Title: Reid Puts His Foot In It

Rating: T

WC: ~2,100

Pairing: Hotch/Reid, established relationship.

Summary: Reid couldn't resist trying to get a closer look at the tiles decorating the ceiling in a Santa Fe bathroom, but how will he get his foot out of the toilet without a little help? Comedy/fluff.

The team was in Sante Fe, New Mexico; they had just finished up what was, for the BAU, a cut-and-dried case. They had managed to catch the unsub in less than 2 full days, before he had claimed any more victims, and no one had even come close to having a gun pointed at them. It couldn't have gone better if Hotch had scripted the whole thing himself.

To celebrate, he'd decided to take the team for dinner and let them have a full night's rest before taking off in the morning. They wound up at a local favorite Mexican restaurant recommended by the SFPD. The wait was over a half-hour, but after the 6 team members actually in Santa Fe had been gazing hungrily inside the restaurant for only 10 minutes, the hostess walked over.

"We have a table that usually seats four open, if you're all okay with squeezing a bit," she told them. Hotch ran a cursory glance over his teammates and stood when no one objected.

"We'll take it," he said.

The hostess walked them into the restaurant and started laying menus on the only open table; it had a bench instead of chairs, and it was quickly obvious they'd be sitting three to a side. Hotch claimed the closest corner seat and watched as the other team members sorted out their own seating arrangements.

JJ climbed as lady-like as was possible in a skirt over the bench Hotch had chosen, leaving a space in the middle that Morgan filled. Rossi sat directly opposite Hotch; Reid glanced at Prentiss before mock-sighing and sitting next to Rossi, allowing her the coveted end-seat.

"I guess we're all too chivalrous to squish the ladies," Morgan grinned.

Hotch actually smiled and laughed, "God, Morgan, don't get Reid talking about chivalry or we'll never hear the end of it!" His eyes found Reid's as he made sure the younger man knew he was only teasing.

Reid smiled, too, and began his expected discourse. "The term originates from the French word chevalier, or mounted knight; it actually didn't take on a clearly defined meaning until the 15th century, when it became used to describe a specific code of conduct knights were expected to follow…" he allowed himself to trail off as the group's laughter washed warmly over him.

Then the waiter came; he took their drink orders and left the hungry agents to stare at the menus. Reid surveyed his happily, trying to decide what he should order. When he had finally made up his mind, he sat down his menu and looked at his team, his gaze settling on Hotch.

His lips curled as he remembered the kiss Hotch had stolen in the hallway in the unsub's house right after they'd handed him over to the police. Reid and Hotch had been walking outside to drive back to the station when Hotch had stopped walking, grabbed Reid's hand, and push/pulled him against the wall as he captured Reid's mouth. The kiss hadn't lasted long, but it had completely stolen Reid's breath and caused him to grin like a fool as he walked outside to the SUV… just as he was grinning now merely thinking about it.

Morgan waved his hand in front of Reid's face.

"Reid? You there? What the hell you grinnin' about, man?" he asked.

Reid shook his head to clear his mind and answered an unconvincing, "Nothing."

"I wish I had a 'nothing' to think about that made me smile like that," Morgan said with a wolfish grin.

"You and me both!" Prentiss laughed as she accepted a drink from the waiter who had finally returned to take their order.

The entire team ordered and then waited for the food to arrive, bantering between them about everything from the case to the fourth of July, which was only a week away.

"Did you know that the National Security Council ranks the 4th of July as the most dangerous holiday celebrated in the United States?" Reid asked.

"I can believe it," Rossi said, shifting a little in his seat. "When I was a kid, we used to have bottle rocket wars, for chrissakes!"

Morgan grinned. "I'm not sure that's any more dangerous than playing the 'how long can I hold on to this fire-cracker before it blows' game, Rossi."

"What about taping a bunch of sparklers together and lighting them all at once? Now those will leave a huge crater in your yard," JJ said.

Reid stared in amazement at his surprisingly whole co-workers.

"Geeze, guys," he laughed. "How is it that not one of you is minus a hand or something? My mom never let me get anywhere near fireworks."

"Poor, deprived child. You know, maybe we should all get together on the fourth and introduce Dr. Reid to a proper fourth of July celebration," Hotch said, bating his young lover.

"No way," Reid laughed. "I've gone my entire life without any 3rd degree burns; I don't need one now!"

"Alright, Reid, but if you change your mind…" Prentiss said.

"Don't worry, I won't."

Then the food arrived, and everyone tucked in. They were all finishing up when Reid realized he needed to go to the bathroom. He excused himself and located the ornately decorated restroom, opting to use one of the three stalls even though he just needed to pee. Finished, he zipped himself up and went to wash his hands.

He turned the water on and squirted some soap on his hands, rubbed them together, and rinsed them off. He was using an air dryer when he finally noticed the ceiling.

"Wow," he said, gazing at the intricate mosaic patterns. There was a particularly intriguing motif right above one of the stalls, so he walked inside. With only a little hesitation, he locked the door behind him and stepped right onto the toilet seat to better view the object of his fascination.

He was reaching a little to see a piece a little closer when it happened- the toilet seat slid and his left foot slipped into the (thankfully clean) toilet water with a splash as he struggled to keep his other foot from landing in the same place.

When the commotion was over, he was stuck with one foot in, one foot out of the toilet.

"Well, crap," he muttered. He was crammed awkwardly in the space to the right of the toilet, the toilet paper dispenser jabbing into his right thigh. He tried to take his foot out, but it was wedged tight. He wiggled it experimentally and tried again, but it didn't budge.

He blew an exasperated breath out, causing a piece of hair to take flight. He weighed his options, trying to find one that wouldn't make him a laughing stock on the flight home tomorrow morning.

He knew that one of the team would come see what was taking him so long eventually, but he'd rather not have them all discover that he'd literally fallen in. Reid finally decided to text Hotch. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, sent the message, and waited. Like there was something else he could do?

Hotch was laughing about something with Morgan when he felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket. He sighed inwardly, hoping against hope it wasn't a summons that would cut their dinner short. He flipped open his phone, and excused himself after reading the message from Spencer.

Having difficulties. Can you excuse yourself discretely?

He made his way through the crowded restaurant and pushed inside the men's restroom.

"Reid? What's going on?"

Reid breathed a sigh of relief.

"Is there a lock on that door? I'd rather no one else come in here," he said. Hotch could tell he was in the second of three stalls. He fulfilled Reid's request.

"Now what?"

Reid reached behind him and unlocked the stall, twisting to push it open awkwardly with his left hand. Hotch just stared at the sight of the young genius standing in the toilet, water splotches evident on all his clothing. He let the door swing so wide from Reid's push that it hit the other stall; the sound from the collision was his personal cue to break out into laughter.

The loud guffaws that came out of Hotch echoed in the bathroom and were thrown back at Reid with almost double the embarrassment factor they'd had when they'd left Hotch's lips. He crossed his arms and tried to look offended while he still had one of his rather expensive loafers in the toilet.

When Hotch could breathe again, he straightened and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. He stepped into the small stall and circled an arm around Reid's shoulders, leaning on the trapped younger man.

"So," he said with a sly smile, "what caused your difficulties, Dr. Reid?"

Reid shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to get Hotch off of him.

"An intricate mosaic and an improperly installed toilet seat," he answered with as straight of a face as he could manage, his arms still crossed, Hotch still leaning on him.

"And you don't see any humor in that?"

"Nope."

"None at all?"

"Not one iota."

Hotch slanted even closer to Reid and breathed into his ear, "Do we need to have a talk about your sense of humor?"

Reid shivered at the ghost of breath on his ear. "Can you just get me out of here before someone else tries to come in?"

"I'll do my best," Hotch said, and with that, he righted himself and grabbed Spencer's left knee with both hands.

"Tell me if it hurts. The last thing we need to do is dislocate your ankle," he said as he started pulling.

Reid nodded and put what leverage he had into it too; the combined forces of the two agents was enough to free Reid's pink-socked foot. Unfortunately, neither was expecting the sudden release. They fell back hard; Reid completely knocked the wind out of Hotch as he landed on top of him.

"Oh, God," Hotch wheezed. Reid slid off him as he lay spread-eagled on the floor.

"You usually only call me that in bed," Reid smirked, unharmed by the fall.

For that remark, he earned a renowned Aaron Hotchner Death Glare, which elicited a chuckle from the damp genius. Reid stood up and surveyed his soaked left pant leg, then walked as well as he could in one shoe back to the toilet where his other was still lodged.

"So who do we call to get this thing out?" he asked.

Hotch had finally pushed himself upright. Seeing Reid peer so curiously into the toilet, one shoe on, one shoe off, was more than enough to lighten his mood. Who ya gonna call? he thought, and said, "Ghostbusters."

Reid smiled. "Cute, but this toilet's far from haunted; it's just shoddily assembled."

"Alright, so we'll go tell the management you were curious about their tile and that it was entirely their toilet's fault that you put your foot in it," Hotch teased as he stood up with a grunt and walked over to Reid, grabbing his hand to lead him out of the restroom.

"I didn't put my foot in it; the toilet seat shifted!" Reid objected, digging in where he was as Hotch tried to pull him forward.

"Alright, you can tell the story," Hotch said. "In fact, I'll let you tell the entire team why one of your pant legs is drenched."

Reid blanched a little and dropped Hotch's hand. "There's not one way to get out of this restaurant without them knowing I got my foot stuck in a toilet, is there?"

"Nope. But I won't let them make fun of you for too long," Hotch said softly, amazed at how Reid was still so vulnerable under all his bluster.

Reid smiled and stepped forward, circling Hotch's waist with his skinny arms. He leaned in and rested his forehead against Hotch's.

"Thank you," he said, and pressed his lips to his boss's, stealing away any possible reply. Hotch returned the kiss, making Reid question exactly who was talking whose breath away.

When they broke apart, Reid stepped away and unlocked the door. He held open the door for Hotch to walk into the restaurant first. It was hard to stride confidently into public when you only had on one shoe and your sock was bright pink.

But it was easier to do so when you could laugh about it.

"I wonder what Morgan will say about my grin now?"

A/N: This piece started out as something completely different; I'd intended much smut, but it just didn't fit the beginning I wrote. Instead, I thought I'd try my hand at a comedy/fluff drabble. I hope you enjoyed and all feedback is greatly appreciated!