A/N
Title: Spencer Rocket
Author: Ihli
Rating/Warnings: M/Prostitution, Slash, language, sex, etc
Pairing: Hotch/Reid
Summary: Prostitutes are dying in Las Vegas and the BAU is called in to catch the unsub responsible. Hotch has never met anyone like hooker Spencer Rocket. Hotch/Reid Slash!
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or any of the characters I just like to play with them sometimes. I promise to put them back where I found them.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 2. I hope you all continue to enjoy. Please let me know if you like this next chapter.
Thanks to The Shameless BookWorm for Beta'ing this chapter! All mistakes are mine.
Chapter 3Hotch woke to the sound of his cell phone ringing. "Go ahead."
"It's Morgan, where did you get that lead for the Ancient Aztecs?"
"From Spencer."
"It's genius. All of the bodies are posed as if for a sacrifice. Garcia sent over some pictures. She is still compiling a list of suspects. We're meeting in the hotel restaurant. You going to join us?"
"Yes, I'm bringing Spencer with me."
"Okay…" Hotch wondered at the tone in Morgan's voice. Was it surprise? Disapproval? Would Morgan think I took advantage of the situation? Surely Morgan knows me better than that.
Hotch hung up and looked over to watch the young man looking at him; his arms curled around himself with his eyes wide.
"I hope I didn't make an assumption. I assumed you would be hungry." Why does he look so frightened?
"Breakfast is fine, thanks. It's more than I am used to," he said looking away.
"I was wondering. How much do you know about the ancient Aztecs? Is it just what you told me last night?" Hotch knew he needed to find a way to keep the man close. Also, it would be prudent to have someone knowledgeable in the ancient Aztecs available for the case.
Spencer's eyes lit up at the question. "No, I read quite a bit about them. Their culture is so different from today; it was fascinating."
That was just what Hotch needed. "Would you consider allowing me to…hire you, for the duration of the case, as a consultant?"
Spencer's mouth dropped open. It took him a full minute before answering. "Would I get to go to crime scenes?"
"If you like." Hotch couldn't help the small smile of delight that split his face.
Spencer eyes unfocused a bit. Hotch assumed he was thinking. Finally, he asked, "How much?"
Hotch had no idea what to offer. He had a reasonable discretionary fund for hiring consultants and experts as well as another for encouraging informants, but he didn't have infinite funds. Just infinite budget meetings with Strauss. "Well…you charged me fifty bucks for the night. I want twenty four hour coverage. So how about one hundred dollars per day."
Spencer's eyes narrowed, and his frame straightened; confidence started to roll off of him. Negotiating price is something he has experience with Hotch thought sadly. "I don't know; you are asking a lot more of me than my usual client. Two hundred dollars per day."
Hotch knew it was a line. He was offering Spencer legal work where no one would use him. But it was part of the rules of negotiating so instead of arguing he counter-offered. "One hundred fifty."
"Sold." Afterwards, Hotch realized the man had answered too quickly; he would have taken the job for less. Then again, Hotch would have paid more.
As Spencer straightened his uniform, Hotch realized he couldn't take him to the station or to crime scenes dressed like that. It would raise questions that were really unimportant. He also figured Spencer would want something fresh. "We'll need to take you home and get you some more appropriate clothing."
"All of my clothes are like this," Spencer said first looking Hotch in the eye and then looking away.
Hotch blurted the first thing that came into his mind. "You go to the library dressed like that."
"Yeah, they all know me there." Spencer shrugged.
Hotch considered. He needed Spencer to look the part of a consultant so he could keep him close and safe. "Then, first order of business is shopping."
"You're trying to catch a serial killer so you're taking me shopping?" Spencer squeaked, his eyes widening.
"I think you can help with the case. I need to not have your clothing be a distraction." Hotch stated this as if it should be obvious.
Spencer's face split into a slow, seductive smile. He looked at Hotch through half-lidded eyes and said in a low husky voice, "Distraction… Am I distracting you?"
Hotch's cock twitched in appreciation. "Uh, no…I meant the people we interact with." Hotch looked away, unable to meet Spencer's eyes.
Spencer smirked. "Sure ya did, stud."
The two men finished getting ready and joined the team in the restaurant.
"Spencer Rocket, this is my team." Hotch started making the introductions.
Rossi raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"Hey kid, what made you think of the Aztecs?" Morgan asked.
Spencer studied his hands as if they held the secrets of the universe. "I saw some of the photos from the crime…"
Morgan looked directly at Hotch. "You showed him crime scene photos."
Hotch could see this was going downhill fast. "Let me clarify. Spencer is working as a consultant on this case. He has expertise in both the Aztec culture and the local population."
"Expertise?" Morgan asked as his eyebrows flew up.
"Expertise, back off." Hotch pointed one of his patented death glares at Morgan.
The team ate bouncing around ideas.
"Macuilxochitl, is the god of gambling; given that this is Las Vegas, the unsub probably is hoping to win and has been losing." Spencer offered. All eyes focused on him.
"That's good kid. Where did you hear the word unsub?" Rossi asked.
"Your books, sir." Spencer's voice was quiet as he looked up at Rossi with wide eyes.
"You've read my books?" Rossi asked gently.
Spencer started speaking quickly, "All of them. When I was done, I went off and did some reading on psychology, criminal behavior, and profiling. It was interesting and frightening reading."
Hotch cut in. "I'm taking Mr. Rocket shopping for some more appropriate attire for an FBI consultant. We'll meet at the station in two hours. Morgan, follow up with Garcia on any leads she has found."
"Just… call me Spencer."
As much as Hotch hated shopping, he knew he had to take Spencer. He learned from the hotel concierge that a Nordstroms was nearby and drove the young man there.
Aaron watched Spencer look around the store, his eyes as big as saucers. "Agent Hotchner, I can't really afford clothes from a place like this."
"Call me Hotch or Aaron. And don't worry, the clothes are part of your fee as a consultant." Seeing Spencer like this just showed Hotch again how even though Spencer was hardened by life, he was still very young and, in some ways, had a child-like innocence about him.
Hotch tried to dress Spencer in business suits, but he seemed so uncomfortable. They compromised on casual pants and a shirt, sweater vest, and tie. However, Spencer insisted on mis-matched socks.
They were walking to the car, Spencer's old clothes safely in one of the numerous bags, when Hotch's phone rang.
"I see. We're on our way." Hotch hung up the phone. "You sure you want to go to a crime scene? It's two bodies this time."
Hotch unlocked the car, and the two men got in and buckled their seat belts.
"Really, you'll take me? I never thought I would get to actually see some of the things I read about." Hotch hid his smile at Spencer's enthusiasm. You'd think I offered to take him to Disney World. Hotch was starting to see that Spencer was endlessly curious.
"I want to get your take on the scene. See if there's anything we missed," Hotch said as he navigated the car out into the road.
"I'll help any way I can." Hotch could not imagine what the life of a prostitute was like in general, but it was particularly hard to imagine with Spencer. Spencer seemed to be a genuinely caring individual who had great gifts to share with the world, but through an unfortunate set of circumstances, he was reduced to an object to be bought and sold. The incredible waste saddened the profiler.
They arrived at the hotel where the crime had taken place. Hotch flashed his credentials and led Spencer to the room. Crime Scene techs were taking photos while Morgan and Rossi explored the scene.
Spencer walked in, took one look, and fled for the bathroom, vomiting. Hotch ran after the man, wondering if he had made a mistake.
Hotch placed a hand on Spencer's back. "Being faced with the real thing makes seasoned veterans queasy."
"It's not that." Spencer said, rinsing his mouth out.
"What is it?" Hotch asked gently.
Spencer looked up at Hotch. "Those…those were my friends, Lis and Kitty. We share an apartment. I thought they would be safe if they stayed together."
Hotch looked at the tortured young man. He had no words of comfort to offer. Spencer stomped out of the bathroom.
CMCMCMCMCM
Now, it's personal. I'm going to get this bastard.
Spencer examined the bodies of his two friends. He stayed calm by detaching himself. He went to that place inside himself where no one and nothing could touch him. It was a place he went often, especially when a John was too rough or just distasteful. It was the only way he could cope.
He examined the wound pattern and the positioning of the bodies. It was a perfect replica of the god Macuilxochitl. He found a small paper covered in Aztec writing and translated it without thought.
Turning to Hotch he read the paper. "Grant me success as I gamble for the only thing worth living."
"What language is it in?" Hotch asked.
"Oh… Nahautl. That's the language the Aztecs spoke." Spencer ducked his head. Years of protective instincts gone in a moment. Why did he keep showing off in front of this man? He knew it could only lead to pain.
"You speak Nah…Nahautl?"
Spencer's mouth dropped open. Hotch looked genuinely curious and interested, not angry or disgusted.
"I memorized a dictionary or two in my time." Spencer said, shrugging.
CMCMCMCMCM
Hotch wondered just how many languages the young man could read.
Spencer glanced at Hotch. "Languages aren't my strength. I'm much better with numbers."
Normally if someone said something like that, Hotch would have assumed they were bragging. However, Spencer said it off-handed, distracted. It was a simple statement of fact. Just how smart was this young man?
"Spencer, did you ever have an IQ test?" Hotch asked gently.
"Yeah…" Spencer looked down, wrapping his arms around himself.
Hotch put a finger under Spencer's chin and gently lifted his head so he could look the man in the eyes. "Do you remember your score?"
"Yeah…" Spencer answered, frowning.
Barely a whisper, Hotch asked, "What was it?"
Spencer hesitated, his eyes went slightly unfocused, but then he answered. "187."
187. This man has an IQ of 187 and can read 20,000 words a minute. What is he doing on the streets? Hotch was a top notch profiler and watching Spencer Rocket, he was sure of one thing. This man did not want to be asked about his past.
After they were finished examining the scene, Hotch took Spencer down to the station to meet up with the rest of the team and compare notes. Spencer joined them as they worked up the profile of a man twenty five to forty who was an expert in the ancient Aztecs. He had probably suffered some large loss probably at the gaming tables, but it had been more than that. Perhaps his life's savings or something else he valued greatly.
The team set off to deliver the profile while Spencer sat on a bench waiting.
