Work Text:
Ego
by Sam-Tony
"Reid? What happened?"
So much for sneaking in; he had hoped to at least be able to make it through one cup of coffee before running into anyone else. He needed that cup.
Setting his satchel on his chair, Spencer removed his scarf while trying to keep his face averted, knowing that it was no use; Hotch had already seen it. Good thing it was only the two of them in the office this early. They had some privacy at least.
"Good morning. I was just one my way to get a cup of coffee..."
"My office, Reid. Now."
Well, it had been worth a try.
Tamely following Hotch up the steps and down the hall to his office, Spencer tried to rehearse the speech that might see him through this interrogation with a modicum of dignity left intact but gave it up as a lost cause as Hotch turned inside his door to let him walk by. Once safely enclosed in the quiet office, Spencer jumped at the sharp sound of the door being locked.
The small part of his brain that couldn't help finding this amusing, grimaced a wry smile at the finality of that sound. Trapped.
"If I told you I ran into a door, I don't suppose you'd believe me," he sighed.
The open warning in the stern frown gave him his answer before Hotch even spoke; not that he had expected any differently. Spencer may be a little awkward at times, tripping over his own feet when his head was stuck in a profile, but thanks to Morgan he wasn't *that* bad.
"Only if that were the truth, which I think we both know it's not."
"Thought not." The half rueful smile he managed to toss out despite the painful shiner that was just beginning to stiffen up - not to mention color in nicely - at least had the older profiler unbending enough to lean against his desk, even if his arms were crossed in front of his chest. The eyebrows rose in acknowledgement of the forfeit though body language told Spencer he wasn't going to be getting off that easily.
He was right.
"Well? Are you going to tell me who hit you or did you want me to? Because I can hazard a guess."
"Not really?" Spencer ventured, knowing even as he said it that wasn't an option. Hotch had never liked Curt - though whether not it was the blond himself or the fact that Reid was dating him, Spencer had never been certain. But as it was a moot point by now, he added, "Believe me, you don't have to tell me I was being stupid. That 187 IQ has to be good for something, after all." Even if only in hindsight.
"Reid." Hotch sighed. Shaking his head, the older man moved, sending one hand to brush lightly against the vivid bruise that covered all of one eye and bled down over the sharp bone of his cheek. "At least tell me you kicked his ass."
"Kicked *and* locked out," Spencer admitted a bit too cheerfully; trying not to be too obvious in leaning into the hand that still covered his cheek. But Hailey was gone and he was tired of fighting this; tired of denying them both the chance at whatever this desire might hold. "Hotch..."
But the older man beat him to it. "Can we start again, Spencer? Can we try again?"
Giving up all pretense of not leaning into that comfort, Spencer briefly closed his eyes, feeling the tension leave him. This time his smile was an honest one. "I'd like that."
"Good. Spencer I - "
But that was to be all he heard, for a knock interrupted whatever else Hotch had been about to say. As Spencer opened his eyes, Hotch reluctantly stepped back, once more presenting a proper space between them.
Which was just as well, for Prentiss poked her head in the door not a moment later.
"Hey guys, sorry to interrupt. Someone's here to see Spencer..."
That last was said trailing off into a question and Spencer frowned, wondering who could possibly be here to see him. When the light bulb went off, he could see Hotch had already come to the same conclusion.
"We'll be right out."
--
Two minutes into his 'visit' and Spencer's soon-to-be-ex was already moving to separate him from his glowering escort.
Not that Hotch was actively glaring at Curt, because he wasn't; that would be too simple. No, Hotch was only - only! - standing just outside of the blond's visual range, creating a presence that he couldn't - quite - see but one that he could feel and one that was definitely beginning to weigh on his mind. His face was his usual mask worn for the hardened unsubs and sadistic serial killers he was expected to break down into a confession; hard, cold, implacatable.
Spencer knew the tactic, of course. He had seen Hotch use it time and time again to intimidate a suspect off of his game. He had just never expected to have it used on a man Spencer had been sleeping with...
Curtis Howry never stood a chance.
"Spencer - " Curt began, and Spencer watched as the blue eyes darted between him and Hotch and back yet again. "Look, I can't talk to you here. Why don't we go outside and discuss this like adults."
And there was the belittling edge, right on time.
"Adults? I thought you said - just this morning in fact - that I was a child - "
"Dammit, Spencer, come on - "
For all of his bluster, Spencer hadn't expected Curt to grab him by the arm and attempt to physically drag him outside; not here in the middle of the FBI and BAU bullpen. And he certainly didn't expect the quick, decisive reaction that move garnered from Hotch ...
The older man had Howry pinned face first against the wall before Spencer could blink; his arm twisted high behind his back making him cry out as Hotch kept him there using leverage and pure body weight.
In the early morning cluster of agents caught watching the drama unfold, no one moved to stop him.
"Now that I have your attention, let me be clear." The sheer amount of menace in the calm voice was deadly, sending a shiver down Spencer's spine - and a totally inappropriate flood of heat elsewhere. "You will leave this building and you will have no further contact with Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid. No phone calls, no emails, no visits. Do you understand me?"
"Screw you."
"Wrong answer. Apparently I have not made myself clear enough. Leave Spencer alone or deal with me. Your choice."
"And me." Morgan stepped forward.
"And me," Prentiss glared, her arms folded over her chest.
"And me."
"And me."
"And me." Garcia promised from the little alcove leading down the hall to her domain, glaring daggers at Howry from where the analyst stood safely out of the way behind Morgan.
"Just a little piece of advice - she doesn't have to touch you screw with your life," Hotch warned.
"You betcha. I wonder how many nasty things I can pull out of your closet before I really get down to brass tax..." The blond smiled sweetly, the cheerful pink streak and the saccharine grin at odds with the fierce glint in eyes that turned protective under Howry's transferred glare. No one messed with Garcia's cubs, and they were all hers, even Hotch. "It's amazing what you can find if you know where to look."
"And baby girl here knows where to look." Morgan warned.
From the opposite direction, all of the agents having somehow quietly surrounded the action without Spencer having noticed, Rossi spoke quietly, his tone almost conversational. "If you came here looking to embarrass or damage Doctor Reid in any way, you can see that was a mistake. You see, we're kind of like the Musketeers around here: all for one..."
"And one for all," Spencer finished. "Go away Curt. I don't want you here."
"You don't mean that - you need me."
"I've never meant anything more." Spencer told him, chin rising firmly. "And the only one I need is myself."
"Morgan, why don't you escort Mr. Howry out," Hotch ordered, his voice low and dark in the blonde's ear. "Make sure he doesn't get lost on the way."
"My pleasure." Morgan nodded, stalking toward the man rubbing his arm and directing a sullen glower around the room until it lit on Reid. "Don't even think it. Move."
A firm hand at the elbow got Howry moving and as the elevator cut off the last sight of them, the bullpen gradually got back to normal, agents going about their business and pretty much leaving the foremost BAU team standing in a rough circle around Reid.
Who allowed his eyebrows to rise at Garcia, saying mildly, "You are a bad, bad, woman."
The blinding smile was reward enough. "Yeah well, " she grinned harder, reaching up to plant a kiss on his cheek, the movement enveloping him in the warm scent of powder and perfume. "What good's being the country's top analyst if I can't watch out for my friends?"
"Speaking of that," Prentiss chimed in, a smile playing across her lips, "At least tell me that bruise on his chin was your doing."
Spencer smiled. "Guilty."
"That's my boy," Emily announced proudly, with a quick tweak of his nose.
Spencer wriggled his nose and drawled, oddly pleased at picking up yet another mother hen. "Thanks."
"Speaking of bruises," Hotch said. "About that shiner..."
"Hotch, don't you still have some of that stuff I borrowed the last time Morgan kicked my butt in the gym? You might want to try some of that on that eye before it starts to swell," Rossi advised.
"In my desk drawer," Hotch confirmed. "Come on, Reid, let's see if we can't do something about that eye."
Once more following behind Hotch, this time when the older man locked the door it wasn't so much of a surprise. Nor was the gentle touch on the cheek, just below the black eye that had started this whole thing. This time Spencer leaned into the body crowding him without hesitation.
"So, as matchmakers, they aren't very subtle - for profilers."
Huffing out a laugh, Hotch sighed. "No, they really aren't, are they?"
For long moments they just stood there, holding onto each other in the middle of the floor while the usual morning bustle sounded outside the closed and locked door of Hotch's office as the rest of the BAU started coming out of its shell. Spencer listened to the low buzz of conversation as the bullpen came alive with people catching up on work left to idle over the weekend, filing and spinning yarns of their latest vacations, conquests and other adventures that had little or nothing to do with serial killers. Standing held and welcome in this quiet oasis amidst the emerging chaos outside, it filled his brain with white noise, soothing his nerves.
It couldn't last, unfortunately; they both had work to do themselves.
"So..." Spencer cleared his throat, arcing an eyebrow at the older man pointedly. "He'll have to deal with you, huh?"
"Yes, he will," Hotch agreed, making no apologies; not that Spencer wanted him to. He rather liked being under the protection of the playground hero. "And apparently everyone else as well."
"I can see that," Spencer admitted, a little bemused by all of the support he had gotten once Howry had started to show his true colors. Agents he had never met had simply stood by and allowed Hotch to manhandle a man who wasn't an unsub or wanted by the FBI.
"They don't want to see you hurt," Hotch told him, tracing the bruise gently with the pad of one finger. "And neither do I."
"I know."
"This really is a nasty bruise." Hotch said quietly. As he leaned in, Spencer held his breath, the soft lips just brushing the tender skin under his eye. The other one fluttered closed as Spencer found himself swaying toward him, leaning further inside Hotch's arms.
"Didn't, umm...didn't Rossi say something about lotion for my eye?"
"Stuff," Hotch corrected, pressing their lips together softly. "Later. That ok?"
"Perfect."
Humming happily into the next kiss, Spencer found he was perfectly okay waiting for 'later'; after all, this 'later' hadn't turned out so bad. And you know, his eye didn't hurt that bad after all...
End