AN: Much thanks to tfm who gave this the once over and also came up with the title that started it all. Hope you all find this really, really awful. How often does one get to say that about their fic, huh?

The Bold and The BAUtiful

Episode: 3,493: The Good, The Bad, The BAUtiful

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open and Emily Prentiss stepped into a BAU that wasn't quite the same. Nothing had been the same since that day when their stoic and fearless leader had fallen down that abandoned mine shaft three fateful weeks ago.

At least he was awake now, even if he didn't know who, or what, he was. The poor man. Kept insisting he was Carla, a flamenco dancer from Atlantic City. Poor, poor delusional Hotch. Not even a mirror was enough to budge the belief, and lord knows she had tried.

She had something she desperately needed to tell him.

Actually, she had something she desperately needed to tell a few people. And as luck would have it she walked in and one of them was standing in the kitchenette that served as the break area.

"Morgan…I have something I desperately need to tell you."

He grunted something, adding creamer to his coffee. He must not have gotten off that morning. He got like this when he didn't work in his early morning rub down.

Emily rolled her eyes and crossed her arms under her chest, the resulting emphasis on her cleavage a sure fire way to get the other agent's attention. And sure enough his head lifted, her boobs like a homing device.

"What?" he asked her boobs.

"I'm pregnant."

The mug shattered as it hit the floor, hot liquid splattering their legs. She cursed. "I Just bought these shoes," she said woefully, less than aware of the fact that Morgan was now staring at her. She looked up, irritated that he dropped the cup. Didn't he know leather and coffee didn't mix? "What?"

"You're not pregnant…"

She scoffed. "Like hell I'm not. I pissed on more sticks than I can count."

"We used protection."

She shook her head. "Not that one time on the jet. Or that other time in Hotch's office. And then twice—"

Reid walked into the kitchen area, paying them absolutely no attention, his eyes glued to a packet of white powder he carried in his hand.

"Do you mind? Morgan is getting some life changing news," Emily said dramatically and the genius jumped, almost dropping his precious baggie.

He looked around, jittery, a little dark around the eyes. He ran a free hand through his hair. "I uh….It's…I just wanted coffee. And…I have cream…for..the uh…coffee."

Emily looked more than skeptical. "Riiight. Cream. Whatever. Just get out for a minute. Go take your 'cream' to the bathroom."

Reid nodded, skittering past them and a rather started Rossi.

"What's gotten into him?" the older profiler asked, staring in the direction Reid had gone.

"The better question is what hasn't," Emily said dismissively. "Hey. I have something to tell you. I'm pregnant."

"What? No way. We used protection."

Emily rolled her eyes again. "What the hell is that? The phrase of the damn day. 99% is not a guarantee people."

Morgan was still staring, the coffee puddled at his feet forgotten. "So…it could not be mine?"

"What? Oh…Yeah, I was going to tell you that but then Reid walked in. Rossi is possible baby daddy number two….Aaannnd maybe Hotch. But that's it. At first I thought maybe Kevin, but I'm pretty sure he's infertile."

Now they were both staring. It was really starting to annoy her.

Finally, Morgan spoke up, his face a mixture of incredulity and disbelief. "You slept with Kevin?" It was mind boggling. Rossi, he could see. Hotch was surprising because everyone knew he was sleeping with JJ. But Kevin?

She looked surprised he would ask. "Well…yeah. Who else would hook up my new wireless?"

Rossi shook his head. "This is crazy. I can't have a kid. I'm paying out enough in alimony as it is."

"I don't think that's how it works, man," Morgan replied, scratching absently at the back of his neck.

"Not really, no. But hey, like I said. It could be Hotch's. Then neither one of you are on the hook for anything," she said, as if it all made perfect sense.

She shot a bright smile between them both and then looked at her watch. "Shit, I've gotta go. Conference call with the Philly PD. We'll chat later though, hm? Ciao," she said, leaving before either man uttered a sound.

Rossi looked down, noticing for the first time that Morgan stood dead center in a sea of java.

-x-

"Seriously, Rossi? You're taking the moral high ground? I walked in on you and Strauss," Morgan said, his distaste at that particular conquest obvious.

"Hey," the older agent said, his tone slightly chastising, "that was business. You wouldn't understand. But c'mon. You can't say that it doesn't bother you she slept with Garcia's tech geek boy toy."

Morgan shrugged. "Hooking up a new modem can be a pain in the ass."

Rossi nodded at this valid point, sipping from his mug of coffee.

There was a long pause, neither agent looking up with much interest as Reid darted past them, wiping furiously at his nose and muttering to himself. He almost knocked over JJ in his rush, the liaison pressing her back against the wall to avoid being run over.

"Twenty bucks says it's Hotch's?" Rossi offered, holding out his hand.

"Deal." He shook Rossi's hand, glancing up to find JJ watching them quizzically.

"What's Hotch's?" she asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"The baby," Rossi supplied. "Emily's pregnant."

JJ gave a confused laugh. "No…There's no way that Hotch would. I mean, we…"

The files she always seemed to be carrying around were being squeezed against her side, the sound of crinkling paper barely audible above her rambling and Rossi slurping his coffee. The blonde wasn't taking things too well, a fact that made Morgan's brow arch in skepticism.

"Just like there's no way that while we're on the road you aren't inspecting Hotch's briefs while Will plays mommy."

She flushed, leveling her gaze with Morgan's. "Fuck you. You don't know me. You don't know what it's like!" she exclaimed, turning on her heel and leaving in an angry, surprised, betrayed huff.

"Little bitchy today, aren't we Morgan?" Rossi asked.

The black profiler shrugged. "Rough morning."

He really needed to schedule some one on one time with Mr. Righty.

The End

AN: And now time to throw tomatoes in the form of a review. If the spirit so moves you.