Title: A Fair Trade
By: TheLovethief
Pairing: Reid/Hotch & Reid/Hotch/Morgan
Rating: NC-17
A/N: A strange piece that came to my mind.
Thanks to AA for beta reading! You know it's all about giving and taking ;)
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.
Summary: No explanations, no apologies. It's all about giving and taking.

***

It had been one hell of a day.

Paper work. Ten hours of reading, writing and correcting reports of previous cases. Due to the heavy traffic on the streets it was already past nine in the evening when Spencer Reid finally arrived at his home.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he made his way to the kitchen. He needed to find some food. Reid opened the fridge and was greeted by a yawning void. The only edible thing in there was a piece of mould cheese which didn't look very appealing to the young profiler. Oh, and in the far left corner hid a bottle of beer which had been lying in there for about two weeks. Morgan had brought it when he'd paid Reid one of his 'visits', as they called it. The young doctor usually didn't drink before their encounters and right now he was glad that he'd saved the bottle for later.

Reid took the beer and shuffled listlessly to the living room. Normally, he would pick one of his three billion books and read it before going to bed, but his eyes hurt way too much for that.

So he just slumped down on his couch and – occasionally taking a sip of his cold beer – stared into nothing. Reid kept doing this for about thirty minutes until finally a knock on the front door brought him back into the present.

Slowly, tiredly, the young profiler stood up and put the half-empty bottle on the coffee table. He was almost at the door when another knock came.

"Coming," Reid muttered, not caring that the person on the outside couldn't hear him.

He unlocked the door to see who the visitor was. He didn't expect anyone. It wasn't Thursday, therefore it couldn't be Morgan. They always met on Thursdays. It wasn't Thursday.

Reid pulled the door open a bit and was instantly rewarded with a hand grabbing him at his collar, pushing him forcefully backwards into his apartment.

The young agent let out a yelp of surprise. He should have thought of that possibility.

Hotch.

There was no special day for his 'meetings' with the boss. Hotch was the one to decide when to do it. Apparently, he'd decided to come over today.

Never letting go of his subordinate's collar, the BAU chief slammed the door shut with his free left hand. He then shoved Reid swiftly through the room, pressing his lips hard against the younger man's mouth in the same moment as Reid's back roughly made contact with the wall on the other side of the living room.

It was a long, intense kiss. Only lips pressing against each other at first. Soon, however, Hotch's tongue started prodding and licking, demanding entrance. Obediently, the younger man parted his lips, letting his superior's tongue in, not even trying to keep up with the wet onslaught.

It was the need to draw a breath that made Hotch pull back eventually. Not far away - still close enough to be able to smell his lover.

"Don't ever make me wait that long again, Reid," the older man growled. "Turn around."

The tone of his superior's voice didn't leave any room for argument. Not that Reid would have dared to argue anyway. Discussions were not part of their arrangement. No words. No explanations. No apologies. Only giving and taking. A fair trade.

Reid turned around to face the wall. He didn't do anything else. Hotch would let him know what to do. Like Morgan. Like Rossi, once. Gideon had explained it to Reid. That it was all about learning, about making experiences, about having a life. It was all about the fact that they were doing him a favor and only asked for small things in return. When the older man had given that little speech, Reid had only briefly glanced up at his mentor before turning his attention back to Gideon's crotch.

"Hands on the wall," Hotch's smooth voice ordered from behind.

Reid complied. With his palms flat against the wall, he stood and let his boss unbuckle his belt and pull down his brown cords alongside with his shorts. He kind of liked it with Hotch. Clear orders, no confusion. The team leader wasn't a team leader for nothing, Reid mused as he felt strong hands stroking up his legs. Hotch liked being in control, taking charge, making decisions. Basically, he was everything Reid was not.

"Spread your legs a bit." In the same tone Hotch had told Reid to finish his reports in the morning.

The young doctor stepped out of his pants and moved his feet further apart.

One hand pressed firmly against the small of Reid's back to keep him in place, while the fingers of the other hand began to prepare him.

Reid hissed. It felt always odd at the beginning. He tried to relax which was more difficult in a standing position than lying on the bed – he'd learned that lesson already. But if Hotch wanted an against-the-wall-fuck tonight – so be it.

"Come on, Reid. Let me in," the senior profiler murmured.

The younger man closed his eyes. Suddenly he could remember why words were usually not part of their arrangement. Words made things real. Real in a way that made the whole thing almost unbearable. Just in time, Reid stopped his mind from wandering down that path; from recognizing the reality of the situation; from acknowledging what SSA Aaron Hotchner had just asked him to do.

He rested his forehead against the wall and let go.

"That's it," Hotch said quietly, his mouth close behind Reid's ear. He continued preparing his subordinate until he considered his lover relaxed enough.

The younger man let out a pitiful whimper at the sudden feeling of emptiness, hoping that it wouldn't last long.

Hotch pressed his hot, muscular body tightly against Reid's thinner frame.

"Keep your hands on the wall," Hotch ordered and started to push in. Slowly, but steadily. The older man had to force himself to take his time. The sensation was almost enough to drive him over the edge already. Of course, he didn't want to end it so soon.

Hotch stilled to let his lover get used to the invasion. After a few seconds the senior profiler took hold of the younger man's hips.

Reid held his breath, bracing himself for the storm to come.

It did. Hotch started pounding into his agent, pushing into him as well as pulling him back with his hands. He enjoyed the feeling of that delicate person trapped between the wall and his own thoroughly fit body. Hotch knew which angle was needed to reach the younger man's most sensitive spot and was careful to hit it often enough to keep Reid close to the edge.

The young doctor made an attempt to reach down to take care of himself.

"Hands," Hotch hissed through gritted teeth as he continued his steady movements.

With a frustrated groan, the younger man lifted his arms again, hoping that his boss would show some mercy.

Of course, Hotch did. After all, the arrangement was not only for his own pleasure, but likewise for his subordinate's enjoyment.

Reid gasped at the touch. He loved being touched that way. Only months ago, he hadn't been aware that being touched liked that by another person could feel so incredibly wonderful. The first time he'd gotten jerked off by a senior profiler he'd felt like dying and exploding at once and it had felt so warm and almost painful and it had simply been the most amazing sensation in the world.

Hotch had turned out to be very talented in that field, too.

The team leader kept pushing in relentlessly, mercilessly, hard and fast. Hotch felt the orgasm build up inside him as Reid began trembling in his arms. The younger man came all over his hand.

The feeling of his lover climaxing, along with the sounds coming from Reid's mouth, which appeared to be so very out of character for the young doctor, always did the trick. Finally Hotch came almost violently, letting out a loud groan of pure satisfaction.

It took both men a few moments to recover from their successful 'meeting'. Hotch pulled away and started to get dressed properly again. Wordlessly, Reid pulled up his trousers as well and went to the front door.

Hotch followed.

"Tomorrow maybe," the team leader said on his way out.

Reid shook his head. "Not so good for me."

Hotch turned on the doorstep and frowned. "Why not?"

The younger man shrugged and started to close the door. "No time. Tomorrow is Thursday."

***

It was a Thursday like any other Thursday. As soon as Spencer Reid had finished his paper work at the office, he went straight into the grocery store that was situated next to his apartment. Entering the store, he moved automatically to the drinks apartment, grabbed two bottles of beer and walked quickly to the checkout.

He knew he didn't have much time. Morgan had left the office about half an hour earlier than him and was probably already on his way. Fortunately, Reid's colleague wouldn't expect much. A beer, a sandwich perhaps and...well, the usual 'service'.

The young profiler hastily paid for the bottles before almost running homewards. Apart from the food, he needed to make a few other preparations. Like showering. Reid had to wash the filth and sweat of the day off his body. Morgan was surprisingly picky in that regard.

Putting the bottles on the kitchen table, the young agent sprinted to the bathroom. He stripped down and quickly stepped into the shower cubicle, enjoying the feeling of hot water running down his tired body. He soaped himself carefully, letting the sponge rub over his pale skin. He looked down at his skinny figure, inspecting the bruises Hotch had inflicted during his visit the day before. There were clearly visible marks on Reid's prominent hip bones where his boss' hands had gripped him firmly. Tentatively, the young doctor ran the sponge over the blue-ish reminders of their latest encounter. And once again, he couldn't help but wonder why his team members were even willing to share their knowledge about physical closeness with him – in a rather practical way. In Reid's opinion there was really nothing particularly appealing about him. His legs were too long, his skin too pale and there was an undeniable lack of muscle mass – in extreme contrast to Hotch and Morgan. And even Rossi.

So why, Reid asked himself while rinsing the soap off his body, why would they keep coming to him? Why would Hotch want to be blown by him? Why would Morgan want to be touched by him? And why for God's sake would Rossi wanna fuck him in the bathtub? To Reid, it didn't make much sense. All the more he felt the duty to be grateful for their great effort to 'introduce him to life', as Gideon had put it once.

Letting the sponge fall to the ground, the young man reached for the shaver. For some odd reason Reid couldn't quite comprehend, Morgan wanted him to be shaved...there. Down there. The only explanation the genius could come up with was that his older colleague was normally an utterly straight guy who was used to the smooth ladies from the night clubs.

Reid didn't like the idea of being compared with 'smooth ladies', but he knew Morgan would be angry if there was too much hair in the way. So he approached his most sensitive body parts anxiously with the shaver, trying to keep his hand steady.

It was quite a procedure. Finally however, about 15 minutes later, he had freed his groin from every single light brown hair.

Relieved, that he hadn't done any damage with the razor, Reid stepped out of the shower and put on his bathrobe. There was no need to get dressed. Not with Morgan. It was with clothes like it was with the hair: The eager man didn't like barriers of any kind.

The young profiler briefly considered if he should dry his hair, but the urging knock on the front door forced him to dismiss the idea instantly. Fiddling with the belt of his white bathrobe and with the wet strands of hair stuck to his face, Reid stumbled towards the entrance.

He drew a final deep breath before pulling the door open.

Morgan just stood there with a broad grin imprinted on his face. He seemed to scan his younger colleague with trained eyes. From the hairline down to the naked feet. At the sight of his wet friend, Morgan's smile widened even more, revealing his blinding white, perfect teeth.

"Hey kid. Ready to go?" And he stepped into Reid's apartment without waiting for an answer. In this case, there really was no answer needed.

The younger man stepped aside to let Morgan in and closed the door behind his teammate. He had to admit that the older man looked seriously hot. Black pants and a tight white shirt were accentuating Morgan's athletic and very muscular frame. Once again, Reid wondered what the very attractive and self-confident agent wanted with him. Why would he not just go somewhere ... else to pick up another top model-like girl? Morgan could have them all – Reid was sure of it; in stark contrast to the young doctor himself who would blush whenever a female human being would only so much as look at him, let alone start talking to him.

"Hello," he greeted meekly, watching his colleague taking a seat on the couch. "Do you want something? A have beer and sandwiches." He motioned shyly to the kitchen.

"Beer is fine," Morgan replied as he made himself comfortable on the couch. He leaned back and watched smiling as Reid returned with two bottles.

The older man casually patted on the seat to his left. "C'mere."

Careful not to drop the opened bottles, Reid moved around the coffee table and sat down next to Morgan. As his backside made contact with the sofa, the younger doctor couldn't quite suppress a slight wince. The brief flicker of pain that crossed Reid's face was not lost on the dark-skinned profiler.

"You alright, kid?" he asked as he took the beer from his friend.

Instead of replying, Reid took a big gulp of his own beer. He placed the bottle on the table and leaned carefully back.

"Hotch was here," he admitted sheepishly.

Ahhh, Morgan thought as realization struck him. No wonder.

"When?" he asked, before taking another sip of his drink.

"Yesterday."

The older man swallowed and frowned. Hotch knew full well that Morgan would come on Thursday. He always did. What was the guy thinking? Two days in a row...

"Are you up to it?" Morgan asked hesitantly. If Reid couldn't even sit down without grimacing...

The young doctor shrugged. "It's Thursday."

"Yeah, but if you're sore...," Morgan trailed off, watching Reid blush. OK, now he really wanted the kid. "Hm..."

The younger man glanced at his colleague. "What?"

"We could do something else." That said, Morgan put the bottle on the floor and started to undo his pants.

Reid just watched.

Watch and learn, Gideon had said at the beginning.

When the younger man didn't react at all, Morgan indicated him to get rid of the bathrobe as well. Slowly, Reid began to fiddle with the knotted belt that held the fabric together, not sure what to expect.

Suddenly Morgan rose from his seat and walked around the table to settle down in the armchair that was facing the couch.

Reid sat with his bathrobe open and his lips slightly parted, looking at his team member with a puzzled expression on his face.

After a short struggle to get into the ideal position, Morgan finally spoke: "Jerk off for me."

The young man's eyes widened. "Huh?" was all he managed to squeeze out.

Morgan grinned as he let his hand slowly wander down to his own groin. "I wanna watch you jerking yourself off."

Reid kept staring for about a minute until he finally complied to his colleague's request, letting his hand move downwards. He started to stroke in automatic motions, closing his eyes to pretend he was alone. He didn't like other people watching him, especially not when he was touching himself in this way. But it was not him who made the decisions here. And if Morgan wanted a show...

The older man watched with a pleased smile how Reid's hand kept stroking and massaging the now half-erect and very nicely shaved body part. The sight was a serious turn on, causing Morgan's own arousal to increase considerably. He would have really loved to do more with the pretty genius, but wanted to give him a chance to recover from Hotch's visit the day before.

A knock on the door startled both men out of their lusty daze.

"Not now," Morgan moaned. "Are you expecting anyone?"

Reid shook his head. "Only you. It's, it's Thursday," he stammered and made an attempt to stand up.

"Ignore it," the older man said. "Whoever it is will go away."

Another, louder knock.

Reid glanced nervously at the door. "Maybe I should..."

"No," Morgan interrupted him. "Ignore it. Just focus on that fine thing in your hand."

Blushing further, the younger man leaned back, his eyes glued to the other man's impressive erection. He was about to relax again, when he heard the alarming sound of keys being turned in a door lock.

Oh God, he thought. There was only one person with a key to his apartment...for emergencies.

"Hotch!" Reid exclaimed, causing Morgan to freeze.

In that moment, the door was forcefully flung open. With a stern expression, the unit chief stepped into the flat, taking in the scene that presented itself in front of him.

The situation was rather obvious. Two of his agents were pleasuring themselves in Reid's living room.

Reid looked at his superior with huge eyes. "Hotch?" he shrieked.

"I knocked." The team leader stepped closer. "Why didn't you answer the door?"

"I, uhm..." The young profiler averted his eyes from his boss and glanced pleadingly at Morgan, seeking for help.

The older man got the hint. "What are you doing here, Hotch man?" he asked impatiently, his hands casually covering his groin. "It's my day."

Reid nodded. "I...I told you yesterday..."

Hotch cut him short. "Since when are you calling the shots here, Reid?" He approached the couch, his gaze fixated on his subordinate's exposed privates. With a raised eyebrow he turned to Morgan.

"Did you make him shave again?" he asked angrily.

Morgan stood up, pushing his neglected cock back into his pants. "Got a problem with that, Hotch?"

The senior profiler then moved closer to his bigmouthed agent. "Actually yes, I do. It's horrible."

"It's not!" Morgan shot back, looking his superior straight in the eye.

Hotch raised his second eyebrow. "He's a guy, for God's sake! Not one of your table dance hussies."

Reid watched with wide eyes how the older men discussed his primary sexual characteristic. It was certainly not his favorite subject of all times. He wondered what was going on in his living room. Usually it was all so very simple. Someone would come to visit, they would do something and then the person would leave again. Suddenly there were two colleagues in his apartment, having a heated argument Reid couldn't quite comprehend.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Morgan demanded, clearly pissed off. It was his day. Hotch knew that and had still decided to drop by.

"I wanted to see him," Hotch replied, tilting his head slightly in Reid's direction.

Morgan snorted. "You saw him yesterday, Hotch. And thanks to you he can't even sit down without..."

"Right!" the team leader interrupted, raising his voice as well. "Because I don't treat him like a little girl!"

"Maybe you should," the younger man retorted quickly. "At least then I'd have my fair share of him too the day after."

Fair share? Reid was lost. What was this about? It didn't seem to be about teaching him things anymore. They were talking about him like he was goods. Used goods. Something in the very back of his mind started to scream at him to please finally question the whole arrangement Gideon had set up once. Perhaps he could make real experiences without being cornered by his older and very masculine colleagues in his home. But the faint scream wasn't loud enough to drown the noisy sounds and angry words coming from his teammates. Not yet.

The argument between Hotch and Morgan must have moved on while Reid had been lost in thoughts, because both profilers were looking down at him when he finally forced his mind back into reality. They didn't say a thing anymore. They were just staring at him; Morgan with a slight grin on his face, Hotch with the same stoic expression as usual; his eyebrows not raised anymore.

"Wh...what?" Reid asked with a small voice, somewhat alarmed by the dark and lusty glimmer in his co-workers' eyes.

"I think we should go to the bedroom," Hotch stated calmly and started to move down the hallway. Morgan motioned Reid to get a move on and then followed his boss.

"Uhm...okay," the young doctor murmured, aware that no-one was waiting for his approval. They never did. No-one ever did.

At the time he arrived at his bedroom, Hotch had already started to undress. Morgan lay on the bed, wearing nothing but his skin.

That was fast, Reid stated inwardly. Took him only a few seconds to get rid of his clothes.

The youngest agent stood in the door frame, watching his colleagues getting ready for more. Two colleagues, Reid couldn't help but repeat silently. Not one, two. Of course, he wasn't dense. He knew what was going to happen real soon in his bedroom, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to handle it. Handle them. Two of them.

"Do you wanna strike roots there?" Morgan exclaimed loudly. "Get out of your bathrobe and join us already."

Reid glanced sideways at Hotch who was now also done with getting naked. The unit chief placed his clothes in a neat pile on the floor and climbed on the bed. Without another word, Morgan wrapped his arms around the older man's neck and pulled him close, pressing his lips roughly against his superior's mouth.

Reid's jaw dropped. He'd never in a billion years expected his co-workers to kiss each other. Not Hotch and Morgan! Both straight as a post. After all, they'd always claimed to treat him like that only in order to help him. He'd always considered it a big favor that two so very straight guys like Hotch and Morgan would bear with him at all. Had he been wrong? Did they...do it for their own pleasure?

After a very long minute of licking and biting and tasting each other, the profilers finally parted.

"Don't be so shy, Reid," Hotch said with a dark husky voice. "Don't want you to turn into the scared green kid again, do we?"

The young profiler shook his head instinctively. He wrapped himself out of the white bathrobe and walked self-consciously to the bed, glad that the room was only dimly lit. He knew that he didn't have a body like the older agents. All the more, he couldn't help but wonder why they kept coming to him; why they insisted on teaching him things.

In the moment Reid arrived at the edge of the mattress, Morgan reached out and pulled him firmly down. With a high-pitched cry of surprise, the young profiler fell down onto the bed, coming to rest on his knees. Before he had time to feel embarrassed about the noise he'd made, Hotch's hand took hold of his chin, turning his head to face his boss. What followed was more an onslaught than a kiss.

Hotch's tongue prodded and pushed firmly against Reid's lips, demanding entrance. The younger man finally gave up and opened his mouth to let his superior in. While the tongue battle continued, Reid felt Morgan's callous hands on his back, stroking firmly down his spine and his ribs. Down, further down until they reached the small of Reid's back. The hands came to a halt there.

Hotch pulled back. He glared over Reid's shoulder, at Morgan who gave his boss a questioning look.

"He's hurting already," the man behind Reid's back said quietly.

Hotch growled as he placed both of his hands on the lanky agent's shoulders. "He's a man. Treat him like one."

Again Reid didn't get the chance to think about those words, before their meaning became painfully clear. At some point during Hotch's wet kiss attack, Morgan must have found the lube in Reid's drawer, because suddenly something slick and cold was probing at his sore backside.

He winced at the touch and wanted to turn around, but Hotch's grip on his shoulders tightened and forced him to focus on the man right in front of him.

"Let Morgan take care of you," the team leader whispered in Reid's ear. His mouth so close, so very close that the younger man could feel his superior's hot breath against his neck. And he could smell that very special scent of SSA Aaron Hotchner – nothing but pure masculinity, strength and power. And lust and desire. And it made Reid forget about the blunt finger of his other co-worker that was now preparing him for something he was not ready for at all.

Then Hotch started to lick along Reid's sharp jaw line, down his long throat and over the plains of his thin chest until he finally found the first nipple. He bit down lightly, causing Reid to arch his back involuntarily and let out a soft moan.

Morgan must have interpreted that as sign of approval and added a second finger to prepare his teammate further for the upcoming.

It hurt. It really, really hurt. Reid let out a sharp hiss at the intrusion, but it was too quiet to be heard over the groans and animal-like noises escaping the older men's lips.

And now Hotch's head was down there and Reid didn't dare to look at his boss because looking would mean to see his admired superior giving him a blow job. Which would perhaps be called a hot view by other people; to Reid it was suddenly just not right. Nothing seemed to be right anymore; however, the point of no return had been left behind a long time ago.

Then Morgan seemed to consider the time right for a third finger while Hotch continued licking and sucking. It was then that the thin man who was still on his knees and trapped in the middle closed his eyes and shut down. He'd done this before. With a mind like his, he needed the ability to draw back from reality, to block out his surroundings. The ability to focus only on himself and just go to that quiet place of peace deep inside his head he'd created at a very young age.

From a far distance he heard someone telling him to go on his hands and knees. He did it automatically. How could he not? After so many years of complying and pleasing the people around him simply for the sake of being accepted as one of them, it was a natural reaction.

Something hard and big and hot that he faintly recognized as belonging to Hotch then pressed against his mouth. He opened his lips and did what he'd been taught to do by the man he'd considered a father until that very special day in the cabin.

It didn't even hurt anymore when Morgan pushed slowly into him from behind. There was no pain right now, but Reid knew it would return. Later. When the others were long gone.

For now he kept just sucking Hotch in the same rhythm as he was being fucked by Morgan. It lasted a while until the man behind him reached around to stroke him.

And as usual, the sensation of being stimulated in so many different ways brought him closer to the edge with each second passing. It was a mere bodily reaction when his inside began to spasm and cramp around Morgan. He could feel his teammate coming inside him; could feel him pulling out eventually. He could also feel Hotch thrusting deeper and harder into his mouth; he could taste the bitterness of his boss' liquid on his tongue and feel it running down his throat. Reid could tell that all this was happening. In a way he could feel it, although he wasn't able to tell how it felt. His awareness was just too far away from the present; had pulled back too deep to actually process what was going on.

Some time must have passed when his mind dared to come back from its hidden place of peace. Reid lay on his back, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. He could hear voices.

Carefully, he lifted his head and looked around. He was alone. No-one else was in the room. Yet there were definitely voices. Real voices. At least Reid was pretty sure that they were real.

He slowly rose from the bed, grimacing at the sharp sting inside him. Apparently, his perception of pain had returned with full force. He picked up the bathrobe and wrapped it tightly around his body, before moving towards the living room. The voices grew louder.

Hotch and Morgan were still there – no doubt anymore. Reid stopped short in the door frame. For a moment he just watched his co-workers talking about some past case. Eventually, he stepped into the room, drawing the older men's attention to himself.

"Ah, you're finally awake!" Morgan exclaimed cheerfully.

"Yes," Reid replied coldly.

Hotch cleared his throat. "You alright?" he asked gently, taking in his subordinate's rather worn-out appearance.

The young agent took a few steps towards his superior. "What do you think, Hotch?"

There was something in Reid's tone that wasn't supposed to be there. At least not in the older profilers' opinion. He sounded...angry.

"What's wrong, kid?" Morgan asked with concern in his voice.

Reid frowned. Was it possible that they actually didn't even realize what they were doing?

"What's wrong?" he repeated incredulously. He didn't even know where to start.

Hotch made an attempt to approach him, but Reid lifted his hand in a warning gesture.

"No. Don't come near me," he said icily. "Please, just...leave me alone."

The older agents exchanged worried glances. They didn't know what had brought on this sudden change in demeanor. Reid had never acted like this afterwards. He'd always been rather friendly and grateful for their help.

Morgan tried again. "Reid, if you wanna talk about..."

"I don't wanna talk to you, Morgan!" the younger man yelled. It was as if something inside him had been unleashed somehow. Something he'd bottled up for a very long time. Too long maybe.

When his teammates still made no attempt to move, Reid lost it. He practically ran to his front door, pulled it open and screamed. "Get the hell out of my apartment!"

For once, it was Hotch's and Morgan's turn to comply. No further words were spoken. They walked past Reid, but he refused to make eye contact. He didn't want to look at them. He didn't want them to look at him. He just wanted to be left alone in his private space and have some time to sort out his thoughts.

He slammed the door shut behind them and walked to the couch. He sat down, wincing at the pain in his ass, but not caring anymore. He then grabbed his bottle of beer and took a big gulp of the disgusting liquid, leaning against the backrest.

And suddenly a thought crossed Reid's mind and he smiled.

***

It was a Friday like any other Friday. It was past nine o'clock in the morning and the team members of the BAU gathered in the conference room to discuss whatever there was in need to be discussed today.

Hotch watched his agents disappear in the office with the round table and was about to follow them, when he noticed Reid approaching from the elevator. The senior profiler had half expected the young doctor to call in sick. After the events of the previous evening it was a bit of a surprise to Hotch that Reid had decided to face his colleagues.

A small part of Hotch had actually been hoping that the genius would stay at home. At least until Monday – to let the waves calm a little. Of course, the team leader had no intention of letting their daily work routine be influenced by the incident at Reid's place. As always he was going to pretend that nothing had happened. However, Hotch wasn't sure if Morgan would be able to suppress the matter, not to mention Reid...

With a stoic expression on his face, the unit chief watched his youngest agent coming closer.

"You're late," was all he said when Reid was in earshot.

The young profiler glanced briefly at his boss and murmured a quiet "sorry" before entering the conference room.

With an inward sigh, Hotch closed the door and joined his colleagues for the briefing.

It turned out that there was no new case. JJ presented a request from a PD in Oklahoma, but Hotch and Rossi decided against it. "Nothing for the BAU," they agreed.

It was paperwork then. Yet again.

As always, Morgan sat at the desk opposite to Reid who seemed to be deeply immersed in his work. Only on a few occasions, the younger man got up to get a coffee, before returning to the pile of files. They didn't talk. No joking, no chattering, no interaction at all. Early in the morning, Morgan had made an attempt to speak to his teammate, but Hotch had sent a stern look in his direction, indicating him to let it be. Of course, Morgan mused, the team leader wouldn't want an argument in the office. It wasn't the right place, and the younger profiler knew that himself.

On the other hand, he could barely stand being in the same room with Reid, knowing that the genius was mad at him. At least, Morgan assumed that the younger man was mad. He'd never seen the kid as pissed off as he'd been last night. The older agent was still not completely sure why Reid had reacted to aggressively. Sure, they had been a bit rougher than usual, but that just didn't seem to explain Reid's outburst. The genius was known as a very calm and gentle person. And suddenly he'd practically thrown them out of his apartment.

Why?

Through the window of his office, Hotch watched his agents. Well, he didn't actually 'watch'. After all, he had paperwork to do as well. But he kept throwing glances through the glass to see if everything was still under control. He didn't want Morgan to make a fuzz at work. Hotch knew that it would nag at the young, at times hot-tempered profiler to keep quiet. Morgan would have certainly liked to iron out 'the issue' – whatever 'the issue' was.

The team leader could relate. He'd barely slept last night. He'd been lying in his bed, thinking about his visit at Reid's place; about the things he and Morgan had done; about the things Reid had said at the end. At the thought of how angry and sad the young doctor had looked as he'd stood there in his way too big bathrobe, a very uneasy feeling spread in Hotch's stomach. For the first time, he started to wonder what they had been thinking. All of them, including Gideon. Especially Gideon.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hotch noticed a movement in the bullpen. He looked just in time to see Reid disappearing in the men's room. He seemed to be in a hurry.

The senior profiler sent a questioning glance at Morgan, but the younger man merely shrugged. Hotch motioned his subordinate to stay where he was and moved to follow Reid himself. He wanted to make sure that the young man was alright.

The team leader had almost reached the men's room when suddenly David Rossi stepped between him and the door, blocking the way.

Hotch looked quizzically at his old friend. "What's the matter, Dave?" he asked, trying to walk around his colleague.

Again, Rossi kept him from reaching the door.

"Let me handle this, Aaron," the agent said evenly.

Hotch frowned. "What do you mean?"

A small, knowing smile spread on the older man's face.

"I think he might not respond to you very well today. And I guess you know why," he replied.

The unit chief's facial expression darkened. "I don't think..."

Rossi interrupted him. "Go back to your office. I'll talk to him."

Hotch didn't like to be ordered around by his colleague. He was the boss, after all. And he wasn't quite sure why he complied eventually. Perhaps because he knew that Rossi was right. Without another word, the team leader turned around, heading towards his office.

Rossi watched his friend leave, then turned and entered the room where Reid had disappeared.

The retching noises coming from one of the stalls didn't really surprise the senior profiler. The young man had looked pale and distressed all day. Rossi had also noticed that the genius seemed to avoid Morgan and Hotch, and it wasn't that hard to create a link to the fact that the day before had been a Thursday. Something must have happened last night, Rossi mused. Something that apparently involved his three colleagues.

The experienced agent waited in front of the stall. There was no use in knocking. Sooner or later the kid would come out anyway. The unhealthy noises had subsided. There was only the sound of heavy breathing now, interrupted by occasional sobs. Which didn't necessarily mean that Reid was crying, Rossi reminded himself. Sobbing often comes along with vomiting. He knew that. Nonetheless he wasn't very fond of the idea of being faced with an emotionally distraught Reid.

Finally, there was a flushing sound. The door was unlocked and the young doctor stumbled out of the stall. He stopped short when he noticed Rossi leaning casually against the wall, looking at him. For a moment Reid actually considered to turn around and go back into the cabin, but that didn't seem to be a very useful solution.

Instead he went to the sink to wash his hands.

"You don't look good," Rossi stated dryly. "Not feeling well?"

Reid didn't look up, but kept his eyes on his hands.

"I'm fine," he said curtly. "You could have used another toilet, you know."

Rossi chuckled. Indeed, there was no-one else in the men's room.

"I just wanted to see if you're alright," he replied calmly. "You were unusually quiet today."

The younger man turned off the water and glanced at his older teammate. He wondered why Rossi of all people was complaining about him being 'too quiet'.

"So?" Reid didn't feel the urge to discuss his feelings with David Rossi, but he couldn't just run away – even though he wanted to.

The older man seemed to consider his words carefully. For a few seconds he just looked at his co-worker, as if trying to read the younger agent's mind.

"You know they care about you, don't you?"

Oh God, Reid thought. This was not the direction the conversation was supposed to take. He shook his head; not to deny the question, but...in general. It was a general shake of the head. He didn't want to be in this situation. He wanted to be left alone.

"Hotch and Morgan," Rossi continued, not caring about Reid's obvious wish to escape. "They care about you. If there's something bothering you..."

"I'm fine," the younger man repeated. "I'm just...I didn't sleep well last night."

Rossi sighed. Of course, he wasn't the right person for this. Neither were Hotch or Morgan. Unfortunately, the 'right person' wasn't at hand anymore. The only man Reid would perhaps talk to was probably sitting at a small lake in another state right now, trying to fish his dinner.

"Go home, Reid," Rossi said in defeat. "It's almost five."

Go home? That was all? Reid was confused. And relieved to be off the hook.

Then again: "But it's still an hour until..."

Rossi lifted his hand to cut the younger man short. "It's okay. I'll tell Hotch. Just go home and..." He paused to gather his thoughts. "And maybe you should think about a few things."

Reid nodded. He felt numb suddenly. Rossi knew, of course. He'd been part of it, if only once. And he was a profiler, one of the best even. He knew everything and Reid couldn't stand to be in the same room with the man he admired so much.

He almost ran out of the men's room; out of the office; out of the building. The young profiler had no idea what was going on with him. He found it hard to understand his own emotions. Yesterday he had felt good. He'd shouted at them and had told them to go away. Then he'd even drunk a beer. Like the man he was – wanted to be. But today all the self-confidence was gone. The moment he'd seen Hotch in the office, he'd turned into the shy, submissive nerd again. The boy who wanted to please and was so very easily pushed around.

Rossi was right, Reid thought as he entered his apartment. He needed to think about things. He needed to find out what he wanted. And what he didn't want.

He settled down on his couch and was just about to start thinking about these things, when a firm knock against the door echoed through the room.

Reid groaned. He knew who it was. Only one person knocked like that. The person with the key.

The young agent went slowly to the front door. He opened it and stepped aside, without giving the visitor a glance. He could sense Hotch stepping past him and closed the door again.

Reid then turned to his boss, facing the inevitable.

"Is there something I can do for you?" He tried to use the cold tone from last night again, but it didn't work. He sounded like his insecure self again and he hated it.

"I just wanted to see how you're doing. Dave said you were sick?" There was nothing but concern in the superior's voice.

Hotch made an attempt to get closer to his subordinate, but Reid recoiled. "I'm fine, thanks," he said quickly as he took a couple of steps back.

Hotch heaved a sigh. It hurt him that his agent shut him out, but he understood. During the day, he'd come to terms with himself and with the 'arrangement'. He'd come here for a reason.

"We need to talk about it, Reid," he stated gently, aware that the younger man wouldn't want to have this conversation. Hotch didn't either, but there was no use in ignoring the matter.

Reid stuffed his hands in his pockets and let his gaze drop to the floor. "What's there to talk about? I didn't mean to be rude yesterday. I'm sorry if..."

"No, no," Hotch interrupted. He approached his agent again. Slowly. "I don't wanna hear you apologizing. I want to know what you think. I, uhm, I thought you agree with things..." He rubbed his forehead. It didn't occur too often that the unit chief didn't know what to say. Finally he simply added: "I thought you wanted it, Reid."

The young profiler lifted his head and stared at his uncharacteristically uncertain boss.

He wasn't sure what Hotch wanted to hear, so he decided to ask: "Wanted what?"

The older man watched his subordinate closely. "The meetings, the closeness, the..." He swallowed. "The sex."

Reid almost winced at the words. He closed his eyes. There was no way to go to that place of peace in the back of his mind now. Not with Hotch standing right in front of him, expecting answers.

"I did what you wanted me to do," he finally said. "I always do. It's not the sex I wanted. Closeness, yes. But not like that. Not with Morgan, or Rossi. Not even with Gideon...," he trailed off.

Hotch for once just listened. It was Reid's turn to talk and he wanted to give him a chance to explain.

"I thought...," the younger man continued. "I thought if I do what you want, all of you...then perhaps you would like me." And the small part of Reid, the part that had enjoyed the beer last night screamed at him for saying such incredibly pathetic things. Aloud. To Hotch. However, the bigger part of Reid meant each word and found it impossible not to utter them.

The team leader felt sick. Hearing these things combined with the sight of Reid fighting his inner turmoil, was almost too much for Hotch. He cursed himself for misinterpreting the situation so badly.

He wanted to respond somehow, but Reid was not finished yet.

"I'm not mad at you, Hotch," he assured. And, really, he didn't feel angry. "I know you wanted to help..."

Now the older man interrupted. "No, Reid. We didn't do these things to help you. At least I didn't. I can't speak for the others."

The young doctor just stared at him.

"I did it because I wanted to. Because I thought you want it too. And I'm very sorry if I was wrong," Hotch said quietly.

"You wanted it?"

"Yes."

Reid was at a loss. Why would SSA Aaron Hotchner want to sleep with him? The unit chief wasn't a unit chief for nothing. He was a born winner - smart, handsome, strong and so very, very self-confident. He was everything Reid wanted to be. The young man thought the world of his boss and now it turned out that Hotch wanted him?

"But I'm a freak!" Reid blurted straight into his superior's face. "I'm a nerd, a geek – however you wanna call it. I'm not strong, I'm not attractive, I'm..."

Hotch's mouth on his own stopped Reid's self-depreciating rambling. The kiss didn't last long. The older man pulled back quickly, not wanting to push his subordinate further.

"I want you for who you are, Spencer," he said firmly, his face only inches away from Reid's. "I respect you and I want to know what you think. If you don't want me the same way, I accept that."

Reid licked his lips. He could taste Hotch and he liked it. He knew it was now that he had to decide whether he wanted him in his private life or not. With Hotch it was something else. The way he felt about his boss was very different to the feelings he had for his other colleagues. He'd considered Gideon a surrogate father. Morgan was more of an older brother. Rossi was his biggest idol.

With Hotch it was different.

"Don't go," he whispered and closed his eyes again. "I'm tired of being alone." At this confession, the young man could feel the tears welling up behind his closed eyelids. He wanted to hide them, knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep them back.

However, Hotch didn't allow him to turn away. The older man held Reid's head with both hands, using his thumbs to stroke the strands of hair back.

"I know," the senior profiler said quietly. He waited for the young man to open his eyes and added: "I'm here."

Hotch pulled him into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around Reid's way too thin body. He could feel those long, delicate fingers digging into his back, as if seeking something to hold on to; as if Reid feared that Hotch would disappear if the fingers would loosen their grip.

"I'm here," Hotch repeated. Whispered words into the younger man's ear.

Reid closed his eyes, not bothering to hold the tears back anymore. He rested his forehead on the stronger man's shoulder. And he thought that maybe he had finally found what he'd been looking for.

***

It was their first night together. Hotch had never stayed over night before. Usually he'd always left after he'd taught Reid one of his 'lessons'. Tonight was different.

It was dark; the bedroom only dimly lit by the orange light coming from the street lamps. Hotch lay behind the younger man in the king-size bed that was way too big for a single person. The older man's left arm was wrapped around Reid's slim frame; his hand firmly placed against his agent's chest.

Reid was sound asleep. Every now and then a soft sigh would escape his lips, showing Hotch that even now his mind was still working, processing things – who could guess what was going on in the young man's extraordinary brain?

The team leader, on the other hand, found it hard to join Reid in that blissful state of obliviousness. Too many things whirled through his own mind. Things had changed. What had begun as casual arrangement had now turned into something completely different. What? Hotch had no idea. After the conversation he'd had with Reid in the evening he had started to re-consider his actions of the past few months. It had never been his intention to cause the young man pain, and he was sure that even Reid himself had never really processed what had been going on.

And now?

Hotch closed his eyes and tightened his grip around the still figure before him. It felt good to lie here with someone who cared deeply for him. Since Haley had left, Hotch had spent the nights alone in his too empty house. To share a bed with someone who was actually reaching out to him, looking up to him was such a satisfying feeling.

However, Hotch was also aware that he had now responsibility. He'd promised Reid to be there for him. The young agent had made it very clear that he didn't want to be alone anymore. The unit chief understood that very well. From what he knew about his agent's past, Reid had spent his whole life on his own. Then Gideon had become some sort of surrogate father for the young man, supporting him on his way to the BAU. But just like Hotch, Gideon had betrayed Reid; he had persuaded the young man that he needed to offer more than a brilliant brain if he wanted to be cared for. In a way, they had used Reid's longing for closeness to satisfy their own desires and somewhere along the line they had stopped reflecting about their motives.

The experienced profiler breathed softly onto Reid's neck. With his left hand he could feel the young man's heart beating evenly. In terms of age and life experience the young doctor was an adult, yes. Emotionally, however, Reid had never gotten the chance to grow like other people – not with his exceptional abilities; not with the lack of a father figure and a mentally sick mother demanding attention.

Hotch felt a sting of guilt. He knew things would have to change, but he wasn't sure how he was supposed to act in future. As team leader he couldn't...

Reid sighed heavily in his sleep and stopped his superior's train of thoughts. The older man threw a quick glance at the digital clock on his agent's nightstand. It was 1 am. For three hours he'd been lying here awake after his long talk with Reid. They hadn't done anything but talk today. Of course they hadn't.

Hotch decided to push all the questions and dark thoughts back into a far corner of his mind. A few hours of sleep could work miracles sometimes. Perhaps, he mused, things would be clearer in the morning.

The sun had not come up yet when a scream startled Hotch out of his sleep. He was disoriented at first. It took him a while to remember that this was not his own bedroom. A minute and two screams later, the older man finally found the light switch of the bedside lamp.

When the dimmed light went on, Hotch squinted and turned to his right. Apparently, Reid was still asleep, but not as quietly as a few hours ago. He wildly flailed his arms, as if trying to fight something - or someone – off. The older man bent over, trying to get a grip of Reid's shoulders.

The moment Hotch touched him, however, another scream emerged from the young man's lips. Reid's eyes snapped open, but he didn't seem to recognize the face before him. He tried to push Hotch away, but the senior profiler reacted quickly.

He took hold of Reid's wrists and firmly pinned him down on the mattress.

"Reid, it's me," Hotch said soothingly. "Calm down."

It took a little while, but finally he could feel the tension leave the man beneath him. Reid stopped wriggling under Hotch's grip and just looked at him for a long moment.

"I'm sorry," he whispered breathlessly and averted his eyes to look out the window.

The older man permitted himself to relax a little. He didn't let go of Reid's wrists, but slightly eased his grip.

"Bad dream?"

Still staring at the sky that was not as black anymore, but not quite blue yet either, Reid sighed, "Yes."

Hotch looked closely at the seemingly fragile person who refused to look back. He started to gently rub Reid's palms with his thumbs.

"Is it always this bad?" he wanted to know. Of course, nightmares were inevitable in their line of profession. Nonetheless, Hotch was worried about Reid's unconscious outburst.

The young agent exhaled laboriously. "Not always…" He hesitantly made eye contact with the man above him.

Hotch let go of his hands and lowered himself onto his elbows. He wasn't sure what to say so he just leaned down a bit more and placed a kiss on Reid's lips. In distinct to previous times, there was nothing urgent about it. No demands, no promises, not even lust. There was no movement, no sounds and no words. Only lips touching lightly, yet inseparably for what seemed like an eternity. And perhaps it was the most intimate moment they had ever shared.

Finally Hotch pulled away a few inches. He pushed a few strands of wet hair out of Reid's face.

"You're soaked," he stated dryly, letting his hand wander over the younger man's chest. The sleeveless white shirt was stuck to Reid's skin, revealing every single bodily feature beneath the fabric. Not quite accidentally, Hotch brushed with his thumb over one nipple.

Before the younger man could even blush from the teasing gesture, his boss rose from the bed.

"You can't sleep like that. Shower?" Hotch held out his hand to help Reid get up from the bed. After one or two seconds of hesitation, the young profiler took it and let himself be led to the bathroom. He really didn't feel comfortable in these sticky clothes. He couldn't remember what he had dreamt tonight, but it wasn't too hard to guess what the nightmare had been about. It was mostly related to work. All the bodies, bloodied crime scenes, psychopaths they had to deal with day after day left marks, of course. But sometimes his brain also decided to wander down other paths at night – private paths that usually led straight into his own personal hell. Abandonment, disappointment, loneliness and the ever present fear to become what he dreaded the most…

With the back of his hand Reid wiped the beads of cold sweat off his forehead. He watched his superior…friend…lover…turn on the water, checking the temperature with his hand. It was not even 6 in the morning and although the young agent was still very drowsy, he couldn't help but notice the gorgeous view of his boss' backside while the older man leaned forward into the shower cubicle.

"Get undressed," Hotch said casually. The words startled Reid out of his daze. He blinked and then rid himself of his damp shirt and boxers.

The older man slipped out of his shorts as well and stepped under the shower.

Reid saw his superior look at him expectantly.

"I'm not sure if we fit in there together," he said meekly, eying the narrow cubicle.

Hotch couldn't quite suppress a smile. "Come here," he demanded in a low tone and once again held his hand out to encourage his agent.

Reid swallowed. He reached out and was immediately pulled close to his boss. Hotch placed a hand around the back of the younger man's neck and kissed him again on the lips – more passionately this time. Reid moaned at the double sensation of Hotch's mouth on his and the hot water streaming down on him.

The unit chief then broke the kiss. He took hold of Reid's shoulders and urged him gently to lean against the tiled wall.

The genius gave him a questioning look, but kept silent. His brain tried to assess the situation. After the talk he'd had with Hotch in evening, he wasn't sure what to expect. He knew what he wanted and he had a pretty good idea of what his boss wanted. Actually, there was physical evidence that they both wanted the same.

As if reading his mind, Hotch pressed his own muscular frame firmly against Reid's thinner body.

"Stop thinking," the older man murmured huskily. He knew he couldn't save his subordinate from his inner demons, but he wanted to at least try to make them go away, if only for a little while. He grabbed the shower gel and began to spread it over Reid's chest and neck. With a cloth Hotch then rubbed over the pale skin in slow motions.

The younger man closed his eyes and let his superior take care of him. He inhaled the aromatic smell of the gel and enjoyed the pressure of Hotch's hand on his upper body. A quiet whimper escaped his lips when he could suddenly feel the older man's tongue licking his stiff nipples. Almost unconsciously he thrust forward, trying to make contact in lower regions as well. However, the team leader pulled back.

"Greedy," he muttered teasingly and went down on his knees. With the slippery cloth he started to stroke up and down Reid's legs, deliberately avoiding the young man's groin. From above he heard his lover panting heavily. He glanced up, a mischievous grin on his face. Reid's eyes were tightly shut, his mouth on the contrary was slightly open.

"Pretty boy," Hotch murmured under his breath. He knew Reid wasn't very fond of being called that, but to the senior profiler it seemed like the perfect description for the young man.

Another thrust of Reid's hips, and this time the older man showed mercy. With his hands he pushed the agent's hips against the wall while his mouth began to take care of Reid's hard manhood.

The young doctor groaned. His fingers began to frantically run through Hotch's black curls. After all the 'lessons' he knew better than to pull at the other person's hair, but right now he wanted to touch and feel everything of Hotch – everything within reach at least.

The older man had learned how to make his subordinate feel good. He took him as deep as possible, his tongue flickering across the tip, licking; soft nibbling; sucking. One of his hands slowly sneaked between Reid's legs; fingers began to deftly massage and rub and gently probe.

Reid rested his head against the damp tiles and just let it happen. He was completely lost in the feeling of Hotch's mouth around him, the tongue teasing and pleasuring his most sensitive parts; the single finger that just started to prepare him for what he was sure would come soon.

Hotch took his time. He'd done this before. However, today it was different. It was better – perhaps because it was more honest this time. They made no excuses. Hotch didn't claim to teach and Reid didn't claim to learn. It was about pleasure, about closeness, about relief and neither of them felt obliged to deny it.

The young profiler began to shake under Hotch's treatment. The older man drew back, taking his mouth away from Reid's stiffness. He quickly stood up to claim his lover's lips for yet another kiss.

"Turn around," he then murmured into his agent's ear.

Without hesitation, Reid complied. Facing the wall, he could feel Hotch's callous hands rub from his neck all the way down to his buttocks. He instinctively pushed back in an attempt to intensify the contact. The senior profiler understood the hint. Relentlessly he kept kissing and biting the young man's neck while his fingers continued to ease the way inside.

Then a thought struck him and he stopped all movements.

"We don't have to…" Hotch began quietly. "If you don't want me to…I mean we can just…"

But Reid cut him short. He turned his head a little towards his boss. "Are you kidding me?" he exhaled and pushed back to underline that the point of no return had been crossed quite a while ago.

Hotch laughed lightly. "Alright, pretty boy," he said teasingly. "You better be ready." He removed his fingers and moved even closer.

A second later Reid was overrun by the feeling he loved and feared most – the feeling of total closeness, the intrusion, the fusion of two bodies; the moment when his whole existence seemed to be washed away by the feeling of being taken like this by the only man he'd ever really wanted.

Hotch took Reid's hands and pressed them against the tiles. Their fingers entwined just like their bodies did, merging together. It didn't take long until they found a rhythm. The older man pushed steadily into his lover, shoving him into the wall. Both men's breath became quicker as the senior profiler increased the speed of his movements. With his left hand Hotch reached down to stroke Reid's aching erection.

"Yeah…please," the younger man panted, thrusting forward into Hotch's hand.

It didn't take much more. The senior profiler worked his agent with his hand at the same pace as he pushed into him. Finally…

"Oh God, I'm…I'm gonna…" Reid stiffened. He let out a high-pitched cry and came all over his boss' hand.

Hotch groaned. He felt the young man's inside convulse and that was it. He shoved Reid forcefully against the wall, burying himself as deep inside as possible and then just let go.

The hot stream of water kept running down their tired bodies, washing away the sweat and fluids sticking to their skin. Both men needed some time to recover. For a long moment they simply leaned together against the wall silently, just listening to each other's breathing.

"I could use a coffee," Hotch finally said, pushing himself away from the wall.

Reid nodded and followed the older man on wobbly legs.

"I could stay the weekend here if you want me to," the team leader suggested when they arrived in the kitchen. He didn't want to give Reid the feeling that nothing had changed. He wanted to do the right thing from now on, even though he wasn't sure yet what exactly the 'right thing' was.

The young profiler smiled and began to fiddle with the coffee machine. "I'd like that." A small annoying voice inside his head asked 'And after the weekend?', but for now he decided to push these thoughts away.

"I just need to get some clothes later. I can't walk around in my shorts for two days," Hotch replied casually.

A broad grin spread on Reid's face. "Why not?"

***

Time went by too fast. Sitting on the couch with Hotch on that Sunday evening, Reid couldn't help but flinch at the thought that the weekend was almost over. His boss...lover had spent the past two days in his apartment. They hadn't talked about work, not even once. They hadn't done much talking at all. Most of the time they'd spent either in bed or on the sofa. Sometimes they would just lie there together, enjoying each other's warmth and closeness, breathing in each other's smell.

Then they would start to move and touch and stimulate each other in ways Reid had never deemed possible. Even though he'd gathered a lot of experiences in the past year, he had never felt this wanted before. He had never known what it was like to be important to someone, desired, loved even.

"I have to go home, Spencer," Hotch said all of a sudden and moved to untangle himself from his subordinate's arms.

The casual sentence brought the younger man's day dreams to an abrupt end. He didn't want it to stop. He wanted to tie Hotch to the bedpost and never let him go again. Which, of course, wasn't going to happen.

He smiled sadly. "You...you could stay for the night...?"

Hotch sighed and shook his head. "We have to work tomorrow. I better go home and..." he trailed off.

Reid frowned. "And?"

The older man stood up and began to pick up his clothes that were lying on the living room floor.

As he pulled up his pants, he tried to explain: "I need to adjust at home," he said quietly. "I can't stay over night and then directly go to the office. The others would know."

Reid watched Hotch getting dressed again. His frown deepened. "How would they know?"

The senior profiler was already on his way to the bathroom to pack a few personal things he'd brought the day before.

The younger man followed him and leaned thoughtfully against the door frame, watching his lover pack his bag.

He was about to ask his question again when Hotch finally replied.

"They are profilers. They will know something is different. I have...," he paused a second to consider his words. He didn't want to hurt the young man's feelings, but he needed to make his point clear. "I'm your boss. I have to act like your boss when we're at work. I can't do that if I stay here another night. I...I need some distance." Hotch zipped up his bag and turned to face Reid.

"Do you understand me?" he asked tentatively and stepped closer.

The young agent nodded, but didn't look at Hotch. Instead his gaze was glued to the bag in the older man's hand.

The team leader noticed the insecurity flickering across his subordinate's face. He knew what Reid was thinking. It wasn't that hard to guess.

"Spencer?" he asked again.

Biting his bottom lip, Reid glanced up. He understood what Hotch was trying to say. He knew that the unit chief needed to leave and try to get into his role as team leader again. Still...the young profiler couldn't suppress the rising doubt; the uneasy feeling that in reality nothing had changed.

"Don't read too much into that," Hotch added quickly and gave the young man a warm smile. "We'll talk tomorrow."

Before Reid could say anything, Hotch kissed him, effectively interrupting the young genius' dark thoughts.

After a long intense kiss, the older man drew back. "Goodnight," he said in a low voice. He stepped past Reid and moved towards the exit.

The young agent listened to his boss' foot steps and sighed when the door fell shut, leaving him alone in his apartment.

"Night," he replied a little too late. Lost in thoughts, Reid finally pushed himself away from the door frame and walked back to his couch. The leather was still warm where they had been sitting just a few minutes ago. He softly touched the smooth surface. A self-deprecating smile spread on his face as he realized how pathetically needy he'd become.

Then again...no one could see his fingers stroking the couch. No one could see him trying to breathe in the lingering scent of SSA Aaron Hotchner. Therefore, he didn't see any reason to stop acting like a lovesick teenager.

With a grin on his face, Reid leaned against the backrest of his couch and began to recall the happenings of the weekend. Almost unconsciously his hand wandered inside his pants as he remembered all the pleasurable lessons Hotch had taught him once again. At least the memories would never walk out on him.

-o-o-

It was nearly eleven o'clock in the evening when Hotch arrived at his house. He hadn't taken the direct route from Reid's to his own home, but had been driving through the city, thinking about nothing and everything.

The senior profiler was almost surprised when he reached his house. It felt a bit as if the car itself had made the decision to finally call it a day. At that thought, Hotch smiled a little. Apparently, he hadn't gotten enough sleep lately. No wonder...

With a sigh, he grabbed the bag from the backseat of his vehicle and climbed out of the car. It was then that he saw a man standing in the shadows, right before the entrance of his house. Instantly, the agent reached for his gun, but, of course, there was no gun. He hadn't taken his weapon to Reid's house, but had left it safely locked away at home.

Damnit, he thought and eyed the motionless figure before his front door. With smooth, silent steps Hotch approached the stranger, trying to recognize the person's face. Suddenly the man in the shadow turned around, causing every fiber in Hotch's body to freeze.

"Hotch?"

Now that voice sounded familiar. The team leader relaxed immediately.

"Dave? What are you doing here?"

Rossi stepped out of the shadow into the orange light coming from the street lamps. He smiled at his colleague's surprised facial expression.

"I was waiting for you," he stated the obvious and held out his hand for Hotch to shake it.

The younger man frowned, but took his co-worker's hand. He then started to fiddle with the keys.

"Wanna come in?" he asked as he opened the door. Without waiting for an answer, Hotch stepped inside, leaving the door open for Rossi to enter at will.

The older man wordlessly followed him into the living room.

Hotch put his jacket on the clothes stand, then went to the cabinet. Rossi watched the younger man grab two glasses and an expensive looking whiskey bottle. The experienced profiler couldn't help but notice that there were many pictures of Jack, decorating almost every wall and every piece of furniture. However, the pictures of Haley were gone. Only a small, framed family photograph that must have been taken shortly after Jack's birth reminded of a time when Hotch's private life had been happy and in a conventional order.

The team leader saw Rossi's assessing glances and felt the need to explain. "I can't stand to see her face every day," Hotch said quietly and handed his colleague a glass of whiskey. "It's just..."

The older man lifted his hand to cut him off. "I understand. I've been through that myself quite a few times." He smiled.

The unit chief gestured his guest to have a seat, then let himself slump down onto the couch. He took a sip of his drink.

"So what are you doing here?" Hotch asked the inevitable question. In a way he hoped that Rossi's unexpected visit was work related, but that wasn't very likely. In that case his old friend would have called him, rather than coming to his house in the middle of the night.

Rossi enjoyed the taste of whiskey on his tongue for a little while, then swallowed the liquid and cleared his throat. "You haven't been home all weekend. I tried yesterday already..." The profiler gave a Hotch a knowing look.

The younger man was taken aback. "Are you stalking me?" he asked wryly, trying to appear like his usual confident self.

Rossi chuckled. "No. And I know it's none of my business where you spend your weekends..."

"Damn right," Hotch interjected quickly. He didn't mean to sound defensive, but couldn't quite suppress the anger about his co-worker's unwanted appearance. Under normal circumstances he would have been happy about Rossi's visit. They both fancied a good whiskey and more than once had had a drink together, talking about work, serial killers and ex-wives. Tonight, however, Hotch wanted to be left alone. And even more important: He didn't want Rossi to know about the time he'd spent with Reid.

"I don't mean to spy, Hotch," the older agent said calmly, nipping at his drink.

The team leader snorted. "Really?"

"Really."

Both men went silent for a long moment.

When Rossi didn't say anything, Hotch exhaled wearily. "Then what do you want?"

The older man put his glass on the coffee table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You've been with Reid, haven't you?"

There it was.

Hotch took a big gulp of whiskey and leaned back, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

"And if I have?" he asked in a slightly aggressive tone of voice. He knew there was no use in lying and he was too tired to try anyway.

A small smile formed on Rossi's lips. "I don't judge you, Hotch." He wanted to make that clear from the very beginning.

"No?" Hotch asked sarcastically.

His friend sighed. "Hotch," he began slowly. "I just want to make sure you know what you're doing."

"What do you mean?"

"The things that have been going on lately..." Rossi paused. He wasn't sure how to put it. Finally he stated: "You need to be careful with him."

"I know that," the unit chief countered.

"He's just a kid, Hotch," Rossi said quietly.

The younger man forcefully put his glass on the table and stood up. "No, he's not, Dave. He's a grown man. He knows what he's doing..."

"He has no clue."

The words hit Hotch like a slap across his face. He instinctively lifted his hand to undo the top button of his shirt. The profiler felt angry. Angry at Rossi for coming here and asking all these inappropriate questions. He was pissed at himself for not having better answers. And he was angry with Reid because...just because.

"He's 26, Dave."

Rossi rose from the couch as well. "That's just a number, Hotch."

The younger profiler folded his arms over his chest and just looked at his co-worker. He didn't like where this was going.

"So what are you trying to say?" he asked.

Rossi stepped closer. "He's been taken advantage of. For months his colleagues...friends used him to satisfy their needs and..."

"That's not true," Hotch interrupted loudly. But it was true. He knew that, but wasn't ready to face the truth.

The older man laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. He hadn't come here to condemn his friend. Having had his share of affairs, he was hardly in the position to deliver a sermon. Still he didn't want things to go on like in the past few months.

"You spent the weekend with him?"

"Yes."

"And you slept with him?"

Hotch shook his head.

"You didn't?"

The team leader sighed. "I did but..."

"So what changed?" Rossi pressed.

Hotch took a step back, causing his colleague to take away his hand. "It's complicated."

"No, it's not."

Again, Hotch shook his head. To him things were very complicated. "I promised to be there, to take care of him," he explained quietly.

"And 'take care of him' means...to have sex with him?"

The younger man looked sharply at his friend. "It's not just sex..."

"You want a relationship with Reid?"

Hotch turned around, facing the wall. He said nothing.

But Rossi didn't let him off the hook that easily. "You want to be Reid's boyfriend? Is that it? You want to take him out, go to the movies, cook for him, buy him a ring..."

"Stop it!" Hotch almost shouted, still not looking at Rossi.

"Why?" the older man questioned relentlessly. "Isn't that what you want?"

The other agent didn't reply. He couldn't. What was he supposed to say?

"Hotch?"

After a long moment, the team leader turned around again. Rossi was a bit taken aback by the tired expression on the younger man's face. He had expected this conversation to be a tough one, but now he felt somewhat sorry for Hotch. The head of the BAU had always been trying to be perfect, not to make any mistakes...both at work and in his private life. In the end, however, he was only a human being. Like everyone else.

"Hotch," he said again, more softly this time. "You need to know what you want. Don't make promises you can't keep."

His friend nodded weakly. "I don't know what I want," he admitted. "I...I just wanted to make things right again."

"I know."

"I can't abandon him like..."

"Like Gideon?" Rossi asked, approaching Hotch.

The younger man nodded.

"You don't have to abandon him," the experienced profiler said. "But you shouldn't start something you can't pull through."

Hotch rubbed his forehead in a nervous gesture. "He won't understand."

Rossi smiled re-assuringly. "He will, in the end."

The team leader decided to sit down again. He grabbed his glass. Just before it reached his lips he murmured: "I hope you're not just saying this because you want him for yourself."

The older profiler stared at his friend.

Hotch swallowed the alcoholic liquid and laughed humorlessly. "Kidding." After a little while he added: "This is going to be painful."

Rossi sighed audibly and sat down next to his colleague. "It might be. But you need to be honest with him...and with yourself." He gave Hotch a light slap on the back.

The younger man drank the rest of his whiskey. "I'm going to talk to him," he said, more to himself. "Damn...I'm not good at this."

"Obviously." Rossi chuckled. In a serious tone he asked: "Tomorrow then?"

Hotch nodded. "Tomorrow."

***

That Monday turned out to be a very busy day. In the early morning JJ had received a phone call from a PD in Georgia. Three middle aged women had been abducted and murdered. The remains of their bodies had been found by a ranger who had been working in the woods.

Not wanting to waste valuable time, the team had discussed the case on the plane. Hotch had noticed quickly that Reid was trying to make eye contact more often than usual. On the plane, at the police station, even at the crime scene, the young man seemed to seek closeness. The team leader, however, was trying very hard to ignore it. He knew not everyone was that good when it came to hide their feelings. The others didn't seem to notice, however. Perhaps, the unit chief thought, he was only imagining things. Perhaps Reid was just being...Reid.

While he and the other profilers created a more or less accurate profile of the killer, Hotch couldn't help but think about his talk with Rossi the night before. They had agreed that a relationship between Hotch and Reid wasn't an option. The team leader was still sure that it was the right decision to cut the bond to his very young subordinate. The problem was: Reid didn't know that yet. And Hotch had no idea how he was supposed to tell him.

These thoughts that had been nagging at him during the day, became even stronger in the evening. The profilers had given the police advice on how to catch the obviously sexually motivated killer and were now on their way to the hotel. Since there were a lot of free rooms the team members didn't have to share. The profilers slowly made their way along the hallway. With a tired 'Goodnight' Morgan, Prentiss and JJ disappeared in their rooms. Reid gave Hotch a small smile and almost hesitantly closed the door behind him. The meaningful look in the young man's eyes wasn't lost on either Hotch or Rossi. The older man raised his eyebrows.

"You still want to talk to him?" he asked in a low voice, not wanting to be overheard by any other agent.

Hotch rubbed his forehead. "Yes...of course. I don't know when though..."

"How about now?" Rossi suggested with a smile. "There's not such a thing as the right moment for these kind of things."

The team leader flinched. "I don't know. We're in the middle of a case. I don't want to distract him..."

"Is that the only reason?"

Hotch glared at his old friend.

Rossi shrugged. "Just saying." He gave the younger man a friendly slap on the shoulder and went to his own room next to Reid's.

Somewhat lost Hotch stood in the hallway. He knew Rossi was right. There would never be a good time to have this sort of conversation. They would almost always be caught up in work; always be hunting a killer or writing reports about a previous hunt. It really didn't matter.

He carefully eyed the door of Reid's room. Heaving a sigh, he stepped closer and knocked. He wanted to get it over with. The whole day he'd been thinking about this issue. Hotch knew it was only a matter of time until his performance at work would suffer because he was distracted by this personal problem.

After a few seconds the door opened. Hotch stepped in and quickly shut it again.

"Hey," Reid said quietly and moved close to Hotch.

"Hey."

The young agent wanted to lay his hands on his boss' shoulders, but Hotch took them in his own hands and gently forced them down.

"We need to talk," he said in an earnest voice.

A hint of insecurity flickered across Reid's face. "Okay..."

Hotch pulled him to the bed and made him sit down.

"I was thinking, Reid..." he began.

The younger man instantly felt his stomach knot. Suddenly a heavy weight seemed to burden his chest. He wondered why Hotch called him 'Reid' now that they were alone.

Something is wrong, he thought. Aloud he asked: "Thinking? About what?"

"About things...about us." Hotch took a deep breath.

Reid almost didn't dare to ask further questions. "A...and?" he managed to squeeze out.

The senior profiler saw the fearful expression on his subordinate's face and he hated himself for making promises he wasn't able to keep any longer.

"I know I told you that I'll be there for you in future. And I will be," he said, putting the emphasis on the last part.

Reid swallowed. "But?"

There was a moment of silence. Hotch sighed again. "But I'm not supposed to have an intimate relationship with a subordinate. I'm your superior and in that position I can't..."

"No," Reid interjected.

The older man went on. "I can't be both your boss and your lover. It's not right."

"No!" Reid rose from the bed and started to pace the room.

"Reid..."

Hotch got up as well.

"I don't want to hear it," the young agent said in a rush.

The team leader tried to approach him. "I'm really sorry, Reid." He lifted his hands in a calming gesture.

"Don't call me that!"

Hotch let his hands drop and just watched the younger man walk in small circles. He was at a loss.

After a while Reid stopped short. He turned to Hotch and looked at him with a desperate expression. "Did I do something wrong?"

The older man shook his head. "No, you did nothing wrong. It's not..."

But Reid interrupted him once again. "Didn't you like it? I thought you liked it."

The whole world seemed to crush down on the young profiler. Only the day before Hotch had told him that things would be getting better; that there was something special between them. So many times the man he looked up to had been sleeping with him. And now, out of the blue, it wasn't right anymore? Reid couldn't understand what was happening.

"Reid..." Hotch paused. "Spencer, believe me, you didn't do anything wrong. It's just the situation...the job...it's impossible. Please try to understand."

Reid looked at him for a moment. Then, without thinking, he closed the small space between them and kissed Hotch hard on the mouth.

The older man hadn't expected this move. He was surprised and couldn't react immediately.

Reid pushed his superior against the nearest wall, never breaking the kiss. With his whole body he pressed against Hotch's frame.

The unit chief wanted to pull back, but was kind of trapped between the wall and his subordinate. Of course he would have been able to use his strength and push Reid away with more force, but he didn't want to hurt the younger man more than he had already. He managed to turn his face to the side.

"No," he said, a bit out of breath.

But Reid wouldn't listen. Instead he started to nibble and suck at Hotch's throat while his thigh forced its way between the older man's legs.

The senior profiler moaned involuntarily. It felt so good. However, he hadn't come here to repeat past mistakes.

"No, Reid. Stop it." With his hands he grabbed the younger man's slim waist in an attempt to push him away.

In response Reid lifted his thigh further, increasing the friction against his boss' crotch.

"You like it," he whispered in Hotch's ear and let his hand wander down. He began to open the older man's belt.

Oh God, the team leader thought. He could already feel his blood abandon his brain to support lower regions of his body. No...

It was no use. He needed to stop it here and now. Decisively he pushed Reid away.

"We can't do this," he repeated in his most authoritative tone of voice.

"But you want it!" Reid exclaimed.

"No, I don't."

The young agent glanced at his superior's groin.

He whispered: "Yes, you want it."

Hotch closed his eyes for a brief moment. "It's not always about what we want," he said quietly.

"It's always about what you want," Reid shot back.

The team leader saw the hurt expression on the young man's face. With confusion he watched Reid undo his own pants.

"What are you doing?"

Reid didn't reply, but pulled his black trousers down – along with his boxers.

Hotch felt a slight hint of panic. "Spencer, what are you doing?"

The young man stepped out of his pants and underwear. He gave Hotch a defying look. "You want me."

The senior profiler swallowed hard. He had to force himself not to stare at that pretty young man's exposed privates. "Get dressed, Reid," he pressed out.

But the other man stepped closer instead, ignoring Hotch's warning look. He rubbed his frame against his superior's aroused body. "Love me," he pleaded and undid the fly of his boss' pants. His hand took hold of Hotch's hard manhood. He started to massage, rub, stimulate. "Take what you want," he whispered in the older man's ear.

The unit chief groaned. "No..." he murmured half-heartedly.

Reid dropped to his knees and began to pleasure his boss with his mouth. He knew exactly what to do. His colleagues...friends had taught him how to do it properly. Hotch himself had.

The older man's fingers gripped Reid's long hair.

"No..." he said with his eyes closed. "Spencer..."

Hotch forced himself to open his eyes and look down. The sight of his subordinate serving him made him groan with anger – and lust.

"Don't...do that," he tried again and pulled a bit harder at Reid's hair, forcing the young man to let go and get up.

Reid instantly replaced his mouth with his hand, never letting go of Hotch's privates. He tried to kiss his boss again, but didn't succeed.

The team leader pushed himself off the wall and slapped Reid across the face. Not very hard, but hard enough to to make him stumble backwards.

"That what you want?" Hotch asked with more than a hint of aggression in his voice. He felt overwhelmed by the situation, taken aback and incredibly aroused.

Reid looked at him. "You know what I want," he said and tried to move close to the other man again.

Hotch didn't let him. It wasn't Reid who was in charge here, after all. Not too gently he pushed him against the opposite wall and spun him around. The senior profiler pushed hard against Reid's backside.

"I told you to stop," he said in a low, dangerous voice. He underlined his words by pushing even harder against the young man's fragile frame.

Facing the wall, Reid could do nothing but squirm.

"I said 'no'," Hotch added and began to work his subordinate with his fingers. He hadn't brought anything to ease his way in. And right now he didn't care.

"You wouldn't listen." He withdrew his fingers and moved even closer. And he pushed in.

At the rough intrusion, Reid cried out in pain. He couldn't help it.

"Be quiet," Hotch murmured. "You were begging for it." Another thrust. "Now take it."

The older man steadied himself by placing his hands on the wall and kept pounding. After a little while Reid stopped to make pained noises. It seemed to go easier.

Still there was so much more friction than usual that Hotch was sure it wouldn't take long. He was right. After only a few minutes he could feel the climax building up inside. He kept moving relentlessly, pushing Reid hard into the wall.

He was almost there, when suddenly the door flung open.

"What the hell...?"

Rossi.

Hotch's head snapped up. With a shocked expression he looked at the unexpected intruder.

"Dave..." he exhaled and stepped away from Reid, all arousal gone. The younger man didn't seem to notice Rossi. He dropped to his knees, still facing the wall.

Hotch quickly pulled up his trousers. "It's not...it's not what you think..." he tried as he fiddled with his belt.

Rossi saw Hotch's untidy appearance, and then glanced at Reid. He frowned. "I think you better go to your own room, Hotch," he concluded.

The team leader, who didn't feel much like a team leader at the moment, nodded. He threw one last worried look at Reid, and then left the room in a hurry. His brain function had kicked in again. He couldn't believe what he'd just done...what Reid had made him do...no, what he'd done himself...or...

Hotch shook his head and tried to escape these thoughts by shutting the door to his own room behind him.

Meanwhile Rossi took in the picture that presented itself in Reid's room. The frown didn't leave the experienced profiler's face.

He silently closed the door and stepped closer to his young colleague who hadn't moved yet.

Rossi knelt down and touched Reid on the shoulder. "You ok, kid?"

"Yeah," the younger man replied so quietly, it was barely audible.

Rossi cleared his throat. "Can you get up?"

It took a few moments until he got a reply. "I...no...don't, please..."

"Come on," the older man urged and wanted to pull Reid to his feet. It didn't work.

"Go away, please," the young agent said in a small voice. He seemed to become aware of the situation. "Don't...look at me," Reid added and tried to cover his bare skin with his hands.

"Wait a second." Rossi went to the small bathroom and grabbed a towel. He wrapped it around Reid's shivering frame. "I think you need a shower, kid."

The young man suddenly felt very numb. He just nodded and let Rossi guide him to the narrow shower cubicle. He almost expected his colleague to join him in there.

"I'll wait outside. Call me if you need help, ok?" Rossi asked with concern in his voice.

Reid blinked irritatedly. He looked around until his gaze fell at his own reflection in the mirror. He looked at himself for a long moment. "...outside...?" he repeated absent-mindedly.

"Of course." Rossi frowned once again and closed the bathroom door.

Still staring at himself in the mirror, Reid said: "Okay..."

***

Rossi sat on the bed in Reid's hotel room, waiting for the young man to come back out of the bathroom. With his elbows resting on his knees he listened to the sound of the running water as his young colleague turned on the shower.

The shower took a while.

A long while.

Rossi listened and waited, wondering what had happened in this room before he had arrived. Well, he could guess what had happened. After all, he had heard parts of it through the thin wall. What he didn't know was why it had gone so far again. He thought Hotch had agreed with him that an intimate relationship with Reid was not an option. And now, only a day later, he found the team leader in a very obvious situation with his subordinate. Rossi didn't know what to make of it. He'd always known Hotch as a reasonable and self-controlled man. He couldn't understand how the unit chief could repeatedly give in to his primal needs. It didn't make sense at all.

The senior profiler lifted his head when the shower was turned off. He'd been waiting for almost half an hour now. It took another few minutes until the door opened.

With the white hotel tightly wrapped around his frame, Reid stepped over the threshold. His hair was wet and fell into his face like a curtain. He didn't bother to brush it back. Actually he even seemed to keep his head down to make the strands fall forward.

Rossi watched the young man closely. Should he say something? Should he wait for Reid to say something? What in hell's name was supposed to be said in a situation like this anyway?

Reid wordlessly crouched down before his overnight bag, rummaging for fresh clothes.

The older profiler remained sitting on the bed – equally silent. He looked at his co-worker's slim back. Even through the thick fabric of the bathrobe Rossi could see the knobs of Reid's spine. A stinging, undefined pain spread in the aged agent's gut. What he saw there was not a grown man who could decide for himself. In terms of life years, yes; but in respect of his emotional age Reid wasn't an adult, but nothing more than a teenager who was trying to figure out what he was and where he belonged. Rossi understood and in his opinion it was about time that both Reid and Hotch understood it too.

"You okay there?" he asked.

The younger man muttered something incoherent.

"Excuse me?" Rossi pressed.

Reid turned his head a little. "I'd appreciate some privacy…please?" he pleaded and gestured to the small pile of clothes he'd picked from the bag.

The older man rose from the mattress. "Sure," he began as he walked towards the door. Before he left, however, he added, "But we should talk about a few things later."

Reid didn't reply, but nodded.

"Alright," Rossi sighed. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

The young profiler waited for his colleague to close the door before finally glancing up. With unsteady hands Reid shoved the damp strands of hair back. The numb feeling hadn't subsided yet which made it hard for him to gather his thoughts.

But there was one thing he knew for sure. He needed to get out of here before Rossi came back. The last thing he needed right now was yet another humiliating encounter with one of his colleagues.

Reid quickly got dressed. There wasn't much time.

Meanwhile, Rossi decided to have a talk with Hotch. Slowly but surely he began to feel like a character in one of these horrible daily soaps.

I'm the mediator, he mused wryly. Wonderful.

Still he couldn't just turn a blind eye on the matter. As much as he wanted to sit the problem out, he knew that too much was at stake. He had to interfere.

Rossi knocked on Hotch's door.

A muffled 'yes' sounded from the inside, telling the profiler to come in.

He did. Rossi quietly stepped through the door, closing it behind him. He found Hotch sitting on the bed, looking a picture of misery. The younger man briefly glanced up at his friend, and then let his gaze drop again, running his fingers through his dark curls.

"Save me the sermon, Dave," he said before his colleague had a chance to speak.

Rossi raised his eyebrows in curiosity. He walked to the window with his hands buried in his trouser pockets.

"All right," he replied, looking at the dark, starless sky.

"It wasn't planned," Hotch blurted after a while. Although he'd asked Rossi not to talk about it, he couldn't stand the silence either. He felt the unspoken words hang above them like the sword of Damocles.

Rossi turned around. He casually leaned against the window sill, looking at the other agent's back.

"So what happened?" he asked. The curious expression hadn't left his face.

The unit chief sighed. That's a good question, he thought. What could he say without sounding like a liar or – even worse – like a goddamned hypocrite? Of course he hadn't wanted it to come this far again. At least his brain hadn't wanted it. Another part of him, however, a part his brain didn't seem to be able to control, had wanted it. His dark, almost beastly side that was usually hidden deep inside of him, invisible for the outer world, had wanted so badly to fuck the little tease into the wall like there was no tomorrow.

And once again this part of him had won. The thought scared Hotch. The realization that he repeatedly had not been able to stop himself from doing the wrong thing shook his composure in the very foundations.

"I don't know," he said in a low tone. "I tried to talk to him. I tried to…" he stopped. Hotch noticed that he was already making excuses for himself. There was no excuse for his behavior. He was aware of that, yet he felt the need to at least explain himself.

Rossi kept silent, knowing that this wasn't easy for his friend.

Hotch drew a deep breath. "I wanted to end it, Dave."

"I guess he wasn't happy about it," the older man interjected, a humorless smile on his face.

The team leader snorted. "No. No, he wasn't happy at all."

A long pause followed.

It was Rossi who decided to take the conversation up to the next step.

"So how did you get from quitting the relationship to…" he motioned with his hands, unsure of how to put it.

Hotch rose from the bed. He rubbed his forehead with his hand, and then let his arm fall down in defeat.

"He asked for it," the team leader muttered.

Again, Rossi lifted his eyebrows. His expression clearly said 'so what?' He didn't utter the words, but Hotch understood nonetheless.

The younger man lifted his hands, looking a bit helpless. "He practically jumped me, Dave."

"You're the grown-up, Aaron…"

"He's a grown man too!"

"He's a fucking kid!" Rossi shot back, his voice a tad higher than usual.

Both men got the unintended pun in that statement, but neither of them found it very amusing at that time.

They fell silent.

Hotch brought his hand to his head again and rubbed his forehead as he always did when he wasn't sure of himself.

"I don't know what to do," he finally admitted tiredly.

Rossi nodded. He'd gathered that much. "You have to find a way to end it, Aaron."

The younger man looked at his friend. "I care about him." He meant it. He really did.

"That's why you have to end it," Rossi replied gently. "You can't give him what he needs. You can't be more than his boss or perhaps a good friend. You know that."

Of course, Hotch knew that. They'd had this conversation before and just like then he agreed with Rossi now too.

"I told you it wasn't a good idea to do it while we're on a case," the team leader said eventually.

Rossi gave a short laugh. "There's always a case, isn't there?"

Hotch shrugged. "I guess I should go to him," he murmured.

"I guess you should."

With a very uneasy feeling in the pits of his stomach, the unit chief exited his room to do what he should have done months ago.

Hotch walked down the corridor to Reid's room, surprised to find the door ajar. With the tips of his fingers he pushed it open and carefully stepped inside. The young agent was nowhere to be seen.

"Reid?" he asked quietly and knocked on the bathroom door.

But Reid wasn't in there either.

Hotch frowned, wondering where the young man had disappeared. He left the room and went downstairs, walking straight towards the front desk.

"Did you see a young man leave the hotel in the past few minutes?" he asked the girl who was working the night shift in the reception area.

Within an instant her bored expression turned into a professional smile.

"Tall, slender, long hair?" she asked kindly, remembering the weird guy who had practically run outside without even glancing at her.

Hotch nodded impatiently.

"Yes, he left a few minutes ago. Seemed to be in a hurry…"

"Thank you," the team leader muttered, already on his way outside.

It was a small town. There weren't many places to go really. Hotch reached the street and indecisively looked to the left, then to the right. He reached for the car keys in his pocket and quickly ran to the black SUV that was parked in front of the hotel.

Many thoughts and images were running through his mind as he drove along the empty streets. He had no idea where Reid had gone; neither did he know what the young man was thinking. Was he angry? Sad? Confused? Probably all at once, the senior profiler concluded inwardly.

Hotch kept driving, his eyes searching the streets and sidewalks for his subordinate. Perhaps, he thought, he should let it go and return to the hotel. Reid probably just wanted to escape the situation and have some time alone. Then again, what if something had happened to the young man? There was a serial killer on the loose, after all. And what if Reid himself intended to…

No, Hotch told himself. He wouldn't allow his mind to go down that path. Certainly the young profiler wasn't going to do something stupid just because of the incident in the hotel room…

The unit chief's grip around the steering wheel tightened, causing his knuckles to turn white. Almost unconsciously he increased the pressure on the gas pedal.

He was on the road for almost half an hour and slowly began to run out of ideas where to look.

Just then he saw it: a shadow on the bridge that led out of town. Below the bridge, deep down there was a big river. They'd seen it on their way here.

Hotch's heart sank.

He drove towards the dark figure that sat motionlessly on the edge of the bridge.

Was it Reid? The team leader squinted, but it was too dark to make out any details. Who else would it be? Hotch mused worriedly.

He pulled the car over and turned off the engine, simultaneously opening the door of the vehicle. The person didn't seem to notice.

Hotch carefully stepped closer to the wall that was supposed to protect walkers from falling into the abyss. The wall was about five feet high and made of solid stone. The senior profiler looked up and saw Reid's hair moving in the light breeze of the night.

"Reid?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to scare the young man who sat on the wall.

There was no reaction. In the dim light of the street lamp Hotch could see his subordinate stare into space.

"Why don't you come down here so we can talk?" the older man tried, unable to hide the tension in his voice.

When Reid still didn't reply, Hotch didn't see any other option than to join the young man on the wall. He placed his hands on the rough surface and pushed himself up. He quickly brought his legs up to rest on the wall and tried to ignore the fact that once false movement could lead to a very quick death now. The noise of the rapid stream below the bridge broke through the silence of the night. Since it was so dark, Hotch couldn't see the water which made the situation yet another tad scarier.

After a short struggle with his trembling limbs he managed to get into a relatively safe sitting position. Reid, who was only few feet away from him, paid him no attention. His gaze seemed to be glued to the black horizon.

Hotch allowed himself to relax slightly. He was close enough now. If Reid decided to do something rash, the team leader would be able to step in.

"What are you doing here?" the young man asked in a strange distant voice.

"You were suddenly gone." Hotch cleared his throat. "I was worried."

Reid looked at him but said nothing.

"So what are you doing here?" the older man asked.

The young man thought about it for a while. He wasn't sure what had led him to this place. His ass hurt like hell and sitting on a hard wall didn't make it any better. Apart from that, however, he still felt numb, almost like in a trance.

"Gideon…" he began slowly. "Gideon said to me that it's a sign of affection when someone wants to…" Reid trailed off. It was so hard for him to say the words. "To sleep with someone means to care about the other person, Gideon told me."

He drew a deep, shivering breath and added, "I had no idea how much he cared about me until I spent that weekend with him."

Hotch winced. He didn't want to hear it, yet he needed to hear it. And what was even more important: Reid needed to say it.

"It was the first time I visited him at his cabin," the young agent continued. He was looking straight ahead again; his face was blank as the memories flashed back into his mind.

"I was happy about the invite. He was always so aloof when it came to his private life. I was a bit flattered when he asked me to visit him at the cabin." Reid let out a bitter burst of laughter. He felt so stupid.

Hotch silently watched his agent's profile, knowing where the story would go.

"We talked a lot, played chess," Reid recalled quietly. "He beat me all the time, but I didn't mind. I…we had a good time, you know…"

Hotch knew exactly. He'd been at the cabin too. But this wasn't about him.

"We talked about nothing and everything. Science, literature, serial killers…" Reid's eyes dropped. He looked down into the black hole where the streaming water was floating. "Love. He started to talk about love. I didn't have much to contribute." The young profiler actually gave Hotch a small smile before focusing on the nothingness before him again.

"I don't how it could happen. He…" Reid tried to explain something he himself couldn't understand. And he failed miserably.

"He was Gideon." Hotch said softly. "You admired him. You believed in him."

Reid just looked at his boss.

The unit chief went on. "He led you to believe that sex is the best way to prove your affection. He knew you had no experience and told you things that are simply not true."

"He cared about me," the younger man replied. He sounded upset now.

"He used you, Spencer."

Reid looked away.

"And I used you too," Hotch added. There was sadness in his words – and shame.

The emotions in his boss' voice were not lost on the young agent. And suddenly realization hit him. He wanted to fight it; wanted to swallow it and push it back into the furthest corner of his mind where it had been all the time – ever since his first encounter with Gideon. He didn't want to see the truth, yet it was already too bright and clear right in front of him.

"No," he said to himself.

Yes, his brain screamed at him and even his heart seemed to join the choir now. You knew it all the time.

Reid turned to Hotch. He felt hot and angry tears burning behind his eyes, but fought them back.

"It was all about sex?" he whispered incredulously.

Hotch didn't reply instantly, but Reid could already see the answer in his boss' face. Guilt. He definitely looked guilty.

"Of course not," the senior profiler finally replied. He felt indeed guilty, but he needed to clarify that Reid was more to him than just a piece of young willing flesh. Much more.

"What Gideon did was wrong. What I did was wrong and I'm really sorry, Spencer," he began.

Hotch wanted to say more, but Reid interrupted. "And Morgan? And Rossi?" His voice grew louder. "Are you guys meeting once a month to discuss your adventures with stupid Dr. Reid?"

The young man saw Hotch flinch at the words. "What exactly am I to you?" he asked his boss.

The older profiler was at a loss. Reid was right, but he was wrong at the same time.

"What am I to you?" the genius pressed.

Everything, a small voice in Hotch's head replied. It was a sudden and much unexpected realization that scared him more than anything else he'd ever felt. For a moment, he was speechless.

When Reid got no reply, he spoke again. "I don't care about the others, Aaron." He put the emphasis on his boss' name to underline his message. "I think of you when I'm alone. You're on my mind all the time. I get excited when I see you again after the weekend and I feel sick when I think you're mad. It's…" he paused to draw breath. "It's more to me. It's…"

He shrugged and shook his head. What else could he say?

Hotch looked at his subordinate. He was completely taken aback, both by the young man's outburst and by his own feelings.

Reid held the older agent's gaze for a while, a pleading expression in his eyes.

Please say something, he thought. Anything.

But Hotch kept silent.

With a resigned sigh Reid moved to climb off the wall. The movement brought Hotch back into reality. He turned his head, watching his friend walk down the street. And finally he moved too.

One graceful move and he was on his feet and running after Reid.

"Wait," he called, wondering why his voice sounded so strange, so unfamiliar.

The young man didn't slow down his pace, but didn't bother to run either.

Hotch quickly caught up and grabbed Reid's shoulder, forcing the young profiler to stop.

The team leader moved around his agent's slender frame to face him. The wetness on Reid's cheeks sent a painful jolt of pain through his gut.

"I love you," the younger man said and looked up at the man before him. "I…"

Hotch leaned in and kissed him on the mouth, effectively silencing him. There was nothing sexual about the kiss. There was no desire, no urge, and no tension. Still it was so deep and heartfelt to both of them that everything else they'd done before seemed to vanish in their memories.

Reid felt Hotch's hands on the back of his neck, holding him close. His own arms hung limply by his side.

After a long while the older man drew back a little. "I can't be more for you," he whispered.

But I want to, the small voice in his head added.

"I can't," he said again.

Reid looked at him and then nodded miserably.

"But…" Hotch added, "this has nothing to do with how I feel about you."

The young man closed his eyes, knowing that more tears were running down his face now. Where was the point in hiding them? He wondered. It was just the two of them, after all.

"I understand," Reid said eventually.

In fact, he understood nothing. The whole world didn't seem to make sense anymore.

"No, you don't," the senior profiler replied knowingly. "But you will."

A bitter smile formed on Reid's lips. He pulled back.

"It's kind of ironic," he said quietly and started his walk back to the hotel. One more time he looked back to Hotch who stood there under the street lamp, looking somewhat lost. "Gideon told me exactly the same thing right before it all started…in the cabin."

And Reid walked away.

The End

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