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Title: Profiler, Profiled: The Aftermath
Part 3

Summary: After Profiler, Profiled. Morgan is struggling. Reid tries to help. Morgan doesn't react well to finding out that Hotch and Reid are a couple.

Warnings: Rating changed to M, for explicit SLASH H/R, may be sort of disturbing.



A/N: I hope this is allowed. The main pairing is Hotch/Reid


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Reid has never felt more useless, more out of control.

Five days since they've retuned from Chicago.

Three days since Morgan left him standing alone in the office kitchen and just as long since they have spoken a single word to each other. Just as long since he´s slept more than three hours in a row without being woken up by nightmares of crying children.

It is finally evening after another excruciatingly long day at the office. Reid is standing in his kitchen, waiting for Hotch and cutting vegetables for their dinner without actually seeing them, blurred as his vision is from unshed tears.

He would have preferred staying at Hotch´s house again, he feels like he is suffocating in his tiny apartment.

But Hayley is already suspicious, looking at her ex-husband´s ´co-worker over for a beer´ oddly whenever she comes to pick up Jack and he is there, sitting at Hotch´s table like he belongs. It makes him uncomfortable for Hotch, even if he´s told him over and over not to worry about it - so he will just have to deal with his own empty apartment and stare at the walls once Hotch leaves again, his thoughts running in the same circles over and over until he´ll think he´s going mad.

He has enough horrible things to think about as it is with their cases, but this is a friend's life; it´s personal and it hurts far more.

Just imagining what might or might not have occurred in Morgan's childhood, knowing exactly that he too is awake somewhere now and that he´s in much greater pain without someone to take care of him, that´s much worse.

Reid has half a mind to just drop everything and drive to Morgan´s place, to try again to get through to him, to let him help despite everything that has happened in the office.

He only has himself to blame really. He has tried talking to Morgan despite Hotch´s reservations, despite knowing he was probably right.

It still hurts when he remembers Morgan's harsh words, telling him in not to subtle terms just how incapable and useless as a friend he thinks he is.

Of course he knows that those words were probably part of a normal defense mechanism, that Morgan would never purposefully make him feel bad about himself.

It is still hard to swallow, to come to terms with.

Maybe because there is so much truth in it. Because really what can he do to help his friend? It's not like he has the best record for dealing with bullies and assailants.

But he knows a lot about the theory, he has a B.A. in psychology after all. That he could have offered to help Morgan work through his issues.

But he didn't even get to offer.

Is that how little Morgan thinks of him? It´s understandable that he doesn't make the top of the list of people Morgan might want to confide in –but the last? That feels like a slap to the face.

Reid feels like he´s been punched in the gut and he can't even get angry over it, because it´s not him that's the victim. It´s Morgan, and Morgan's needs and feelings that he needs to consider.

The thought brings him full circle to all the pictures and reports in the Buford case file, every word etched into his eidetic memory like with a razor blade.

He doesn't hear the key turning in the door lock, doesn't hear Hotch come into the kitchen, jumping slightly when suddenly there are arms around his waist, pulling him close.

It doesn't take Reid long to relax into his embrace once he´s recognized him but he doesn't say anything, not trusting his voice at the moment. He's half afraid Hotch might be mad at him for not listening to him, but of course that fear is ridiculous.

Hotch rests his chin on his shoulder, gently nuzzling his hair as he looks at the way Reid is cutting vegetables. Or trying to at least.

"Are you alright?", he asks quietly after a moment of silence.

Reid nods, trying to sound like he means it when he replies: "Yes, I'm fine. Why?"

"Because you've been on edge ever since Chicago… Because you've turned these carrots into confetti.", Hotch adds, pointing at the counter top in front of them. Indeed, his vegetables would have been small enough had he stopped cutting them fifteen minutes ago.

Before Reid can gather enough energy to be embarrassed about spacing out, Hotch takes the large knife from his shaking hands, distracting him: "And because the spaghettis are burning."

Reid blinks furiously.

It's true. The spaghettis he's been cooking have somehow gotten stuck to the bottom of the casserole. And what´s even worse is that he can't figure out how long he must have been just standing here staring into space for all the water to evaporate.

"Damn, I´m sorry, Aaron, I…", he sputters, reaching for the pot too quickly as he tries to pull it off the stove. Hotch´s warning comes too late and his fingers sting angrily as he burns them on the hot metal.

He curses again under his breath as he quickly turns on the faucet to hold them under cold water until the pain ceases.

God, how he wishes that trick would work with the rest of him, too.

Reid busies himself with the water for as long as he can before Hotch´s gaze in his back becomes too insistent and he knows he will have to look at him eventually.

Hotch's eyes are dark and unblinking as they move over his face, touching his skin in a familiar way. They are hard to read as usual, maybe holding a mixture of worry and irritation.

"I'm sorry.", Reid says for what feels like the tenth time that day but Hotch stops him before he can ramble on, pulling him into a warm embrace. It takes but the familiar scent of skin and aftershave to make him feel warm and comforted, safe.

But even that isn't enough to get his mind to stop reeling.

What kind of a person is he?

Not noticing when a friend is in pain, and even now unable to help? Nothing but a burden to his lover, to his colleagues with his mind scattered all over the place for days…

"I´m sorry…", he chokes out again, barely audible this time as his fingers clutch at the other man´s suit jacket.

"Don't worry about the food. I had a big lunch."

He knows that Hotch is trying to lighten the mood, to get Reid to finally find back to himself but in his current state his boss could be wearing a clown´s costume and it would have the same non-effect on Reid.

"No...not that…", he shakes his head but can't quite manage to lift it from Hotch´s shoulder: "I mean, that, too … but I mean about…you know. You told me not to bother Morgan and I did it anyway."

Hotch´s fingers weave into his hair as he pulls him closer, giving him some of his strength in compensation for what Reid is lacking.

As usual.

Hotch is always so strong. Nothing like him.

"Spencer.", he reminds him gently: "I may be your boss but I can't tell you not to talk to your friends. I was just worried it might not go well."

Reid closes his eyes as he hides his face in his lover´s shoulder: "You were right."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He doesn't.

They've both seen the case file, and Reid can remember every sordid detail, every piece of evidence, every statement by Buford and Morgan. Plus, he´s sure Hotch has caught on to Morgan and Reid not speaking at some point during their work day.

He doesn't want to dissect it; he´s already done that by himself.

He just wants to forget it all for a while. Wants a break from thinking, from his life.

"No.", he shakes his head, tilting it up to seal Hotch´s lips with his.

It's not a chaste kiss, instead it´s urgent and almost desperate, just as clear a sign for him to stop talking as to not let go of him.

Hotch seems little surprised but nonetheless slightly hesitant at first, kissing back gently but not deepening their contact.

After a few moments, his hands fall on Reid´s shoulders, bringing some distance between them. Dark eyes muster him almost warily, like he expects Reid to do something irrational at any moment, maybe even like he thinks he already has.

Reid doesn't blink as he stares back, refusing to focus on anything but the desire half hidden in his lover´s eyes.

"Aaron …Please…"

Hotch doesn't have to ask him what he means.

He is too familiar with the slight change in tone and posture, the way Reid's eyes are practically screaming out what his lips won't say. His grip on Reid´s shoulders tightens, testing, thumbs brushing over his collar and Reid's eyes flutter closed as he leans into the touch.

"Are you sure?", he asks anyway, like he doesn't know if Reid has really thought it through.

They sometimes do this, change their routine when they are in the mood for it, usually after especially tough cases when Reid needs to just let go and Hotch needs to get back in control somehow, when cuddles and rose petals simply don't cut it.

But it hardly seems appropriate in light of everything going on with Morgan, and Hotch is half afraid that if he goes ahead Reid will come to his senses halfway through and have a panic attack or something.

But as Reid looks him straight in the eye, there is not even the hint of a doubt he can find.

"That has nothing to do with us.", his young lover tells him firmly, refusing to let tragedy affect another part of their lives as well: "I trust you and I want you. I know you would never do anything I don't want you to."

The complete devotion and trust reflected in Reid´s eyes is enough to make Hotch´s reluctance crumble. His grip tightens as he pushes his lover backwards, pressing him to the kitchen wall with this body weight, all thoughts of food gone in an instant.

Their second kiss isn't anything like the first with Hotch´s fingers grasping strands of hair and controlling the younger mans movements as he plunders his mouth hungrily.

He is quick to enter the mind set he needs to let go, to just let his instincts lead him. Reid´s shirt gives when he pulls at it sharply, sending buttons flying through the air. Calloused hands begin to trace every pale inch of skin available before he lets his hand travel up to curl around a slender throat. He is rewarded with a small gasp as he rests his fingers there without applying much pressure, merely another means to establish control while his lips wander over a taunt stomach, teasingly nibbling at prominent hipbones.

Reid shivers from his touch, writhing deliciously under his mouth and Hotch is glad he´s let himself be convinced to do this. Every action provides an instant relief, getting to feel the power he has in that moment, knowing that he can do anything he feels like.

They are quick to stumble into the bedroom, Hotch never releasing his hold on Reid until he falls into the mattress beneath him, gazing up at him from out of heavy lidded eyes like every dream he´s ever had.

"Aaron…"

He has to fight hard to restrain himself at hearing his name falling from slightly parted lips, urging him to continue. Hotch smiles as he reaches up to loosen his tie with deliberately slow movements, holding on to it as he crawls over his young lover with a predatory smile.

Reid whispers his name again, reaching out to pull him close but Hotch is quick to grab him by the slender wrists and push his arms over his head into the mattress, holding them there resolutely. He almost chuckles at the frustrated moan escaping his boyfriend as he half heartedly struggles in the restraining grip.

Swiftly, he moves so that his large body is covering him entirely, pressing him into the mattress.

"You're going to have to try a lot harder than that.", he whispers teasingly as he buries his face in the hollow of Reid's throat, worrying the tender skin of his throat. Reid's breaths quickly become faster, shallower as he writhes underneath his boss, pressing their bodies closer together.

They shouldn't do this, shouldn't be entertaining this sort of fantasy with what just happened to a friend of theirs, the thought is ever present somewhere way back in his mind even now.

But Reid is right.

It's not the same.

Right?

It is easy to think so with Reid's lips slack with pleasure, and his back arching into him, nonverbally begging him to continue.

If it feels right to Reid and oh-so-good to him, how can it possibly be wrong?

They both get lost in a haze of need all too quickly, desperate to separate from their workday and everything else dragging them down.

And really, he can't be taking anything from Reid when he is all too willing to give it, right? Right?

The thought doesn't recur to him until both of their clothes are long shed, and he is moving inside his lover with deep, vigorous thrusts, tearing a cry from Reid's throat with every movement of his hips, every time his fingertips dig a little harder into the tender insides of his thighs as he pushes his legs further apart or grips his hips so tightly it is bound to leave bruises. Bruises that will be green or bluish even, unlike the angry red his wrists will undoubtedly be in the morning, chafed from Hotch´s tie restraining his arms above his head.

The healthy, good part in him is tempted to stop with every one of those cries, terrified of hurting one of the people he loves most, but that part is way back in his head locked up along with reason as desire rules his mind and body.

And Reid doesn't tell him to stop, to go slower even.

He never does. He simply arches into his touches and submits to the larger body pressing him down, driving Hotch crazy with quiet moans and sighs that are almost enough to make up for the occasional sounds of pain.

They have a safe word but Reid never uses it until they are lying spent and sated in the dark afterwards, Reid's lithe body shivering even though Hotch´s embrace is as warm as the room.

"I love you:"; he whispers into Hotch´s ear, pressing close to him like he is afraid he might disappear into thin air the next moment, wrapping his arms around his neck in a desperate grip, keeping him from moving off him even though he probably squishes him.

I love you. Just that. That and thank you. Over and over until Hotch cant bring himself to apologize anymore.

All he can do is reply the same and hope that Reid can even begin to grasp the enormous amount of devotion and love he feels towards him. Can only hope that he is able to give Reid at least a peaceful sleep with his arms wrapped around him throughout the entire night.

It is hours later that Hotch is lying in bed with Reid's still but relaxed form curled up next to him, half dozing as well when suddenly the phone rings.

Hotch quickly grabs it and answers without looking at the caller ID, intent on not waking Reid from his much needed sleep.

"Hello?", he says quietly, only to be met with surprised silence.

"Hotch?"

It´s Morgan, calling Reid at one thirty in the morning.

It doesn't take a genius to deduct that he has probably come to his senses and wants to apologize for his rude behavior towards his best friend. It also doesn't take a genius to figure out that Hotch is suddenly in a rather tricky situation.

Because it is one thirty in the morning and he has just answered Reid´s house phone.

"Oh, sorry man, I must have dialed the wrong number, I meant to call.."

It takes Morgan about half a minute longer than Hotch to realize what is wrong with their situation. Maybe he looks at the caller ID, maybe his brain just clicks.

Morgan abruptly goes silent, belatedly realizing that he hasn't called a cell but Reid's house.


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Alright, now I can get started on the actual plot. If anyone cares to read it that is.

Please review!