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A/n please be warned of spoilers for "A Thousand Words. This little ficlet was inspired by Garcia and Rossi's conversation about "Epiderm Artistry."
Epiderm Artistry
He unclipped his watch and laid it on top of the dresser. He sighed as he took a good long look at his ugly mug in the mirror. He thought, as he removed his jacket, that time hadn't been kind to his face. He let his beard and mustache grow because it hid what he thought to be his weak chin and jaw. His took off his pants and shirt next and placed them neatly into the laundry bag destined for the dry cleaners.
He padded barefoot to his bed and lay down between the cool sheets. If he could just get some sleep that night. He shut off the lamp and closed his eyes. Then, he opened them because all he could see in his head was blood and brain matter splattered all over an old light fixture. All he could hear was the wailing of a newborn little boy, now without parents. He should've been happy for the boy, but… He sighed again and turned over.
Twenty minutes later, he turned on the light, squinted against the glare and rolled over to get out of bed. He picked up his light blue silk robe and went down the hall to his office. His briefcase sat perched on his office chair where he'd left it, forgetting to unpack if from the last case. He opened it and pulled out his PDA. The small electronic device never failed to make him smile. Two years ago, he wouldn't have known a PDA from a hole in the wall. Then she had come into his life with all her fabulous color.
He sank down in the chair and sighed again. Somehow, without trying, she'd managed to punch a hole into his well-ordered life. His life had been going along just fine. He hadn't wanted anything to change. He put down the PDA on the desk and sat back in the chair with his head pillowed on the high back.
The fact was that she was almost young enough to be his daughter. She had a boyfriend she adored and she was his subordinate. All of the rules in place against fraternization had come about because of his antics twenty-five years ago. His three ex-wives could attest to his coldness and distance.
He put his hands together and steepled his fingers under his chin. He could deny and excuse it all he liked, but it didn't change the fact that he couldn't imagine his life without her around. If she ever left the BAU, grey would come back into his life. He didn't want that again.
He got up and left the study, shutting out the lights as he went. He'd be sensible, go to bed and to sleep, not to think about things that couldn't and wouldn't happen, even if he slipped up again and called her kitten. He grimaced at the memory. He'd actually called her kitten. What had he been thinking?
He decided to blame it on her flirty banter with Morgan. It must rub off after awhile. Then she used the words 'epiderm artistry' and admitted that she knew that not everybody in the body art lifestyle went through official channels. Now, all he could think about was where her tattoo might be.
He shut off the light again after getting into bed. No! He would not let that train of thought follow through to its conclusion. It didn't matter where that tattoo might be. It was none of his business.
He closed his eyes. It was time to be sensible and think about something besides wondering if she had a butterfly tattoo or a rose, or the words "Come and get it big boy," somewhere on her…
Stop it!
It was just the stress of the case and the heat of Florida. He'd just keep repeating to himself, "That's all it is old man, just the heat of the day!"