Criminal Minds Fanfic

by spinner

Dinner Plans

It was almost quitting time on a gray and cloudy day.   Everyone was in their own zone, filling out reports, keeping up on the paperwork. 

Coffee, Pretty Boy?” Morgan said, getting up and heading towards the burbling pot.    Reid watched the elevator buttons light up with the pre-five, oh-is-the-clock-ahead exits by those not smart enough to be more subtle.   

“No, thanks.  I’m going to be up all night if I have any more,” Reid replied.  Morgan began a fresh pot of coffee for the teams that would be starting their shift at five.  Reid stretched, uncoiling long arms upwards and backwards like an angel flexing his wings for flight.  He was surprised to encounter a form above and behind his chair.  Aaron Hotchner was creeping around in stealth mode again.  He bent over Reid’s chair in order to collect completed files off his desk. 

“I’m going to take you home and make your knees tremble,” Hotch rumbled deeply in Reid’s ear. 

From across the room, Morgan saw Reid’s eyes get tremendously huge.  No one could have heard what Hotch said, but Spencer turned so pink that he clashed with his maroon sweater vest.   Hotch grinned to himself, and walked towards Strauss’s office to deliver reports. 

“Anyone want to grab some dinner?” Prentiss asked, looking straight at Reid, watching him watch Hotch hungrily. 

“That would be great,” Hotch replied before tapping on Strauss’s closed door. 

“Morgan?” Prentiss called.   “JJ?”

“Can I bring my small fry?” Jureau asked. 

“Bring him along!  He loves spaghetti.  We’ll meet at Dmitri’s in an hour,” Prentiss suggested. 

“That’s fabulous,” JJ beamed happily.  “I do not want to cook tonight.” 

She was the first to the elevator.  Morgan was not far behind her. 

“One hour.  Dmitri’s,” Prentiss called to Morgan, who waved and nodded.  She glanced up at Rossi’s closed door, winked at Reid, and tapped her phone intercom.  “Rossi?  Rossi!  We know you’re asleep  in there.  You aren’t fooling anyone.” 

There was a distinct thump and the soft rumble of someone clearing his throat.  Reid stifled a smile and chuckle.  Prentiss was grinning brightly. 

“What?” Dave called back. 

“We’re all going to Dmitri’s for dinner.  Meet there in an hour.”

“Mmm.  Dmitri’s?  You temptress.”

Reid touched his phone and dialed a different extension.  

“I’m sorry, fond supplicant, but the Temple of All Knowledge is closed for the evening," Penelope began. 

“Would the oracle be interested in dinner at Dmitri’s with the rest of the …”

Garcia squeaked happily, “Dinner at Dmitri’s?”

“….team?” Reid finished.

“I’m coming upstairs!  Don’t leave without me!” Garcia squealed.

Hotch emerged from Strauss’s office, headed back to his own.  He was no longer smiling.  Reid profiled Aaron’s change in mood, as did Prentiss.  Rossi, standing on the raised path before the offices, noted Hotch’s darkened brow as well.   Aaron went straight to his office and closed the door.  There was a series of muffled thumps with no explanation.   Reid speculated that Hotch might be banging his head on the back of the closed door. 

“Everything okay?” Prentiss asked Reid softly.   He nodded in reply. 

“Go ahead.  We’ll meet you there,” Reid promised.  

As Prentiss, Rossi, and Garcia disappeared into the elevator, Spencer climbed the steps and walked to Hotch’s office door.   He knocked and waited.

“Come in,” Hotch said, no warmth or humor in his tone.   His forehead was red in the middle.  Reid went inside and closed the door once more.  “Sorry.  Dinner at Dmitri’s and trembling knees will have to wait for another time.”

“It takes twenty-five minutes to get to Dmitri’s.  JJ and Morgan left during the height of exodus, so they will be there in thirty-five or forty.  Prentiss will order drinks all around.  Rossi will start on the appetizers.  Garcia will have folded six or seven origami animals from the shreds of her napkin before we are there.”

“Strauss is being a grammar Nazi again,” Hotch complained.  Reid tilted his head and accepted the file that Aaron gave him.  

“Pull it up.  I’ll fix it,” he offered.  Hotch spun around to his computer and pulled up the file.  Reid slid past his chair and knelt down carefully at the keyboard.  Hotch popped up out of his chair immediately. 

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing. 

“I prefer to…”

“Reid, if someone comes in the office, how’s it gonna look if you’re on your knees behind my desk?”

It took Spencer a moment or two to understand.   He blushed, and climbed into Aaron’s chair without further protest.   Hotch sat on the leather couch across the room while Reid tapped away on the report.   

Hotch had fixed one report and was halfway through the next when Strauss opened the door and popped her head in the office without knocking.  Her eyes narrowed on Hotch, darted to Reid, narrowed again on Hotch. 

“You have a case in Connecticut.  I’ve already contacted your team, sent the specifics to Agent Jureau.  I expect you to be there by nine.  Good night.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hotch said, closing the report he had been correcting.   He gave Reid a significant look which said, ‘Aren’t you glad you’re sitting in my chair and I’m over here?’ Strauss disappeared (no puff of smoke).  Hotch chucked the other two reports into his inbox.   Reid saved the report on Aaron’s computer screen and printed it. 

“Give me the other two,” Reid said as he pointed to the inbox.  “I can have them done before the rest of the team even gets to Dmitri’s.”

Hotch obeyed, sitting on the end of his desk and pulling the files up on screen for Reid. 

“Remind me to tell the others to text our dinner plans next time instead of announcing them out loud,” Aaron murmured.  Spencer gave a sweet smirk and nodded in agreement. 

“No one is even there yet.  We could call ahead and order for pick up,” Reid said.  “We can collect the team and the food at the same time, come back to the jet.  Maybe next time, we should invite Strauss to join us.”

“What if she says yes?”

“She won’t.”

“Then why extend the invitation?”

“To make her feel included and welcome, less isolated.”

“Sympathy for the devil, Dr. Reid?” Hotch asked soft and low, warming up a smile.

“I know what it feels like to be the odd man out.  Even the possibility of being included makes a difference,” Spencer shrugged.  “You don’t even want to go.  You just want to be asked now and again.” 

Hotch was reminded once more of the wonderful qualities he so admired in Reid, not the least of which was his compassion for the feelings of others. 

“I’ll go ask if she would like anything from Dmitri’s.  If she says no, I will owe you a bottle of wine.  If she says yes, you will owe something far more thrilling than a bottle of wine.”

Reid printed out another corrected report and waited for Hotch to return, wondering about the case in Connecticut. 

An hour later, they were in the air, each one tucked into their seat with a red and white napkin and white take-away dish in their laps.  Garcia’s face was on the computer monitor.  She had Henry in her lap and she was wearing rubber gloves.  Every keyboard near the toddler was wrapped in a swath of paper towels.   Penelope and Henry were both smeared with red sauce. 

“Our case in Connecticut….” Jureau began, handing out folders and being careful of the pasta.   No one noticed the wine bottle that Hotch was slipping into the fridge in the galley—no one except Reid.

“Your pasta is getting cold,” Spencer called out to him.  The hint of a knowing smile graced Reid’s face.

more to come

main cm index