Criminal Minds Fanfic

by spinner

The World in My Eyes

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9

 Let me take you on a trip around the world and back,

and you won't have to move, you just sit still.

Now let your mind do the walking.

Let my body do the talking.

Let me show you the world with my eyes.

"World in My Eyes" - Depeche Mode

 1

Hotch stormed from his office and charged down into the bullpen.  He was fuming mad.  Reid, Morgan, and Prentiss all stopped picking over the remains of unfinished cases and held perfectly still, unsure which of them was in for the chewing-out.  Someone was definitely getting yelled at, but they weren’t sure who yet.  

“Reid!”

“Sir?”

“Grab your coat, and go down to Hades.  La Donna Immobilé is sitting on my lab results, again.”

Reid shot up out of his chair and hunted around the piles of brown folders on his desk, snatching one here, one there.   

“Who is…?” Prentiss asked. 

“Dr. Forni,” Morgan replied to her question before she could finish it.  “Morgue supervisor.  Italian.  50ish.  Dark hair.  Stern.  Immobilé because she constantly sits on Hotch’s requests.”

“That does not mean what he thinks it means,” Emily whispered.  She had been with the team for only a short time, and she was still learning the shorthand nicknames the team used for the other denizens who shared their FBI campus at Quantico.  Hades was the morgue diagonally across the quad.  Down the elevators and through the tunnels, staying inside the entire time, it was a fifteen minute excursion, because you would want to avoid the domain of Doug Eberhard, the physical training coordinator and instructor who was known primarily for being protective of his personal space and overly-handsy with the young female recruits.  Most people went outside across the quad to get to Hades.  That made it a ten minute brisk walk.  

“The one who plays opera through the vents and drives Ballistics crazy,” Morgan added.    

Emily nodded that she understood.  She knew Forni – had passed her in the front entrance a time or two.  A well-dressed medical examiner was refreshing, and Dr. Forni always had an impeccable appearance.   She wasn’t unfriendly.  She was usually buried in a file, or in deep thought, or on the cell phone with her daughter who was in medical school on the West Coast. 

“She almost became a opera singer.”  Reid was displaying his usual talent for cryptic non sequiturs.    

“She and Hotch have a history,” Morgan murmured. 

“What kind of history?” Emily teased out a smile.   Hotch lowered his brow at her, and her amusement withered. 

“She hates my guts, and the feeling is mutual,” Aaron answered. 

“Why does she hate your guts?” Emily worried, disappointed somehow. 

“I questioned her findings on a case a couple years ago, and made her retest the samples.”

“Were you right?”

“No.  She was right.  The point was I needed confirmation.  Someone was facing the death penalty.  I wanted to be sure,” Hotch said grimly. 

“So she never forgave you?” Prentiss asked.  Hotch wasn’t listening.

“Reid, quit fucking around and get down there.  Make her give me my damn reports, and get back here as fast as you can.  Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Reid said, digging around in a desk drawer for another file and adding it to the three he already held. 

“Now, Reid,” Hotch growled, taking the stack of files from him and putting them back on his desk.   Spencer timidly put thin fingers back on top of the files. 

“I was going to ask Dr. Forni for her opinion on these,” he whispered. 

“Fine,” Hotch said, giving the files back to him.  “But get my lab results too.  While you’re down there making nice, ask her why the hell it takes her a week to give me a report marked urgent, when it should take one day to complete at best.  Ask her why I always have to send you down to beg for my results,” Hotch snapped.

“Are you sure you want the answer?” Reid gave Hotch an inch of smile and Hotch glared back.  Reid’s smile quivered. 

“I’ll tell you why,” Morgan interjected.  “She’s one of those women who wants to be in control. That’s why she makes you beg for your reports, Hotch.”

“Hotch doesn’t go beg for them.  He sends Reid.  Technically Spencer begs for them,” Emily pointed out.  Spencer was blushing. 

“Hotch, Dr. Forni doesn’t hate you.  She might want to humble you a bit though.    But don’t take that personally.  You remind her of her ex-husband.  She merely wants you to appreciate her, and to learn that she’s not at your beck and call,” Reid explained, wanting to soothe Hotch’s temper. 

“The hell she’s not,” Hotch retorted angrily.  He stormed away, going to his office, and slamming the door.   Reid cringed in upon himself, wincing, hugging his files close. 

“Fetch, beg, roll over, play dead,” Morgan mused.  “Better hurry, kid.  He’s in one of those moods today.”

2

It was an hour later, and Reid wasn’t back.  Hotch was pacing around his desk,  gesticulating and muttering to himself.   He opened his office door with a quick snap, almost pulling it off the hinges.    

“Prentiss!! Go see what’s keeping Reid!” Aaron hollered loudly, his voice carrying across the room without any problem.

“Yikes,” Emily whispered to Morgan.  Derek snickered into the edge of a folder as Prentiss rose to her feet and pulled on her jacket.   “Hey, Morgan.  Why doesn’t Hotch send you for his reports?  You’re charming.”

“Because Dr. Forni doesn’t like me any more than she likes Hotch.”

“Why not?  Everyone likes you.  Everyone of the female species,” she added, seeing Garcia beaming at her and Derek through the glass doors before she popped through them.

“I’m too much like Hotch.  She won’t even take my calls.  I have to field requests through her assistant.  Forni clearly prefers to deal with men who are young, submissive, easily terrified.”

“So Hotch sends Reid, who flashes those big baby browns at her.  He asks her nicely for Hotch’s lab results, and then asks her opinion on a couple cases, which flatters her ego.  Forni melts, and she gives up Hotch’s reports.”

“That’s about it.”   

“Can’t Hotch see he’s reinforcing her bad behavior?  Forni has learned the reward for holding Hotch’s results is that she gets Reid to come down to her lab and cater to her ego.  Has it ever occurred to Hotch that he needs to go down and demand his own reports instead of using Spencer as a go-between?”

Morgan shrugged one shoulder and smiled to himself.

“You’ll have to take that up with him yourself, Prentiss.”

“Dessert, anyone?”  Garcia asked as she carried over a plate of cookies.    

“Oh, baby doll, I love you, I love you, I love you,” Morgan pined.  Penelope brought the cookies to him, and he slipped several off the plate, devouring them happily one delicious bite at a time.  Prentiss debated with herself, but took one as well.   

“Who knows what you need?  Me, that’s who,” Garcia smiled.  It made her more than pleased to see them dive into her culinary handiwork.  Prentiss picked up another cookie, and could feel Hotch’s eyes on her from the office window.

“Bye.  I’ll be back,” Emily said. 

“Leaving so soon?  Oh, how terrible,” Garcia playfully feigned sadness, sitting down in Prentiss’s chair.  “I guess I’ll just have to console myself with only Agent Morgan for company.  Whatever shall we do to pass our time, Tall, Dark, and Delicious?”

“Whatever you do, don’t get crumbs on my desk,” Emily warned.  She vanished into the elevators. 

3

Prentiss was across the quad through the light autumn rain pretty quickly.  There was not a long wait for the elevator.  She was down the shaft and then through the subterranean hallways.   The place was a dungeon.  They might as well have lighted the passage with torches on the wall.  No wonder the team called it Hades.  She was at the door to the morgue in nine minutes. 

Prentiss was back in the bullpen seven minutes later, looking stunned and pale.  Hotch had been lured out of his office by the smell of warm cookies.  He was sitting at Reid’s desk, eating his fifth one of Garcia’s offerings.  His demeanor had not improved.  Frankly it might have even been worse. 

“Where’s Reid?” Hotch demanded when Emily appeared alone.  Prentiss coughed over a word or two, stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets.  She took her office keys out and set them on her desk with a jangle.

“Right behind me, soon, no doubt.”

“He damned well better be,” Aaron muttered.

Seven minutes later, the elevator dinged.  Reid popped out.  He was flushed and anxious.  He was wearing Dr. Forni’s red silk scarf.  He hurried over to his desk to put down his stack of files.  He had brought back five more than he had taken.  So Forni was returning the flattery by asking his opinion as well, it would appear.   

“REID!  Where the hell have you been?  I was afraid Forni was going to keep you this time,” Hotch worried, standing from Reid’s chair but then sitting on the edge of his desk.  

“What?” Reid panted. 

“She’s got designs on you, knows how useful you could be to her.  She never fails to tell me what a sweet boy you are,” Hotch muttered.  Emily whispered (something mostly to herself though Derek did hear) about conducting a taste test, and Spencer was suddenly very interested in the floor. 

Hotch was studying Spencer, who was flushed, a little sweaty, eyes glazed, lips deep red and swollen, hair a brilliant disaster. Emily watched Hotch’s gaze linger on Spencer’s shirt, on the extra button that had popped over the collar of his sweater vest.  Why were his buttons out of line?  Reid pulled his tie out of his pocket and slipped it back on.  Aaron’s face showed true concern for a fleeting second before plain, tight irritation returned to his features.

“Why did you take off your tie?” Hotch asked. 

“We were arguing about the Kerwin case,” Reid said.  

“Oh…..” Hotch and Morgan chorused. 

“Auto-erotic asphyxiation,” Morgan explained for Emily.  

“Who won the argument?” Hotch asked.

“Technically a draw,” Reid decided. 

“So, is it possible to strangle yourself and masturbate with the same tie?” Hotch asked, a tight smile tricking up the corners of his mouth into a sharp V.

“Not unless you’re exceptionally limber and ….” Reid stopped mid-sentence and gaped carefully at Prentiss, who was waiting for him to continue. 

It was difficult being the only female field agent in a group of men.  There were two extremes.  Some male colleagues would never let you forget you were a woman, therefore different and somehow less important than a male colleague would have been.  Other male colleagues would never treat you like a woman, therefore putting you in a different category from real women, and again making you somehow less as well.  How interesting it was that Reid, the most socially-awkward human being Emily knew, was the one to remember that Emily was a woman, and also that their salty conversation might not be appropriate for everyone.  Fortunately for them, she was not the squeamish sort and was also somewhat fond of salty language. 

“Truly blessed by Mother Nature?” Emily couched the expression as sensitively as possible.  Reid nodded, grateful for the euphemism. 

“Why are you all looking at my feet?” Spencer wondered.  Heads that were bent  popped back up in unison. 

“No reason,” Aaron lied.  “Did you get my results?” he wondered. 

Reid gave him one of the brown folders.  “No sign of unusual flammable accelerants.”

Hotch stifled most of a streak of blue language, and ended with a simple, “Damn.”

“Hey, don’t kill the messenger,” Spencer cringed, wriggling around and pulling off his black coat. 

“I’m sorry,” Hotch said, setting down the file.  “Thank you,” he intoned huskily.   He reached out and smoothed Spencer’s rumpled collar, and in doing so, grabbed hold of the scarlet red muffler that was draped around his neck. 

“My pleasure,” Spencer murmured, eyes lowered, face shy.    

“Once again, Pretty Boy, you have managed to snatch the honey from the she-bear,” Morgan teased.

“Some day you’ll have to tell me how you get Dr. Forni to eat out of your hand so easily,” Aaron rumbled, sliding the muffler away from Spencer’s neck in a tease that left Reid shivering.    

“Your knees must hurt from groveling so hard,” Prentiss tossed out. 

“She’s teaching me Italian.”   Another non sequitur.  Reid’s blush crept down into his collar and even further.  He had a hard time meeting Emily’s piercing eyes. 

“Some Latin too, by the sounds of it,” Prentiss taunted mischievously.  Reid was the same color as the muffler Hotch put back around his neck. 

“Good boy,” Penelope cooed, offering Spencer a cookie. 

“Oh!  Thank you!” Spencer grinned, leaning across Hotch to get the treat.  He was grateful for the distraction and the food.  Aaron balanced Reid’s extended form with one strong hand spread out across Spencer’s tummy. He cleared his throat and dodged slightly to the right, but not very far.  Spencer straightened back up and nibbled around the edges of the cookie with careful bites.  Hotch reluctantly let go of Reid’s tummy.    

“Gotta run,” Garcia said, patting a kiss to Morgan’s head.  On the way out, she whapped Spencer on the backside, making him jump.  This jump brought him one step closer to Hotch, who had yet to let go of the red scarf.   

“So, if there were no unusual accelerants, does Dr. Forni have any idea how my victims managed to catch fire?  What’s her theory? Spontaneous combustion?” Hotch asked.   

“She asked me to ask you if you noticed any strong smell at the crime scene,” Reid mumbled around cookie, extracting the edges of the scarf from Hotch’s grip after Aaron began twisting the edges around each other, which could eventually lead to garroting Spencer if he were to stand still at all. 

“Other than burned flesh and a torched wooden desk and the…..”

“Did you notice a strong smell on the victims?”

“Yes.  That’s why I asked about accelerants.”   

“I was studying the photos of the crime scene again while I was waiting.  There were signs of cigar ash on Mr. Deliberti’s shirt.  If he lit his cigar with an open flame, or if his companion Miss Parker did, and if they both were wearing copious amounts of freshly-applied perfume or cologne….” Reid paused in between bites of cookie. 

“Or hair spray?” Morgan understood where Reid’s line of thought was headed.

“….on their clothes, their hair, their person, it could be that lighting his cigar caused them to go up.  If they were also enjoying a drink with the cigar and the sex—scotch, whiskey, gin, whatever…”

“Or if her costume was made using flammable glue?” Morgan nodded. 

“Exactly!” Reid exclaimed.  “Any one of those could be what caused them to go up globus deum irae.”

“Costume?” Prentiss processed the thought, making a startled face.

“What?” Morgan asked.

“Ball of god’s wrath,” Emily whispered.   “What costume?”

“Oh,” Derek frowned.   “What?”

"Miss Parker was wearing a costume??” Emily pressed.  Morgan laughed. 

“In Forni’s opinion, this wasn’t murder?” Hotch asked Reid.

“Could be murder.  Could be an accident.  The question becomes how we prove or disprove the theory,” Reid replied to Hotch.

“We haven’t answered the most important question,” Derek said. 

“Which is what?” Hotch asked Morgan over one shoulder while watching Reid devour the last of his cookie.  Spencer was licking his fingertips, sucking one index finger to get nicks of chocolate out from under his nail.    

“Why was Miss Parker dressed as a butterfly?” Morgan pondered.   

“Butterfly?” Emily had to admit that she was beginning to get intrigued. 

“Why are you obsessed with knowing that?  I would venture that’s the least unusual aspect of the entire situation,” Reid shrugged. 

“We could ask his wife,” Hotch said.  Reid nodded, gazing longingly down at the rest of the cookies.   

Hotch reached over and tapped the edge of the plate.  Reid made a small stretch forward, and Hotch pushed the plate of cookies even further out of Reid’s daunting reach.  Ever so slowly, not so anyone would notice, Hotch turned one thigh outward, one shoe outward, ready to block Reid if he made a dive for the plate of cookies.  Any such move would have landed him square in Hotch’s lap, across the extended thigh. 

Reid pined once in frustration, giving Hotch those big puppy eyes.   Hotch wondered if anyone on Earth could be immune to those eyes.  Aaron picked up a cookie and handed it to Spencer, who smiled serenely.

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

“Welcome,” Aaron whispered back.     

“Mrs. Deliberti, she didn’t want to talk with us before.  She’s being charged with her husband’s murder.  There’s no way she is going to be willing to cooperate with more of our questioning,” Morgan interjected, feeling his words were lost behind the exchange between Reid and Hotch.   

“You’ve got chocolate on you.  Go like this,” Hotch murmured privately, demonstrating with a dart of tongue.  Reid followed suit, caressing the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue and looking back up at Hotch for approval.  So much more than approval was beaming out of Aaron’s dark eyes.   Pleased, Reid continued to nibble. 

“Prentiss, you go talk to Mrs. Deliberti.   You’re a woman.  Maybe she’ll open up to you,” Hotch ordered.  “Morgan can explain all the details of the case as you drive there.”

He gave Derek the file that Reid had brought back from Hades.   Prentiss snatched the file from Morgan. 

“What are you and Reid going to do?” Morgan wanted to know.

“Would you like a glass of milk?” Hotch suggested to Spencer, who couldn’t seem to stop smiling. 

“Yes, please.”

“Don’t let him eat more than three cookies, or you’ll never get him down from the sugar high.  You’ll have to peel him off the ceiling,” Morgan warned as he dragged Prentiss away.  She couldn’t take her eyes off Reid and Hotch.  Had Morgan seen their exchange the way she had?   

In the elevator, Emily waited until the doors closed and then turned to Morgan, who was shaking his head.

“Much more of that stroking from Hotch, and Reid would have peed on the carpet,” Prentiss whined, letting her disgruntlement show through. 

Morgan chuckled.  His face was not angry or jealous, but lined with something sad and kind. 

“Reid is so desperate for parental approval.  Hotch works that angle pretty hard when he wants something from Reid.  Too hard, sometimes.”

“I guess,” Emily said, thinking that parental approval was the least of what Reid was desperate for. 

4

“So, Reid?”

Spencer looked up from his spread-out reports and cocked a questioning brow at Prentiss as she took a seat just beyond his.  He had his back to the door, but she could see the door and the hallway as well.  Reid bristled when she sat down.  He went back to his reports, wanting to ignore her even though he knew it would be rude.  He had retreated to the conference room for peace and quiet, an escape from Morgan and Garcia and JJ arguing in the outer office area.   Prentiss had followed Reid minutes later.   He wasn’t happy at being disturbed.  

“Yes?” he asked.

“You.”

“Mm hmm?”

“Dr. Forni.”

Reid’s eyes left the lines of text he was scanning and went cautiously to Prentiss. 

“Mm hmm?”

“You and Dr. Forni.”

“Mm hmm?” Reid’s squeak rose slightly higher.  He squirmed in his seat, dropped his eyes back to the report that was quivering in his grip.  Emily really should not have been enjoying this as much as she was.

“You and Dr. Forni, on the slab, in the morgue.”

Reid cleared his throat, fought with a tight smile, and bit back his discomfort.   The same memories went through both their minds, each from their own point of view. 

Prentiss had followed the sound of a bellowing tenor and swelling music into the morgue’s ante-chamber.  Reid’s black coat was hanging on the hook behind the door.  Everyone else who should have been in the morgue was gone.  All of Dr. Forni’s underlings were clearly out to lunch or off working on cases of their own in the field.

Emily traced the scream of opera into another room, found only a speaker.  Next room was the same—only a speaker.  She traced the source finally to one of the furthest examination rooms from the front entrance  The door was slightly ajar. 

Dr. Forni’s white lab coat was spilled on the spotless floor.  Her silken red scarf lay strewn aside.  An expensive black heel lay here.  Another black heel lay there.  A pair of big black and white sneakers was tumbled around, tangled with a pair of gray trousers and a maroon and gold-striped sweater vest.  Prentiss knew who owned those big sneakers.  She didn’t touch the door.  She silently, cautiously moved sideways in the hallway to take advantage of the shafts of light, and then she froze. 

Through the strains of a melodic Italian refrain rose a different sound entirely – Dr. Spencer Reid’s pleasured moaning.  Puppy-like whimpers of sheer delight.  Soft pleading.  Desperate panting.  Prentiss had to admit—it was a surprisingly-intoxicating sound.  She made the mistake of treading closer to the doorway. 

Most of Reid’s clothes were all over the room, except for his unbuttoned white shirt.  He was wearing only that shirt.   It was half off one shoulder.   Two white buttons lay strewn on Reid’s gray trousers on the floor. A fresh love bite was visible on his bared neck.  He was half sitting, half lying on the silvery table.  One shaking thigh was propped up, knee in the air.  The other quivered as long nails traced from knee to inner thigh. 

Dr. Forni was between Reid’s legs, her dark hair spilling over his pale skin, her mouth sliding up and down his cock, eliciting the most beautiful sounds from him with each caress of tongue and lips and careful application of teeth.  Her movements were careful and precise, scientific even.  Meticulous.  Excruciating, no doubt, the way she was teasing Spencer.  Reid’s long fingers coiled into Dr. Forni’s hair, and she paused what she was doing, untangling those thin digits.

“Puer mali,” she chastised. 

Crawling up onto what must have been icy metal, Dr. Forni pushed Reid’s hands above his head, held them there while she teased a kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally crushed his plush mouth with her own.  She let go of his hands, and Reid dutifully kept them above his head, curling them back to grip the table for leverage.   

Emily was hypnotized, could not turn away.  It was like the first time she had seen her mother kissing a man other than her father.  It was intriguing and sensual and oh-so-private, and she knew she should get back, because one more step was going to put her into the visible realm of the shaft of light spilling through the door from the office.    

Lifting her skirt, Dr. Forni spilled exquisite black and scarlet-patterned silk fabric over Reid’s bare skin.  From the expression on his face, the way his eyes fluttered open, the way his head jerked forward and he clenched his jaw in anticipation, the way he arched his hips, Prentiss knew Forni was sliding down on top of Reid, pulling him deep inside herself.  Emily felt her own heart racing as she watched them writhe together.     

The unthinkable happened.   Reid’s eyes opened and connected with Prentiss’s.   He could not have heard any sound she might have made over the operatic strains that were in the air.  He must have sensed her presence somehow.  When their eyes locked, Emily expected fully Spencer to scream, stop, flail, faint – anything except what he did do. 

Reid gave her a playful and fearful hint of a smile, keeping her eyes trapped in his own long enough to make Prentiss feel warm and tingly.  Then he tilted his head back, arched in delighted torment, and lost himself again to Dr. Forni.   

Prentiss could not believe what she had seen that day in the morgue.  It had been utterly impossible to erase from her mind.  Reid had made a valiant effort to pretend nothing had changed, that nothing odd had occurred, but Prentiss wasn’t fooled for a minute.  Reid cleared his throat a second time, and warmed up his demeanor if only slightly as they both returned their thoughts to the present conversation.

“I’m genuinely surprised it took you two weeks to bring this up,” Spencer said.

“How long has this been going on?” Emily asked, worried because she knew she should lower her voice.  The conference room door was open, after all, and JJ and Hotch were discussing the salient points of their current case close by.  She could even hear them talking. 

“A year or so,” Reid shrugged, hiding his eyes in the text again.   Prentiss took the page away from him, and his brow furrowed with puzzlement.  Couldn’t he read while they talked?

“Dr. Forni is old enough to be your mother,” Prentiss chided. 

“Technically, you’re old enough to be my mother,” Spencer pointed out maliciously, whisking his page back from Emily with a sharp tug and a wicked smirk.  

Reminding Emily of her age was a cheap shot and they both knew it, but he had taken the shot regardless.  She must have been stepping on sensitive territory for him to strike back so viciously.  Two sensitive areas, probably—his age and his own mother.  Reid was usually so meek, but he had a tendency to bite back when you poked the wrong spots.  Emily admired his small displays of feistiness because he usually concealed his temper so well. 

There were two choices for Emily – advance or retreat.  Accept the gauntlet and engage in a brief verbal attack with Reid, and risk offending him forever.  This boy held a grudge with both hands.  She could also choose to extend an olive branch and attempt to smooth Reid’s ruffled feathers.    

“You wound me,” she smiled, touching her hand to her heart. 

“I’m sorry,” he added sincerely, his face melting with remorse.  “Emmy, what you saw?  It’s not at all what you’re thinking.”

The fumbled diminutive of her name that had tumbled from his mouth touched a sweet spot for her, and the effort behind it did not go unnoticed.  She should respond in like, with gentleness and tenderness and friendliness.  Prentiss preferred directness  though, and she thought it was time to remind Reid who was in control for this interrogation.   He needed a shock, a whack on the nose, this puer mali. 

“So you’re not fucking Dr. Forni to get Hotch his lab results??”

Prentiss could see out of the corner of her eyes that JJ had been passing the door to the conference room as she had said those words.  Jureau passed the door.  Paused on one fine heel.  Came back to the doorway.  Her eyes were wide, and her mouth was open.   What was worse, Hotch appeared behind JJ, and it was clear he had heard Prentiss too.    

“No.  Well.  Yes, I am.  But it’s not as simple as that,” Spencer stammered.  He had no idea that JJ and Hotch were watching and listening.

“Does Hotch know you’re doing this?”

“Oh my god.  No,” Reid cowered.  “He would be so pissed.”

What stuck in Prentiss’s mind was how strangely Hotch had acted towards Reid when Spencer had come back from Hades.  He had stayed too long in Reid’s body space.  He had been glad to see Reid, and he was torn about having to send him down there in the first place.  What about the way Hotch had played with the scarf that Dr. Forni had placed around Reid’s neck before letting him return to the bullpen?  That scarf had been a direct challenge from Forni.  She was marking her territory and flaunting it in front of Hotch.  Or maybe she was concerned about Reid being cold on the walk across the quad.  Or maybe she knew the scarf around his neck would explain the scent of her perfume all over his person.  Whatever the reasoning had been, the poor scarf had vanished mysteriously the first time Reid left it unguarded at his desk.  Emily wondered if Hotch had fed it through the paper shredder. 

At the moment, trapped in the doorway, Hotch was overcome with horror, but only for a fraction of a second until calm fury boiled up red in his neck and took over his face. 

“It’s a favor, that’s all,” Spencer whispered shyly, toying one finger along the edge of the table.     

“A favor?” Prentiss coughed.

“Hotch asked me for a favor.  I like to feel useful.  I can do this one small thing for him.  I don’t mind.”

Spencer stood up from the table.  Was he angry?  His body language said that this conversation was over, but he seemed more cowed than ever before, chin lowered to his chest practically.  Humility flowed over Hotch’s stern face.   He had been humbled by this odd show of devotion from Reid. 

JJ flew away on quick feet, yanking Hotch by one arm.   Jureau had anticipated that Reid was turning towards the door. 

Prentiss stood up too.  She moved to the door when Reid started to move that direction.  When he stopped, she had to stop as well.  Their forms were almost spooning together.  Reid spoke to her over his right shoulder, long lashes sending shadowy crescents on his cheeks. 

“It’s all about negotiating with others to get what we need.”

“Okay,” Prentiss agreed.  “I’ll go along with that.  Hotch needs his results.  Forni needs sex with a boy half her age to feel she’s still a beautiful woman.  But what do you get out of this, Spencer?”

“Exactly how often do you think this sort of thing happens to me?”

“What sort of thing?”

“Sex,” Reid blurted uncomfortably.   

“I guess that’s a valid point,” Emily teased, wishing she had Derek here to help.  Morgan could tease Reid, and Reid would get angry, furious even, but then Spencer would forgive Derek so quickly.  Prentiss had tried to tease him that way as well, but her attempts always fell flat.  She couldn’t maintain the same balance with Reid that Morgan had.  No matter what she said, they remained out of sync.   She wanted to fix that if she could.    

“It’s what we do.  It’s our jobs.  We learn to say what people need to hear, tell them what will feed their egos, or spark their anger, or soothe their wounds.  We hone our words, use them like pointed steel, drive them into soft places we find as we search around inside them.  We make them reveal all to us, their truths, their secrets, and all the lies that hide inside those dark places we don’t even like to search in ourselves.”

Reid had slowly turned to face Prentiss as he had spoken the words. 

“If it helps you to think that, sure.  That doesn’t fully explain why you are letting Dr. Forni fuck you on the mortuary slab,” Emily pressed.

“I profiled Dr. Forni, and learned what would work with her.  I give complete and total submission to her every whim.  That’s all it takes to get her to eat out of my hand.”

Was it okay if the words ‘complete and total submission’ coming from those virginal lips made Prentiss flush with warmth and sexual hunger? 

“By giving Dr. Forni what she wants, you can give Hotch what he wants?  You’re submitting yourself to Hotch’s whims as much as Dr. Forni’s.”

“That goes without saying, doesn’t it?” Spencer whispered.  His lowered eyes traced across Emily’s breasts in a way that was far from virginal.   

“That’s what matters to you, isn’t it?”

“I told you.  I like to feel useful to him.”

“They are both using you for their own purposes,” Emily said bluntly.  She knew that JJ and Hotch were on the other side of that open doorway just out of sight,  listening to every word of this exchange.  It was a good thing that Hotch had finally found out what Reid was doing.  Doing for him, no less. 

“You wouldn’t understand,” Spencer whispered to Emily.

“Understand what?”

“It’s not in your nature to be submissive,” Reid said with a self-deprecating shrug.   Prentiss did understand that being submissive was Reid’s best weapon. She could feel it working on herself right at this moment. 

“I wonder sometimes if you understand what you’re doing when you do things like this,” Emily whispered.     

“You can’t tell Hotch about this,” Spencer pleaded.

“He needs to know what Dr. Forni is making you do.”

“No,” Spencer whispered.  “Emily, swear you won’t tell him.”

The nature of this conversation was raising a lot of red flags for Emily, not the least of which was the dreadful realization that Dr. Forni was probably not the first person in Reid’s life to figure out this flaw in his personality.  

“Okay.”

“He might already know,” Reid doubted himself.  “The tie.  The stupid tie.”   

“Hotch won’t hear a word from me.  But my silence isn’t going to be free,” Prentiss said, wanting to sound stern, like a caring big sister who was annoyed to have to cover for him.  Maybe she wanted to sound like she was joking and making light, razzing him like Morgan would have done.  Whatever her intention, she could see from Reid’s face that she had said the wrong thing. 

“Would I…..would I owe you a favor?” he whispered tentatively. 

Reid nibbled on his bottom lip and raised eyes at her that could not have been more vulnerable and scared.  Emily wanted to take him under her wing and protect him.  She raised one hand and touched his shoulder.

Reid breathed raggedly, leaning in, putting his forehead on her shoulder. 

“Would you like that?” she asked. 

Reid was trembling.  Emily caught her breath.  He was misinterpreting her joke about owing him a favor.  Was it too late to undo this?   

“Coffee.  Lots of morning coffee.  The good stuff,” Emily stumbled over the words, feeling so awkward and foolish.

Spencer gave a quiet, nervous laugh.   Emily didn’t know what else to say.  To acknowledge the misinterpreted situation out loud would make it too awful and real for him to bear.   

The door to the next room in the hallway slammed loudly.     

Reid took flight from her side, like a startled dove that rises in the air and is gone.  Prentiss let Spencer hurry away, her mind overwhelmed with disorienting thoughts, not the least of which was an urgent, almost irresistible need to follow Reid and protect him from harm.  He was making her feel very weird inside.  Motherly.  Protective.  Horny as hell.  Never a good combination. 

Worst of all was the melancholy in her heart which hurt clear through her chest.  Actual physical pain bled out into her skin.  The ache surrounded her, enveloped her, and tightened her throat with unshed tears.   She should follow him and straighten this misunderstanding out right this second. 

Reid was long gone though.  It was too late to follow.  He was vanishing into the elevator, eyes on the floor.  Before the doors closed, Reid had sank down the side wall of the elevator, face vacant and faraway.   He had left the conference room so quickly that he never felt or saw the eavesdroppers.  

5

JJ and Hotch could safely return to the doorway now.  Prentiss stacked Reid’s rat’s nest of pages back together in some semblance of order, hating herself clear down to the bottom of her shoes.

“What should we do?” JJ fretted.

“I’ll handle it,” Hotch snapped. 

“Do you want me to talk to Spence?” JJ asked to Hotch. 

“I said I’ll handle it,” Aaron growled at her. 

“Okay,” JJ conceded.  She knew better than to argue with him.  Hotch took out his phone and dialed it, clicking the speaker button.

“Garcia?”

“Sir?”

“Are you alone?”

An awkward pause.

“I am, sir.”

Aaron paused again, fumbling for words. 

“Would you like to know what I’m wearing?” Garcia added sultrily.  Hotch twitched with anger and frowned at the phone. 

“No.  Can you dial up video footage from every office in this campus?”

“Yes, sir.  Almost every office.”

“I want the camera feed from Hades.”

“Current footage or feed from previous days?”

“How much footage do you have?”

“The Bureau keeps a year’s worth at a time.”

“I will give you dates.  You will feed the footage to the conference room.  You will disconnect your own viewport while the feed is running.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hotch went to the table and turned the monitor around so only he could see it.  Then he glared pointedly at JJ and Prentiss.

“Leave,” he ordered.  It was not a tone one argued with.  JJ and Emily were gone in a flash, racing each other to the door.    

Hotch was alone in the conference center for approximately thirty minutes.  Reid had yet to return to his desk.  Morgan watched Reid’s desk, watched the elevator, and gave Prentiss a curious look.

“What went down with you and Reid?” Derek whispered to Emily. “He went by here, about to burst into tears.”

Prentiss hunched up in her chair, heaving a sigh, shaking her head.

“Whatever.  Don’t talk to me then,” Morgan sulked. 

Hotch noticed Reid’s absence as he came out of the conference room and crossed the railed pathway, headed to his office without saying anything to anyone.  He had to walk around JJ to get into his office, took her by the shoulders and moved her gently aside.  JJ was visibly hurt by the brusque treatment.   Hotch closed his door behind himself.  He picked up the phone and started dialing. 

Dr. Forni got a transfer from the Quantico campus to the San Diego offices that same week.   She was gone by Friday.  The transfer had been couched in all the right ways as not to draw attention— it had included a terrific promotion, a substantial raise, a gleaming recommendation from Hotch about Dr. Forni’s indispensable forensic abilities.   Prentiss was downright intimidated by the idea of what Hotch could do when he pulled the right strings. 

6

It wasn’t that Reid was being actively strange after Prentiss confronted him about Dr. Forni, but Emily felt a difference in him.  Whatever ghosts Prentiss had stirred up in Reid weren’t the type of poltergeists that would go away quietly. 

Gideon immediately honed in on the displacement in Reid’s emotional waters, and Emily noted the same protective impulse in Jason that she herself felt when Reid was obviously upset.  At first, Gideon blamed Hotch for this disruption of their careful balance, but a brief and quiet conversation in Hotch’s office had set Jason straight on the cause of Reid’s current funk.  Hotch obviously told Gideon what Dr. Forni had been doing to Reid, or with Reid, or for Reid, depending on the amount of complicity or coercion one read in the arrangement.  Maybe Hotch had also been sounding Gideon’s depths to see if he had had any idea what his surrogate son had been doing down in the morgue.  

Reid brought Prentiss coffee every day for a week, and shied from her when she attempted any conversation other than work.  Emily had no choice but to begin to profile Reid heavily, because she was floundering trying to figure out how to fix what she had broken. 

Gideon sensed that Prentiss was somehow making Reid uneasy, and in turn, Gideon could not have been more unhappy with Prentiss.  She could feel Jason’s disapproval, his inquisitive need to know what had caused this fracture between Emily and Spencer.  His instinctive need to protect Reid had been redoubled by the events with Dr. Forni. Prentiss realized that the entire team, in their own way, put a protective wall around Reid to keep him from harm both emotional and physical.  There was no choice but to break the unspoken rule.  She knew she had to profile how the team treated Reid in order to understand how to fix things between herself and Spencer. 

Morgan teased the hell out of Reid, but was the first to pull Spencer behind himself when guns were drawn and things might get dangerous.  Morgan must have grown up in an environment were gentle mockery went hand in hand with expressions of love, or substituted altogether for kind words when it hurt too much to tell someone how much they really meant to you. 

Gideon was a mentor, a friend, a father.  An oracle.  A deity.  Reid worshipped Gideon, and Jason was a benevolent god.   Reid was a substitute for the son Jason never dared to see.  Gideon was a substitute for the absentee father who had so marred Reid’s emotions that the mere mention of the man made Reid frenzied with anger and hurt. 

Hotch managed to be part Morgan and part Gideon, and another facet that went unnamed but not unfelt.  He could tease and nurture at the same time.  He could wound Reid like no one else with a sharp remark or an admonition that would cut right to the bone.  Morgan was correct in his assessment – Hotch was the worst offender when it came to manipulating Reid’s desperate need for acceptance and approval.  Even when he was pleased with Reid, Hotch could have a hard time showing that approval (stemming from Hotch’s tempestuous and difficult relationship with his own father) so when his approval did show through, Spencer was overly-excited and happy. 

JJ mothered Reid.  Garcia did too, but they acted in different ways.  JJ could always lure Spencer out of a bad mood with distracting conversations about the obscure and arcane knowledge that rattled around in Reid’s mind.  JJ knew that talking helped Reid.  It wasn’t what he said, it was the fact that he was attempting to interact.  The mistake would be to let him withdraw inward and hide away.  JJ patiently endured his ramblings about all things Star Trek.  It was like giving him a favorite toy to stroke when he was upset.   It was comforting.  It calmed his mind, gave him order to realign himself.   

Garcia was more direct.  She treated Reid like a baby brother, like a pet even.   She called him “woobie” even though it always drove him to a fit of pique.  She stroked his hair, she fed him, and she sent him emails that would make him cackle or blush bright red.   She was very subtly introducing the tech-shy Reid to all things electronic.  He would call her when he couldn’t get things on his computer to work.  She would come stand at his side and walk him through them, praise him when he did well, be patient when he was angry and frustrated.   

Dr. Forni had been gone a week when Garcia hustled up to the bullpen and installed a screen-saver on Reid’s machine that was supposed to create individual unique autumn leaves.  He sat and watched it for two hours straight until he exclaimed a happy shriek, shot up off the seat of his chair, and dialed her on the speaker phone. 

“Garcia!  It does so repeat itself, but it takes approximately 17 million leaves before it begins again,” Spencer had said before laughing quickly.

“Oh, honey, that’s nice,” Garcia cooed.  Her voice sweetened even further.  “Derek Morgan, are you there?”

“Yes, baby girl?”

Garcia’s voice dropped and her tone changed.  “What’s the matter with you?  Don’t let him stare at the screen that long.  Take him outside and walk him around in the air for a few minutes before he gives himself an aneurism!”

Prentiss laughed impishly as Derek’s mouth hung open.  Garcia disconnected the line with an impatient growl.  Oblivious to Morgan’s annoyance at being held responsible for him, Reid was smiling happily, counting again as his eyes wandered left to right, reading leaf images as if they were characters in a secret language.  Emily took another sip of perfect coffee.  She stood from her chair and lifted one of Reid’s elbow. 

“Come on.  That’s enough of that.”

When they were in the elevator, Prentiss draped artfully on wall left and Reid nervously facing wall right, she took off her scarf, and from a safe distance, put it around his thin neck, pulling it around itself and tucking it into his coat. 

“I was kidding, you know, about the coffee,” she said, even though every cup had been perfect and dark and delicious the way she preferred, down to the exact amount of sugar and the shot of espresso she wanted.   

“Oh,” was all he said.   He petted her scarf around his neck and gave her a timid look over one shoulder.   Emily suddenly really wanted a cigarette. 

The brief exchange in the elevator only made the situation worse.  They walked in silence around the quad, but silence can be a good thing, Emily attempted to console herself.   She was beginning to despair that things would ever be quite right again.  If only she knew the answer that would smooth this upheaval in their team. 

It couldn’t be that he wanted her to want a favor, could it?

Morgan hadn’t been the first to notice the awkwardness between Reid and Prentiss, but he was the first to act.  His solution was to take them both out on the town clubbing. 

The first night, Emily and Derek spent the evening scoping out every good looking person in the bar, learning they had totally opposite sexual desires, which made Derek the perfect man to go clubbing with, all in all.  Around nine, Reid disappeared to go to the restroom.  They found him an hour later sleeping in the back of Derek’s car.  He could be forgiven—it had been a twelve hour day and he was exhausted.    And it was humanly impossible to be mad at someone wearing socks with bunnies on them.     

Derek took them both out again the next week.  Tried to do so at least once a week if work permitted.  If Reid left the table to go to the restroom, Derek went with him.  Preventative measure, Morgan explained to Prentiss. 

A discrete file landed on Emily’s desk.  Inside was a book about living with Asperger’s Syndrome patients.  Not that cohabitation had been Emily’s goal, but the gesture did not go unappreciated.  Prentiss read the book that night cover to cover, and secretly wished one of the other team members would have thought to slip this to her before this little misunderstanding with Spencer had ever happened.   

The secret, it would appear, was to make herself a part of his comfortable routine, and he would no longer interpret her as a threat to the tranquil order which he craved.  That should be easy.  Right?

Prentiss made small excuses to stop by Reid’s place during off-hours and see him, stay a few minutes and be gone again.  Stay longer if he allowed.  If she could bring one of the other team members too, so much the better.  If not, she would show up alone.  She would bring him movies to watch.  She would bring him books by the bagful.   She brought him food as much as possible.   She would stop by, make him get dressed, and she would take him out to dinner.  She would call and pick his brains, call at random hours when she knew he would not be there, and leave him convoluted messages about cases she couldn’t stop thinking about. 

Eventually, Reid’s icy nervousness thawed out.  He stopped being worried about Prentiss being near him, both emotionally and physically.   She tested these improvements in small ways with mixed results.    

Emily was not allowed under any circumstances to give him a wet-thumb face wash, even when he was speckled with dried blood and brain matter.  He clearly preferred gore to spit-baths then—a good sign. 

Emily could, however, pick up a pillow off the plane cushions and smack him silly with it, and had done so rather vigorously when he wouldn’t stop telling her what a jerk and a knee-biter Ernest Hemingway had been in real life.   She had given him a bloody nose, then pillowed his head on her lap until the bleeding stopped. 

When Emily stood behind Spencer at the conference table, and was able to touch his shoulder, and Reid didn’t flinch away from the touch, Emily wanted to shout with happiness.  Gideon had witnessed the moment, and he beamed a quick smile of congratulations to Prentiss.  Thus Gideon answered the question about who had left the book in the file on her desk. 

Reid stopped putting up a fuss about being dragged out once a week by Morgan and Prentiss, as long as everyone had fun and made it home safely.   

The first time Reid left the bar with someone else, Morgan was all smiles.  Emily wasn’t so thrilled. 

The second time it happened, Prentiss frowned her disapproval, and Reid went anyway. 

The third time, Prentiss might have had one drink too many, because she told the woman to take a hike and tugged Reid to her side, kept a hand on his arm for the rest of the night.  She may have even spent three minutes at his door saying goodnight before finally pressing him against the wall with a full-throttle kiss that left him gasping for breath. 

If Prentiss had kissed him, Reid didn’t mention it on Monday.  Maybe she had only thought she kissed him, dreamed she kissed him, wished she had kissed him?  She was never going to drink that much again. 

The next time someone hit on Reid at the bar on one of their nights out together, Spencer looked to Emily for her approval before responding.  Derek, in turn, was not so thrilled.   The tall, lean stranger seemed bemused by the novelty of it. 

“Have fun, baby,” Prentiss relented, patting Reid’s arm. 

“Night, Mommy,” Reid said as he bent down and nuzzled her cheek shyly.  He pulled hard on Derek’s tie and pecked him on the cheek too.  “Night, Daddy.”

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Morgan said to Prentiss, watching Reid allow himself to be pulled away from the table and towards the door. 

Prentiss ignored Morgan, watching Spencer disappear, wishing herself more like the androgynous blonde in tight leather who was tugging Reid away by one hand.   Blond?  Blonde?  It was hard to say in this light whether it was a man or a woman.   She could only wonder if David Bowie had a love-child living in DC.   It was harder still to judge in the light of the street lamp, where the stranger tugged Spencer close, cradled their tall bodies together, and traced kisses up Reid’s neck.  Emily shivered as if she had felt those kisses too.    

“Why do you say that?” she finally asked Morgan.

“Depends how much you like San Diego?” Derek murmured, cocking a wicked smile at her.  Emily barked up a laugh and nodded to him.

“Point taken.”

7

Weeks passed.  Maybe a month.   Prentiss often found herself in her car, driving around DC.   Tonight, she called Morgan first.  He didn’t answer.  He must have already had plans.  She called JJ, looking for strength and stability.   JJ sounded tired and frazzled.  Emily called Garcia, and a breathless young man answered.  Oops! 

Emily did not call Reid.  Two hours later though, she did find herself parked in front of his apartment building, staring up at his bedroom window.  Blue lights were flickering.  There was a gradual curve to the façade of the pale building, where the fading white-washed bricks were shifting out of sync.  There was ivy climbing everywhere.  A tiny aperture was open near the roof.  As the darkness fell, she saw a small form emerge from the narrow opening and take flight.  Another followed.  Another.  Bats, she decided.    

Emily tipped her head back and laughed, knowing she would tell Derek on Monday and they would both laugh about the bats that lived in Reid’s attic. 

Prentiss stopped fighting her self-doubt, climbed out of the car, and headed upstairs. 

Spencer answered the door as himself, not as Dr. Reid.  There was no suit or sweater vest or tie or shoes.  He was wearing a thin blue tee-shirt and gray sweats.  One red sock and one green.  He was carrying a gigantic bowl of popcorn.  He must have been napping.  His cheek was red and had the thin impression of an edge of a pillowcase  on it.  This was a Spencer Emily didn’t see often – sweet face sleepy, eyes half-closed, his clothes ruffled, his hair unkempt. 

He realized it was her, and he was all business in a flash, coming awake quickly as adrenaline flooded his system.

“I’ll get dressed.  Grab my go-bag.  Why didn’t JJ call?  My phone is on.  Are the others downstairs?  Come in.  I’ll be dressed in two minutes.  Watch out for the books.”

Reid handed her the bowl of popcorn and jetted down the hallway.   She put out a hand and stopped the closest pile of books from falling. 

“Spencer.  Wait,” Emily called out. 

He stopped and faced her.

“It’s not work,” she said. 

“Oh.”

Prentiss closed the door.  Locked it for good measure.  Spencer came back to her and retrieved the bowl of popcorn, hugging it to his chest, nibbling a kernel or two.  She set down her purse.  He stared at her nervously.

“Are you okay, Emmy?”

“Please tell me this isn’t dinner,” she scolded.

“I wasn’t really hungry.  Was watching movies.  Would you like….”

Emily reached over and brushed away a few grains of salt that were stuck on his mouth. 

“Spencer.  I want a favor.”

There.  She had said the words.  Maybe the spell could finally be broken.  It had only taken her weeks to decide this was the answer.  What if she was wrong? 

“Anything you need.  Which case do you want to talk about?”

Reid’s voice trailed off for a second or two.  It was beginning to dawn on him what she might mean.  She thumbed his bottom lip.   Tentatively, teeth met the very edge of her digit.  She was too tempted to resist any longer. 

Emily pounced at Spencer, flattening him to the wall, pinning his hands out to the sides as she crushed his mouth, nearly his entire face, with a kiss that would leave no doubts to her intentions.

Popcorn flew everywhere.  The bowl hit the floor and bounced away.  She could feel kernels being crushed between their chests, could feel them on the floor as she got closer still.  Spencer was moaning appreciatively, opening his mouth wide to her demanding kiss.  Their tongues slid together.  He tasted salty and buttery and sweet as well.  He had a glass of Coke and ice in there in by the tv, Prentiss knew from the way he tasted.   It turned her on to pick up such small details about him this way.  Emily’s hands let go of his hands and went prowling over his body.  She indulged in a prolonged spine caress which made him arch towards her.   She pressed one thigh between his legs and he rubbed his back against the wall, moving up and down, up and down. 

He jerked his leg to one side, and she realized she was stepping on his toes with her big-ass square-heeled boots. 

Emily pulled away from the kiss, put both hands on Reid’s shoulders, and shoved him hard down to his knees on the floor. 

“I want complete and absolute submission,” she demanded, lifting his chin and staring down into his face.  He was a perfect mixture of terrified and anxious and lustful. 

This had been the answer after all, confirming to him that he was desirable, that she did want a favor from him in this form.  Prentiss was kicking herself for not doing this weeks ago!

Their phones both rang in unison.  Hers from her jacket pocket, and his from the living room around the corner of the archway.  

Spencer expelled breathy curses so quietly that Prentiss didn’t realize what he had said until after she had instinctively pulled out her phone and answered.

“Hi, JJ, you’re on speaker,” Emily said, doing her best to sound serious instead of giddy.

Spencer rasped audibly as he stood, faced the wall, leaned against it, panting, pulling himself in check, hoping to calm the body and his breathing.   There was no way he would rid himself of his erection that easily though.  Prentiss almost felt sympathy. 

“This is a bad one, or I wouldn’t have called,” Jureau offered.  So she had heard Reid? 

“We’ll be there in twenty,” Prentiss promised.  “The classic Trek marathon will have to wait, I guess.”

“Get dressed.  We’re downstairs,” Hotch said.  Reid whirled to face the phone in Prentiss’s grip.  Terror lit his face, and certainly helped the other situation, at least for a few seconds. 

Spencer took a five minute cold shower and pulled on fresh clothes.  Emily popped more popcorn.  She refilled the bowl and carried it to the black SUV now parked behind her car downstairs.  It was imperative that she got downstairs before Reid, that she was fully dressed and did not look distracted.   In spite of all her precautions and her nonchalance, Hotch’s dark stare was hard to endure. 

It took Reid seven minutes to get down to the SUV.  He was pulling on a tie.  He climbed into the backseat and found Hotch was holding his bowl of popcorn.  JJ was driving.  At least that meant plenty of leg-room behind the driver’s seat. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Hotch said, giving Reid the popcorn, and manufacturing an air of calculated calm.    

“Are you really?” Reid lashed back, not bothering to cover his sulky tone with anything remotely solicitous and submissive.  

JJ squeezed a smile together and ducked her head.  Emily allowed a smile as well, ducking her chin.  She then realized she had popcorn down her shirt.   JJ saw it too, one perfect pop kernel sitting perched between Emily’s breasts like beautiful pearl buried in the cleft of a clam.   

Jureau snorted discretely and put the SUV in drive. 

Prentiss raised a brow at JJ, refusing to apologize for a single thing.  Emily wet her tongue, extended it downward, and picked up the piece of popcorn with the very tip.  She drew the kernel back into her mouth and savored the memory of pinning Spencer to the wall and kissing him for all he was worth.  JJ was trying not to laugh. 

“Scoot over next to me.  We’re getting Morgan on the way.” Hotch replied, tugging Spencer to the middle and latching him into the seatbelt.   Every time Reid’s long thighs brushed against Hotch’s, Spencer tensed.  His breathing was getting uneven, ragged. 

Prentiss could see in the side-view mirror that Hotch was dipping a hand into the bowl, eating popcorn and feeding some to Reid as well.  Spencer’s anger slowly subsided.  He started accepting popcorn from Hotch’s fingers with closed eyes and an open mouth.  Hotch was positively fixated on Reid’s lips.  If those big hands and flat fingertips maybe brushed Spencer’s mouth too much and too long, Reid wasn’t going to complain.   He might have even scooted an inch closer to Hotch’s side so their hips could brush together as well, opening his mouth a tiny bit further, waiting.   

Prentiss smiled to herself as A Brilliant Idea popped in her head. 

8

The Brilliant Idea was perfectly planned but difficult to execute, because Hotch had figured Prentiss out, and was making her repeated attempts to get Reid alone damned near impossible.  SSA Aaron Hotchner was a truly gifted cock-blocker when he put his mind to the task. 

Prentiss won this territorial battle in the end, but it hadn’t been easy.  It had involved gifting Mr. and Mrs. Hotchner (emphasis on Mrs.) with a wedding anniversary dinner and tickets to live music at Wolftrap and a babysitter to boot.  Upwards of three hundred bucks to get Dr. Spencer Reid alone and naked in her bed?   It would be well worth it if Emily’s hunch played out. 

So much could have gone wrong but did not.  JJ did not call with an emergency case that night.  Morgan did not call with an invitation to go out clubbing.  JJ was busy spending hundreds of dollars on phone calls that would last hours and hours, judging from the busy signals on her phone line. 

Reid did not have other plans for the evening either when Prentiss showed up at his door.  They stared at each other, neither making a move or saying a word.  Prentiss drew out her handcuffs, letting them dangle from one finger. 

“Will I need these?” she asked. 

Spencer snickered, eyes wide. 

“Do I need to come along quietly??” he asked. 

“You can make as much noise as you like, as long as you promise you’ll come,” Emily replied.  Reid blinked helplessly at her, and grabbed his coat. 

During the drive to her house, Prentiss kept waiting for fate to intervene, waiting for Aaron Hotchner to pop around the corner in a black SUV and take her away for these transgressions.  However, they arrived at her place, safe and sound and unmolested, as yet. 

The take-out Indian had been a divine idea.  Feeding Reid small bites from each bowl enticed Mr. Most Fussy Eater to try everything available.  It allowed sharing plates, eating all around the coffee table, reaching across one another randomly to try this or that, invading each other’s space, getting closer and closer on the couch. 

He fidgeted around as they ate and talked, winding up on the floor, leaning on her leg.   There were case files spread out on the floor, catastrophe upon calamity upon misery upon woe.   She closed them all one by one, wanting to tune out all the pain in the world if only for a short while.  Emily petted Spencer’s hair, and he begged for more, planting his thin bottom between her feet, wiggling to get his shoulders between her knees.  It was becoming so easy for her to make Reid feel safe and secure. 

It was almost as easy to miss his mouth with a bite calculated to drip sauce on his clothes. 

“Oh, hold still.  So sorry.  Come on.  We’ll pop that in the machine.”

“It’s okay,” Reid protested.  Prentiss wouldn’t hear otherwise.  She put another bite in his mouth, pulled him to his stocking feet, dragged him to the laundry room.  Reid saw right through the ploy, and frankly, it was pretty contrived, now that she thought about it. 

Prentiss pulled Reid’s shirt tails loose from his pants, unbuttoned the shirt, stripped it off his body.  She didn’t stop at his shirt, and he didn’t complain. 

Amid tentative kisses and exploring hands, she didn’t even bother turning on the washing machine, left his clothes in a pile, dragged him naked by the hand to the bedroom and put him down on the bed.  He crawled under the covers and averted his eyes as she undressed.  Emily wasn’t sure what to make of that, to be honest. 

Prentiss got between the covers and indulged in a long, slow kiss before stroking one finger under Reid’s chin and repeating the words from before, the mantra she wanted to guide the entire evening.

“Complete and total submission.”

Spencer acquiesced at once, lying back, closing his eyes, waiting obediently.

Emily quelled the terrible feeling in her heart that this was a frightening position of power to hold over someone so vulnerable, and she promised herself that she would not abuse either the position or the person who was trusting her so. 

She wished her hands weren’t trembling as she caressed Spencer’s warming skin, dotting kisses as she traced patterns and pathways along his unwinding body.  She wished she had done this before.  She wished she didn’t know this could not happen again, ever, not just because it could wreck their working relationship, and draw the ire of Aaron Hotchner, but also because it would be too easy to become addicted to the quiet moans she was eliciting with each stroke, each kiss, each flick of her tongue. 

She knew too well the dangers of getting too attached to someone this delicate. 

Spencer was beyond ready when Emily put her lips to his ear and said the words she’d been longing to say all night.

“Turn over.”

“What?” Reid whispered in between gasps.

“Complete and total submission.”

He turned onto his stomach, puzzled, confused, clearly concerned what sort of depravity she was about to spring on him. 

“Close your eyes,” she said, and he did. 

She opened and closed a side drawer.  He might have tried to peek, but saw nothing.  Her surprise for him waited under the bed, not in the nightstand with the lubricant.   The sex toy was easy to retrieve after a subtle fumble of the tube in her hand, dropping it to the carpet.  She bent over the bed and back up again, surprise in hand.   

Her package had arrived last week.  She knew her internet surfing from the next few months would be littered with ads for lesbian porn sites and adult sex shops, but she didn’t care.   The wearable dildo, meant for one female partner to use to please another, was easy to strap on without brushing Reid’s burning hot skin. 

Trying not to laughing gleefully in anticipation – now that was fucking difficult. 

Emily spread kisses over Reid’s shoulders, feeling evil and predatory and conversely so ready for this.  This must have been how an unsub felt when they had their victim right where they wanted them, and they were ready to pounce.   Emily positioned herself between Reid’s legs, kneading his backside, stroking his thighs on either side, telling herself not to rush. 

“Why…..” Reid started to ask.

“Spencer, stop thinking,” Emily scolded. 

She slid one lube-slickened finger against his entrance, and he lifted five inches straight up with a sharp keen of fear.  

“Down,” she ordered, left hand on the small of his back.  She pushed.  He obeyed, shaking all over.   She wished her thoughts wouldn’t go where they must be led by such a response – why was he so afraid?  

“Stay,” she said.  He gulped loud enough to hear and feel.   “You can trust me with your life, Spencer.”

“I trust you with my life, but not with my……ahn……oh….oh my…..”

Emily introduced another finger, and he whimpered, scared, and she was understandably worried.  What dire ghosts had she resurrected in his memory?  Her Brilliant Idea was spawning a Very Bad Feeling. 

“Spencer, you can trust me.  I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Oh…oh…oh,” he shuddered as her fingertips found his prostate and stroked his sweet spot with skilled intent.  He rose to his knees, and she followed, because there was a lot of thigh to be concerned with equalizing there in order to maintain a dominant position over him. 

“Don’t analyze.  Just feel.”

“You want me to close my eyes and think of France?” he quipped acidly. 

“No, but don’t tense up.”

“You’ve got your fah….uhn….mmmm…..oh…..up…..mmm….”

Relaxing him and loosening him up was going to take fucking forever, Emily thought as she rolled her eyes.  Another finger was better.  Spencer was thinking less and feeling more.  He melted closer to the bed, and arched back into the anticipated forward stroke.  Emily’s work was rewarded with a sensual rumble and a soft word.

“Please,” he moaned.   

Another stroke, another word.

“More.”

“So much more,” she promised.   “Oh, baby, you have no idea.” 

Prentiss carefully slickened the sex toy, and put both hands on his hips.  A gentle push introduced the shaped tip to his entrance, and Reid stilled to a complete stop, drawing in a surprised breath.   One long arm and prehensile fingers grasped her shoulder. 

“Stop….” he whimpered.  True fear.

Prentiss waited, not withdrawing, but not moving forward.  She shadowed Spencer’s form, kissed her way along his spine and shoulders and neck.  She kissed the hand that had reached at her.

“It’s okay.  Shhh.  Trust me, baby.  I won’t hurt you.”

She pushed slowly inside him as far as he would allow.  She cloaked his form with hers and slowly retreated, pushed in again even slower, nuzzling his neck and behind his ear.  Reid coiled away from that move,  made a delicious whisper of pleasure somewhere between an inhalation of breath and an “ah” sound.  That sound had been worth the price of admission.  The shudder that quaked through his thighs and back nearly undid the night too early for both of them.    

Prentiss had forgotten how much she enjoyed this, using toys on submissive partners, giving into her naturally dominant nature.   She wished for the first time ever that she did not have breasts, not only because the feel of his searing hot skin was driving her crazy as her sensitive nipples brushed his back with each thrust, but because she worried the feeling of boobs on his back was going to ruin the illusion she wanted to create for Reid.

She interrupted the careful ballet they had begun, pulling out of him, kissing his neck, caressing his ribs. 

“Turn around.”  

Spencer obliged at once.  Oh, that was much better.  Emily could watch his face.  She nuzzled his damp lashes, caressing his nose with hers. 

“Keep your eyes closed.”

Reid nodded, biting his bottom lip.  He suppressed a tiny giggle, watching her with eyes that glowed with mischief and disbelief before closing them again. 

“Hands above your head.”

Prentiss had demanded that because it had worked for Dr. Forni, and it felt necessary for Reid.  He would only get into mischief if he wasn’t told what to do with himself.   Emily continued with each husky order in turn.

“Up a little.”

She put a hand on his hip to guide him, touching his mouth with her own, giving those soft lips a tantalizing brush.

“Spread your legs.”

“Ummm….”  He groaned as she kissed him.  That was certainly a different sound for him.  Those words, they had touched a good memory. 

“Knees up.  I said spread your legs.”

“Mmmm.” The same sound, only deeper.  He obliged, nestled in tight, lifted his knees to cradle her form above him.   He wasn’t entirely stupid about how to be a bottom, that much was clear.  It occurred to her that his frightened words from before, that he might have been role-playing what he thought she wanted from him.

‘Oh, well-played, Dr. Reid,’  Prentiss mused to herself.  He had profiled her desire to dominate him, and her need to protect him as well.  Would he break frame if she confronted him about this tactic, or would he keep himself in his role?  Was he even playing a role with her?  She couldn’t be sure.   Even this close, it was hard to tell.   Reid gave new meaning to the term “guarded”. 

“That’s better.  Don’t move.”

She wondered if he wanted her to talk dirty to him?  She wasn’t sure she could do that yet.  Didn’t want to scare him too much at this juncture.   But the prospect of taking a tempting little biscuit like this along for a Sin-To-Win weekend wet more than just Emily’s appetite.    

She pulled Spencer demandingly where she wanted him, and slid back inside him with one gentle push. 

“Up,” she demanded.  His legs clutched her sides, perhaps too tightly.

“Okay,” Spencer whispered a soft whine and throaty laugh at the same time. 

“Close your eyes.  Let me….”

Perhaps they had found balance at last?  They moved together, and the change of position had helped.  Spencer was melting again at once.  

“Oh…oh…oh…”

That was more like it.  It was sweet music to her ears to listen to him groan and whine and whimper happily in reply to each thrust.   Being behind him had scared him, but face to face didn’t scare him at all (well, going on the assumption he wasn’t toying with her).  It was even easier to read his facial expressions too, learn the rhythm that best shut down his brain and turned on his body.  She was playing him by ear, so to speak.  Emily got in one rough thrust, another rough thrust, and that sent Reid into an extended shiver which made her almost forget why she had orchestrated this in the first place.  There was one more door to open.

“Emmy……” he crooned breathlessly. 

“No,” she scolded gently in reply.   

“Emmy….” he repeated.

“No,” she answered. 

He stifled the next breathless whisper.  She held her balance, arms aching, and moved in for the kill, each thrust growing more fervent, each kiss growing rougher, each pause between one push and the next getting smaller and smaller.  She could feel the pulse inside her own body, the familiar reward, the demanding contraction and quiver of orgasm.  It was getting harder and harder to think and not simply act.   She wanted to take this damned thing off and slide his cock inside her, needed to feel him as deep as she wanted.  She had to keep control though, in spite of sore knees and aching desires.   The reward at the end would be greater, to be sure, an answer to the question that had plagued her for weeks and weeks. 

“Em….” Reid tried and couldn’t get her name out this time before he was gasping again.   She stifled the sound with a kiss.  He arched with her, moved with her in a coordination, a race that rocked the bed, a harmony that she knew would lead to good things.  He turned his head to one side, drew an arm down from above his head.  He began sucking the side of his thumb and then on two fingers, biting down, trying to silence his own cries and his loosened tongue.  His other hand traveled down his chest, and he stroked himself between their bodies in time to her thrusts. 

Prentiss paused long enough to pull Spencer’s hand away from his mouth.  She held that wrist tight to the mattress and leaned down into him.  She nipped at his slickened fingers, bit his bottom lip, bit his chin, kissed and licked and teased his throat.  She dipped her tongue behind his ear, lapping with every thrust, grunting softly in exertion as she rode him harder and harder, and finally won.   

Reid stopped thinking altogether and lost control.  His hand shivered under her tight grip, and his hips bucking wantonly as he gasped and stammered.    

“Oh…..Hotch….Hotch….oh…..Hotch…Hotch…. Hotch…..Hotch….”

A gleeful flush of success washed over Emily’s body.  Spencer was echoing incoherent cries of pleasure, spilling seed and secrets between their sweat-drenched bodies. 

9

SSA Aaron Hotchner officially hated Prentiss’s guts for tricking him and being first to find the way into Reid’s inner-most affections.   He made no secret of his jealousy either.  He cloaked his dislike in appropriate workplace authority, but Emily felt it all the same.   It was hard not to smack Aaron, honestly it was.  If Hotch had had any idea the route Emily had taken to get inside Reid’s walls, he might have been a little more forgiving.  But then she couldn’t tell Hotch that she had had to pretend to be him to get Reid off, could she?  Regardless of how shocked Hotch would be, and how delicious it would be to be the one who had so shocked him, that move would have crushed Reid entirely, and that was not something Emily was willing to do. 

On the plane riding back from a case, it hit Emily how much power she was holding over Reid when Spencer didn’t sit on the chair as they all spoke in a group together.  He sat on the floor at her feet, his bony bottom nestled between her big-ass square-heeled boots. 

Gideon smiled, pleased with the calmness he felt in Reid’s emotional waters.  That gesture of submission, sitting at Emily’s feet, it was all about trust.  Emily had earned Spencer’s trust.  Gideon was so happy. 

Morgan and JJ recounted the tale of the case to each other, and Emily only half-listened.   While Morgan and JJ had been busily chasing a serial killer and had  stumbled upon a secret drug ring, Prentiss and Reid had spent twelve hours in a panel van, ostensibly on stake-out, in surveillance of a material witness.   A joke about why Reid wore his gun on his front instead of his side had led to the inevitable and the irresponsible.  They had rubbed each other to orgasm so many times—teeth, tongues, fingers, and hands—that she had yet to come back down. 

Emily concentrated on the warm hips at her heels, squeezed her knees a bit, wishing they were back in Virginia, wishing she could take Spencer home with her and spend the night making his thighs sweaty and his hands dirty. She remembered how good those long fingers felt inside her.  She wanted that mouth on her nipples again.  She wondered how quickly she could get Reid out of his clothes if she promised to use the special toy on him again. 

The look Prentiss was getting from Hotch was growing more hostile by the minute.  She realized she was petting the nape of Reid’s neck, caressing the back of one ear with a short nail.  Was he making that pleading puppy noise she was hearing?  Jesus Christ.  Talk about a hair-trigger! 

Gideon read the storm in Hotch’s face, and he tapped Spencer on the head. 

“Let Emily and I play chess.  You can watch.  Maybe learn a new trick or two?”

“No,” Hotch intervened.  “You and Prentiss play.  I need to talk to Reid.”

“Bye,” Prentiss purred, dragging nails through Spencer’s locks on her way stepping over and around his coiled-up limbs. 

Emily settled into the chess board with Gideon, positioning herself to watch Hotch drag Reid to the seating area at the far end of the plane.  As Gideon set up the chess board, Hotch put Spencer down in a seat and sat across from him, taking the stance of elbows on knees, legs cocked to each side, leaning in face to face.  It was a serious discussion.  Hotch was giving Reid a metaphoric whack on the nose.  Prentiss couldn’t see Hotch, or know what he was saying, because his position kept his face from view.  The miserable penitence that took over Spencer’s face said everything she needed to know though. 

They were not going to get a chance to sleep together again, not if SSA Hotchner could help it. 

Spencer hung his chin to his chest and leveled sad puppy eyes at Aaron.  Hotch patted one of Reid’s knees, held on a moment longer than he should have because Spencer shuddered from the touch.  Remembering himself, Hotch stood up, coming back towards to Morgan and JJ.  

Reid remained where Hotch had put him, so much like a child being placed in the corner for bad behavior.  A wounded pout took over his boyish features.  Hotch heard Reid’s expression change, no lie, and faced Reid again, silently chastising him for his willfulness.   Reid crumbled under Hotch’s stern gaze.   He folded his body down into the adjoining seat and decided on a nap, but not without a pitiful sigh as he wrapped himself up in a big blanket. 

Hotch returned to the rest of the group, giving Prentiss a stern look that said they were going to talk later.  She was so proud of herself for resisting the urge to flip him off.

“It’s your move, my dear.  I suggest you tread carefully,” Gideon whispered.  Emily met Jason’s eyes, and a wise smile traced his lips. 

more Hotch/Reid to come

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