Drunken Genius - Chapter 1

Up until recently, I had only written 1 fanfic ever. Now I am starting a small series entitled, "If Things Were Different". Basically I will be taking the established stories from episodes of CM and tweaking them to pair various characters. This story is part 2 of this series. In this story, adorableness will ensue, and probably some smut. You have been warned.

I'm setting this story around the beginning of season 4, after Hotch's divorce and around Elephant's Memory.

Pairing: Reid/ Hotch

Well, here goes. Wheels up!

—

Arriving home rather late flying back home from Texas, the team decided to go out for drinks and food at their local dive bar. Reid was finally calming down. He had identified with the victim, a teenage boy with high intelligence but a severe learning disability who had killed his abusive father, his girlfriend's abusive father, and a several classmates who had bullied him or taken advantage of his girlfriend. Reid had disobeyed orders and challenged authority several times on the case because he could feel the unsub's pain. He related all too well with the tormented smart kid, but he was finally calming down, so he agreed to go out with the gang.

At the bar, Rossi ordered the first round on him. "To supporting our family, through conflicts and struggles, pain and strife. May we always be there for each other, to lend a helping hand, to pick us up and dust us off when we fall down, and to knock some sense into us when necessary. To our family." He always had to toast.

The group clinked their glasses together. JJ, Garcia, and Morgan eventually worked their way to the dance floor. Prentiss and Rossi began a game of pool against Hotch and Reid. Reid warned them, "You do realize I'm a certifiable genius from Vegas, right? You guys don't stand a chance."

Hotch noticed that the alcohol not only gave Reid a large dose of liquid courage, but it also made him significantly more cocky. "Glad you're on my team." Hotch gave a smirk that wasn't quite a smile, but still indicated he was having a good time, and patted Reid on his upper back.

Reid's insides tumbled at the smirk and friendly gesture. He couldn't help but smile back. He just prayed the crush-induced sparkle hadn't reached his eyes. He'd been secretly in love with his boss for years at this point, but felt he was doing a good job of hiding it, as none of the team had said anything to him about it. He was certain they would have pestered him with questions if they suspected anything, especially Garcia.

Prentiss just schooled her features to a firm smirk. "Bring it, boy wonder." The game began with Reid pretty much clearing the first table. Each round they won, the losing side had to buy the next round. Slowly, the others started to catch up, but by the end of round five, Rossi threw in the towel. "I give. I surrender." He waved a white handkerchief comically. Reid was fairly toasted, but he smiled at the antic.

Rossi continued. "Unlike some people," he shot his gaze towards Reid, but spoke to the others, "I can admit when I'm wrong or defeated. Come on. Last round's on me."

Reid cocked his head to the side and narrowed his blurry vision on Rossi. "I can admit when I'm wrong," he retorted. Then he shrugged. "It just doesn't happen often." A smirk claimed his lips.

Getting in one last jab, Rossi replied, "Well, your heart may have been in the right place, but you were very wrong about how to handle this last case. Try to follow protocol next time. It's there for a reason."

Reid felt defeated. One of his heroes and mentors was scolding him. In public. After pumping him full of alcohol, a known depressant. He felt his soul crumble as he sat back at their table.

Hotch came over to join him, his usually stern face soft with concern, and placed a hand on Reid's shoulder. Reid took a few subtle deep breaths at the closeness. He couldn't let his foggy brain give him away right now. "He doesn't mean anything by it, Reid," Hotch tried to assure him. "You know Rossi thinks highly of you. He just doesn't want to see the brass come down on you if you continue to be reckless like that. He just wants you safe and with this team, where you belong." Hotch had leaned closer, talking close to Reid's ear as loud music had picked back up.

Butterflies swirled violently in Reid's gut. Hotch was too close and smelled too good. He needed to back away before his lowered inhibitions got the better of him. Instead of appreciating the sage advise and encouragement, Reid's anxiety from Hotch's presence triggered a knee-jerk response. Reid pushed Hotch's hand off of his shoulder. "I don't need your pity, Hotch. I know I screwed up. I know I didn't follow orders. I know I endangered everyone. I don't need you coming over to tell me things I already know. In case you guys haven't figured it out, I lost it with that case because I related to a kid who also knew it all. I know what it's like to be bullied, to be too physically weak to stand up for yourself, and it's frustrating as hell." Reid hit the table in emphasis.

Hotch squared his shoulders on full alert. He could tell Reid was going down a path that wasn't exactly wise, but one that the alcohol gave him courage to pursue.

"I know what it's like to have guys three- four times your size toss you around like a toy, beat you up, and then get away with it because there's not enough proof." Reid scoffed then. "And I was naive enough to think it got better in adulthood, but, no, I joined the criminal justice system to put guys like that away, bullies who pray on the weak and vulnerable. I set out to right wrongs and deliver justice, but there are days when we have to wait and watch as bad guys go free, innocent victims get locked up for associated crimes, or worse yet, we lose a victim in the struggle to save them. The bullies still get to win, and it's not right! It's not fair, Hotch!" Reid slammed him fists down as he stood abruptly. His knees knocked back against his chair, and he almost fell over, but Hotch caught his elbow and helped steady him.

Reid's anxiety bit into him at that point. He pulled away from Hotch. "Damn it, I'm not some invalid, Hotch! I'm not a victim in need of your pity or your help!" He took another step back, toppling over the chair completely this time. When Hotch leaned over to offer a hand, Reid swatted it away.

"Come on, Reid. It's just a hand." Hotch kept his voice calm and soothing, like he was talking to a child or a really unstable unsub.

Reid grinned wickedly. "Yeah, so's this." From his perch on the ground, Reid swung his fist at Hotch's jaw. At his current level of intoxication, Reid missed, and Hotch easily avoided the half-hearted swing. However, Reid didn't anticipate the aftermath of the attempted punch, his hand kept going, and he accidentally hit a loose board in a chair. The opposite end of the board flung out and hit him hard in the back of the head. He saw some stars, and then everything went dark.

—

Hotch closed his eyes in exasperation. Only Reid would try to drunkenly fight someone and end up knocking himself out instead. Hotch shook his head. The kid had tried to punch him for lending a hand. Hotch made a mental note to avoid actions that implied he thought Reid may be physically ill-equipped to handle a situation. Hopefully that would communicate to Reid that Hotch didn't see him as a victim or an invalid, just as another member of their elite and highly-trained team.

Well, honestly, Hotch thought much more of the young man in his back seat, but he couldn't admit that to anyone else. He had started to develop feelings for the young man while he was separated from his wife. He knew a part of his heart would always love Haley, but he'd pushed her too far away. He knew there was no way to get her back because he would never leave his job. His job was a part of him, a part of who he was on a molecular level. So, Hotch had resigned himself to the idea that he would most likely be alone for the remainder of his life.

About that time, Reid had started to stay late to talk with him, tried to be there for him. Hotch saw it as encouraging emotional growth on Reid's part, as if he was embracing much of what his mandated therapy following the Hankle incident had taught him. Over time though, he noticed that he looked more and more forward to those visits from Reid, that he found himself making excuses to walk by the bullpen just to see Reid, and that his stomach would flip and his heart rate would pick up when Reid smiled at him. He was definitely falling for the young man.

Then his wife had served Hotch with divorce papers. After the initial shock, he knew it was the right course of action. He just had to make sure that Jack knew he would always be his dad and he would always be there for him. Once he had those affairs in order, he returned to work, to his work family, and to Reid. He had this gut feeling that things were going to work out just fine as long as he had his son and his team, especially the youngest member.

Currently, the young genius was laying across the back seat of Hotch's black SUV, lightly snoring. Every few minutes, Hotch would glance in his rearview mirror to check on the sleeping man. His scraggly brown hair fell around his head and over his face. He looked rather peaceful for the first time in a long time. Hotch kept the radio on low, tuned to a soft rock channel. During the chorus of "You and Me" by Lifehouse, Hotch had begun to sing along quietly.

Reid's eyes fluttered open, blinking at the dashes of bright light that passed by intermittently. They broke up the black that filled most of his field of vision. He realized he was laying down and pieced together that he was staring out of a car window, the brightness of the buildings and street lights breaking up the night sky. What he couldn't figure out was why? Why was he in the back seat of a car? It was most likely an SUV from the size and space of the interior. Why was he not driving? He thought back to the last thing he remembered, playing pool and drinking with the team.

Then it all flooded back to him with clarity. Damn his eidetic memory! He relived the embarrassment of getting worked up emotionally, of lashing out at his boss, and finally at knocking himself out. Ugh! Facing the team on Monday was going to be hell.

A soft voice drug him out of his self-loathing. He tried not to make a sound as he looked around for the source of the sound. His eyes finally landed on the profile of the driver. Hotch's dark hair appeared slightly disheveled, only a few pieces out of their usually pristine placement. His dark eyes focused on the road, but his lips were moving. Wait, Hotch was… singing? Reid didn't even know his boss liked to sing, much less that he was pretty good at it. The gentle rumble of his baritone softly filled the space between them. Reid closed his eyes to focus on just listening. He smiled to himself, enjoying the moment.

When the song ended, he kept his eyes shut, but allowed his mind to focus on his questions from earlier. So, he'd knocked himself out attempting to hit Hotch, and the man was still the one being kind and taking him home, or so that's what he guessed. How could one man be so damn perfect? Always the gentleman, quick to forgive, considerate and protective of his team and family. Hotch had to be breaking some law of physics by existing.

A short while later, they pulled into the parking lot of Reid's apartment building. The bounce of the wheels over several speed bumps forced him to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. He was home. Despite feeling safe in the car with Hotch and safe at the sight of his building, he felt something slightly uncomfortable too. He guessed it was the manifestation of his guilt from earlier and dreading having to apologize for his actions to his all-too-kind boss.

After he parked, Hotch looked back to check on Reid. This time their eyes met. "Hey, Reid. How are you feeling?"

Reid blushed, looking down at the floor. "I'm fine, I guess. I mean, my head is killing me, but, you know, I kind of deserve it." He looked up at Hotch again, who was still focusing on Reid. "I'm sorry I tried to hit you, Hotch. Part of me really wants to blame it on the alcohol, but I still did it. I still swung at you, and I'm just really sorry."

Hotch reached out, placing a comforting hand on Reid's shoulder. "I appreciate and accept that apology, but it's ok. I'm not mad." Hotch smirked, trying to hold in his amusement at the events from earlier. "Honestly, I was just worried that you'd hurt yourself." Messing up Reid's already messy hair, he added, "We can't have you damaging that precious brain of yours. It's far too valuable."

Reid smirked back. "Geez, thanks, Hotch. I'm glad you worry about my brain."

Hotch shrugged. "Well it is a valuable asset to our team."

Reid shook his head at his boss's attempt to cheer him up, but stopped quickly and winced. "Ok, no shaking my head. That hurt."

Hotch's face took on its usually steely expression as he examined Reid closely. "Let's get you up to your apartment. I had an off duty medic examine you at the club while you were in and out of consciousness. He says you don't have a concussion but to keep checking on you periodically. Would it be alright if I stayed here with you tonight to keep checking on you?" he asked. He didn't want to assume that his presence was welcome or impose himself on Reid. His mother had raised him better than that.