Disclaimer: I own nothing Criminal Minds related nor do I make any money from this.


"Spencer, have you seen my keys?" came the uncharacteristically exasperated voice from somewhere down the hallway of one SSA Hotchner.

Reid had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from laughing at the older male. Hotch probably wouldn't take too kindly to snickering from the peanut gallery judging by his rather disheveled and frantic state. "No Hotch," he replied evenly though loud enough for his voice to carry, "I haven't seen your keys. Would you like a cup of coffee in a to-go cup?" But his only answer was the faint murmurings of a seemingly displeased male. Reid supposed that that was probably a no.

Most people would have been absolutely shocked to see the way that Hotch was scurrying around Reid's loft to find his shoes that had been misplaced after the older male had pounced on the young genius the night prior, before they had even managed to get inside fully.

"Hotch! The neighbors," Reid gasped as his neck was suddenly under assault. His form was pushed back against the wood of the door, hand clutching his key ring though Hotch didn't seem in the least bit interested in actually letting Reid unlock the door anytime soon.

"Let them watch," Hotch growled, his breath hot against the exposed neck he was already marring with sharp nips that caused Reid's breath to catch in his throat. "They're going to know in a few minutes anyways with how loud I'm going to make you scream."

"Hotch!"

People would be surprised to watch Hotch act as though he were a tachyon that was rapidly losing energy all the while waving around his plain tie, murmuring about how the team was going to notice if he wore the same tie two days in a row. Of course, Reid was of the opinion that profilers or not, all of Hotch's ties looked just about the same. While he would have usually suggested Hotch take one of his, he knew that the somewhat paranoid male would instantly dismiss that, claiming that Morgan probably had every single one of Reid's ties memorized. Again something Reid wasn't so sure about but well, it was no matter, he was enjoying the show.

Reid merely leaned back against the counter of his kitchen, gingerly blowing on his own scolding hot form of liquid heaven, a smile painted across his face as he savored the moment. He allowed himself to be lulled into a state of contentment by the almost rhythmic, "I'm going to be late; I'm going to be so late." Again Reid resisted the urge to point out that Hotch was the boss and thus he very much decided his own arrival and departure time.

Disheveled, shirt untucked, bed head slash sex hair that the other had yet to realize that he was sporting: the male before Reid bore little to no resemblance to the stone cold, almost robotic unit chief Hotchner that made serial killers quake in fear. While Reid very much loved all sides and aspects of Hotch, he would have to say without doubt that this was his favorite version. It was a side that very few people had ever seen, and Reid couldn't help but feel like the luckiest person in the world that Hotch would chose him of all people to bare witness to his more human-like tendencies.

Reid rotated the cup in his hands before talking a tentative sup, eyes watching Hotch move through the loft completely exasperated. Finally taking pity upon the other, Reid set his mug down on the counter behind him and moved forward. Slim arms encircled the larger waist, drawing Hotch back against his chest and successfully halting the other's movements.

"Relax," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the other's cheek only to have Hotch let out a whine. Yes, Aaron Hotchner actually whined in protest but Reid was entirely unfazed by the reaction though he did wrinkle his nose ever so slightly, knowing that Hotch was going to prove difficult this morning. "Aaron, it's going to be fine. If you can't find your keys, I'll drive us." Honestly, sometimes, if things weren't just perfectly so or if they didn't adhere to Hotch's very strict schedule and regiment, the older male could pitch such a tantrum that put even Jack to shame.

"Oh yes, because if the tie isn't going to be enough of a dead give away already! I mean, it's no big deal if I give you a ride, no on would think twice because I'm me and you're you," while slightly offensive, Reid brushed it off, knowing that Hotch didn't mean anything by it, "but you know Morgan will be all over us if he finds out that you gave me a—"

"Aaron," Reid cut in gently, successfully silencing Hotch as he tightened his grip around the other ever so slightly. "It's going to be fine. If needed, we could always say that you're attempting to teach me some tactical defensive driving." An area that more than one person had said that Reid needed to improve upon.

Hotch paused, clearly mulling over that option. "We could, but Morgan knows that I am too much of a control freak," at least he admitted it, Reid thought privately, "to teach you something like that in your vehicle," and Hotch winced as the word 'vehicle,' clearly more of the opinion that it was actually a rolling death trap with only four gears. First gear had recently decided to no longer function and thus the car had to be manually switched to second gear in first gear's stead. And well, given Murphy's Law that Hotch was a firm believer should actually be relabeled as Reid's Law, even in a perfectly working, military safety grade tank, Reid would still find a way to wind up in the hospital, let alone in that thing he dared to refer to as a car. In the tank he'd probably get a paper cut or something and suddenly get a spontaneous case of severe hemophilia and promptly bleed out like a stuck pig. While Reid had already informed him before that there was no such thing as a 'spontaneous' case of hemophilia, Hotch still harbored his doubts about the whole ordeal.

"Spencer, you're bleeding!" Hotch exclaimed, eyes widening.

Reid promptly flashed him a flat look, arching a brow ever so slightly. "Hotch, I'm fine. I just need a Band-Aid."

"But... maybe we should go to the hospital—"

"Hotch, it's just a scraped knee. Jack already went to get me a washcloth and some peroxide."

"But you could bleed to death!"

Reid gave the older male a look that consisted of a mixture of are-you-serious? and what Hotch could only describe as pity. "Bleed to death? From falling and scrapping my knee? I've had much worse in the field," situations that Hotch really wasn't a fan of thinking about. "This is hardly life threatening, Hotch. The only thing in danger is my pride that your single digit son figured out how to stay on his scooter while I continue to have disagreements with mine."

"But, what about hemophilia?" Hotch tried back peddling, feeling just slightly foolish from his ridiculous outburst just moments before.

"What about it? I don't have it."

"But you could have developed it."

There was that pity again or was it irritation this time? Amusement maybe? Hotch really wasn't all that sure. "The disease that causes Hemophilia is purely genetic that is passed down through the X chromosome. So no, Aaron, I can't simply 'develop' it."

"Here you go Spencer!" came the somewhat sorrowful but still pleasant voice of Jack as he pushed past his father and waved the wet cloth in front of the genius. Reid smiled in response, accepting the cloth without complaint.

"As soon as I get this cleaned up, what do you say we get your dad to race you?"

"On the scooters?" Jack exclaimed, eyes lighting up at the mere prospect of all that could entail.

"Mmhmm."

Scooters? Oh no. "Now wait a minute," Hotch started to protest but he instantly found his conviction wavering as not one, but two sets of puppy eyes were turned towards him. Hotch swallowed. He didn't stand a chance.

If a freak, rare, impossible occurrence was going to happen to someone, it was going to happen to Reid. And, in Hotch's defense, the whole life threatening knee-scrap had occurred when he and Reid had first started to date and thus, naturally, Hotch had been hypersensitive about the matter. … Then again, he'd still probably fuss and want to go to the doctor's if Reid were to ever repeat the incident.

Reid scoffed, clearly no where near the same train of thought as the older male, pulling back and releasing Hotch from his hold only to fold his arms across his chest. "There's nothing wrong with my car."

"The autoshop begs to differ," Hotch replied playfully. Unable to help himself, Hotch closed the distance between them once more, gathering Reid into his arms so that he could kiss the corners of Reid's sulky frown.

He continued to press butterfly soft kisses against the pursed lips of his subordinate until he heard Reid giggle, murmuring a soft, "Alright, alright," as he playfully pushed at the larger frame before him. "Come on, this is what made you late this morning. You just had to get a quickie in, didn't you?"

"I didn't hear you complaining earlier," Hotch replied if only a little smugly. "How many times did you cum just this morning?" And there was that absolutely delicious flush that made Hotch want to push the young genius against the nearest object and ravage him again. "And that's not even counting last night." Hotch's smirk grew as the red hue became all the darker, the older male's eyes glinting mischievously.

"Hotch," Reid whined, half heartedly trying to squirm out of Hotch's hold. "You'll make me late if you—"

"I mean, first it was against the wall. You were so impatient that you wouldn't even give me a chance to fully undress. And then I bent you over the back of the cou—" but Hotch suddenly halted, eyes widening in realization. Hotch promptly released Reid in favor of diving towards the sofa, hands disappearing beneath the cushions of the couch. A moment passed before Hotch let out a victorious cry, keys thrust above his head in a display of triumph.

Reid merely laughed. "Must have fallen out last night," he mused aloud with a simple shrug.

Hotch promptly placed a kiss on Reid's cheek, murmuring a, "See you at the office. I'll pick you up another coffee for when you get in." And with that, he was out the door to leaving a still smiling Reid to continue his present cup of coffee and then finish getting ready. Reid only hoped that Hotch had enough sense to fix his hair. Morgan was certain to notice that.