A/N: My characters chosen for this exercise were Hotch and Morgan, but another one kinda wound up featuring a bit, too. Ah, well. The strange holiday chosen was "Be Late for Something Day"

Aaron Hotchner flung an arm over his eyes and groaned.

Up before his alarm. Again.

It'd been around one hundred days now. One hundred days of bouncing back and forth between meetings with the director, and meetings with local cops on cases. One hundred days of paperwork on said cases, and paperwork for that paperwork. One hundred days of getting up far earlier than he was used to, so he could start work on all the things Strauss used to do before moving on to his own duties.

And still there was no word about her replacement. Still they waited to get a definite answer from Hotch.

Just debating the idea was enough to make Hotch sweat. One hundred days, and he honestly didn't know what to do. On the one hand, he'd worked his ass off for years. After all that time, he certainly wanted to see all that hard work pay off somehow. People remarked that he practically lived at the office after a while, and he wouldn't dare argue that fact. He had the evidence of what his workaholic tendencies did to his personal life alone to prove it.

That was another consideration for the "pros" column. If, indeed, this job meant manageable hours for him in regards to Jack as well, all the better. There were days he found himself taken aback at just how fast his son was growing up. A couple more years and he'd be in double digits, and Hotch seemed to be doing nothing but simply letting that time fly by.

On the other hand, however, now that the opportunity presented itself, he felt…scared. All those old insecurities came flooding back. The kind he felt when the team would be in flux, members coming and going. When he couldn't save those close to him from tragedy. When cases he got deeply involved in didn't end the way he wanted. He already had to try and shoulder enough responsibilities, had already dealt with enough failures. Hell, in his mind, his own actions were a big part of the reason he was in this situation to begin with. If they'd caught on to the Replicator sooner, if they'd gotten to Strauss in time, if they'd protected her better…

The looks on his team's faces whenever the subject came up weren't helping, either, nor was their incessant discussion about the topic itself. It was beyond apparent that they didn't want him to leave, and he sure as hell didn't want to leave them, either. They were easily the biggest reason for the "cons" column.

Plus, yes, he did a lot of desk work as part of the BAU team, but if that was the only thing he had to do, all day, every day…he didn't even want to imagine what that'd do to him. Being in the field kept him energized and alert – it was a better pick-me-up than coffee some days.

Frankly, he felt if he had to look at one more file, have one more meeting with the director, call one more official about something or other, he was sure his head would literally explode. He'd even expressed as much to Beth during one of their recent phone conversations, over Labor Day weekend, no less – a holiday which he was definitely not kicking back and enjoying.

oooo

"Hi."

"Hey."

Beth frowned at the weariness on the other end.

"That bad, huh?" She could just picture piles of paper surrounding his head, hiding him.

"Yeah." Hotch ran a hand through his hair and over his face. "I'm really glad you called, I could use the distraction."

"Too bad I'm not actually there. I could give you a nice massage." She added a bit of gentle teasing to her voice, hoped she'd be able to picture his gorgeous, adorable smile.

Oh, how he wished she would... "Maybe next time you come over? If I actually have a moment free?"

"I think that can be arranged." She pinned the phone between her head and shoulder as she began stirring her dinner on the stove. "You know, you should just call in sick one day."

"Believe me, I've thought about that. I'd hate to miss an entire day, though. The paperwork –"

"- would pile up, and be even worse," Beth finished. "Yeah. Good point." Then a lightbulb went on in her head. "Buuuuuuuut…there is something else you could do."

Hotch sat up straighter. "I'm listening."

"I saw mention of it online the other day. Apparently there's this thing called, 'Be Late for Something Day'."

Hotch raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah. It's on the fifth of September."

"This coming Thursday," Hotch noted.

"Right! You could come in late, make up some simple excuse as to why. At the very least, you'd be able to sleep in for a few hours."

Hotch was increasingly excited. The idea sounded very, very tempting.

But no. If they were indeed getting desperate with the whole section chief thing, he had to be sure he'd be there should they need him.

"It's a nice idea, hon, and you're sweet to suggest it. But…I don't know…" Hotch replied, and Beth frowned at the dejection she heard over the phone. She wouldn't push it, though.

"Well, it's up to you, of course. Just thought I'd mention it. I don't want you to wear yourself out."

"I understand. I appreciate the concern, thank you." With that, the two finished out their conversation, said their "I love you"s, and hung up, she to eat her dinner, he to continue on working. Hotch pushed her suggestion to the back of his mind, though it didn't seem all that keen to stay there.

oooo

Now, though, as Hotch lay in his oh-so-comfortable bed, head resting on his newly purchased soft, puffy pillows, the darkness of his room told him to close his eyes and go back to sleep, like every other normal person would at this hour.

He could do it. Couldn't he? Given that he had worked hard enough, he'd earned the free time, right? He could probably count on one hand total the number of times he's been late.

"Beth, you're a genius," he murmured as he let his eyelids droop.

Jack was happy, yet confused.

His dad was in the kitchen. Making breakfast. Wearing his pajamas. No Aunt Jessica to be found. Was he sick? Jack hoped not.

"Daddy?"

Hotch whipped his head around to see his son standing in the doorway. "Hey, Jack!" he said happily. "Hungry?"

Jack nodded, still unsure of what was going on.

"Omelettes sound good?"

Jack nodded again, now excited. Not often he had the chance to eat those much. Normally it was oatmeal. Quicker and easier to make most mornings.

Satisfied, Hotch placed two plates on the table, and Jack scrambled to his seat, eager to dig in.

"How come you're still home?" he asked as he shoved a bite of food into his mouth.

"Ahhhhh…I'm just running a little late today."

"You'll have to bring a note," Jack reminded him. He'd get in trouble if he didn't bring a note to school, and he didn't want that to happen to his dad.

Hotch chuckled. "I'll be sure to do that," he said, ruffling his son's hair.

"Are you taking me to school today?"

"I sure am." Hotch smiled fondly at his son. "Aunt Jessica's going to pick you up, as usual, though."

"Yay!" This arrangement worked just fine for Jack.

"How's school been going, by the way?"

That sent his son off and running. From breakfast all the way through to the drive to school, Hotch eagerly listened to all the details Jack had to share. He liked his new teacher, there was a kid in his class who was a bit of a bully, they were going to do cool science experiments, and could Reid help him with those (to which Hotch agreed), and math would be a bit tougher this year, but that was okay, he still liked math.

A quick goodbye hug and wave, and Hotch watched Jack happily run off towards his school, catching up with a friend of his along the way.

Manageable hours, a voice in Hotch's head reminded him as he drove off. He felt a knot start to form in the pit of his stomach.

Derek Morgan knocked on the door to the apartment. "Hotch?" he asked, his voice loud and clear.

No answer.

Morgan rapped on the door again, a little stronger this time. "Hotch?"

Still nothing.

Now Morgan began pounding. "HOTCH? You okay, man?" he shouted, panic starting to set in.

He'd been sent out by Garcia when nobody could get a hold of their boss. By ten am, when he still hadn't shown up, everyone was starting to get anxious.

Now it was ten-thirty in the morning, and Morgan stood outside what appeared to be an empty apartment. What was going on? Where in the world was their boss?

He was seriously considering breaking in the door when his phone rang. Glancing at it, he saw it was Garcia.

He tried to hold in a groan. This would not be a fun phone call.

"Baby Girl! Listen, I don't know how to tell you –"

"That evil, evil man!"

Morgan blinked. "…excuse me?"

"I know why Hotch is late!"

"You do? Well, enlighten me, then. Is he okay?"

"Oh, he's just fine. Turns out he planned to be late today. I was talking to Reid about this, 'cause you weren't here for me to vent to and I was telling him how worried I was because Hotch is always here before any of us and I remembered what happened all the other times certain members of our team didn't show up and –"

"Garcia," Morgan interrupted, running a hand over his face. "What happened?"

"Oh. Right. Well, anyway, a lightbulb went on in Reid's head, as it always does, and he told me that today is 'Be Late for Something Day'."

Morgan stood in the hallway, slack-jawed. "…what?" he asked, impatience beginning to seep into his voice.

"Yeah. Apparently you can just decide to be late for whatever on this day. And today happens to be this day. Or that day. You know what I mean. Anyway, Rossi just got a call from Hotch, and he's on his way to work now."

Morgan gritted his teeth. Good thing he didn't mess with Hotch's door. "All right. Thanks, Garcia."

He tried to remain calm the entire drive back to work, but so far, it wasn't working.

What was Hotch thinking? Being late in and of itself, okay, fine, that happens. But to not tell anyone about it? To make them all worry? Forget all the concerns they had about him possibly taking Strauss' job, what if he'd been hurt? Or worse?

And one more thing: if Hotch knew this day existed…why didn't he tell the rest of the team about it? He didn't know about the others, but Morgan had been taking over some of Hotch's duties while he filled in for Strauss these last few months. Lord knows he sure as hell could've used a late morning of his own!

Hotch dashed into the building, working his way through the usual security clearances, tapping his feet and looking at his watch all the while. It was getting close to eleven am. He hadn't meant to be THIS late!

Finally, once he made his way through, once he'd stepped off the elevator, he began briskly walking towards the bullpen, only to bump right into someone along the way.

"Agent Hotchner." Hotch heard the voice of the person he ran into. "So good of you to join us today."

Hotch backed up, getting a good look at the other man. Hispanic. Slightly shorter than him, but he used his height to his full advantage, clearly wanting to be taken seriously. They looked to be around the same age. His hair was graying, with flecks of white along the sides. Dark eyes, which were now glowering at Hotch.

"Yes, I'm late, I know, it was my own stupid fault, now if you'll excuse me…"

"But Agent Hotchner –"

"I said, excuse me!" Hotch snapped, as he pushed past the man and headed into the bullpen towards his team. He was greeted by six faces that were a mix of irritation and confusion.

"Sorry I'm late, everyone." He made sure he sounded as apologetic as possible. "I know I should've called, I just got so caught up this morning."

"Were you spending time with Jack?" Rossi asked.

"Yes."

"Then you're forgiven." Rossi gave his old friend a comforting smile.

"We thought something happened to you, Hotch," Morgan explained, some residual anger still evident. "We thought you might've been hurt."

"Or we thought it had something to do with the…the new job," Garcia continued, her voice small.

"I'm sorry if I upset or scared you guys. I just…really needed a break. I've been working so hard, as you all know, and I've barely seen my son. I know I worried you though, and again, I'm sorry. I promise I won't do this again. At least, not without telling you all ahead of time."

"It's okay, Hotch. Like Rossi said, we understand," Blake said gently. The others slowly nodded their agreement.

"On a better note, this morning did give me a little more time to think things over regarding the new job, though," Hotch continued, looking pointedly at Garcia.

"Have you made a decision?" Reid asked tentatively.

"Yes." Hotch took a moment before continuing. "And I've decided –"

"Ah, there you all are!"

Everyone turned to look in the direction of the sudden interruption.

"I'm glad you're all here. Follow me." The director passed by the group, gesturing towards the conference room. A glance passed between all of them before they shrugged, doing as they were told.

"As you obviously know, we've been trying for the past few months to look for someone to fill Erin Strauss' position," the director said, once everyone had made their way inside. "We needed someone who could put in the hours. Someone who knew how to manage a team, who worked hard and properly went through the chain of command. Who had a strong record with all the cases they dealt with over the years."

The team nodded, trying to keep their faces neutral.

"I'm pleased to tell you all that we've finally found him." The director stood next to Hotch, gazing at him meaningfully. Hotch saw nervous glances pass between the others. He gulped.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet your new section chief, Matt Cruz."

A tall-ish, fifty-something Hispanic man with greying hair, sprinkled with flecks of white, stepped out from behind the door and stood next to the director.

Hotch's face turned pale.

"Care to explain your extreme lateness today now, Agent Hotchner?" Cruz asked, eyebrows raised, a smirk on his face.

As always, I welcome reviews/critiques/etc.!