Reid felt his back hit the soft foam of the fake rock as hands roamed under his vest and his shirt. Neon lights flickered around them, giving the falsified aura of a post-apocalyptic wasteland where neon and black lights are the only way to illuminate the battlefield that had been so unpleasantly struck by laser warfare. More vital to Reid, though, were the eager lips that trailed from his mouth to his neck and back again with little resolve to stop.
The artificial sounds of big, plastic laser guns bounced around the walls, ducking through darkened arches and ultraviolet paint that was beginning to chip at the edges. Reid tucked his lip between his teeth and sighed, "Here, of all places?"
"Yes," the gruff voice murmured against his neck. Reid's chest moved up and down under his vest, mumbling something under his breath about waiting until they could go home, but he himself couldn't wait for whatever Hotch was willing to give. The sounds of shooting drew closer, and as Reid opened his mouth to suggest they move out of the line of fire.
His lips snapped shut as soon as Hotch bit down on the place between his collarbone and his jugular that always made him make the weirdest noises. Not today. "Aaron."
"Have I ever told you I have a thing for you in a vest?"
Reid nodded as much as he could with his neck stretched out like it was, making a noise between a giggle and a gasp as a cold hand grasped needily at his hip, "You tell me every time I wear a vest. Which is pretty often."
"That makes sense."
Within the throngs of what should have been a very intense and crippling make out session in the dark, Reid was aware with his surroundings. He recognized the pings of his own team and grinned to himself, glancing down at the glowing red of Hotch's vest intermingling with the bright blue of his own.
Before the older man knew it, a plastic gun was pointed to his chest and the hunter had quickly become the hunted.
"What the hell?" Hotch whined, watching as the agents on the blue team encircled him like sharks with big grins on their faces.
"I know you have a thing for vests," Reid shrugged. "What's the one competitive, fun sport I can do that includes vests and dark rooms?"
"Laser tag," Hotch mumbled.
The rest of Hotch's team followed, their tails tucked between their legs, their lights flashing as a sign of their defeat. They looked up at Hotch in apology, but they only got a glare in return.
"You're sleeping on the couch," the older man mumbled.
"Gladly. You'll be doing all of our laundry for the next month, just like our deal."
Hotch shook his head, "Ugh. Just shoot me already."