Alternate Universe - Magic, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid Pre-Slash

First story in my As You Wish series.

WHO LET THE GENIE OUT OF THE BOTTLE?

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"Freedom is not the ability to do whatever you want. Freedom is the strength of character to do what is good, true, noble, and right."

- Matthew Kelly

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Aaron Hotchner gathered his things up to leave for the weekend. He had a stack of files he needed to go through, but he'd decided those could most definitely wait until Monday. It had been a stressful week and he was just ready to get out of the office for a few days. Actually, it had been a stressful couple of months if he were being honest.

First, he'd been served with divorce papers from Haley after discovering that she had been cheating on him for quite some time. Then, he'd had to move out and find a new apartment, taking only what he absolutely needed along with him. He'd pretty much had to start over. He never thought he'd be a bachelor again, yet that's exactly what he was. He was alone, lonely, and the only social interactions he had on a regular basis now were with his coworkers.

He loved his team, he really did. They were all wonderful people and he trusted them explicitly with his life. But only socializing with the people he worked with kind of made him feel trapped in this tiny bubble that he feared he may never escape. He did, after all, want to find someone special again someday….down the road, after the sting of his failed marriage wasn't quite so raw. However, if the only people he ever hung out with were Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss and David Rossi he would probably end up dying a bachelor. Well, unless Dave had his way. If the Italian played matchmaker, he'd probably end up divorced a few more times before he died alone. Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled to himself at the thought.

Also, he'd learned earlier in the week that his favorite grandmother, on his mother's side, had passed away. Grandma Barbara had lived a good, long life and her health had only recently begun to decline, so it wasn't totally unexpected, but it still hurt nonetheless. He'd gone with Sean to the funeral the day before and dealt with wills and estates and he was emotionally and physically drained. He just wanted to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Having two full days alone sounded like pure bliss.

After he finished packing his briefcase, he closed the clasps and headed out of his office, turning the light off and locking the door behind him. Not many agents were still in the bullpen, but Derek Morgan looked like he was packing up his things to leave as well. Aaron started to move down the stairs toward the glass double doors when he heard the agent call to him.

"Hey, Hotch!"

He stopped and watched as Morgan quickly gathered the rest of his things and made his way over. As they walked toward the elevators, Derek asked, "I was wondering if you wanted to, you know, go get a drink or somethin'. It's been kinda stressful lately."

It was a kind gesture, and Aaron appreciated it but quickly declined the offer as they stepped onto the lift. "Thanks Morgan, but I really just think I'd like to get home and have a quiet evening in. Haley's keeping Jack this weekend so I'll be able to rest and recharge. Hopefully come back fresh on Monday."

Morgan nodded and gave Hotch a very manly pat on the shoulder as he sighed, "No problem, man. Just know that if you need anything I'm here for ya. We all are."

The elevator dinged, signaling their arrival on the ground floor and the two men disembarked. Hotch turned to Morgan and gave him a small smile, "Thank you. I do appreciate the offer. Maybe next weekend we can all get together."

"Count on it."

They walked out of the lobby and into the parking lot. Morgan turned toward where he'd parked his truck and yelled back, "When we do, first round's on me!"

Aaron chuckled and turned in the direction of his own car. He really couldn't wait to get home.

When he arrived at his apartment complex, Aaron grabbed his briefcase from the passenger's seat and headed toward the entrance to the lobby. Once inside, he turned toward the stairs, but only got as far as the second step when Rodney, the night doorman, stopped him.

"Mr. Hotchner! Wait!"

Looking back toward the stout man, Hotch gave him a weary smile and greeted, "Hey, Rodney."

"Good evening, sir. Catch any bad guys today?"

"No," he laughed, shaking his head, "not today." The man always seemed so interested in Aaron's work, like he was living vicariously through him or something. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Hotch cleared his throat and politely queried, "Did you need something, Rodney?"

"Oh, right! I'm sorry…. You had a big ol' package delivered here today. Wouldn't fit in your mailbox, so we kept it behind the desk. Hold on just a sec and I'll grab it for ya."

That was odd. He hadn't been expecting anything, but he did as he was asked and tried to wait patiently. Just a minute later, the doorman was returning with a rather large box in his hands.

"Here ya go Mr. Hotchner, sir. It's really not all that heavy for how big it is. What do ya think's in it?"

Aaron furrowed his brows as he took the box from the other man and examined it. It really was quite light, and he had absolutely no idea what could be inside. Part of him wondered if he should even take it up. What if there was something horrifying inside? What if it was a bomb? Of course, it would most likely weigh more if it was. Dumbfounded, he answered the man, "I really don't have a clue."

He turned to head up the stairs, calling back a tired thank you on his way.

When he entered his apartment he quickly sat the box down in the middle of the living room and placed his briefcase on the coffee table. He removed his suit coat and draped it over a dining room chair as he made his way into the kitchen, loosening his tie as he went. Swiftly, he grabbed a tumbler and the bottle of Jim Beam he had stashed away and poured himself two fingers. He didn't drink a lot, and never when he was going to be around Jack, but he wasn't planning on being around anyone for a few days so he'd decided to relax a bit.

He brought the glass and a steak knife out into the living room and stared at the box for a moment before downing the liquor. He really had no idea what was in it. It was just a plain brown packing box, about two feet tall by two feet wide. There was nothing special about it at all, save for the fact that it hardly weighed a thing.

Sighing, he sat down on the floor and placed his empty glass on the coffee table beside the briefcase. He took the knife and carefully began to cut the tape that held the lid closed. When he lifted the cardboard flaps, his eyes immediately landed on an utter nightmare. He should have listened to his gut and not brought the box up; there really was something horrifying inside. The box appeared to be filled with thousands upon thousands of those tiny little white packing peanuts….you know, the kind that end up sticking to literally everything.

"Great," he muttered to himself.

Gingerly, he began to dig his hand into the snowy mess, and his curiosity piqued when his fingers brushed up against one solitary item. He reached down just a bit farther and wrapped his hand around the smooth, cylindrical object hidden within. When he pulled the item out he placed his other hand in the box to feel around. Surely, there was more than just one little thing in such a large box, right?

Nope, apparently not.

Deciding that there was nothing else of interest inside, Aaron removed his hand and brought his eyes down to gaze on the item that warranted such elaborate packaging. When he realized what it was he gasped.

He remembered this….it had been in Grandma Barb's house. Every time he and Sean would go visit her as kids he'd look at the bottle and marvel at the gems along the neck. He'd been so curious about it, and he'd always asked his grandmother if he could play with it. She in turn had always told him no, that it wasn't a toy. She'd said it was very special; that it had been passed down through her family and that it was never to be opened.

He hadn't thought about the bottle in such a long time. He never had figured out why it was so special to her, and eventually he'd just written it off as one of her quirks. Evidently, though, she thought he was worthy of having it now. There was a note attached to the base, and he quickly pulled it off and read it. All it said was 'Keep it safe, Aaron, but never open it'. His eyes traced the contours of the container as he let memories of his childhood wash over him.

He had always thought the bottle looked like one of his father's special old whiskey decanters, just much more ornate and colorful. It definitely had the same shape. The bottle was made of glass and about ten inches tall and five inches wide at the bottom, narrowing into a thinner neck. There was a matching cork sticking out of the top that sealed it shut. The base color was a rich, deep purple with golden accent arches and Arabic swirls covering the majority of the smooth surface. There was one ring circling the middle of the neck inlayed with several emeralds. It was quite stunning; he'd forgotten how beautiful it truly was.

Aaron ran his fingers along the body of the bottle until they reached the top. He had always wanted to open it….and it wasn't like Grandma Barb would ever actually know if he did. He would bet money that she'd probably opened it herself at some point, anyway.

Putting the note out of his mind, he hesitantly removed the cork. He regretted it pretty much instantaneously because, before he knew what was happening, a thick cloud of purple smoke billowed out of the bottle and surrounded him, overwhelming him with the scent of old books and cinnamon. The fog continued to fill the air, rapidly circling around him, blinding him, and he began to cough as he breathed it in. He instinctively fell to the floor, rolling onto his side and bringing his knees up toward his chest in the fetal position. Covering his head with his hands, he attempted to protect his body from whatever the hell was happening. It sounded like a freight train in his head as the indigo smoke continued to swirl above him, whipping his hair around in what felt like gale force winds. If he didn't know better he'd think he had just unleashed a fucking tornado in his living room.

As quickly as the violet storm had begun, though, it suddenly ceased. Everything around Aaron calmed until the only things he heard in the quiet room were his own heaving breathing and frantic heartbeat. His eyes timidly cracked open to reveal snow falling from the sky. Wait, what? He was inside; he was in his apartment. That couldn't be right….his eyes were playing tricks on him. He blinked a few times to clear his vision and took a closer look. That's when he realized the snow was actually those damn packing peanuts. They were flying through the air, and he was covered in them. Gingerly, he removed his hands from his head and lifted into a sitting position as he took in the mess of a room. It was going to take him the entire weekend to get it all cleaned up. He shook out some of the white dots from his hair and turned his head to look to his left. That's when he immediately froze, a chill running down his spine.

He wasn't alone anymore.

There was a man kneeling on one knee in the middle of his living room, and he was surrounded by a flurry of little white pellets. His head was bowed to the floor and long, golden brown hair fell down around his face, hiding it from view. His arms were at his sides, palms flat on the ground. From the angle Hotch was at he could only tell that the man was wearing a long brown vest that flowed to the floor. There a glittering stripe of purple adorned he edge of the garment and the man's arms were bare, exposing delicately defined biceps.

Aaron didn't know if what he was seeing was real or if he was going crazy. He'd just endured a massive purple smoke tornado that had erupted out of a tiny bottle and ripped through his apartment, and now he was staring at a total stranger who'd popped into his living room out of thin air. Yes, he must be going completely mad. Still, though, his FBI training kicked in and he swiftly jumped up to his feet, pulling his Glock out of its holster as he rose. He wasn't going to take any chances on the very small possibility that he wasn't totally bonkers. He aimed his weapon at the intruder and spoke in the calmest SSA Aaron Hotchner voice he could muster, "Slowly put your hands up and lace your fingers behind your head."

The man didn't react to Aaron's command in the slightest. He didn't move at all; he remained as still as a statue, the only movement around him being the peanuts gently gliding through the air. Was the guy even breathing?

Hotch cleared his throat and steadied his voice as he tried again, "You're trespassing in my home. Now, I'll say this one more time. Put your hands on your head."

"Home?"

A faint voice wafted through the air and Aaron wasn't sure he'd actually even heard it. But then he watched as the man on the floor began to move.

Gently, he lifted his head and those long curls that had been curtaining his face parted to reveal the most gorgeous, sparkling hazel eyes Aaron had ever seen in his life. Even from across the room, he could see specs of violet shining in their depths, and they reminded him of amethysts. The kid, because that's what he was—he couldn't be older than twenty, maybe twenty-five—was pale, but his skin had a lustrous glow to it, almost like an iridescent sheen. His cheeks were flushed and his full, pink lips curved into a shy little smile as he stared straight at Aaron. He was absolutely stunning, and the sight of him took Hotch's breath away.

The boy's smile grew and he breathed a relieved sigh, "Master." His big doe eyes held a child-like hope in them as he softly inquired, "Is this….is this my home now, Master?"

Aaron slowly lowered his weapon to aim at the floor instead of the boy and clicked the safety on. He had absolutely no idea what was going on. Had the kid just called him master? Had he heard that correctly? Surely not, unless something had happened to the boy to put him in that state of mind. He began to think through every possibility he could imagine that could leave someone in that type of mental condition, and his stomach turned when he thought about this boy being forced to suffer through any of those horrors.

No matter what had happened to him, though, it didn't explain how he'd ended up here….in Hotch's apartment. He couldn't have actually just appeared out of thin air….or out of thick smoke, as it were. Aaron put his gun back in the holster and cleared his throat. In a low, soft voice he asked, "How did you get in here? Where's your home?"

Immediately, the boy's unique eyes flashed around the room until they focused in on something behind Aaron. He leapt up and bounced over to the bottle lying on the floor, picking it up and hugging it close as he brightly beamed, "Here! This is my home! Or…it was, until you found me, Master."

Hotch could finally get a better look at the kid now that he wasn't kneeling on the floor. He was tall, almost as tall as Aaron, but he had a much slighter frame. His chestnut hair fell down around his shoulders in messy curls, and when the light hit them at just the right angle Hotch could see shades of honey, chocolate, and auburn dancing throughout. His clothing was simple, yet rich at the same time. Brown silk fabric made up his long, flowing vest and pants. The purple stripe Aaron had seen earlier went around the entire edge of the open-front vest and there was also a large strip of it at the top of his pants, almost like a belt. His feet were bare. Through the opening of the top he could see a lightly defined chest and abdomen, and he noticed the sharp contours of his collar bones. The kid looked like he could use a good meal or two. When Hotch realized he'd been staring for quite some time, mouth agape, he quickly shifted his gaze. His brows furrowed and he tried to speak, incredulously asking, "You mean to tell me you were inside the bottle?"

"Yes, Master!" he cheerfully answered, holding the container up and contemplating it fondly, "I've been in here for so long. It feels incredible to stretch out." He threw his arms out on either side of his body and twirled around, his clothes fluidly flowing, following his movements. "Oh!" he stopped and looked excitedly back to Hotch with those big, sparkling eyes, "And run! I haven't been able to run in so long! Can we run, Master?"

Aaron had to smile at the pure joy that radiated from the kid. But what he was saying still troubled him. "Why do you keep calling me master?" he asked.

"You released me," he said matter-of-factly, "I am yours to command, Master."

Hotch threw his hands out in front of him, palms facing the boy as he exasperatedly protested, "No, no….Look, I'm not your master—" He cut himself off when he saw disappointment begin to mar the young man's beautiful face. The last thing he wanted to do was upset the kid. For some reason, that thought made his heart ache. "Look," he softly huffed, "what's your name?"

The boy lowered the bottle and hesitantly mumbled, "They, um, called me Spencer, before…."

"Before what?"

"Before I was put in here," he explained, tilting the bottle in his hand once more.

"Ok, Spencer. Can you tell me how long you were, um, in there?" Aaron didn't really believe the kid; he thought he was in need of some major psychiatric help, to be honest. He wanted to do whatever he could to get him that help, but in order to do that he needed to try and collect as much information as possible, so he tried to play along.

Spencer looked like he was calculating something in his head. After a minute he answered, "It has been 1,864 years, 277 days, 15 hours, 27 minutes and," he paused for just a moment and then concluded with a bright smile, "53 seconds."

Well, he hadn't been expecting that answer. He realized his mouth was hanging wide open again and swiftly closed it. Who the hell was this kid? "Spencer, how—how do you know that down to the second?" For some reason, Aaron had decided to focus on that instead of the overwhelming fact that the timeline Spencer gave him was utterly insane.

"I have always been able to remember everything, Master, and numbers are also very fascinating to me. Besides, there is not a lot to do in there…." he gestured once again to the bottle.

Ok, the kid was definitely certifiable. He thought he was almost 2,000 years old and had been trapped inside a tiny little bottle. Aaron just needed to figure out what he was going to do with him. Should he take him to a hospital right away? Or should he let the kid stay with him for the night and deal with everything in the morning? He didn't understand why, but something in his gut was telling him to keep Spencer there for the night. He looked in the kid's eyes and tried to keep his voice calm, "Look, I'm gonna help you Spencer, ok? I'm gonna let you stay here for the night, and in the morning we're going to take you to get some help."

"Help?" Spencer looked a bit confused as he stared at Aaron with those expressive violet-hazel eyes, and then he laughed, "I need no help, Master. I have you! You are all I need!"

"Spencer, you can only stay with me for the night." It killed Aaron to say that, and he didn't know why. For some reason, this boy was calling out to his heart and Aaron needed to make sure he would be taken care of. He felt like Spencer was something precious he'd been entrusted to care for, and he truly wanted to care for him.

"I-I have no place else to go," Spencer stammered, his eyes beginning to shimmer slightly, "besides back inside my bottle, of course. Would you like that, Master?" He set the bottle down on the table, then purple smoke began to form around the boy as he continued to speak, "I'll just stay—"

"No!" Before Hotch knew what the hell he was doing, he'd grabbed Spencer's wrist and quickly pulled him out of the smoke. His skin crackled with energy when it made contact with the boy's, sending feelings of protectiveness….and something more….coursing through his system. God, did he really just see what he thought? Was Spencer actually telling him the truth? Was he about to just pop back into that bottle he'd supposedly been trapped in for 1,800-something years? That thought had scared him and he'd acted without even thinking, pulling Spencer away from the bottle as quickly as he could. He put his hands on the boy's shoulders and anxiously insisted, "Spencer, you don't need to go back in there, ok? Just stay out here." He eyed the bottle warily and then looked back to the kid, "Just, stay out here with me."

Spencer gave Aaron another radiant smile and squeaked, "Very well, Master. If that is what you wish."

"What are you?" Aaron suddenly blurted, and then immediately regretted it. He let go of Spencer and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, that came out so wrong…" he muttered.

"Oh no! It is fine, Master," Spencer quickly put a hand on Aaron's shoulder, but awkwardly removed it a moment later as he stuttered, "You—You must be very confused. I, um, did not think of how my sudden appearance here may have disrupted your life. I am the one who is sorry."

"Don't apologize, Spencer." He didn't know why, but he really didn't want the boy blaming himself for any of this. If what he'd said was true, Spencer was a victim here—of what, Hotch was completely clueless—but he was still a victim.

"Genie," Spencer stated, out of the blue.

"What?"

"You asked what I was," he replied. "I am a genie. I am your genie to be exact," he mused with a grin.

Ok….maybe Aaron was the one going crazy. This couldn't be real. Perhaps he'd drank more than he realized earlier and he'd fallen asleep. That had to be it. If that were the case and he was dreaming then maybe he should just go with it. Looking back at the boy he asked, "Genie? Like, the 'grant me three wishes and everything' kind of genie?"

"Wishes, yes," he laughed, "but there is no limit to the amount. I am your genie to command unless…" Spencer's voice trailed off and he nervously shifted his gaze away from Aaron.

"Unless what, Spencer?"

"Unless you do not want me," he hesitantly answered, "If someone else finds me in my bottle and lets me out, then they would be my new master." His eyes darted back up to Aaron for a moment and then moved to the floor as he continued, "If—If you do not wish for me to be here, I can go back in my bottle and wait for someone else…"

Aaron's heart ached as he listened to Spencer's voice tremble and watched rejection and sorrow cross his perfect features. He didn't know what he was feeling, but he did know he wanted to protect this young man….or hell….ancient magical being? Whatever he was, Spencer needed to be shown kindness and love and caring right now; and Aaron, for some unexplainable reason, wanted to do that for him. He wanted to show him all of those things and more. He had this sense that Spencer was very special and he didn't want him to go away. He also greatly feared the boy was going to turn his life completely upside down, but maybe that's exactly what he needed.

"Spencer," he looked in the boy's eyes and gently spoke, "I do want you here. I don't want you to go away. Let's just deal with tonight for now. We can figure the rest out later."

Spencer moved a little closer to him and gave him a coy grin as he murmured, "You really want me here?" His smile grew as he continued to close the distance between them, "You're….different….than my last Master." Spencer leaned his head in close to Aaron's and put a hand up to the older man's cheek as he sweetly cooed, "You're so….pretty."

Aaron stood stock-still. He was caught completely off guard by Spencer's advances and was having a hard time believing the kid was actually coming onto him. That couldn't be right….Spencer's comment was just an innocent observation from a boy who'd been locked away and deprived of any physical or emotional contact for almost two millennia. It was understandable that he'd be a bit touch starved….

Hotch was quickly drawn out of his thoughts when he felt hands traveling down his stomach and latching onto his belt, beginning to undo the buckle. Frantically, he grabbed both the boy's wrists and pulled them away from his waist as he nervously stuttered, "O-Ok…look, that's really not what I meant when I said I want you here!" He couldn't deny the fact that this young man was beautifully striking, but Aaron was old enough to be his father. Or…the kid looked young enough to be his son. Dammit, this was so confusing. His mind drifted to what Spencer had said earlier about Aaron being different than his last 'master', and he cringed at the implications the comment held. What could Spencer have gone through at the hands of the last person he called master? Softly, he added, "I don't know how your last….master….was, or how he treated you, but I don't expect anything from you, Spencer. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, and I will never force you to. Do you understand?"

Spencer tried to pull his wrists out of Aaron's hold as he adamantly replied, "Oh, but it would be my pleasure to give you everything you want." His voice grew seductive as he leaned into Aaron's chest and purred, "And I would absolutely love to give you pleasure as well….Master. Just tell me what you desire…."

Unexpectedly, the kid vanished from Aaron's sight and out of his hold. He almost had a heart attack when he felt nimble fingers begin to snake around his hips from behind. Spencer's chest was right up against his back and Hotch could feel solid evidence of the young man's excitement at his backside as lips trailed kisses along the nape of his neck. His body began to react to Spencer's touch without his consent, but when he felt skillful fingers rapidly descending toward his own growing arousal, he swiftly turned around and found himself looking into those sparkling violet-hazel eyes once more. Then that lithe body pushed right up against his and Spencer's hands were traveling down toward Aaron's ass.

Fuck. The kid was definitely persistent. And tricky. And undoubtedly tempting.

Aaron knew he couldn't do anything with him, though. He had no idea what Spencer had been through, what traumas he could have suffered during his long life. It also didn't help that he kept calling Aaron 'master'. He didn't like the idea of Spencer being forced to do anything and everything he told him to, without question.

A firm squeeze on his cheeks had Hotch jumping back, startled. Spencer tried to follow, but Aaron gently but firmly scolded, "Ok, Spencer, you stop that right now. Don't move. Just stay right there." He put his hands up in an attempt keep distance between him and the boy. Of course, if the kid could just pop in and out whenever and wherever he wanted, Hotch didn't really know what his hands being out between them was actually going to do. "If you're gonna stay here with me, we're gonna need to set some ground rules," he firmly stated, "Rule number one is absolutely no groping of any kind."

Spencer looked at him with a mischievous little grin and a sparkle in his eyes. Then he pulled his bottom lip out into a pout and shyly agreed, "Ok. I'll do my best, Master…" He let out a tiny chuckle and added with a smirk, "However, if you change your mind I would love to take care of any…." he paused, flitting his eyes down to Aaron's groin before glancing back up and concluding, "….needs you may have."

Hotch felt his cheeks flushing, and he tried to conceal the bulge in his pants when he noticed the lustful stare he was receiving from the kid. Spencer wasn't going to make this easy for him. This was definitely something he could not budge on, though. He was resolute, and so he replied, "That won't be necessary, Spencer."

The genie gave him a small nod and a half smile, and then brought his gaze down to the bottle on the table. "Thank you for letting me stay here, Master. However, I do not want to be a bother to you, so I can sleep in my bottle."

Hadn't the kid had enough of that tiny little thing? Maybe he'd spent so much time in the bottle that he felt more secure inside than outside; that would be understandable. Aaron realized that if Spencer stayed with him, there would certainly be times where he would need to go into the bottle and stay out of sight. For instance, if someone came over, or if Jack was there for the weekend. But Aaron didn't see the point of him staying in it when no one else was there….if it was just the two of them.

He was suddenly caught off guard by the thoughts running through his head. He didn't know when it had happened, but he'd already started thinking about the future and Spencer being a part of it. How could he have switched gears from letting the boy stay for one night to thinking about a long term arrangement? This whole situation seemed so surreal to him.

Finally, Hotch met his eyes with Spencer and responded, "Ok, if that's what you really want. But you know, as long as no one else is here you don't have to stay in that thing. I have a guest room. I'm sure it's big enough for you to be comfortable. There's a queen size bed and you can stretch out all you want."

Spencer's eyes immediately lit up, but the rest of his face showed hesitance as he timidly asked, "Really?"

"Yeah, really," Aaron answered with a warm smile. The kid looked completely flabbergasted that he was being offered an entire room to himself….as if he didn't feel like he was worthy of such a gesture. Seeing him like that broke Aaron's heart all over again, and he was determined to show Spencer that he most certainly was worthy of that and so much more. He still didn't understand how he could care so much for this boy so quickly, but that didn't change the fact that he did, and he wasn't going to fight it.

Spencer finally returned Aaron's smile with one of his own and shyly mumbled, "Thank you."

Hotch let out a relieved sigh when Spencer agreed, knowing that he wouldn't be sleeping in that bottle. He wanted Spencer to feel comfortable and at home there. With that settled, he looked around the room again and let out a tired huff. Packing peanuts. They were still everywhere.

Every. Fucking. Where.

"This place is such a mess…." he muttered, mostly to himself.

"Oh!" Spencer's eyes brightened as he beamed, "I can clean this up in no time!"

Aaron gave him a doubtful look.

Hesitantly, the genie went on, "I-I mean….if you wish it, Master."

"You can clean this all up?" Aaron asked, skeptically pointing around the room at the immense amount of white dots littered throughout. Why he had a hard time believing Spencer could clean up a simple mess after everything he'd seen tonight was beyond him.

There was a twinkle in Spencer's eyes. They began to sparkle a dazzling, deep violet as he smirked, gave Hotch a sly little wink and crinkled his nose.

The look had Aaron's heart beating a little faster and his stomach doing flip flops; dammit, it was so fucking adorable.

An instant later, the room was spotless, there was no evidence of the packing peanuts and everything was back in its rightful place. Hotch turned on his heel as his mind tried to absorb what he was seeing and make sense of it all. In awe, he marveled, "That—that was….incredible."

"I am glad I can please you, Master," Spencer exuberantly giggled, but then his voice immediately took on a more sultry tone as he shot Aaron his best bedroom eyes and added, "I do hope you will let me continue to bring you pleasure..."

Hotch gave him the most stern glare he could, which admittedly wasn't very, in an attempt to quell the boy's seductive advances once more. The kid didn't give up easy, that's for sure. When he saw Spencer look away he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, "I think it's time we try to get some rest. It's been quite an intense day."

He motioned for Spencer to follow him, and after the boy picked up his bottle they made their way down the hall.

When they entered the guest bedroom, Spencer gasped and quickly sat the container he was holding down on the bedside table. His glittering hazel eyes flitted around the space and then landed on Aaron as he blurted out, "It's—It's so huge!" He animatedly spun around 360 degrees, taking in the room with wide eyes again, and then elatedly laughed, "This is nothing at all like my bottle!"

Aaron started to reply, but was stopped abruptly when long arms circled his neck and pulled him into a very enthusiastic hug.

"Thank you," Spencer whispered in his ear, and then squeezed Hotch's neck a little tighter, "Thank you so much. Thank you….for keeping me."

As he listened to the kid's words, Aaron felt tears start to well up. He wrapped his arms around the trembling body clinging to him, returning the embrace as he closed his eyes and allowed a few drops to escape and roll down his face. He brought one hand up to gently run through those silky, golden brown locks as he murmured, "Spencer, you're free to stay here as long as you want. You're safe here, with me."

Spencer pulled away just enough to meet their watery gazes and replied, "I am grateful. Thank you, Master."

Aaron moved a hand up to wipe away some moisture that had fallen from the boy's own eyes and gently corrected him, "I'm not your master. Please, I wish you would just call me Aaron." He let his hand linger on Spencer's cheek for a few moments while he fought the urge to place a kiss to his forehead, and then he released the boy and moved slowly over to the door. Once he reached the threshold, he turned back around and quietly added, "Sleep well, Spencer."

"Aaron…." the boy softly murmured, a small grin curving his lips. Spencer shifted his beautiful violet-hazel eyes back over to Hotch and gave him a brilliant smile as he happily sighed, "As you wish, Aaron."

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"True love is built on free will and free choice, not control and manipulation."

- Ken Poirot

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Fin

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Feedback is always appreciated. Also, please let me know if there is anything you guys would like to see in future stories. I have some ideas in my head already, but I'd love some other prompts to think about.