"Okay. Hold up," Derek said, walking into his living room. "Why is Clooney wearin' a dress?"
"He picked it," Jack said simply, staring up at Derek innocently. He stood next to the dog, dressed as a skeleton.
Derek had volunteered to take Jack Trick-or-Treating, as a favor to Hotch, who was swamped with work. A favor to himself, too, really. He missed the little guy. Jack had recently turned seven, and growing every time Derek turned around. Time was flying. He'd thought it would be simple enough. Go to a few houses. Get candy. Check the candy. Derek didn't have to dress up, so he was fine with it. But that was before he saw Clooney in a hot pink getup.
"How'd Clooney pick it? Not like he went to the store and paid for it…" Derek pointed out.
"Garcia's letting him borrow it. She got the tutu off one of her dolls she had when she was a kid." Jack paused, waiting for a reaction. There was none, so he looked at Clooney happily. "When I showed it to him, he wagged his tail," Jack grinned. "That's how he picked it. Dogs don't tell you things in human words, so you have to pay attention to their bodies…"
"So, you're sure Clooney likes it, huh?" Derek asked carefully, keeping his voice level. How would his own father have handled something like this? "Does he wanna come Trick-or-Treating with us, too?"
Jack bit his lip. "Yeah. He was kind of afraid to ask you about it since he can't have candy. But he promises to be good. He won't do anything he's not supposed to. The only thing he wants to do is just be a ballerina for one night."
"He tell you this?" Derek asked, smiling a little.
"Yes," Jack said solemnly. "He tells me his secrets."
Wordlessly, Derek walked to the closet and got Clooney's leash, clipping it to his collar. On the way out the door, Derek squeezed Jack's shoulders. "He tell you what he did with my good shoes?"
"Yes, but I'm not telling," Jack smiled. "He says that's for you to figure out."
The End.