Archive of Our Own

"Oh, Spencer!" said Garcia, with a gleaming smile, "You are an absolute vision."

Spencer Reid beamed back from his perch on the edge of a large mahogany table in the drawing room. He was wearing a pristine white, ankle-length dress, a red shawl and an apron. His wide smile was framed by the edges of a conical straw bonnet with a blue ribbon round it.

"Look!" he said, digging his hand into his apron pocket and pulling out a pointy-eared action figure. "I come with my own elf. How neat is that, then?"

"What are you supposed to do with it?" asked Rossi.

"Mother Goose has many magical friends," said Garcia. "She talks to it." She tugged some pink and gold crepe back from her wrist and checked her watch. "Where is everyone?" She pointed at Rossi with her wand. "And you still haven't put on your costume."

Besides the vision of Reid, the table was cluttered with bags of clothing and stacks of writing materials. It was October 31st, and Garcia's costume-themed Hallowe'en party in a rented spooky lodge, suitably located miles from a gas station, was already half an hour past her start deadline. Everyone had already turned up in convoy, so Garcia wasn't worried; but she was just getting a little irritated that the games schedule was already so off-kilter. Certain individuals had spent way too long exploring the place as soon as they arrived, scampering up and down narrow staircases and jumping out at each other from alcoves and hidden closets. So it was no coincidence that Garcia was still missing Morgan, Emily and JJ.

"I could go summon them," said Kevin. "I'm dressed for it."

Garcia turned and smiled at Kevin affectionately. She plucked some bits of fluff from the shoulders of his blue pageboy outfit. "You stay right by my side, my buttoned up sweet-cheeks."

Kevin blushed almost the same colour as the red feathers in his perky cap. "As you wish, Fairy Godmother."

Hotch spoke up from where he relaxed in a deep armchair in a corner. "Patience, Garcia. The witching hour is not yet upon us." He clicked his claws and touched the tip of one to his tongue, testing its sharpness.

Garcia frowned a little. "If we don't start soon, you'll be up all night solving my murder clues."

"What exactly do you have planned?" asked Rossi, picking up a stiff sheet of paper and starting to read. Garcia took the paper back quickly and returned it to its pile.

"No cheating."

Hotch pointed his talon at the table. "Rossi, you really should do as Garcia says and put on your costume."

Rossi regarded his bulging costume bag with disdain. "I've already said no."

"It's really no big deal," said Reid. "I'm also dressed as a woman."

"There's a difference," said Rossi. "Mother Goose is an upstanding title role. Garcia would have me play a dame."

"Widow Twanky is a much loved character," Reid argued. "She's Aladdin's mother."

"I know who she is. I'm just not dressing like her."

"She owns her own laundry."

"You're not making much of a case for her, Reid."

"Please,' said Garcia. "It's my main theme. Everyone's a character from pantomime."

"No." Rossi was adamant.

"Chicken," said Hotch.

"I'm not dressing as a chicken either. No animals, no celestial bodies, and no dames."

Garcia gave a melodramatic sigh. "Ok, ok-ay." She grabbed the rejected bag and tossed it under the table, then reached for another one and threw it towards him. "I had a feeling you would be troublesome, so I came armed with an alternative. You're Abanaza, and don't complain."

Rossi clutched the bag as it landed against his chest and peered inside. "Oh, this is more like it." He pulled out a long, purple robe covered in spangles, a black fake beard and a dark glittering turban.

"Aladdin's nemesis!" Reid looked on gleefully as Rossi began to climb into the robe, then he pouted a little. "Why couldn't I be an evil wizard?"

"Evil and genius?" asked Hotch. "Too obvious."

"Exactly," said Garcia. "Thank you, sir. Your saucer of milk is on its way."

At that moment Morgan walked into the drawing room. Garcia's eyes leapt from Hotch to the new arrival. Her sparkling chest heaved.

"Oh my goodness."

"Garcia... wow," said Morgan, admiring her gold attire. "I've never seen you in a tiara before. You look... magical."

Garcia didn't respond, at least not in words. The spectacle before her was more than even she had hoped for. Morgan was an exemplary dandy in a black regency jacket, shiny over-knee boots and lace ruffles. As for his firm thighs in those silver lamé breeches she'd spent a whole day finding for him... worth every one of those hot and bothered hours.

Morgan realised the others were admiring him and struck an elegant pose. "Prince Charming, right?"

"No prizes for guessing," said Reid. "I'd tap you."

Garcia scuttled forwards and produced a stick of red greasepaint. "Wait," she said, "there's a finishing touch." She drew two carefully angled stripes across Morgan's right cheekbone. Then she stuck a small heart sticker above his left eyebrow. "Say, Morgan, what do you think about dark nail polish?"

Morgan faltered. "Er..."

Garcia dropped the thought and waved it aside. "Never mind, you're perfect."

Morgan was going to say something, but then he noticed Hotch in the armchair. His mouth fell slowly open and his eyes widened.

"Ooh, Hotch, is that a Lycra suit you're wearing?"

"It is," said Hotch, without blinking.

"It's very different from the suits you usually wear."

"It's certainly very tight," said Rossi, adjusting his turban.

"Oh yeah," said Morgan, eyes still glued to the lean figure draped like a languid panther over rich upholstery. "That suit... suits you."

"Thank you, Morgan."

Morgan swallowed and tried to sound casual. "So... so who are you?"

"He's the Cat,' said Kevin. "From Dick Whittington. It's the silver talons and whiskers that really make it work, don't you think?"

"The rest of it doesn't leave much to the imagination," said Morgan, dropping his gaze and getting an eyeful.

"Oh, look!" said Reid suddenly, peering past Morgan's shoulder. "Hi, Aladdin!"

Everyone murmured appreciatively as JJ wandered in. She smiled self-consciously in suede boots, boyish breeches, a flouncy white shirt and a tiny red waistcoat. "Hey," she replied, fiddling with a shiny scimitar that was stuck through the sash at her waist.

Garcia clasped her hands together and twirled her wand. "Oh, as cute as a newt, JJ! I just knew you were Principal Boy material."

"What Boy?" asked Morgan, finally dragging his stare away from Hotch in the corner.

Reid quickly explained. "The young male protagonist in English pantomime is traditionally played by an actress in male clothes. The role is known as the Principal Boy. He's the poor, honest lad who struggles against evil to eventually wind up rich and get the girl."

"Really?" said Morgan. "So who's playing JJ's girl?"

"No one," said Garcia. "We're not playing anything boy girl, we're playing Clue. And if Rossi had agreed to play Widow Twanky, we'd have the gender-swapping symmetry we're supposed to."

"That's true," said Reid. "It's not traditional family entertainment without a dame to touch up the cast's young men."

Morgan's palms edged protectively around his silver butt. "So, am I following this? English parents take their kids to see a middle-aged man in drag grope young men's asses, and pretty girls make out on stage?"

"It's tradition," said Reid.

"It's pervy."

"Speaking of which..." Rossi held up a pair of elaborate gold shackles he'd just found at the bottom of his bag. "What are these for?"

Garcia looked at them and shrugged. "You're a villainous wizard. You're probably meant to capture Aladdin and torture him or something."

Rossi glanced at JJ and raised one quizzical eyebrow.

JJ scoffed. "Not likely, Gandalf."

Reid held up a finger. "Actually, Gandalf isn't-"

"Garcia,' Hotch interrupted, "why don't you explain your rules while we're waiting. Emily can catch up when she gets here."

"Ok, good," said Garcia. She spread her hands wide. "It's simple really. There's been a murder, and one of you did it. You all have a sheet of clues to work out who, where, and with what murder weapon."

"Like the board game," said Kevin.

"So how come we're dressed as pantomime roles and not characters from the game?" asked Morgan.

"Because they're prettier," said Garcia, scowling a little at his nit-picking. "Unless of course you want to be Mrs Peacock – I could arrange that."

Morgan held up his hands to placate her.

"Thought so. There is also a significant clue hidden in every room. You have to find them all and put them together to eliminate suspects, until you have all three answers to the puzzle."

"It was the Fairy Godmother!" a sultry voice announced from the doorway. "In the bedroom. With the turkey baster."

"Oh my God!" gasped Kevin.

Garcia just knew Emily would be last and make an entrance; but she didn't expect her to be already in costume.

"What the hell? Emily! That is not a panto costume. That's Johnny Depp, for crying out loud!"

Emily swaggered in and gave her a swift bow.

"Captain Jack Sparrow at your service. Yo ho."

Everyone stared in awe. Emily's outfit was in a league of its own. From the dark braids and red bandanna on her head, down to the buccaneer boots, she was every inch the gallant pirate. No detail was spared: flared surcoat, leather pants, silver buckles, rings, cutlass, pistol – and a silk shirt slit dangerously low at her cleavage.

"Ooh," said Reid.

"My my," said Rossi.

"Prentiss?" said Morgan.

"And wow," gasped Kevin, again.

Hotch actually moved from his feline position and leaned forward to look closer.

"That really is a very remarkable likeness," he said, admiring.

"Minus the goatee, obviously," said Reid.

Emily smiled warmly, pleased that they approved. Garcia didn't. She glared at Emily.

"You brought your own? You've spoiled my theme. Combining two entertainment genres is artful. Sticking in a third is pretentious post-modernist squalor."

Emily wasn't fazed. "Squalor is good. I like squalor. All washed down with a bottle of rum."

"Oh, there's nothing squalid about it," said JJ, her voice breathy as she gazed at Emily. "I love pirates. And this one's so dashing."

"Who?" asked Morgan. "Jack Sparrow, Johnny Depp, or Prentiss?"

"He... they... she..." Apparently JJ was having trouble forming a distinction. Her eyelids fluttered. "Uh, I could..."

"Swoon?" said Reid.

Emily turned to JJ and winked suggestively. "Really? I need a willing cabin boy. Would you care to help me polish my... pistol?"

Garcia struck Emily hard on the hip with her plastic wand. "Hey! Quit flirting! I'm not finished chastising you."

Kevin jumped at Garcia's outburst, then looked at her with a blend of awe and longing.

"Wow, Penelope, I never knew you could be so... authoritative. How come you're never that authoritative with me?"

"Don't let Garcia fool you," said Emily drily. "Beneath that supreme, commanding exterior beats a heart of pure dom."

"Damn it, Emily," said Garcia, "I had you all geared up to be the Wicked Fairy."

"I don't do wands."

Garcia snorted. "That's not what I've heard."

Reid's eyes narrowed in puzzlement. Emily's eyes widened in shock.

"Garcia!" said Emily.

"I don't get it," said Reid.

"Google 'Hitachi Magic'," Garcia told him without taking her glare off Emily. "And click 'image results' if you're still confused."

Emily gaped at her. "Who the hell have you been talking to?"

"You can certainly do wicked," Kevin told her, trying to be helpful.

Emily glowered at Kevin. He recoiled instinctively, his page boy cap wobbling like a small feathered creature trembling in sympathy with his sudden fear.

Garcia promptly planted herself between them in a protective stance and swatted Emily again with her pointy star. "Don't frighten Buttons."

"Ow! Garcia, will you stop doing that? I'd rather not have a constellation printed on my ass."

"I should give you a whole damn galaxy! I won't forget this subversion, Emily. You're putting together the Christmas party this year, aren't you? I've got weeks to plot my revenge."

"Just don't sabotage the punch," said Rossi. "Reid needs no help to over-indulge."

Morgan edged away from the feud towards Hotch in the corner.

"Hotch, are they allowed to fight like this?"

Hotch looked nonchalant. "They're not on duty." He licked his thumb and forefinger and smoothed out one of his whiskers. "When the cat's away..."

"Ooh, Hotch, do that again."

"Look at this,' said Hotch, showing Morgan his Lycra-gloved hand, "these things are retractable. If I extend my fingers the claws lengthen and protrude." He demonstrated.

Morgan's mouth dried. "Can you purr too?"

Emily looked at Morgan properly for the first time. "Whoa! Adam Ant!"

Morgan glanced back at her. "Who?"

"Post-punk singer-actor."

Morgan turned to Garcia. "I'm a New Wave rock star? I thought you said I was Prince Charming?"

"Same difference," said Garcia, calming down.

"So much for avoiding pretentious post-modernism," said Emily. "So who does that make you, Garcia? Diana Dors?"

"You'd better not be dissing Diana Dors," said Reid. "She was awesome."

"Oh yes," Rossi agreed, his face taking on a dreamy expression. "All woman."

"I am not Diana Dors. I am the archetypal Fairy Godmother."

"Oh no you're not," said Emily.

"Oh yes I am."

"Oh no you're not..." Reid joined Emily and they chanted in unison.

"Oh yes I-" Garcia closed her mouth, breathed in through her nose, and opened her mouth again. "Shut up, you silly children, and hand out these pencils."

As they distributed the materials, JJ sidled up to Rossi and whispered urgently in his ear.

"Rossi! Give me your shackles."

"What?"

"Quick."

"What do you want them for?"

"You don't need to know. Please!"

Rossi retrieved the ornate cuffs and handed them to her.

"JJ, I doubt they even work properly."

She grabbed them from him and hooked the gold chain though her sash.

"Thanks. I'll find a way."

Garcia clapped her hands for attention. "Now, as this is Hallowe'en, there are some specific rules. You'll all need one of these flash-lights because the lights won't be on."

"We have to hunt for clues in the dark?" asked Reid. "I'm going to trip over my skirts, you know."

"And I'm going to pull the fuses to make sure," said Garcia. "And a word of warning – you might encounter the odd unexpected thing in some of the rooms."

"Ah, heinous traps," said Rossi.

"Snakes," said Kevin. "Why did it have to be snakes?"

Garcia smiled. "Fear not, my chipmunks, no live animals. Though I can't promise no spiders or cobwebs. I'm not in charge of the creepy crawlies."

"Spiders are cool."

"And finally – you are not allowed to play this game with a partner." Garcia's tone grew stern. "No conferring. No pairing up to watch each other's backs, or I will know. For a first offence, you lose your flash-light and have to make do with a candle. Any infraction after that, and it's the dark and spooky for you. Remember, you have to wander the grim corridors alone."

"Um... we might have missed that boat already." Kevin indicated the far side of the room. "Is that Aladdin making out with Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Garcia's gaze followed his pointing finger. She stilled.

"Ah."

JJ and Emily weren't listening to Garcia's instructions. JJ had Emily in a very tight clinch at the other end of the drawing room. Emily wasn't resisting, but she was struggling to maintain her balance as JJ climbed her various buckles and kissed her on the mouth aggressively.

"Ah," Garcia repeated. "I have to admit, that has happened more quickly than I anticipated."

"No kidding," said Reid. "Who needs Widow Twanky's laundry? Aladdin's running Jack's tonsils through the rinse and spin cycle."

They winced in unison as Emily fell back under JJ's onslaught. The two women landed hard on a coffee table in a clatter of swords and a tangle of leather. The kissing continued.

"You don't think Aladdin will break Jack, do you?" asked Reid.

"From what I remember of the movie," said Rossi, "that Jack Sparrow was pretty resilient."

"Let's hope ours is too," said Reid.

By this time Aladdin and Jack were both moaning. Silk shirts were also slipping.

"That's really hot," said Kevin. He looked sideways at Garcia. "Fairy Godmother... Buttons is horny."

Garcia gestured at JJ and Emily. "Hey!"

Apparently they didn't hear her. She called out louder.

"Hey! Boys! Go and unbuckle your swashes in another room."

Emily and JJ rolled off the table and stumbled out the door together.

Garcia sighed. "This is why I detailed Emily for the Wicked Fairy costume. Aladdin would never dare make out with the Wicked Fairy. He knows she'd slice him up and fry him for breakfast. It's a ridiculous pairing."

"Um, what about Cat and Prince Charming?" asked Kevin.

Garcia turned around and looked in the other direction. She planted her hands on her hips.

"Oh, really!"

Hotch and Morgan were very close indeed by the armchair. Morgan had Hotch's soft furry tail wrapped round his hand, and Hotch was toying with Morgan's frills while whispering sweet definitely-somethings in his ear.

"Garcia," said Rossi slowly, trying not to look too long, "as the hostess of a party, did you ever get the feeling that it might be spinning away from you?"

Garcia took on an expression of resignation. "Just leave," she told Hotch and Morgan.

The Cat and the Prince didn't need further encouragement. The Prince tugged the Cat towards the door, and chuckled coyly when silver claws tickled him beneath his lace collar.

"And... that's really hot too," Garcia confessed. She turned to Kevin and smiled at him. "Now I'm horny as well."

"Yay!"

Garcia shouted out one last instruction.

"Ok, guys, whatever else you get up to – or down to – this evening, just be back in here for prizes by midnight, or you'll all turn into pumpkins!"

With that the Fairy Godmother seized Buttons by the hand and hurried him out the door.

Reid began writing quickly on his clue sheet. Rossi watched him for a few moments. They were the last ones in the room.

"Are you solving it?" Rossi asked after a while.

"Yes."

"Without finding the clues hidden in the other rooms?"

"I don't need them," said Reid. He scribbled a few more words, crossed out some others, then drew three swift circles. He slapped his sheet down on the table. "Done it."

"Can I see?"

"No. But I'll give you one hint. It wasn't a turkey baster."

"Ah." Rossi paused, then held out his hand gallantly. "In that case, Madam, may I escort you to my room and show you my exotic collection of new-for-old oil lamps?"

Reid's eyebrows lifted until they disappeared under his straw bonnet. He accepted Rossi's hand and allowed him to help him down from the table.

"Why, sir, this is most unexpected." Reid plucked Rossi's fake facial hair gently so that the elastic twanged. "Are you offering your services for the evening as my beard?"

Abanaza gave Mother Goose his most villainous grin.

"Madam, I shall be your most attentive, wicked servant."

"Oh, lead on..."