This one is back in Hotch's view because it works better that way. (;
dinner
At the sound of a knock on his open door, Hotch wasn't surprised to look up and see Garcia. He motioned for her to come in and heard her close the door, which prompted him to quickly finish the sentence he was on before setting down his pen and closing the file in front of him. When he looked up at Garcia once more, the redhead smiled in a way he knew meant she was a little miffed, and he had to admit he was remotely concerned about where this conversation was going to go.
"Sir, I know you're worried about being too forward with Reid, and I get that. I really do." Garcia paused and took a breath before she continued, "But it's been six weeks since you and Reid went to lunch! And yes, I'm aware you two have been consistently going out to lunch when we're not on a case, but that is getting us nowhere." Seeming to realize what she'd just said, she added, "Sir."
Hotch's lips twisted into a smile for a brief moment before he sighed and nodded. "You're right. I guess I just needed a little push."
"That's what Rossi said," Garcia agreed.
Hotch's brows shot up at that, though he didn't know why; it really shouldn't have been surprising. "So you and Dave have been talking about it?"
Garcia winced as she realized her mistake. "Not... exactly. It's just—he's a very good profiler, sir. He sort of just came up to me and told me that if things between you and Reid were ever going to go anywhere, then you would need—well, he said a shove because a gentle push wouldn't be good enough. Which is why if you don't ask Reid to dinner this evening, then I am going to set it all up for you, and it will be so much more awkward than it has to be because I am kind of a sap for romance, and you'll end up with a candlelit dinner, a bottle of champagne, and soft piano music."
Hotch couldn't help but chuckle at the image that presented. "I should probably be angry, but the fact that you are so adamant about this working makes that very difficult." Garcia's responding smile was warm and possibly a touch shy. "Assuming nothing comes up within the next couple of hours, I'll ask him. But if he leaves early or if Morgan and Prentiss are still hanging around, then I'm allowed to wait without the repercussion of your arrangement."
Garcia grinned and winked. "Oh, honey, don't worry about that. I have a plan."
When Hotch finally walked out of his office and into the bullpen, he wasn't surprised to find Reid still sitting at his desk. What did surprise him, however, was the amount of files stacked there. With a slight frown and a furrowed brow, he drew closer, studying Reid's posture and determining that the genius profiler seemed perfectly fine. It didn't stop him from asking, "Reid, are you feeling well?"
It required a great deal of effort not to laugh at the way the younger man jumped in his seat, hazel eyes wide as lips parted to allow his breaths to leave in pants. "Hotch, you scared me," Reid murmured, one of his hands pushing through his hair. "And I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
Hotch quirked a brow, his gaze falling pointedly to the stack of files sitting to the left of Reid's elbow before meeting Reid's eyes again. The only time he recalled seeing a pile that high was when the younger man caught a cold.
"Oh, uh, this isn't... Garcia asked me to go through these files and write down certain details for her. So, um, I'm not actually doing... work work," Reid explained, wincing when he was finished.
"So what you're saying is that you don't have to do it tonight?" Hotch queried, though he knew the answer already. Leave it up to Garcia to ask Reid for a fake personal favor.
Reid looked adorably confused for all of two seconds (which was more than long enough to cause Hotch's heart to stutter) before he shrugged and gave a little half-nod-half-shake of his head. "I suppose I don't, but it's not like I had any plans tonight aside from reading a few new books I bought the other day."
Hoping against all hope that he looked and sounded nonchalant, Hotch suggested, "Why don't you leave them for tomorrow, and I'll give you a lift home? We can stop and get some dinner on the way."
Reid's mouth dropped open, and he seemed lost for words as he stammered, "Um, I don't... I mean, are you... What about Jack?"
Lips quirking into a smile, Hotch answered, "Jack's class is going on a field trip tomorrow, and Jessica is chaperoning, so she asked if he could stay with her to make things easier."
"Oh," Reid murmured faintly, and Hotch swore he could see the wheels turning in the genius's brain.
"Reid, you are allowed to say 'no' if you're uncomfortable," Hotch felt the need to point out. "I'd hate for you to think you're not being given a choice."
There was a short moment of silence as Reid stared up at him—and then suddenly the younger profiler abruptly stood and grabbed his messenger bag, and Hotch found himself quirking a brow as Reid turned to him. A pretty pink flush dusted Reid's cheeks as he cleared his throat. "I didn't answer out loud, did I?"
Hotch couldn't help but chuckle at that. "No, you didn't. Can I safely assume you've decided in favor of my idea?"
Reid nodded. "But it's your turn to pick."
Hotch wasn't entirely sure how they'd ended up at his favorite diner. He'd had every intention on going to either the Thai or Indian restaurants Reid had talked about a few times, but he hadn't been able to decide on which one, and it wasn't until he'd pulled into the parking lot that he'd realized where he'd blindly driven.
Reid, for his part, hadn't questioned where Hotch was going and had simply filled the car ride with idle chatter after some slight prompting. He did glance at Hotch almost curiously when they got out of the car, but otherwise seemed to trust that Hotch wouldn't take them to someplace Reid wouldn't like.
After they'd been seated and informed their waitress would be with them shortly, Hotch watched as Reid quickly glanced over the menu, his lips moving in silent words. The older man felt like butterflies had taken flight in his stomach as he (not-so-)offhandedly commented, "They have excellent milkshakes."
Reid set the menu down with a soft hum, folding his hands together on top of the table. "Which one would you recommend?" he questioned with a slight tilt of his head and a bright smile that did absolutely unfair things to Hotch's heart.
"For you? Cappuccino. It's practically the cold version of your coffee," Hotch teased, and his voice sounded odd to his own ears.
Reid (thankfully) either didn't notice or didn't find it important enough to comment on, and instead scowled almost playfully. Hotch felt a ridiculous urge to lean across the table and kiss the adorable expression off the younger man's face—and he immediately shoved the thought away before he could get distracted by it.
"And which one is your favorite?" Reid's inquiry helped him ignore the compulsion.
Hotch wasn't able to answer as their waitress came up to the table to take their orders, and he made sure to catch Reid's eye as he ordered the Mint Brownie milkshake. Reid smiled and fiddled with his napkin as the waitress walked away to get their drinks.
"Did you know that milkshakes got their name from being served in bars?" Reid asked, methodically folding his napkin.
Hotch took note of the fleeting glance Reid spared him and wondered if the younger man was nervous. "I did not. How did that happen?" he replied, gently prompting Reid to continue.
"It was a matter of how much a customer enjoyed the drink. If they didn't like it, the bartender didn't receive a tip. However, if they did, then they would shake hands with the bartender," Reid explained, still looking at his napkin.
A smile played at Hotch's lips as he commented, "They probably never would have gotten a shake from you."
Reid's expression turned thoughtful before he rejoined, "Actually, I do try to adhere to others' customs when necessary. If the milkshake had been worth it, I would have set aside my qualms about handshakes."
"You never did explain why you were so adverse to them," Hotch mused aloud, tilting his head slightly.
"Aside from disliking physical contact with strangers? The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss," Reid supplied the answer with a shrug.
Hotch was saved from having to respond when the waitress came by to drop off their waters, which was perfectly fine with him because he definitely needed a moment to process that. It was a bit concerning that all the younger man had to do was innocently mention kissing, and it resulted in Hotch being thrown off-kilter and shoving away inappropriate images. In an effort to distract himself further, he picked up his glass of water and took a sip.
"It's actually a little ironic because on July 16, 1493, King Henry VI banned kissing in England to supposedly combat a plague," Reid added with a soft laugh, as if their conversation hadn't been paused momentarily. "Granted, most people suspect he wasn't entirely mentally stable around that time, but it didn't stop other countries from following his lead. And then on March 9, 1562, kissing in public was banned in Naples, Italy under possible penalty of death because another plague had started spreading."
By all accounts those sorts of facts should have made it easier to stop thinking about kissing Reid, but it was a bit hard to concentrate on Reid's words when Hotch couldn't stop focusing on Reid's mouth—and it certainly didn't help when the genius profiler's tongue flicked out to wet his lips quickly in between a sentence because really, the things that tongue could probably do...
Hotch wasn't sure how many times he would be grateful to their waitress, but he hoped she continued to stop by in time to rescue him from his dangerous thoughts. After setting their milkshakes down, she tossed a couple of straws onto the table before asking if everything was all right and walking away again.
And that was when it happened.
Hotch's fingers landed on the straws and almost immediately afterwards, smooth soft skin brushed against the back of his hand. Hotch's gaze shot up to meet Reid's, and the other profiler smiled sheepishly, color rising in his face. "Sorry," Reid mumbled, pulling his hand back slightly.
"It's fine," he forced himself to speak—and really, it was. Too fine, if anything. That one small touch had Hotch's heart pounding in his ears and chest, and his skin started buzzing pleasantly. Over a damned barely-there brush of skin against his. It was absolutely ridiculous.
Hotch picked up his straw and started to rip the paper off, chancing a glance at Reid in time to see the younger man giving him one of those looks. The shy and flirty, almost effeminate glance that the genius apparently wasn't ever aware he made. The one that wreaked havoc with Hotch's senses and made him want to reduce Reid to a trembling, whimpering mess.
Cursing silently, Hotch forced himself to focus on his milkshake, the taste of mint and chocolate helping clear his thoughts—at least until Reid moaned borderline-indecently around a mouthful of his Cappuccino milkshake, and Hotch realized he would be left with no choice but to fight his desire the entire way through dinner.
With a quiet, resigned sigh, he leaned back in the booth and prepared himself for a long evening.
When Garcia stopped by his office the next afternoon and started with, "So, Boy Wonder has been raving about this Cappuccino milkshake," Hotch could barely suppress a groan.
"Please do not bring up milkshakes for the foreseeable future. I regret ever telling him to get it," Hotch muttered.
It took a moment, and then Garcia giggled, but when she spoke, it was thankfully only to say, "He said it was fun with this little shy smile. It was extremely adorable, actually. But he still doesn't quite understand. Do you know what you're going to ask him to do next?"
Hotch sighed and shrugged one shoulder. "I was thinking the movies would be best. I don't know if I'm capable of handling seeing him with Jack just yet."
"My advice, sir? Do it soon. Maybe ask him to dinner and a movie. Oh! You could invite him over when Jack isn't home, and you guys could have dinner and watch Doctor Who!" Garcia squealed before clamping a hand over her mouth. "Sorry. That was loud, wasn't it?"
A quick glance out his office window showed that it hadn't been loud enough to attract anyone's attention in the bullpen, and Hotch redirected his gaze to the redhead. "No one noticed. And I've never seen Doctor Who, Garcia."
The redhead grinned. "Even better. Reid would love it, and you could be introduced to one of the greatest shows of all time."
Hotch chuckled softly and shook his head. "I'll think about it, but for now, we both need to get back to work."
"Of course, sir, you're absolutely right," Garcia agreed with a nod of her head as she turned and headed towards his door. She turned around once she reached it, however, and added, "By the way, sir, Derek is, uh, definitely aware of what's going on now. Just a heads-up."
"Thank you for the warning. And Garcia, before you head back to your office, you should bring Reid something for doing that faux personal favor," Hotch suggested in a tone that was borderline an order.
Garcia flashed a grin and winked. "Already planned on it, sir, but it's nice that you're ensuring he isn't being taken advantage of. See you later, boss man."
Hotch couldn't stop his grin as she disappeared out the door. It was nice to have her on his side.
Also, I'm so glad you guys seem to be enjoying this so far! (:
Any feedback is (of course) appreciated~