Title: Plus One
By: nancy
Pairing: Morgan/Garcia
Rating: PG-13
Series: Romanology
Warnings: slave!fic, D/s
A/N: this is an AU fic in which the Roman Empire never fell
Summary: The team grows by one more.

***

Hotch knew immediately that the woman was a tech slave. She had that pampered, unafraid look to her that distinguished the tech slaves from the rest of the herd, so to speak. They were valued for their intellect, bred for it, point of fact, and led lives that were educated and protected, if confined. Really, the chain around their neck was the only difference between a tech slave and a free citizen, and most of them were too well cared for and too engrossed in their work to want to be free.

Walking over to the unattended blond woman, he asked softly, “Who’s your owner and do you know why you’re here?”

Vivid blue eyes gave him a friendly look as she replied, “He’s that big ole hunk of burnin’ love talking to the cheerleader in the corner. As for why I’m here, not a clue, cutie.”

Even for a tech slave, that was an inappropriately rude description, if unkindly accurate when Hotch saw she was talking about JJ and Morgan. “Watch your tongue, and your tone, before someone takes offense to it. This is a conservative agency and people act accordingly. Morgan is a mid-level agent and won’t be able to protect you from a whipping if someone higher up takes umbrage at your words or tone.”

The woman looked uncertain for the first time, which was good since Hotch had no desire to see that spark of vitality beaten from her soft, rounded body.

He smiled at her reassuringly and said, “The people in this unit are very tolerant and open-minded, but we have people coming in and out all the time, especially when we’re on a case. If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with Morgan.”

Not waiting for her answer, he strode to Morgan and JJ and ordered, “Morgan, a moment, if you please.”

Morgan looked like he was going to protest, then thought better of it and nodded, following Hotch into an empty conference room.

Closing the door so the conversation wouldn’t be overheard, Hotch faced the bigger man, demanding quietly, “What did you think you were doing, buying a slave to bring here?”

“Okay, first? I didn’t buy her,” Morgan protested. “I, I sort of won her in a card game.”

Hotch blinked at him for a moment, then crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

“Her name’s Garcia and you wouldn’t believe the girl’s intelligence factor. She knows more about computers than Gideon and Reid do about serial killer psychology put together. We can really use her help here, Hotch,” Morgan finished.

Stepping forward until Morgan had to back up, not stopping until the other man literally had his back to the wall, Hotch informed him softly, “If I ever see a hint that she’s being mistreated by you, I will make certain that you father no future generations of the Morgan name, and I will do so with an exceptionally dull blade. Am I understood?”

Morgan swallowed convulsively, but nodded and accepted, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Talk to JJ about setting her up with an office and any equipment that she might need, then go to Human Resources to draw a stipend for her,” Hotch directed, stepping back. “And she’s a woman, Morgan, not a girl.”

Morgan half-grinned and said, “Trust me, Hotch, I know damn well that she’s a woman. She’s been on me like a cheap suit since her former Master lost her in that card game. And I’m still not sure that he didn’t lose on purpose, just to appease her.”

Hotch didn’t return the smile, letting the other agent know how he felt about hearing such details, and Morgan’s expression smoothed quickly into that of a professional façade. Walking out into the bullpen, he was pleased to see Reid and Garcia chatting away like old friends and Gideon staring at them both in fascination.

It looked like their team had just grown by one.