still acting weird.  He’s tried subtly asking a few of their coworkers, but none of them have noticed anything weird about Hotchner.  It's hit the point where Spencer’s starting to wonder if it’s just him seeing things.

“Spencer, are you going to sleep here?”

Blinking from his thoughts, Spencer focuses on Banano and grins.  “I'm just going to finish up a couple more cases before heading out.”

Banano frowns.  She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before sighing.  “Alright, just do me a favor and actually head home at some point tonight.  Having two workaholics in the department is bad enough, we don’t need a third.”

“I promise, I’m not staying the night.  See you tomorrow, Banano,” Reid says, turning back to his paperwork.  As time ticks on, he’s peripherally aware of changes in the area.  Of the lights slowly turning off.  Of the maintenance crew coming in and cleaning up.  Of the quiet that reemerges as they leave.  Still, he’s focused on the cases and pulling the proverbial threads to find answers to send to the police departments who’d reached out.  Since Rossi has left, Gideon has seemed a bit…unanchored.  It’s nothing obvious and he really doubts that anyone else in the unit has noticed, but he works with Gideon consistently.  Spends at least a couple of hours in Gideon’s presence every day that neither of them are in the field.  Naturally, he’d notice when the man is off kilter.  Hopefully it’s just a temporary unbalance due to his friend and closest coworker retiring.  Spencer can’t imagine being that close to any of his coworkers that he’s thrown off like that.

“Reid, what are you doing here?”

“Working.  Maybe you should try it some time, Hotchner,” Spencer says without looking up.  When there’s no biting or sarcastic comment back, he looks up and frowns when he finds Hotchner standing there staring, a slight frown on the other man’s face.  “Did you need something?”

The comment seems to snap Hotchner out of whatever trance he’d been in.  “For you to stop bothering me.”

Spencer blinks.  Frowns a bit.  “You’re the one who came to my desk.”

“I—” Hotchner cuts himself off and a slight pink color creeps along his neck.  “My point still stands.”

Even more confused, Spencer gets up and follows the retreating man.  Despite his comments, Spencer’s well aware that Hotchner is rather intelligent.  It’s not like him to act like this.  “Hotchner, the hell is going on with you?  You’ve been off for a while and it’s starting to get worse.”

“I didn’t know you could show concern for people outside yourself,” Hotchner says over his shoulder, not slowing down one bit.

“When that person could be putting myself or other members of the unit in danger in the field, yeah, I’m going to be concerned,” Spencer says.  He speeds up and observes the other man through slightly narrowed eyes.  “You’re not on drugs, are you?”

Coming to a sudden stop, Hotchner stares at Spencer with furrowed brows and a frown.  “Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m just trying to make sure you haven’t lost yours,” Spencer says.

“I don’t need your help, Reid,” Hotchner says, his tone far more prickly than usual.  His glare is particularly pointed as well, and Spencer can’t stop the thought that there’s definitely something else going on.

“Why don’t you just tell me what’s gotten your panties in a twist this time?” Spencer asks, leaning against the wall.

“Why?  So you can shove your tongue down my throat to shut me up again?”

Dread fills his chest.  Is that what this is about?  He’d thought that Hotchner had understood that it was quite literally the only option he could think of to keep Franklin and O’Neal from recognizing them or paying them much attention.  Granted, Spencer had gotten a bit carried away, but he’d thought that Hotchner—for the first time since they’d met—had the same idea and impulse.  Spencer forces himself to look Hotchner in the eye.  “I—I’m sorry.  I hadn’t…I couldn’t come up with any other idea to prevent Franklin and O’Neal from recognizing us.  While I was initially trying to keep you quiet to prevent them from paying any attention to us, I got carried away.  I must have misread your body language and I’m sorry.  I thought you were reciprocal, but clearly I was wrong.”

Hotchner blinks before he scowls.  “What part of any of our previous interactions made you believe that I’d want anything to do with someone like you?”

“Someone like me?” Spencer repeats with narrowed eyes.  He’s willing to admit he was in the wrong and that he needs to correct that wrong.  Doesn’t mean he’s willing to put up with whatever is about to come out of Hotchner’s mouth.  “Don’t be shy, spit it out.  What do you mean by someone like me?”

Hotchner doesn’t respond, just continues to glare.

Spencer pulls himself from the wall but is careful to not move into Hotchner’s space.  “What do you mean by someone like me?”  He tilts his head and smiles.  He knows the expression doesn’t reach his eyes.  “Is it my age?  My education?  Family background?  Socio-economic level?”  No response.  Not even a twitch.  “Is it that I’m a man?  That I’m bisexual?  Too skinny?  Too tall?”  Still nothing, and Spencer holds back a sigh.  He clenches his jaw before releasing it.  “Whatever.  I’m sorry for the distress and agitation I’ve clearly caused you.  If you feel you need to report this to Gideon or the section chief, I won’t try to argue with you and I’ll admit what happened to them and how it’s my fault.”

As he turns away, he notices Hotchner flexing his hand into a fist and relaxing it before clenching it again.  The memory of being in a dark alley with Hotchner’s hand over his mouth and against his throat flashes through his mind.  He starts to head back down the hall and the sound of footsteps following him echoes off the walls.

“Reid, stop.”

If Hotchner wants to take revenge by beating Spencer, the man has another thing coming.  Like he told the man back in December, he’s run for his life before and Spencer is fairly certain he can outrun Hotchner if need be.

“Seriously, Reid, stop.”

He’s not going to make this easy for the other man.  A moment later and rapid steps sound behind him.  Spencer takes off at a sprint, a mental map of the BSU floor rising in his mind.  There’s no one else from the unit still here, he’ll have to find a place to wait for Hotchner to leave.  He scrambles around a corner and takes off running toward the darkened section of the floor.  A slight thud from behind him leads him to believe that Hotchner hit the wall.  Doesn’t matter, he needs to break line of sight before he can even think about hiding.  For now, he needs to keep running.  Of course, Hotchner’s steps follow him and Spencer mentally curses that he took the turn he did.  If he’d gone another hundred feet, then he could have possibly lost Hotchner in the maze of shelving.  As it is, he’s now running through a large open space to try and escape.  There’s a flicker from the emergency lights before something large and heavy hits the back of his legs, toppling him over.

“Reid, just—”

He aims a kick at Hotchner, who catches his foot and pulls him closer.  They scuffle and trade a few blows before Hotchner is sitting on Spencer’s thighs and holds his wrists against the cement ground.  Pulse racing, Spencer tries to keep the memories of running away from his classmates from taking over.  It’s just Hotchner.  He’s not a kid anymore.  Keeping the memories at bay gets harder.  He can hear Hotchner saying something.  Can’t make it out.  Doesn’t matter.  Why hasn’t he—?

Lips that are softer than they look are on his and he freezes as his brain tries to comprehend what’s going on.  There’s a slight huff from Hotchner before his grip on Spencer’s wrists tightens slightly and he nips at Spencer’s bottom lip.  For some reason that’s what restarts Spencer’s brain and he leans his head up as he returns the kiss.  A short hum from Hotchner sounds before the man slowly pulls away.

“Are you actually paying attention now?” Hotchner asks.

“So long as you don’t start boring me,” Spencer mutters.

Hotchner shifts slightly, raising an eyebrow.  “As I was trying to say before you took off running, you misunderstood me because I wasn’t clear with my meaning.  Everything you listed?  I couldn’t care less about any of it.  Besides, you think you’re the first guy I’ve made out with at a bar?  What I meant is we bicker and fight consistently, obviously neither of us likes the other.  Based on that, why would I want anything to do with you?”

The emotional whiplash of the past ten minutes is going to take some time to process, but Spencer doesn’t think he has that time right now.  Not when it sounds like Hotchner may be seriously asking why they should fuck.  Honestly, they probably shouldn’t.  Like Hotchner said, they hate each other.  That sort of relationship is practically predestined to implode.  But…it could be fun…Spencer tilts his head slightly, grinning a bit.  “You don’t have to like someone to fuck them.  And the bickering and fighting could translate really well.”

“Uh-huh.”  Hotchner rolls his eyes.  “What if this is just hormones and chemicals?”

“Could be.  Even if it is, think of the stress relief.”  Spencer stretches his arms upward.  The movement pulls Hotchner closer and impulse seems to run through the other man as he leans down and kisses Spencer, their teeth clacking a bit as they both press harder than they need to.  Spencer diverts his attention from Hotchner’s mouth to the other man’s neck.  Time for payback for the damn hickies.

“You’re not concerned about emotions becoming weird?” Hotchner asks before he gasps as Spencer bites slightly harder at his neck.

Spencer pauses and leans back, staring at Hotchner for a moment before saying, “I fucking hate your guts, how’s that for an emotion?”

Hotchner snorts.  “That feeling is mutual.”

“Any other questions?” Spencer asks.  He’s inspecting Hotchner’s neck and trying to find the next spot to place a bruise.

“Just wanting to be sure we’re on the same page.  If we go through with this, someone’s going to get hurt,” Hotchner says.

Spencer shrugs as best he can.  “That’s a risk I’m not concerned about.”

“Even if this ruins us?  Our careers?”  Hotchner asks.

“The only way this ruins us is if someone goes and blabs when they shouldn’t.  I didn’t think you were raised to tell the world about your sex life, but hey, I could be wrong,” Spencer says.

Hotchner sighs.  “Fuck you, Reid.”

He can’t help but smirk as he remembers what he said to Hotchner at the club.  “Promise?”

Their lips crash together again and that same thrill races through his veins.  By the time they break apart, they’re both breathing heavily and it’s obvious they’re both turned on.  Before Spencer can make another smartass comment, Hotchner stands and pulls him to his feet.

“Come on, we need lube and a condom,” Hotchner mutters as he crowds into Spencer’s space.  He starts kissing Spencer again as he directs their movement.  It’s slow going with Spencer walking backwards.

“You know,” Spencer says.  He bites at Hotchner’s jaw.  “This would go.” Another bite to the jaw, further back.  “So much faster.”  A lighter bite to the man’s earlobe.  “If you’d let me turn around.”

There’s a slight hum.  “Or, I could do this.”

Before he can ask Hotchner what he means, the man stoops slightly and picks Spencer up.  Spencer’s legs automatically loop around the man’s waist while his arms spring around the back of his neck to hold on.  He glares at the chuckling man.  “A little warning next time.”

“I appreciate the assumption that I’m going to pick you up again,” Hotchner says.  He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow.  “How the hell are you this light?  I’ve seen you eat.”

“Really fast metabolism,” Spencer says.  He glances around the space they’re in.  “Where are we?”

“The old archives,” Hotchner says.  “The room flooded, so everything had to be moved.”

“And why are we here?” Spencer asks, wrinkling his nose as he spots what can only be some type of mold on a distant wall.

“Just passing through.  Be patient.”

They go up a set of stairs and enter an even darker space.  Spencer feels a thread of nerves run through him as the dark seems to reach out.  A click sounds and a hum fills the air.  Tilting his head and glancing up, Spencer watches as older style filaments begin to light up a dull red-orange.  Hotchner’s footsteps sound more muffled as he takes them further into the space.  The lights have begun to glow a very dim amber color when Hotchner sets Spencer down on a table.  Glancing around, it’s clear this was an office of some kind, but it appears far nicer than anything he would have expected.

“This was Agent Gillipsie’s office.  She retired six months before the archives flooded,” Hotchner says as he roots around in a nearby drawer.  “She’s the one who started the archives here and maintained them.  The department fell apart after she left and it’s only started to get back on track since Agent Beauchamp took over.”

Spencer hums.  “Interesting.  While I appreciate the history lesson, why are you telling me?”

Closing the drawer, Hotchner sets down a condom and packet of lube before raising an eyebrow at Spencer.  “Because if I didn’t, you would have been distracted by your curiosity.”

“You know, for someone who hates me so much, you certainly have a good idea on how my mind works,” Spencer mutters, leaning close but not allowing their lips to touch.

“Says the man who noticed I was acting weird when no one else did.”

Hotchner pulls Spencer in and whatever lull had settled over them is erased as lips and tongues and teeth meet.  Hands work on removing clothes, flying down dress shirts to unhook buttons, tugging on ties and belts, and pulling on pant zippers.  Hotchner beats Spencer in getting a hand past the clothing barrier and his fingers brush along Spencer’s erection.  A flash of pleasure zaps through him and Spencer can’t stop the moan from escaping.  He redoubles his efforts at getting beyond Hotchner’s clothes, abandoning the clothes on his torso for his pants.  It’s made harder by Hotchner stroking him and sucking another hickey into Spencer’s neck.  He’s practically panting when he pushes Hotchner’s clothes down to mid-thigh.  When he sees Hotchner’s dick, he raises an eyebrow.  Considering the man’s attitude, he would have thought that Hotchner was compensating.  Starting at the leaking head, he runs a finger down the length and catalogs how the man’s muscles seem to freeze for the barest moment before he pushes Spencer’s clothes further down his legs.  When nothing happens after that, Spencer focuses on Hotchner’s face—ignoring the hair in his eyes—and finds the other man just staring.

“Don’t know what to do next?” Spencer asks.  He grins.  “It’s ok, I can teach you.”

That draws the other man from his staring as he catches Spencer’s eye and scowls before manhandling Spencer onto his stomach.

“You know I can actually move myself, right?” Spencer snaps.  There’s no reply, but he feels cold slick fingers press into him and he does his best to relax even as anticipation thrums through him.  The fact that Hotchner seems to find his prostate rather quickly and then refuses to let up on the spot doesn’t help.  He feels as though he’s heading toward orgasm very quickly.  “I know you don’t care about being kind and gentle with me, and I’m not fragile.  So quit dicking around and fuck me already.”

Hotchner pulls back from where he’d been sucking and biting yet another hickey—Spencer just knows he’s going to need to break out his turtleneck shirts—onto Spencer’s neck and mutters, “Impatient.”

The opening of the foil wrapped condom is loud for how quiet the sound is.  A few seconds later and a much larger appendage presses where Hotchner’s fingers had been.  Even though Spencer wants to tell him to hurry up again, Hotchner moving at a slower pace is probably for the best.  Every millimeter of stretch sends pain-pleasure racing along Spencer’s spine and dick.  When Hotchner finally bottoms out, they’re both panting.  Right as Spencer is about to insist that Hotchner start moving, the man begins to pull out.  Still, it feels entirely too slow.

“Whatever is holding you back, drop it,” Spencer says, twisting a bit so he can look at Hotchner.  The man stops moving and arches an eyebrow.  Spencer rolls his eyes.  “Cause either you start fucking me how I know you want to, or I’ll shove you to the ground and fuck myself on you.”

A slight grin flashes across Hotchner’s face.  “With those options, why would I want to do the work?”

“You’re the worst,” Spencer mutters.  He feels the grip on his waist tighten slightly as Hotchner pulls almost all the way out at the same speed he’s been moving.  Rolling his eyes again, Spencer resigns himself to whatever this is as he untwists himself.  That’s when Hotchner slams into him.  He’s thrown forward slightly by the force and has to catch himself.  Hotchner’s other hand grabs his shoulder and Spencer scrambles for a hold as the thrusts become harder and faster.  Fucking finally!  Somehow Hotchner manages to find Spencer’s prostate with every thrust.  He’s able to hold back his words, but not his moans.  A hand laces into his hair and pulls, bending his back as Hotchner keeps pace.

“So this is how I get you to shut up?” Hotchner’s voice is a rumble.  He pulls on Spencer’s hair more, forcing his head back further.  “Maybe I can find out how much it’ll take to get you to beg.”

Like hell is he ever begging for Hotchner.  A particularly hard thrust presses him into the table.  The hand on his waist moves to his dick and begins to stroke.  Pure want floods through him, spiraling along his spine and focusing on where they’re connected.  He’s so close.  Another hard thrust, a pull on his hair, and teeth scraping against his neck throw him over the edge.  Just enough awareness exists to feel Hotchner thrust a few more times before the man freezes and collapses on Spencer.  They’re half-laying half-standing as they catch their breath.  Spencer comes back to himself first and twitches and moves.  While he normally enjoys cuddling and just existing with whoever he’s had sex with, he needs to get out from under Hotchner and get away from the man.  When Hotchner doesn’t move, Spencer elbows him.  A slight ‘oof’ sounds from the man.  Whatever he grumbles about, it’s none of Spencer’s business.  He manages to divert his nose wrinkle to a twitch when Hotchner pulls his dick out of Spencer.  Checking that none of his own release landed on his clothes, Spencer straightens himself up before pulling out a packet of tissues and wiping away the evidence on the table.

“Are you…?”

When Hotchner doesn't continue the thought, Spencer turns to him with a frown.  “Am I what?”  There's an odd expression on Hotchner’s face and it takes a moment for Spencer to figure out what the other man might have been asking.  “Were you going to ask if I'm ok?”

Hotchner’s expression flattens into his usual scowl.  “Never mind, clearly you're fine if you can be your usual dickish self.”

“Aww, you were going to ask if I’m ok, that’s so sweet,” Spencer drawls.  Judging by Hotchner’s expression, the sarcasm is very obvious.  Patting Hotchner’s shoulder as he passes, Spencer says, “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, Hotchner, don’t you worry about little ol’ me.”

He ignores the muttering behind him as he exits the office and reorients himself to get back to the main section of the unit.  After dipping into a restroom to clean up, he glances over the work on his desk and wishes he could leave it.  Unfortunately, he’s likely going to be with Gideon for a majority of the day tomorrow, so he can’t leave it.  He winces slightly as he sits and reviews what he’d been working on.