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Chapter Text

"I just don't see why you get the desk chair."

Emily whines while sprawled out across a large fluffy white armchair in the center of Rossi's living room. Despite being in his house, the wealthy agent is no where to be seen. The only other occupant at the moment is Morgan, who walks around the large open floor plan surveying the art and decoration, pretending not to profile. He smooths his hands along the banister to the stairs and raises his eyebrows impressed, recognizing the quality of the wood.

"Because I called dibs." Morgan says as if it's the law of the land.

"You already have the office, why do you get everything?" Emily relents. Two weeks ago one of the senior analysts had announced they were retiring. For two weeks the two agents have been arguing over who inherits her desk chair, an expensive, top of the line, leather office chair rumored to have the best back support of the whole 6th floor.

Ignoring her Morgan yells up the staircase, his voice booming into the expensive, mahogany floored void. "Yo Rossi, got anything to drink?"

They weren't the only ones in Rossi's house. The whole team had been invited over to get ready for the biggest event of the year - an annual gala acknowledging all the senior leadership of the FBI. It wasn't something the BAU would typically take seriously, except this year their own fearless leader was being awarded a director's award. Hotch had shrugged it off initially but the team knew he deserved it and were excited to watch their boss finally get some well deserved recognition. Most of the team was off getting changed, Morgan and Emily were the last two holdouts still clad in their work attire and in no rush to get gussied up.

"Rossi?" Morgan calls again. Assuming his voice didn't carry past the presumably many rooms of the mansion he makes his way back to the kitchen. Emily sits in the living room flipping through a magazine in Italian, no doubt the only other person besides Rossi who can read it.

"I'm sure he wont mind if you help yourself." she says, not altogether believing it but willing to risk Morgan getting in trouble.

Morgan scoffs but opens the fridge. "Alright he's got water, orange juice, and what looks like... cider?"

He pulls out a glass filled with an unknown, brownish liquid. Curious he holds it up to Emily who raises an eyebrow.

"Taste it."

He takes a sip, considers, and puts it right back in the fridge.

"Yup it's fat. I just drank fat."

Emily chuckles from behind her magazine, not bothering to conceal her large grin. "Yeah I know I did that two minutes ago."

Before the other agent can respond theres a knock at the door, and it opens without waiting for an answer. Hotch walks in wearing a tuxedo looking more neat and buttoned up than he usually does, which is saying a lot considering his penchant for looking crisp and orderly.

"Well hello sir!" Emily exclaims, putting down the magazine to properly give Hotch a once over.

He ignores the compliment, his face set in his usual stoic frown. "Why aren't you dressed?"

"Rossi invited us early to get ready together with the promise of a home cooked meal. I didn't wanna get pasta sauce on my dress."

Morgan rounds the large marble kitchen island having abandoned the search for a drink and instead carries some chips and salsa. He slides them onto the coffee table and plops down onto the couch. "Besides, we have half an hour."

"Four minutes ago you had a half hour. We have to be out the door at twenty to eight."

"Relax Hotch, we'll be ready. It only takes like two minutes to get dressed."

"Well I would feel better if you both got dressed now."

"Okay" Morgan and Emily both respond but neither of them move. Emily reaches to dip a chip the same time as Morgan and they smile and clink them like a toast to Hotch's irritation.

Hotch sighs before turning to the kitchen and going to get himself a glass of water. At the sound of hurried footsteps he turns to see Reid pop out from an adjacent hallway. The young genius excitedly scans the room looking for the newcomer and smiles brightly when he finds him in the kitchen. The way he lights up when he sees Hotch has the older man forgetting all about the annoyance in the living room and for a minute time doesn't exist and theres nothing to be late for.

"Hi," Reid offers shyly despite having no reason to be so coy. They've recently told the team and theres no worry about holding back anymore, but it's new and habits are hard to break. Similarly Hotch doesn't immediately move towards him, he just looks at his lover with a softened expression that only Spencer has ever seen. Just because they can speak openly doesn't mean they need to.

Reid's smile grows as Hotch has the same effect on him that he does on Hotch. His eyes slowly travel down as he takes in the tuxedo and his eyebrows disappear into the wet, freshly showered curls falling into his face.

"I mean, wow hi...uh.." Spencer can't seem to talk for once and Hotch takes the opportunity to push his hair behind his ear, allowing himself a bit of freedom. After all, Morgan and Prentiss are probably too immersed in finding some way to make eating chips into a competition and he hasn't been alone with Spencer all day.

"Hi." he mumbles and Reid shudders, still not looking back up, making eye contact with his chest instead. He places his hands along Hotch's lapel.

"You look... sexy." He blushes as he says it despite the fact that they've been together long enough to be past any reservations or shyness. It’s a habit that Hotch hopes never goes away, loving how easy is is to turn the other man slightly pink. It's rare that Reid is so forthcoming, as both of them don't gravitate towards verbal affection or compliments. After having to be so careful about what they reveal and what might be overheard they've gotten used to relying on body language, both able to read each other with precision after years of circling each other and the finally descending into intimacy. Nevertheless, it feels good to be appreciated and Hotch hums at the attention.

Hotch puts his hands on Reid's sides, his fingers just daring to slide up underneath the hem of his t-shirt, trying not to get too carried away with the thought of Reid in the shower just moments ago. "Oh yeah?"

"Why didn't you come over sooner?" Reid whines as if reading his mind.

"Because I'm a stupid, stupid man." By now Reid's hands have snaked their way up and around Hotch's neck and their faces are dangerously close. Too focused on their own little world they've created they don't hear the fridge door open.

"Want some cider?"

The couple separates to scowl at Emily who holds the glass out to them with a teasing smile. Reid's scowl doesn't hold nearly as much heat at Hotch's but it holds just as much disappointment.

With the moment dissipated, Hotch is reminded of the time and turns back into boss mode despite his best efforts. He pulls away from Reid and it's his turn to give him a once-over but with a much different connotation.

"Okay so you're pretty close to being ready, right? Showered, shaved, pants on..."

"Yeah I just have to finish getting dressed."

"Great, so just a few more minutes?"

"Sure, once I figure out what I'm wearing."

"What you're wearing?"

Reid smiles, his excitement trumping Hotch's stress. "The girls said they wanted to dress me up!"

"That sounds fun." Reid excitedly scurries away while Hotch thinks about how absolutely not fun that is. He glances at the clock. They don't have time for fun.
Emily is still there, her presence alone teasing him.

"I still have 23 minutes!" It seems everyone can read his mind today. She holds up the brown liquid. "Glass of fat?"

Chapter Text

Hotch doesn't consider himself impatient (in fact he'd consider himself extremely patient), but he checks his watch three times in two minutes as he sits in the living room. Morgan has moved to the big, comfy chair. He is no more dressed than he was before.

"What's the matter Hotch? Nervous about your big speech?"

"No." he lies, but let's face it they’re profilers. Regardless, he keeps a straight face in front of Morgan. This isn't a press conference or profile briefing. He's about to stand in front of all the key players in the FBI and has no facts or profile to lean on. Accepting an award doesn't require intimidation and that's 90% of Hotch's public speaking persona. "Wanna hear it?"

"Am I in it?" His second in command smirks with crinkled eyes and shakes his head with the air of being cocky, which isn't a hard leap. He licks a chunk of salsa off his thumb. He's either ignored Hotch's signs of nerves or the idea of Hotch being nervous is so farfetched to him that he doesn't notice at all.

"Of course. Right after I thank the director of the FBI for my award I sing a song about each member of my team."

It takes a minute for Morgan to register Hotch's joke in its deadpan delivery and before he can laugh he's distracted by JJ descending down the staircase. She wears a gold silk dress that flows effortlessly down her frame making her look tall and statuesque, her hair a matching radiant gold swept up into a bun. She's the only member of the team aside from Hotch who seems to be taking this seriously.

Morgan's jaw might as well be on the ground. "Damn! JJ you look good."

JJ smiles and steps down the last few steps a little slower posing and savoring the reaction her entrance has gained.

"You see, this is a person who is on time and ready to go." Hotch folds his arms and looks at Morgan who is oblivious, still skirting the line between complimenting and ogling his coworker.

JJ's smiles with a hint of confusion. It's not exactly the reaction she expected. "Thanks?"

"Like WOW." Morgan continues.

"I know right?" Perking back up, JJ flashes Morgan a smile that says 'you wish' and strikes one last pose. Morgan isn't the only cocky one in the group.

From somewhere in the house the group hears a toilet flush and Emily appears through a door next to the staircase, failing to notice JJ as she closes another magazine, this one a 'Men's Health' in English.

"Alright, I took the quiz and it turns out I'm overdue for a prostate exam." She eyes Morgan sitting comfortably in the oversized chair. "Get up."

Morgan doesn't move. "Why?"

"You're in my seat."

"How is this your seat?"

"Because I was sitting there."

"But then you left."

Emily scoffs and it's clear she isn't going to give this up. It's the office chair all over again. "It's not like I went to London, I just went to the bathroom. You knew I was coming back!"

"What's the big deal? sit somewhere else."

"The big deal is I was sitting there last, so that's my seat." The more worked up Emily gets the more excited Morgan gets to deny her.

"Well actually the last place you were sitting was in there," He points to the bathroom. "So..."

At this point Hotch has no choice but to interrupt before he clenches his teeth so hard he chips one. "You know what? It doesn't matter because you both have to go get dressed."

Emily folds first. "Fine Hotch, I just have to do one thing really quickly, no big deal, GET UP!"

Her tormenter is not phased. Morgan smiles back at her having not even flinched despite her volume and proximity to his ear. Before Hotch can decide whether or not he's firing two of his agents, the doorbell chimes to the tune of Tarantella Napoletana.

Chapter Text

As the doorbell continues to chime Rossi makes his way down the stairs dressed to the nines in a luxe tuxedo thats likely seen many a woman to many a gala. His Italian patent leather shoes accent his steps down the staircase. The agents don't pay him much attention. Prentiss is busy trying to shove Morgan out of his favorite chair while JJ tries to mediate. Hotch it seems has found the good scotch.

"It's not like I have other seats or anything." he mumbles at them before going to answer the door.

"Penelope! Come in, help me figure out what these children are doing to my expensive furniture."

The perky blonde eagerly rushes in, nearly toppling the senior agent with the crinoline of her skirt. She wears a dress layered with tulle that creates a kaleidoscope effect of bright colors and sequins. Complete with wild curls and the perfect pink lip there is no doubt she'll stand out amongst the sea of agents at this black tie affair.

"Never fear the party is here! Why are you all climbing my dark chocolate statue of David with out moi?"

"Penelope! You look great!" JJ exclaims, slightly out of breath as she's resorted to holding Emily back by the waist.

"Wow mama, you are something. They should give you an award, I'd rather look at you on that stage than Hotch."

Hotch rolls his eyes but is appreciative of Garcia's arrival. "You look lovely Garcia thank you for being on time."

"Morgan took my chair!"

Garcia ignores Emily in favor of the compliments. "Thank you my loves, I was going to try not to show anyone up but it appears I couldn't help myself. Although JJ you do look like an Oscar statue and a supermodel morphed into an angel."

"Thanks Pen." JJ smiles.

"You look lovely too, sir." She beams at Hotch before turning her attention back to her main man. "Derek why aren't you dressed? You know half the reason I was excited about this was to see how tight your tux is."

"Oh babygirl just you wait I'm about to clean up so nice-"

"Or let's not wait and get dressed now so Garcia can admire you and my blood pressure can go back to normal."

Garcia laughs at Hotch before pulling a bottle of wine out from her bag. "Looks like someone needs to relax a bit before we head over. Rossi, got any wine glasses?"

"Of course, who do you think you're talking to?" Rossi heads for the kitchen. "Is it a red or a white?"

"Neither." Hotch grabs the bottle from the tech analyst's hands.

"Hey!" Garcia pouts at Hotch.

"Technically he's right, it's a rose" Emily says from her perch on the arm of the chair she's attempting to win back.

"We don't have time for wine!"

"We have a few minutes. This is your big night don't you want to relax and have a good time?" Garcia tries to entice him, though judging by his demeanor she'd have better luck persuading a pig to fly.

"No I don't care. It starts at eight, we can't be late."

"We could not, would not, want to wait." Garcia giggles.

Hotch looks at her with a restrained fury. JJ puts a warning hand on her shoulder. That's not a fight she'd be able to mediate.

Behind them Rossi has found the glass sitting on the kitchen island.

"Has someone been drinking my fat?"

Chapter Text

The action has waned in the living room and Hotch resorts to standing at the window looking away from his team who have all managed to obtain glasses of wine. The girls sit on the couch as Garcia and JJ try to distract Emily, which is difficult as Morgan keeps winking at her. Rossi is in the kitchen heating up leftover pasta from earlier, the red sauce so dangerously close to his white tux shirt that it's a good thing Hotch's back is turned.

Oblivious to any tension in the room Reid wanders in from the hallway carrying shirt options.

"You guys are here? I thought you were going to help me pick an outfit!" he looks sadly at JJ and Garcia who immediately apologize.

"Sorry Spence!"

"Oh sweet genius I'm so sorry, this dress took way longer to bedazzle that I thought it would!"

"Its okay. But are either of these black tie enough?"

Morgan whistles. "Depends pretty boy, are you planning on wearing a sweater vest over it?"

"No," Reid refutes Morgan a bit too forcefully for his answer to be true. "I think I'll go with the purple one. Wait, no. The sleeves are too short on this one. Dammit. I think I have another one in my bag.
Reid scurries away no more dressed than he was before.

"I'll go help him." JJ offers and follows him down the hall.

"Rossi, do you mind if I check my messages?" Garcia moves over to the answering machine sitting by the table next to Morgan, rubbing his head as she crosses behind him. He looks up with a little smile, a lovely moment that is short lived as he looks back down and finds Prentiss in his personal space glaring at him.

"I don't care how many push ups you can do I can beat you in a fight and I will if you don't GET UP."

"Alright fine, you can have the chair."

"Really?!"

Morgan pulls his hand out from behind him revealing crossed fingers. He laughs as Emily clenches.

Garcia clicks into her machine and a mechanical voice announces her inbox to the entire room. She has two messages.

"Hey sweetness it's me," Morgan smiles at his own voice on the machine and Garcia blows him a kiss. "I'm heading to Rossi's want me to grab you some coffee on my way?"

Morgan holds up a coffee cup. Garcia accepts it gleefully and takes a sip.

"Though it will probably be cold by the time you finally get there."

Garcia's face confirms it. She sadly puts the drink down.

Two beeps on the machine precede the next message. "Penelope, it's Kevin. Call me."

The room freezes at the voice of Garcia's ex-boyfriend's voice. They brace themselves for impact.

"Is...is that message old or new?" She asks. No one answers. "Old or new?! OLD OR NEW?!?!"

"It's old, it's definitely old. Did you hear the double beep?" Rossi offers.

"What if it's new? I mean, we agreed not to talk for a while unless we had something really important to say." Garcia drains the wine glass in front of her despite it being Morgan's. He makes no objections and she pours the rest of the bottle into it. "I mean even at work he avoids my hallway and I know I've avoided him even when he is in the break room with Kelley and they think I can't see them even though they know I have eyes everywhere- Should I call him back?"

"Honey, you did call him back." Emily interrupts. "'Cause it's really old."

Hotch makes his way back to the group unable to ignore his analyst's laments. "Garcia."

Garcia finishes her glass before looking back at him. It takes a minute.

"Yeah Hotch?" She looks up with him with distress and sadness fully present on her face, unable to mask her emotions like the rest of the team. Instead she allows herself to be vulnerable and present in her anguish and looks to her leader to bestow any sort of guidance.

"You can't drive." Hotch says looking at the empty bottle of wine. Garcia looks at him confused. "You drove one of the cars we were going to take to the ceremony."

Garcia sinks into the couch, dejectedly cocooning herself in the tulle of her enormous skirt.

With the drama settled down for the time being, Morgan reaches for another chip and scoops up a generous bit of salsa. Before he can eat it however Emily blocks its path to his mouth with her hand.

"You know what, don't get up. I just hope you don't mind my hand right here." She hovers her hand between him and the chip as he tries to maneuver around. "Can't get mad, I'm not touching you! I'm not doing anything-"

Annoyed he pushes away her arm a bit too forcefully sending the chip and it's topping flying across the room to where JJ unfortunately just entered. It hits her square in the chest, a greasy stain splotched right above her heart.

"I navigated two sticky, sugar filled children in this dress and managed to stay clean and yet..." JJ gestures at the two of them. "You're children. Large annoying children!"

"Sorry JJ"

"Sorry."

She wipes the remaining salsa off her dress.

"No don't rub it-" Hotch looks almost more distressed than JJ. "What gets out salsa?"

"Pen, do you know what gets out salsa?"

Garcia pauses as if to think. The room stares at her waiting for an answer.

"If it is a new message, what is he calling to say?"

JJ sighs. "Okay, thanks. Yeah, I'll try that."

"Maybe he's calling to say you're obsessive and crazy." Emily offers.

"So, should I call him back?"

"NO." The room collectively answers. She goes back to pouting.

"All right, fine, you know what, we'll both sit in the chair." Emily sits down on Morgan's lap. She doesn't look at all comfortable. "I'm soooooo comfortable."

"Me too." Morgan purrs. "In fact, I think I might be a little too comfortable..."

Emily jumps out of the chair.

Hotch intervenes as memories of the last workplace sexual harassment seminar come to mind. "Okay, look, we have seventeen minutes. Emily, I want you to go and change and then when you come back Morgan will go change and he'll have vacated the chair. Okay?"

"All right! Fine! I'm going. But when I get back it's chair sitting time, and I'm the guy who's....sitting in the chair!"

She storms off down the hallway. The stakes of this fight have long since waned but she hasn't given up yet and she will be back.

Chapter Text

Lost in his own world Reid passes her as he steps out into the living room. He's wearing a shirt now, but holding up several ties all in various shades of purple.

"Do any of these match- JJ what happened?"

"Derek salsa'd me, I've been salsa'd."

"Is it a natural fiber? White vinegar will breakdown the enzymes and release it from the fabric and then you can rinse with regular detergent."

"No it's a blend, and that wont dry in time."

"Yeah you're right. Did you bring anything else? You should get out of that and pre-treat it before it sets."

"Nooo, no not out of that we don't have time to get out of clothes." Hotch says in a voice that for him could almost be considered whining. Somehow he still maintained his serious composure despite his laments.

"Aaron she looks like she's been shot. Not a good look for an FBI gala."

"I called him." the room turns to look at Garcia who had stepped away while the group was arguing. As she walks back in and puts the phone back on the receiver they turn their attention back to her, despite Hotch's groan.

"Garcia-"

"I did, well I got his machine and left a message. But it's okay it was a breezy message. Like a casual, breezy, casual message. It was breezy! Oh God, what if it wasn't breezy?"

"How could it not be breezy, you're in such a breezy place right now." Rossi quips.

"I got it, I'll play the message for you guys and then you can tell me if it's breezy enough."

"Babygirl how are you gonna do that?"

"You think I can't hack into an answering machine?" She scoffs at Morgan, pushing him aside as she settles on the couch in front of the machine and in the middle of her audience. JJ even forgoes trying to clean the dip off her dress and licks a finger as she comfortingly pats Garcia on the shoulder with the other hand.

"Garcia this really isn't- okay you're dialing." Hotch looks at his watch in despair. While she dials Emily returns and sees Morgan hovering by the couch instead of in the chair. They both lock eyes before racing to claim it, Morgan beating her out by a narrow margin. Emily is surprisingly lithe even in a slim black dress wrapped around her legs.

The machine beeps and Kevin's voice fills the room. "Hi this is Kevin, please leave a message at the tone. YOU HAVE TWO NEW MESSAGES."

Reid giggles and from behind Hotch mimics in his best robot voice. "You have two new messages." Hotch turns around, wondering how it's come to this, but his nerves are no match for Reid's innocent grin and he almost smiles. Almost.

On the machine Garcia begins talking in a tone which can only be described as 'not breezy'. "Hi, it's Penelope. I'm just checking in 'cause I got this message from you and I didn't know if it was old or new or what. So, I'm just checkin'. So let me know, or don't, whatever. I'm breezy."

"You can't say you're breezy, that totally negates the breezy." Emily points out. Before Garcia can counter, another woman's voice rings out.

"Hola, it's me. Yesterday was really fun. Call me about this weekend, okay?"

The clink of Rossi's glass as he finishes pouring himself a scotch is the only sound as the team goes silent. He takes a sip and muses, "Now she sounded breezy."

Chapter Text

"He's seeing someone. I can't believe he's seeing someone."

Garcia paces the room, her seat on the couch taken by Hotch who has now given up any semblance of control and holds his head in his hands. Behind him the girls try to comfort their friend.

"Pen, you don't know that."

"Theres no way he's dating yet."

"Then whose voice was that!"

"Doesn't he have a sister?" JJ perks up as she remembers reading Kevin's personnel file when the analysts first started dating.

The usual spark in Garcia's demeanor is back as she claps and nearly shouts, "Michelle! Of course, it was Michelle! Did it sound like Michelle?"

"I've never met her but she did sound like she could be a sister." Emily offers.

Outside rain begins to pelt the windows. In the distance theres a slight rumble of thunder.

"Oh, great. It's starting to storm. That shouldn't delay us at all." Hotch says to nobody in particular.

"It was Michelle. It was definitely Michelle." Garcia regains color as she convinces herself of this.

"Hey Garcia, did you bring some jewelry?" Reid's interjection is met with confused stares. "JJ maybe you can wear something to hide the stain. Then come help me pick out what I’m wearing."

"That's a great idea!"

Hotch looks up at the genius concerned. "You still don't know what you're wearing?"

"I'm just trying to look nice for your big night." Reid pouts but it doesn't have the usual effect. Hotch stands up and leads him down the hallway determined.

"My big night which we have to leave for in exactly twelve minutes. I'll just pick something out for you."

As everyone leaves with their new tasks Emily returns to an old one. She rounds on Morgan who had been sitting silently in the chair, hoping to go under the radar. "All right, you will notice that I am fully dressed. I, in turn, have noticed that you are not."

"Alright." Morgan stands, but as he does so grabs the cushions of the chair.

"What are you doing?"

"You said I had to give you the chair, you didn't say anything about the cushions."

"The cushions are the essence of the chair!" Emily's normally low and calculated voice jumps an octave and the sentence spills out of her in a frenzy.

"That's right! I'm taking the essence." He disappears up the stairs.

"Oh, oh he'll be back!" She turns and points at Rossi, the only other onlooker who has long since been tuning them out. He raises an eyebrow and she growls in irritation.

Also irritated, Reid renters followed by apologetic Hotch.

"Look, I'm sorry I thought it was yours."

"Aaron that is clearly a woman's blouse. You want me to wear pink chiffon to this event?"

"Oh ho, I remember that blouse." Rossi grins at a memory.

"She must have left pretty quickly to leave her shirt behind."

Before he can counter JJ comes running out and grabs Emily's attention. "Oh, Emily look, doesn't this look perfect on me?"

She shows off a gold choker with blue rhinestones that match her eyes almost perfectly.

"Oh my god that's beautiful. But it doesn't hide the stain at all."

"Oh well not for tonight." She and Emily laugh.

Hotch abandons his attempt to apologize to Reid as his face turns red and he starts to lose it. "Not for tonight? Not for tonight? Wha- what are you even doing then?

At his decent into "agitated boss", Reid finally cues into the stress they are causing Hotch and grabs his arm. "OK, ok Aaron we'll get ready now, promise." He looks at the others sternly, putting on his best "Hotch" glare since Hotch is far too distressed to use it at the moment. Garcia and JJ retreat down the hallway and Reid follows.

Rossi walks over to Hotch, the only one brave enough to enter his territory, and holds out another glass. Hotch waves it away.

"She had a tank top underneath."

"What?"

"She didn't just walk out of here without a shirt on."

Hotch sighs as he simmers, sans scotch. He doesn't get to rest for long however, as Morgan descends downstairs in a rage.

"Where's my underwear?!"

With nothing likely to surprise him at this point, Hotch just turns to look at Emily.

"He took my essence!"

Rossi decides to field this one before Hotch can ask what the hell she means by this. "Okay kid, hold on. Why can't you just wear the underwear you're wearing now?"

"Because I'm not wearing any underwear now!"

"Then why do you have to wear underwear tonight?"

Morgan dramatically rolls his eyes. "It's a fancy event. I'm not going commando in front of the FBI's entire board of directors"

"Well then it looks like somebody is gonna have to give back some cushions." Emily has officially lost it.

"No, you know what- you hide my clothes I'm gonna do the exact opposite to you."

"What are you gonna do? Show me my clothes?"

"You'll see!" Morgan storms off with a plan. Emily laughs like she's won a battle and not like she's a grown woman playing hide and seek with a man's briefs.

"He's got nothing."

JJ returns to the living room, her entrance punctuated by a huge pink bow pinned to her dress.

"Okay I'm ready." She looks sadly at the others, clearly bummed but evidently this is the best option they could find. Garcia follows behind her looking much more optimistic. "Ta-da!"

Hotch, Emily, and Rossi don't have much of a reaction, despite Garcia's expectation of one.

"Interesting." Rossi tries.

"Garcia didn't have any jewelry that covered it but she did have some ribbon so it's this or salsa." JJ explains.

"How bad was the salsa again?" Emily asks.

"You know what? You look fine. Two down and I have exactly twelve minute- my watch stopped. My watch. What time is it? It's 7:33, I have seven minutes. I have SEVEN minutes!"

Reid picks the wrong time to enter the room holding two pairs of shoes. "Which should I wear, black or brown?"

"Just, just, just pick one!" Hotch seethes still fiddling with his watch.

"Black. But, oh, are you wearing a brown belt?"

"Yeah, but if you think black I could change it. Though maybe I'll add a vest and you wont see the belt-"

And with that Hotch is gone. He throws his watch down and turns to give his full attention to the shoeless agent looking shocked at his reaction. "Yeah, a vest, what, what an idea. Or better yet how about you go without any pants. Look, I don't know what you're trying to do to me, but just get your butt in there and pick out any shoes that fit your feet, okay? I don't care if they match. I don't care if they light up in the dark!"

"But I..."

"No, no, no just do it. Go in there and pick something out so we can go."

Reid looks at him with a small expression but doesn't quite back down. "All right."

"Thank you!"

The room is shocked into silence. Reid walks calmly back down the hall. They all watch Hotch pick up the remains of his watch off the floor and retreat into the kitchen. Rossi looks nervous as if their unit chief might punch a hole in his expensive cabinetry. JJ and Garcia look away as if they don't want to intrude on this moment and Emily falls back into the cushion-less chair, ignoring the squeak of the springs as they catch her.

Chapter Text

It's Garcia who breaks the tension.

"Okay you know what, I gotta call Michelle. I have to see if that was her voice. I'm sorry but I have to."

"It was her voice." Rossi starts, but the other two just look happy to have a distraction from Hotch's outburst. He's still in the kitchen hovering behind the island but they can tell he's listening. She punches the numbers as she dials and Rossi sighs. "Penelope, I think you've gone over to the bad place."

"I thought that was in the kitchen." Emily says under her breath, looking nervously towards their leader to make sure he didn't hear.

Garcia puts it on speaker. "Hola! Hello? Hello?"

She hangs up the phone with relief. It was obviously his sister on the answering machine. "Okay, good, it was her."

"Definitely."

"See there you go! Everything is fine and I'm back to not caring." She says this, but jumps a mile when the phone rings in her hand. "Aah-hello?"

Her conspirators watch as Garcia's eyes go wide. She holds the phone as far away from her as possible and puts a finger over the receiver. "She called back! She called back!"

Clearing her throat and trying to sound breezy she pulls the phone back. "Uh Michelle, hi. Yeah, that was me, I-I dialed your number by mistake. Oh, you're so sweet. Yeah, we were a great couple, but sometimes it just doesn't work out. Well, you know how it is, it's just...."

Garcia pushes Rossi aside to escape down the hallway and continue the conversation.

"You know," Emily starts, looking up from her position lower down than the other two without the height of the cushion. "Kevin always looked... sweaty to me."

"Maybe that's why they were always having sex in the shower."

Rossi waves a hand between the girls. "Pah, I don't need to hear it. I already know too much."

Garcia renters. "Michelle, I only beeped in so I could hear my message. I mean that's allowed. Yeah-huh! I mean look, yeah, you know what I would really appreciate it if you didn't tell your brother about this. What do you mean, you're not comfortable with this? Come on we're friends!"

The other end of the line clearly hung up by the scandalized look on Garcia's face. She starts dialing again. "That bitch always hated me. I'm calling her back."

From the kitchen Hotch groans pointedly. JJ takes the phone away from her.

"Okay, fine." She storms off.

"Rossi I imagine you’ve got a second phone somewhere in this giant mansion, right?" Emily points out.

"We're on it." JJ and Rossi follow their forlorn friend down the hall. As they do they step around Reid, who enters the room again but this time in a t-shirt and FBI sweatpants.

"Whoa, I don't think I've ever seen you in anything more casual than khaki's." Emily says.

Reid makes his way to the kitchen island and plops a stack of books on the counter and pulls out a stool. He sits and opens the first book without acknowledging Hotch who looks like he'd rather be stabbed again than deal with his team any longer.

"I know it says black tie optional, but this may be pushing it."

"I'm not gonna go."

"You're not going to go?"

"No, I think I'm going to start another degree."

"How can you not be going?"

"We'll I'm going to stay here, thus accomplishing the not going. Doesn't exactly take a genius to work that one out."

Hotch braces himself, treading in uncharted waters. This is calmer and cattier than he's ever seen Spencer. "Just out of curiosity-"

"Well, ever since I was humiliated and yelled at in front of my friends and coworkers, I'm just, I don't know, not in the mood to watch a bunch of people clap about how great you are." Spencer starts to ramp up but then tamps it back down and returns his attention to the book that Hotch can tell he's not really reading.

"Right. Okay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I yelled."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not. You're mad."

"I'm not mad."

"You're not mad."

"I'm just not going."

"You're not going."

"Right."

From the living room Emily munches on the chips like they are popcorn as she watches the scene unfold from a safe distance.

"Okay." Hotch says tentatively after a minute of watching Spencer pretend to read. "You know that I have to go."

"I do."

"Right. So this isn't like 'I'm abandoning you while you're upset.'"

"Nope."

"Because you're not upset."

"Right."

"About the yelling."

"Right, and the humiliating."

"Of course, can't forget the humiliating." Reid looks up at Hotch's comment, his eyes seething but remains passive and takes a breath in to steady himself.

"Yup."

"We're good?" Hotch asks knowing full well they are not at all good.

"Right."

Hotch releases a breath he doesn't realize he's holding. "Spence?"

"Yes, Agent Hotchner?"

"Oh boy."

As Hotch digs himself deeper in the hole, JJ is heard screaming from somewhere deeper in the house.

"Get away from that! No!" Sounds of struggle, then she comes walking back into the living room carrying several phone receivers. "She's just getting dressed." She says calmly to the room despite her ribbon being untied and a curl falling out of her bun.

A minute later Rossi strolls in. "Is it wrong that I was totally aroused by that?"

Chapter Text

JJ fixes her bow, pushing aside Rossi who offers to help. Hotch is just standing in the kitchen watching Reid pretend to not be mad at him and Emily seems amused, having forgone all pretense of caring about the event and instead appreciating what a ridiculous mess tonight has become.

But the nights not over yet. Morgan walks in but not in a tux. Instead he wears the outfit Emily had worn earlier - a low cut blouse and skirt.

"Alright, you wanna hide my clothes, I'm wearing all of yours!"

"Oh my God! That is so not the opposite of taking somebody's underwear!"

JJ is openly laughing and Rossi's jaw is on the floor. Reid can't even ignore it despite his best efforts to remain locked into his 'not-tantrum'. Hotch still looks at Reid, so far past caring about the rest of the team. Garcia runs back in hearing all of the commotion and wildly gasps as she sees her alpha adonis nearly peeking out of a mini skirt.

"Look at me, I'm Prentiss. Is this skirt too revealing? Maybe if I wasn't going commando..." Morgan pointedly walks towards Emily making big strides and stretching out the skirt that is so tight on him the slit of it threatens to rip and reveal way more of him than anyone wanted to see.

"Ew, Morgan! Stop you're going to stretch it!"

"Oh yeah? then I guess I better not do any, I don't know, lunges?" He steps wide and begins to set his knee down when the tell tale sign of a rip starts from behind him and his eyes go wide at the recognition of a bad idea. He grabs the fabric just in time as it tugs and begins to ride up with the strain, and the rest of the team gasp and look away - save Garcia who shamelessly watches - as it starts to become very obvious that Morgan is not wearing underwear.

"Okay, ENOUGH." Hotch yells from the kitchen. Everyone snaps to attention as if waking from a very inappropriate and ridiculous dream. "Enough with the lunging. I'm sick of this. I've had it up to here with you two! Neither you can come to the party!"

"Jeez, what a baby." Emily scoffs.

"Yeah, Hotch, way to ruin it. I was just going to get dressed."

Hotch glares at his subordinates. "You know what I don't care. The only person I cared about getting dressed isn't even going to go. Look Spencer, I'm sorry. Okay. I was a jerk. I'm sorry I yelled. I want you there, I need you there. Look, what can I do that can show you how much I want you to be there?"

"You could drink the fat." Rossi offers. The gang looks towards the glass of fat still sitting on the corner of the island.

"And that, Dave, is why I don't go to you for relationship advice."

"Wait," Reid says, almost too quietly as he ponders. "Now wait a minute, that actually, uh, that sounds interesting."

Hotch looks at him as if thats the craziest thing he's ever heard, despite his second-in-command having just walked in a skirt with his dick out. "What?"

"I think you should drink the fat." Reid looks at Hotch his anger melting into petty determination.

"Ha!" Morgan laughs, now clutching a pillow to his crotch. Garcia leans back a bit. From where she stands she can just get a view of his ass.

"Okay. If that is what it takes to show you how much you mean to me, and how much I want you there. Then that's what I'll do." Hotch says without hesitation.

The gang make their way into the kitchen, none of them wanting to miss Reid's dare. JJ makes a disgusted face as Hotch picks up the fat. "Wait, let me get you another glass. That's been sitting out."

Hotch dismisses her with a glare. "This will be fine." He swirls it a bit before murmuring to himself. "Just a vanilla milkshake, just a vanilla milkshake. With chicken bits floating in it. Cheers."

He raises the glass fast and decisive, but as it hits his lips Reid cries out and grabs his arm.

"Wait! No, wait! Don't do it I'll go!"

"You will?" Hotch looks relieved, whether more so that Spencer will go or that he doesn't have to drink the fat is unclear.

"You were really going to do that."

"Well yeah."

"You would drink the fat." Spencer looks at Hotch lovingly, not a hint of passive aggressive anger left.

"Let's see what else he'll do!" Emily shouts.

Hotch clears his throat, trying to regain the control he long since lost. "How about instead you give Morgan back his underwear, you go put some pants on, you get changed, I'm gonna go get a cab, and I want everyone down here in two minutes!"
The team disperses, rushing to get dressed as they are now cutting it very close. Determined not to let Hotch's act of devotion go to waste Reid runs down the hall knowing exactly what he's changing into.

Already dressed JJ pours the fat out and turns back to the living room to find Garcia fiddling with one of the confiscated phones.

"Garcia! No!"

"Hi, this is Kevin-" The machine announces. "YOU HAVE THREE NEW MESSAGES."

Garcia clicks a few more buttons. "Not anymore!"

"MESSAGE ERASED. TO RECORD A MESSAGE BEGIN SPEAKING AT THE TONE."

"Hi, uh, Kevin it's Penelope, um, listen I did something kind of crazy tonight, um, maybe I'm getting my period or something, I don't know. Um, anyway, I beeped into your machine and I heard a message that, that freaked me out, and um, you know what Michelle will tell you the rest. I, I, um, I'm sorry, okay, I, I hope that we can forget the whole thing. Okay, bye."

"YOUR OUTGOING MESSAGE HAS NOW BEEN CHANGED."

The whole room braces themselves as they realize what a panicking Garcia just realized. "Outgoing! Did that say outgoing?! Not, outgoing!!!"

She calls his number one last time and the machine confirms she messed up. Instead of Kevin's voice answering it's hers repeating her own message. "Hi, uh, Kevin it's Penelope, um, listen I did something kind of crazy tonight, um, maybe I'm getting my period or something, I don't know..."

"Nooo!"

"How did you do that?" JJ asks.

"I don't know! I don't know! It's not like me to not know!"

"GOODBYE." The machine clicks off and takes Garcia's sanity with it.

"NOOOOOO!"

Hotch comes back inside, having gone out to check that the cabs are there and ready. "Okay I've got two cabs and no people, let's go wheels up in 30 seconds."

Garcia sniffles as she is led to the door by JJ. "Maybe I can hack into the phone company. Maybe I could change the message. Maybe I can change his number."

"Yeah, after this, I think he'll be doing that himself." JJ says.

Emily and Morgan make their way downstairs, both dressed appropriately and hopefully wearing underwear.

"After you," Emily says as a peace offering, holding the door for Morgan.

"Thank you Emily. SHOTGUN!"

He races out the door, his offended coworker hot on his heels. Neither care about the rain and Hotch just hopes they realize there are two cars going before either of them make fools of themselves. Though it may be too late for that.

Rossi walks out the hallway with a coy look on his face, looking at Hotch like he knows something he doesn't. Hotch hates it. "Dave-"

"We'll see you over there, Aaron." The older man tucks a cigar in his pocket for later, grabs an umbrella from the coat rack and waltzes outside. Hotch watches him go and wonders how he's put up with all these people for as long as he has.

Reid clears his throat.

Hotch turns to find the love of his life leaning against the kitchen island leafing through one of the book he's left there. This time however instead of sweats and a t-shirt he wears a jet black slim fit tux complete with bowtie and a purple pocket square. His hair is slicked back but curls are already starting to break free from where it's been tamed and Spencer tucks a side behind his ear as he pointedly leans agains the counter like he doesn't know Hotch is appreciating how this suit is hugging him perfectly.

Hotch is speechless. When he doesn't say anything Spencer looks up concerned but grows slightly pink as he recognizes the look of want in Hotch's expression. He cocks his arm out and gazes at the shiny gold watch around his wrist. "And I still have about five seconds to spare."

"Wow... just... wow."

Spencer grins and time stops again. "Rossi bought this for me. I didn't want to wear it because I thought it was too much but-"

Hotch doesn't care. He's barely registering what Reid is saying anyway, he's too desperately eager to kiss him. Remembering he's allowed to do that he grabs him by the face and pulls him in.

They eventually pull apart after letting it go a bit further than intended and Spencer licks his lips, grateful he didn't make Hotch drink the fat. His partner's hands have found their way to his waist underneath his jacket inching towards the small of his back, seconds away from untucking his shirt. He puts his fingers around Hotch's wrists, a gentle reminder that they really can't go any further.

"Okay it's been way more than five seconds."

"So we're a little late." Hotch shrugs.

"Come on," Spencer laughs, pulling Aaron towards the door, "Oh! And, uh, by the way," He looks back at his boss with a coy look on his face like he knows something he doesn't. Hotch loves it.

"What?"

"I'm going commando, too."

For the first time all night Hotch smiles.

Chapter Text

It was naiive to think that they'd behave themselves at dinner.

After a successful acceptance speech and a lifetime of shaking hands and playing politics Hotch manages to make his way back to the table where his team sat enjoying a meal much finer than the BAU usually enjoyed. Multiple pairs of silverware, cloth napkins and all. Spencer grabs his hand under the table and squeezes, flashing a smile before returning his attention back to Rossi who is pointing out important agents and regaling them with gossip from the 70s.

"Excuse me, Dr. Reid." The table looks up to see the director of the FBI approaching the table. To everyone's surprise Spencer doesn't look shocked at all. Instead he smiles warmly and offers him the empty seat next to him.

"Hello Sir, care to join."

"Just for a minute, thank you." He sits down with a pat on Reid's shoulder. "I just wanted to congratulate you again, Agent Hotchner and extend that appreciate to your team for the great work you've all been doing-"

"Excuse me," Prentiss interrupts from behind him having retuned from the bathroom. Hotch curses to himself and prepares for the worst.

"Oh Agent Prentiss. I was just telling your team-"

"That's my seat."

Hotch wonders which fork is appropriate for murdering one of his agents with. He supposes he'll have to give back his award.