To Pull Through
by étienneofthewestwind
Disclaimer: Ownership—No monetary claim.
Summary: Hotch, a crime scene, and a sticky situation...
"Anything of interest?" David Rossi asked.
"Hang on," Aaron Hotchner said to the older profiler as he picked up the nitrile glove he had fumbled. "I´m not quite ready." It was days like this that the brunette man wished they could use powdered gloves. But no, they could not risk contaminating a crime scene on the off chance the unsub used the same type of powered glove.
Nitrile gloves might be less of an allergen and more comfortable than latex—at least these stretchy blue ones—but they had their share of headaches. Including nitrile´s tendency to stick to itself where any moisture may have dried out. Normally, that translated to pulling one glove from the box and getting twelve. Sometimes one side of a glove stuck to the other until someone forced their hand into it.
Assuming they did not became a butterfingers when the glove was stuck shut near the wrist.
"To go through a dresser?" Rossi asked.
Aaron peeled the wrist apart and shoved his right hand into the glove only to find his fingers stopped an inch into the glove. "Not gloved up yet," he replied sourly as he pulled on the glove, forcing his hand further in. His fingertips reached the glove´s fingers, but the stuck patch persisted.
What the hell? Did the factory spray water into it or something? Aaron wondered. His other glove, the one on top of this one, had slid effortlessly onto his left hand. Another tug and his thumb, ring, and little finger found themselves free of the resistance.
But with the middle and index fingers still virtually glued shut, Aaron found himself insufficently gloved to do anything with his hand. Pulling the wrist just resulted in an uncomfortble pressure on his fingers as some slipped further into their intended sheaths than others. Frustrated he grabbed the base of the middle finger and pulled it further down.
"Need any help there, Hotch?"
He could hear the amusement in Prentiss' voice.
"I'll get it," Aaron insisted, switching over to the index finger. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rossi and Prentiss watching him.
Along with the locals.
"Don't you guys have a search to do?" he growled as he switched back to his index finger. If he had known the glove was this bad, he would have just pitched it and grabbed another. He had half a mind to anyway, but he would rather not endure ribbing for losing a battle against a damn glove. He had less than an inch left for each finger. All he needed to do was continue switching off—
He must have pulled a weak spot in the nitrile because the next thing Aaron knew, he had ripped off the entire palm.
As he pulled the remains of the now-useless glove off, he could hear muffled snickering from one of the locals. Aaron ignored it as he stalked over to the supplies for a fresh glove. Rossi met his eyes and smirked before turning back to his section off the hotel room.
Yep. Definitely hearing all about it later…