"Can I borrow a dime?"

Hotch's features contorted in confusion as he looked up at him. "What for?"

Morgan smirked. "So I can call your mom and thank her."

Ignoring the quiet snort that came from his left, Morgan raised his eyebrows as Hotch scrutinised him in search of an explanation. When nothing came from the intense inspection, Hotch frowned.

"Thank her for what?"

Morgan huffed out a tiny laugh and glanced away, before walking over to one of the empty chairs in the room. Sitting himself down beside Rossi, he folded his hands together and placed them on the table in front of him. His grin didn't falter as he took another glimpse of his boss.

Hotch's mouth had opened, ready to question the statement again due to Morgan not offering clarification, but nothing came out as the rest of the team began to filter into the room. Allowing his smile to dim somewhat when the distraction proved efficient enough to pull Hotch's attention away, Morgan shook his head. Shifting his focus to the files that JJ was handing out, he sighed.

"Okay," Hotch started, "what do we know?"

As JJ began her presentation of their latest case, Morgan couldn't help but feel disappointed. His gaze flicked back to Hotch. Sometimes, Morgan believed that the man had some kind of button he used specifically for moments like this. It was the only way he could explain how Hotch could seemingly turn off his emotions so easily. Though, this was their job, and Hotch was nothing if not completely professional when it came to work.

What else had he expected, really? There was no way his comment would have caused the reaction he'd wanted. Grimacing, Morgan fought the urge to groan.

He was an idiot, and his timing was abysmal.

-o-

The case had, fortunately, been fast and easy. With the help of the public and a very accurate geographic profile provided by Reid, finding the Unsub had taken barely any time at all.

The team had agreed to spend another night at the hotel to cool off and celebrate, and Morgan breathed out a long, relieved sigh as he crashed onto one of the couches in the foyer. Despite being worn out and old, the seat retained enough of its original softness for Morgan to gain comfort from it.

Coming down from the high of a job well done, he watched the happy faces of his friends as they crowded around the small area. Hotch joined him on the cool leather, body relaxed and features displaying an openness that wasn't usually present. Morgan's arms spread out on the back of the couch as he let his eyes roam over his friend.

With half-lidded eyes, Hotch was breathing deeply and slowly. When his mouth shifted in the familiar manner that occurred when one was trying to stop a yawn from escaping, Morgan felt a swell of sympathy tug at his heart.

Probably feeling himself being watched, Hotch glanced towards him. As their dark gazes locked, Morgan was hit with an idea.

Catching the sudden chortle before it made its way from his throat, Morgan mentally gave himself a high five. Yes, he was going to look like a lunatic, but that didn't matter. This time he wasn't going to screw up, because this time there wasn't a case to interfere with his plan.

Not wanting to wait any longer to execute his little stunt - mostly so he couldn't chicken out of it - Morgan twisted on the couch until he was fully facing the other occupant.

Letting his hands shoot up to his face dramatically, Morgan cupped his own cheeks in disbelief as he stared in wide-eyed wonder at the other man. He gasped; it was obnoxiously loud, piercing through the silence of the room.

Everyone reacted in some sort of surprise at the action - JJ and Reid jumped, Rossi and Emily snapped their heads to look at him - but it was Hotch who held Morgan's full attention.

After a couple seconds, Hotch spoke up.

"What's wrong?"

Worry laced his tone. Shoving away the cold ice of regret crawling through his skin as Hotch's features became marred with a frown, Morgan swallowed. He hadn't expected-No, he hadn't wanted that reaction, hadn't desired to replace Hotch's contentment with concern. But that was the nature of his boss - it wasn't a shocking reaction - and it couldn't be changed.

Steeling himself to continue, Morgan squashed down on the wish to forfeit this particular attempt and call it a loss.

He couldn't back down now, else he'd look like a fool.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, trying so very hard not to break character. It wasn't easy, but he found the power to push through when Hotch seemed ready to protest his choice of language. "I think I dropped something."

In his peripheral vision, he saw Rossi let out a startled grunt. No one else seemed to pay the older profiler any focus, however, and Morgan deliberately didn't move his gaze from Hotch's eyes. Glaring at Rossi right now would ruin the entire thing.

"What?" Hotch's frown only seemed to deepen as Morgan's words registered in his mind, but the concern from earlier had thankfully disappeared. Nothing remained but confusion.

A deviously wicked grin snaked its way onto Morgan's face as he stared down Hotch with a sudden, startling glee.

"My jaw."

Rossi cackled; it was the only sound for a few, awkward seconds as everyone else tried to process what the hell was going on. Morgan only just managed to stop his own chuckles from exiting his mouth as the noise of Rossi's guffaws carried on, unabashed.

After a moment, his attention was drawn to Emily. He winced. Her eyes had widened and her mouth had dropped open in astonishment. Glancing between Morgan and Hotch quickly, her gaze halted on Morgan's form and she too joined in on the laughter. Morgan switched his attention back to Hotch, trying to ignore the fact that Emily was now aware of what he'd just done.

Hotch was still staring at him, eyebrows lowered and head tilted in obvious bemusement. If he were being completely honest, Morgan had to admit that the expression made him proud. Not everyone was capable of producing that sheer level of bewilderment in their boss.

"Am I the only one missing what's so funny?" Reid asked, speaking up above the sounds of joy that were still going on.

Hotch glanced at the kid, before turning his focus to the still laughing Rossi. "No, Reid, it's not just you. I think we both missed the joke."

It took all of Morgan's strength to maintain a straight face.

-o-

Two hours of flight and they'd be back home. Closing his eyes, Morgan let his fingers tap out the beat to a familiar song on his knee in an attempt to relax. The sound of rustling paper and a pen scratching a hard surface nibbled at his patience. His hand stopped moving, coming to a rest on his leg.

Opening his eyes once more, he glanced at the person seated opposite him. Hotch had his head down, examining whatever files he had splayed out on the table between them. Every now and then, he wrote something in a margin or corner, probably adding notes so he wouldn't forget anything later.

Though he was concentrating, the scowl that usually adorned his features wasn't present. Morgan's lips pulled upwards slightly. This mood - calm and focused, but without the sense of urgency that normally accompanied it - was one that Morgan enjoyed seeing his friend in. Making him appear younger, there was a glow that radiated from the older man when he was like this. Strong and reassuring, it drew Morgan's attention like the warmth of a fire.

Morgan inwardly cringed, scoffing at his own thoughts. He was getting sappy, and that needed fixing immediately. Resisting the urge to slap some sense into himself, he licked his lips and smiled.

"Hey, Hotch?"

Hotch's eyes darted up to him, before moving back down to the papers. "Yes?"

"I hear you're looking for a stud." His smile turned cheeky. "Well, I've got the STD, and all I need is you."

Hotch quickly glanced back up again. A tiny flash of concern made its way across his features, causing Morgan's smile to vanish instantly. What the hell?

"Do you need some time off?"

Morgan blinked. "What?"

Hotch made a vague gesture with his hand. "I can arrange it if you need the time to visit a doctor. Some STDs can be serious, Morgan, and your health is important."

He voiced it like a reprimand, as though he were talking to a child who was being difficult. Regardless of this, he kept his volume mild and discreet. Morgan's eyes widened, realising that he was probably doing it to maintain what he believed to be Morgan's privacy about the matter.

His next words were even quieter, and a strange edge of sheepishness entered his tone. "It's not really something I can give you advice on, sorry."

The look Hotch was giving him was so incredibly sincere that Morgan couldn't even try to accuse him of faking it. Though he desperately wanted to see it, there wasn't a single indication that Hotch was messing with him. Hotch honestly believed that he-

Feeling a hot flush rise in his cheeks, Morgan gawped at his boss as he tried to come up with a coherent reply.

Nothing came.

Annoyingly, under the scrutiny of his superior's open display of care, the blush he'd acquired earlier crept down his neck and around his ears.

Pursing his lips, he tapped the table a couple of times with his fist and abruptly stood up. Avoiding any and all eye contact - seriously, how the fuck had that gone so wrong? - he fumbled awkwardly for a moment, before pointing towards the other side of the jet.

"I'm gonna see if I can get some sleep," he grumbled, irritation filling him when his voice almost cracked on the last word. It was a bad lie, but it was all he could manage right now. "Didn't get much last night."

Catching Hotch's nod of approval in the corner of his vision, Morgan turned around and clamped his eyes shut. Willing the heat in his face to go away, he reopened his eyes and felt his hands ball up into fists when he was met with the image of two very delighted colleagues.

Both Emily and Rossi were looking at him with blatant amusement. Though silent, their mirth was plain to see. Morgan's body sagged in defeat.

Biting back on the desire to yell at them, he slumped towards the back of the jet with the intention of hiding away for the remainder of the trip. He had a feeling that pretending the last couple of minutes had just been a dream was not going to work, but he was going to do it anyway.

Denial was one hell of a drug.

-o-

Morgan was in a good mood.

Finishing the paperwork for the case had been quick, the tidying up of loose ends was mostly done, and they were all headed home. The day was over, finally.

Well, almost.

Following behind the rest of the team, Morgan let his gaze wander. It wasn't often that he got to admire Hotch's body so openly, but right now, with everyone else occupied with thoughts of cooked food and warm beds, he had ample time to check his boss out. And check out he did.

Features slipping into an honest to God leer, he let his eyes trail slowly over the angles and planes of Hotch's figure.

He was wearing the grey suit - Morgan's personal favourite - and, although it wasn't tailored specifically for him, the material still hugged his limbs in a manner that showed off how lean he was. Gaze lifting up, his eyes roamed over the broad shoulders hidden beneath the meticulously well-maintained jacket.

Drawing out a long sigh, Morgan only stopped his admiration when Hotch came to a halt in front of him. Pausing his stride, Morgan peered around him and towards the rest of their friends. The others had made their way into the elevator, and he watched as Rossi lifted a hand to press the button for the floor they needed to get out of this place.

Morgan's eyes widened. Oh, this was perfect. Rubbing his hands together, he bit his lip. A very bold, very bad thought was swirling around in his brain. The opportunity to implement the extremely not-good plan would probably never present itself again, and he had to take it.

Closing the distance between himself and Hotch, he clamped a hand down onto the older profiler's shoulder. Hotch spared him a quick look, before his focus shifted back to the phone in his hand.

"Excuse me," Morgan began, and a grin formed on his face as he quickly assessed how fast the elevator doors would be shutting. He would not be screwing this one up. Waiting for a second as Hotch let out a 'Hm?' in recognition that he'd been addressed, Morgan patted him.

Catching the snicker before it could surface, Morgan removed his hand from Hotch's shoulder and abruptly brought it back down to his side.

"Is this seat taken?"

And then he slapped Hotch's ass, hard.

Hotch jolted forwards in surprise and yelped. The sound was shockingly high-pitched and loud as it was ripped from his throat, and it was something that Morgan had never heard come from the man before.

Fighting back his desire to shout in triumph, Morgan beamed. He clapped his hands together and, before anyone - namely his boss - could come to their senses, he very rapidly made a retreat for the safety of the elevator. As he jumped in, ignoring the magnificent array of gapes and gawks coming from everyone inside, Morgan was filled with a swell of pride as the doors began to slide shut.

Turning around, he had to stifle the howl of laughter that threatened to emerge as he caught sight of Hotch's face.

Though he would try to deny it, the noise he made when the doors closed fully, blocking his view of his very stunned boss, could only be described as a giggle.

Scratching out the earlier assessment of his feelings as a little inaccurate, Morgan blew out a satisfied breath of air.

The only correct definition of his mood right now was absolutely fantastic.

-o-

"You keep going the way you are, and you won't be waking up tomorrow."

"Hotch wouldn't do that."

Rossi raised an eyebrow.

"He wouldn't," Morgan repeated, trying to reassure himself of that truth.

"I don't think the ice you're treading on can get much thinner. You went from once, to three times in less than 24 hours, Derek."

Feeling a tad defensive, Morgan frowned. "He didn't even notice one of them, Rossi. I had to do something."

"What? So, you choose to sexually assault him? Because he definitely noticed that, my friend." Even though the topic of discussion was supposed to be serious, the small smile slowly creeping its way onto Rossi's features gave away what he really felt about this entire situation.

Morgan glared. "Look, if you let me do it my way, I wouldn't be in this mess right now." He waved in Rossi's general direction to emphasise his next words. "This is your fault, man."

Rossi shrugged, and his eyes were twinkling. "I warned you. Never make a bet when you're drunk. You have no one to blame but yourself."

The gesture Morgan made with his hand was extremely unfriendly; all he got in reply was a chuckle.

-o-

The bag he was holding was small and white. Crinkled in all sorts of ways, he'd made sure to leave the opening wide and inviting, as though the interior offered a gift to whomever decided to reach inside. Weightless, the cool material was merely a prop, and one that Morgan was about to put to good use.

Standing beside the kitchen counter, he eyed the mug that Hotch was currently tending to. Having poured his coffee moments earlier, Hotch was slowly stirring the contents with a spoon. The clanging of metal in the otherwise quiet space was jarring, to say the least.

Morgan continued to wait. He knew that Hotch didn't particularly like much in his drink, but the man continued to move the spoon around, lost in thought. Had he even added anything other than coffee to the mix? Morgan wasn't sure, but it was odd how Hotch carried on, distracted and obviously not paying attention to his surroundings.

Figuring it was in his best interests to act now, lest Hotch snap out of it and realise he was being watched, Morgan took a step forwards and presented the empty bag to him.

Keeping all body language muted and small, Morgan waved the item to draw focus to it.

"Hey, baby."

Hotch froze. Keeping his body still, his eyes slowly drifted to the side until he was peering intently at Morgan from under his lashes. Stopping the flinch before it could manifest, Morgan fixed him with a stare. He couldn't quite identify the emotion emitting from his friend.

"You want a raisin?" He gestured to the bag with his head, before his expression slipped into one of mock disappointment as he peered into its empty bowels. "Ah, damn, there's none left."

Hotch continued to stare at him, not saying anything.

Swallowing down his nerves, Morgan turned back to Hotch with a casual grin. "How about a date, then?"

This time, Hotch responded by fully turning around to face him. His eyebrows scrunched up, and he lifted his chin in accusation.

"Have you been drinking?"

Grip on the now useless bag tightening suddenly, a harsh rustling noise was created as it was crushed between his fingers. Feeling all his confidence dissipate in one go, Morgan grumbled out a curse that was just a tad too quiet to hear. He frowned.

"No."

"Then what's this about, Morgan?" Hotch asked, voice low. There was an underlying hint of curiosity behind the question, like he was trying to solve some kind of puzzle but didn't have access to all the pieces yet.

Morgan shook his head.

"You want to talk about it?"

Again, Morgan responded in the negative. That... was not what he needed. How the fuck was he supposed to win here if Hotch kept misinterpreting everything? Sure, he knew it wasn't exactly Hotch's fault, but couldn't the guy throw him a lifeline? This was getting absurd.

Hotch's lips drew into a thin line. "Okay. But you might want to talk to someone. This isn't a healthy way to explore what you're going through, Morgan."

Standing there in stunned silence, Morgan watched as Hotch lifted his mug and headed out, probably in the direction of his office. Before he faded from view, Hotch glanced back, offering what he assumed was supposed to be a reassuring smile.

The curse that escaped his mouth was far more audible than the last one.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? Did Hotch think he was having some sort of crisis? From what he could gather, Hotch believed him to be questioning his sexuality.

He wasn't. He was completely secure in his sexuality, thank you very much. But Hotch didn't know that. Seriously, how was this the path that they were heading down?

Morgan growled.

Fucking perfect.

-o-

"Let me get this straight," Emily said, tilting her head as she looked at him with doubt. "You think doubling down and trying even worse pick-up lines will somehow fix the problem?"

Rossi snorted.

Emily shook her head in disbelief. "Really?"

If he were being truly honest with himself, Morgan knew that, amongst every bad idea he'd ever had, this was up there in at least the top five. Maybe even top three. Deep down, he knew she was right. That didn't mean he had to tell her that, however.

"I don't remember you being involved with this," he chose to say, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. When had Emily become privy to his predicament, exactly? He'd seen her react a couple of times, now, but when had Rossi actually told her about their stupid bet?

Did it even matter?

Emily scoffed. "Then you shouldn't have started when everyone else was present, Romeo."

"Hey, that's on Rossi, not me!" Morgan shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at the older profiler. It was true. Rossi was the evil one here, the bringer of bad omens and embarrassment. If anyone should be feeling awful, it should be him.

"I didn't say you had to do it in front of anyone, Morgan."

Glaring, Morgan was hit with a hot anger. "It's not my fault you won't let me flirt my way, man. He wouldn't think there was something wrong if it were up to me."

A peculiar sound of disagreement exited Emily's mouth. Gaze returning to her for a moment, Morgan spread his arms and shrugged. A huff left his mouth.

"What?"

She tutted. "Well, I wouldn't call what you've been doing flirting, exactly. How about you, Rossi?"

"Definitely not," he agreed, mouth quirking up.

"Hell no," Morgan said, lips pursing and body going rigid with rage. Biting his lip to stop himself from saying something he'd regret, he backed away from his two supposed friends, instead opting to say, "I am done with the both of you."

And with that, he turned on his heel and stormed from the room, ignoring the traitorous sounds of laughter as he did so.

-o-

Contrary to popular belief, Derek Morgan was not a brave man.

Taking down criminals that were twice his size was child's play. Tackling the heaps of paperwork case after case was a piece of cake. Profiling the psychopathic killers of the world could be described as a walk in the park.

None of that mattered anymore.

As he stood outside Hotch's office, hand hovering in the air ready to knock on the dark wood of the door, he had to admit that he was, in fact, a coward. He was utterly terrified. What the hell was wrong with him? He was a grown ass man, for God's sake. He'd faced countless men and women before, some intimidating, some not so much, and he'd never felt like this. He'd even had his fair share of rejections and taken them with a smile.

Why was this so different? Was it because Hotch was his superior? That had to be the answer. The people he usually pursued were confident, yes, but they always had an air of vulnerability surrounding them. Hotch was not delicate. The man was self-assured in his abilities, stubborn to the core, and had a glare that could make even the most violent of criminals take pause.

Hotch also managed to handle dating flawlessly, despite not actively putting himself out there. Women seemed drawn to him, even when he wasn't interested. His manner of speech and the way he presented himself was like freakin' catnip to females of their species.

Morgan cringed inwardly. Hotch had never given a single indication that he held attraction for men. Of course, it was entirely possible that he was bisexual, and had just conveniently always ended up with women. But that was grasping at straws, surely? Morgan let out a sigh.

Hotch hadn't been outwardly aggressive or angry at any of his stupid quips so far, so that was something, right? Well, unless he took into consideration the fact that Hotch thought he was acting out.

He was pulled from his thoughts when the door opened up suddenly. Morgan stared as Hotch came into view. His eyebrows were pulled into a small frown, though his eyes were shining with a spark of amusement.

"Is there a problem?" Hotch asked.

It was only in that moment that Morgan realised his hand was still outstretched, awkwardly occupying the space between the two profilers. Settling his features into what he hoped was a neutral expression, Morgan finally lowered his arm.

Hotch's dark gaze followed the movement, before he raised an eyebrow and locked eyes with Morgan once more. The light Morgan had noticed earlier was burning brightly, and he realised that Hotch was holding back the desire to smile.

'I'm an idiot,' was Morgan's first line of thought. How could he have been so stupid to not realise that Hotch had been able to see him through the open blinds covering his office window?

When it became apparent that Morgan was going to remain silent, Hotch backed up and gestured into his office. It was an invitation; Morgan took the chance he had to go inside before he made an even bigger fool of himself.

Waiting patiently as Hotch closed the door behind them and walked over to his desk to lean against it, Morgan tried to calm his rapidly increasing heart beat. Knowing it would do no harm - it was just a sign he was nervous, and Hotch definitely couldn't hear its thunderous drum - Morgan tried to push thoughts of it to the back of his mind.

Folding his arms across his chest, Hotch regarded him with a carefree smile. He looked utterly relaxed, his features open and friendly as he took in Morgan's still unmoving form.

Neither man spoke for a moment, until Hotch nodded towards the couch.

"Why don't you take a seat?" Nothing more than a mere suggestion, Morgan found that he was unwilling to comply.

Blowing air over his suddenly dry lips, Morgan contemplated just turning tail and running. He knew how it would look, yet the temptation was there. Trying hard to overlook the growing warmth in his face, he decided it best to stand his ground. Hotch had done nothing wrong, and he didn't deserve to witness just how spineless Morgan was capable of being.

Bringing his hands to his hips, Morgan attempted to dismiss his lack of confidence as nothing important. Hotch wasn't a mind reader; he wouldn't be able to tell how terrified Morgan felt right now.

He did a spectacular job at hiding his gulp when he decided he needed to speak.

"Do you know what has 32 teeth and holds back the incredible hulk?" He asked it as casually as he could manage, and he had to give himself silent praise when his voice didn't crack on a single syllable.

Eyebrows raising, Hotch's expression didn't falter as he shook his head in reply.

Morgan somehow kept his tone serious as he replied, "My zipper."

The smile on his boss's face twitched slightly as Hotch fought hard to contain showing any larger reaction. After only a second, he lost his internal battle. Ducking his head, Hotch's eyes closed shut momentarily, his mouth parting to let out a cough to cover up the laugh that wanted to escape.

Morgan's heart made itself known again, thrusting against his chest heavily as a wave of happiness soared through him in response to the soft noise. Clenching his teeth together behind closed lips, it was all he could do to prevent his feelings from showing to the world. Wearing his heart on his sleeve was not something he was about to let become a habit.

A moment later, Hotch lifted his head back up. His eyes were ablaze with mirth, but he'd managed to gain some semblance of control back as his mouth was now downturned in disapproval.

"I thought you didn't want to discuss this with me," he said, eyebrows knitting together. He was clearly trying to hold back on showing anything other than complete professionalism. Surprisingly, Morgan found it easy to see right through the attempt.

He tilted his head, regarding Hotch with a smug expression. "You've got this all wrong, Hotch."

Pushing himself forwards, he took a couple steps towards the other man, never taking his eyes off him.

"There's nothing we need to discuss. I'm pretty damn happy with the way I am," he continued, taking another step forwards. Hotch watched on quietly. One more step, and they were practically touching. He let his lips lift into a smirk.

"Mind if I stare at you up close, rather than from across the room?" he whispered.

Using their proximity to his advantage, he made it blatantly obvious when he let his eyes roam down Hotch's body. Exaggerating the movement, he made sure to take his time and lower his head along with his gaze, dragging out the process, meticulously taking in every detail of the object of his affections with zero subtlety.

Bringing his head back up, slowly and methodically taking the time to prolong the scrutinisation, his smirk grew.

When their eyes locked once more, he couldn't help but notice the faint signs of a blush teasing across the pale skin of his friend's cheeks. Mouth parting in an open smile, Morgan trailed his tongue along his teeth. He didn't miss it when Hotch's gaze shifted to follow the movement.

"Morgan-"

Placing both hands on the desk on either side of Hotch's body, Morgan leaned forwards, invading his personal space. Hotch's aborted attempt to say something was followed by him swallowing thickly. Morgan's smile turned lecherous.

"You know, I bet ten bucks I could kiss you without ever having to touch you."

Hotch licked his lips. "That's not possible."

Arching an eyebrow, Morgan tilted his head. "You wanna take that bet?"

"Yes," was the immediate reply.

He was close enough now that he could feel Hotch's hot breath on his face. Searching Hotch's gaze for any sign that he was uncomfortable, Morgan was pleased when he found nothing but curiosity and, if he were not mistaken, a subtle hint of... Hope, perhaps? Hotch was obviously confused over how the past couple of minutes had panned out, but he was willing to see where Morgan wanted to take this.

Removing the now insignificant gap between them, Morgan pressed their lips together. Closing his eyes, he felt the tiny jerk from the body under him. Moving a hand from the desk, he reached up and pressed his palm to the back of Hotch's neck to encourage reciprocation. Letting his lips move instinctively, Morgan's mouth turned up slightly when Hotch began returning the gesture.

Feeling Hotch relax into his touch, he leaned in further to deepen the kiss. Hotch's lips were warm, his mouth soft and surprisingly responsive against Morgan's own as they moved together.

Reluctantly, Morgan opened his eyes and pulled back. Never taking his sights off his boss, he watched as Hotch blinked his eyes open and took a second to regain his focus. His mouth was parted slightly, and as their gazes locked, Hotch released a quiet sigh.

With his nerves on fire and his body itching to touch once more, Morgan had to force himself to stand back up to his full height. Moving the hand that had been on the desk moments ago, he deliberately reached down into his back pocket. Hotch caught sight of the movement and watched on in silence.

Removing his other hand from Hotch's neck, he sought out one of Hotch's arms. Grabbing at a slim wrist, he pried the arm from its folded cocoon against Hotch's chest, pulling the older man's hand into view. He made sure to twist it so it was facing palm upwards.

Then, as he grabbed the prize he'd been after in his pants, he pulled the gift out and placed it into Hotch's waiting hand. Both men glanced down at the item.

It was a ten dollar bill.

Staring owlishly at it for a moment, Hotch let out a sputtered gasp as he realised what it was. Stepping back to give him some space, Morgan felt a strong warmth pulse through him as Hotch doubled over in laughter. His eyes had closed, the wrinkles next to them deep as his shoulders shook aggressively.

Gasping every so often to pull in some much-needed air, Hotch shook his head to try and regain some composure. Every attempt failed. His laughs were loud and joyous as they echoed throughout the office, drowning out any other noise that might have been there.

Morgan was glowing. He'd seen his boss lose it before, but never quite like this. Morgan had done that to him. He'd caused that reaction. And he'd done it with a freakin' shitty joke, of all things.

Clearing his throat after a few more seconds, Hotch opened his eyes and lifted himself back up, breaths ragged as he tried to calm down. Glancing at Morgan in disbelief, he sniffed, trying to hold back another laugh as he reached his hand out. He gestured towards the money clutched in his fingers.

"That bet was unfair," he managed to choke out, before pulling in a deep breath. He released it slowly, holding onto what little control he'd managed to gain over the past couple of seconds. "You should take this back."

Morgan grinned. "Keep it, baby. I lost fair and square."

Features contorting in a peculiar way, Hotch tossed the paper note onto the desk behind him before crossing his arms once again over his chest. He was silent for a moment, just observing Morgan with a look he couldn't quite place. Morgan felt his cheeks redden. There was something strange in Hotch's expression, something dangerous that he wasn't capable of naming.

"So," Hotch said, and Morgan noticed there was now a mischievous sprinkle in his voice. Raising an eyebrow, Hotch continued, "Did you get that STD looked at?"

Morgan recoiled in horror.

Hotch was observing him with wide, innocent eyes, but there was the tiniest flash of something playful behind his gaze; Morgan only noticed it because he was still staring at him. After a long, agonising moment, a surprised bark of laughter erupted from Morgan's throat. The sound filled the room, bright and tactless as he tried and failed to contain it.

"Son of a bitch." The words were out his mouth before he could stop them.

Hotch's mouth split into a wide grin. Shrugging nonchalantly, Hotch shifted his weight against the desk. Opening his mouth, it seemed he was about to let out a reply, but a knock on the door stopped the words before they could enter the world.

Both men turned to the object that had caused the interruption, and Morgan was a little miffed when he realised he was the only one who'd shown any startlement due to the unexpected bang. Hotch hadn't even blinked.

"Come in," Hotch called, and if there was any disappointment evident in his voice, neither one of them chose to acknowledge it.

It was JJ. The small amount of irritation Morgan felt bloomed into a fully fledged annoyance as she stepped into the room, an apologetic look spread across her face. She was holding a folder in her hands, and she held it up to draw attention to it.

Morgan sneered, abhorrence sneaking its way into his subconscious. This wasn't real, surely? The world was playing some giant, cosmic joke at his expense. He'd been so close to the goal he'd set himself since all this had started. To see the net, to have had the chance to make the final kick towards victory, only to have a keeper appear out of nowhere? How was that playing fair?

Couldn't he have just one moment where their job didn't interfere with his fun?

"Sorry, but Chief Strauss just called. Said she needed some information on the Wilkes file?" JJ said, directing her question solely at their boss.

Hotch nodded, standing up fully from where he'd been leaning on the desk for the past few minutes. "I'll be right out. Can you get Garcia? We're going to need her input."

"Sure, I'll get her now," JJ answered, smiling in obvious relief. Hotch gave her his thanks, and she made to leave. Before she did so, she glanced quickly in Morgan's direction, her look quizzical. He knew it was due to his rather hostile expression, but he didn't care to change it, instead opting to move his gaze to the couch tucked away in the corner of the room.

He wasn't angry at JJ, and he didn't want her to think his frustration was in any way targeting her specifically. He was pissed at their work always having to take priority, but that wasn't her fault.

Not bothering to move his focus until he heard her leave the room, thankfully closing the door behind her, Morgan closed his eyes and released the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Was he really that agitated right now? He needed to find a way to cool off.

"Jack's going to a friend's house after school. He's spending the night."

The words were spoken casually, tone neutral and almost offhand, the volume clear but unobtrusive. Morgan's eyes snapped back open. Attention darting to Hotch, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, Morgan crushed down the comment that wanted to form. He stared at his boss in shock. Was he seriously implying what Morgan thought he was?

Having moved his hands to his pockets, Hotch was staring out the office window. Shoulders relaxed and features giving nothing away, he didn't seem to actually be looking at anything in particular. After a moment, he turned to Morgan. There was no hesitance in his movement; no show of haste.

Hotch eyed him passively. "I usually have dinner at seven."

Morgan felt his heart stutter. Oh, so that was the game, then? He breathed out a whisper of a laugh. He could definitely go along with that.

"Well, I've been told I'm fantastic company," he said, expression turning sly. Perhaps JJ's interruption hadn't been so bad after all, if this was the result it was going to force.

Hotch's eyes glimmered with delight, and a smile pulled at the edge of his lips. Morgan resisted the strong desire to close the distance between them once more. That could wait until later.

"I do have to warn you, there's one strict rule about guests," Hotch stated, and Morgan's breath hitched when Hotch smirked at him. Holy fuck. How had he never seen that look before? It was delicious, and Morgan tried not to openly gawp as a hot flush threatened to overtake his face.

Drawing in a long breath through his nose, he found himself smiling in turn. "And what's that?"

Hotch's eyes narrowed, and Morgan knew he was in for one hell of a ride when this was all over.

"They don't call me baby."

-o-