Work Text:
“Where’s the case?” Spencer holds his cell phone to his ear as he searches for a bookmark to keep his page, despite his eidetic memory that wouldn’t let him forget the page number if he tried.
“It’s not a case,” Hotch replies, sounding tentative for the first time in his life, possibly. His voice is rough with sleep in a way that humanizes him. “I need to ask you a favor.”
The younger agent halts in his pursuit of changing into work appropriate clothing. At the moment he’s in black skinny jeans and a sleep shirt that sports a logo for a fictional laboratory. His noise of confusion can’t be stopped but he clears his throat and speaks. “Of course. What’s going on? Everything okay?” He sits on his coffee table, legs crossing instinctively.
The unit chief assures him of his safety. “I’m fine, everything’s fine. I just ran into a slight issue. Jack is at a friend’s house for the night because I’m in New York but he got sick. Jessica won’t answer my calls and I think she must already be asleep,” he mutters, a slight annoyance overtaken by the clear distress in his voice.
“Oh, poor Jack. So, what would you like me to do? Wake up JJ and see if she’ll watch him? I can do that but I might suggest calling her first. She usually answers right away no matter the time.”
Hotch sighs gently, just a whisper of frustration. “That’s not it, Spencer. I was hoping that you wouldn’t mind watching over him for a bit. I’m already getting ready to head back now but I don’t want to risk the other kids getting sick while he’s there. He’s just a few blocks from your apartment, too. I’d be there in,” he pauses to check the time, “I’d be there before 3, hopefully, to take him off your hands. You could just have him sit on the couch and he’ll either sleep the whole time or just play games on his phone. I know it’s a lot to ask but I don’t know who else could watch him and I figured you’re probably one of the few people still awake at midnight on a Thursday.” Hotch overexplains himself, desperately trying to sell the idea.
Spencer nervously bites at his fingernails, accidentally worsening a hangnail he’d been meaning to get rid of. “Y-yeah, okay, I can do that. Um, if you just send me the address I can leave in just a couple minutes. Should I… does he know me? Will he panic that a stranger has come to pick him up? Should I bring my badge and ID so he knows we work together? What if he thinks I’m trying to abduct him? I don’t want to traumatize him!” Spencer stood now and pulled on the nearest sweater before sliding on his shoes and starting the search for his wallet and keys.
Hotch huffs a laugh. “Spencer, he knows who you are. You’ve met before, several times. You’re panicking when you don’t need to be. All you have to do is pick him up and drive him to your place, that’s it. He can take care of himself from there,” he tries to soothe but the amused smirk is heard through the phone.
“Don’t laugh at me, Hotchner! This is your kid, your child! Oh God. Does he need like… a seat? Like a child’s seat? I don’t know what they’re called! I don’t have one of those! Hotch,” he works himself up, hands shaking as he makes a mad dash for anything he thinks he might need.
“He’s 16, Spencer,” he deadpans.
Spencer misses the point of the statement. “Okay? So? Does that mean he needs a different kind of seat?”
The boss laughs. “He doesn’t need any special seat. He can keep his seatbelt on and his hands to himself in the passenger seat. You’ll be just fine. I’m sending you the address and both he and his friend’s parents will be expecting you. You’re going to be fine,” he promises.
“Okay. Alright. Yeah, it’ll be fine. Um, drive safe. Bye,” he says.
“Goodbye,” and then the call ends.
Spencer races down to his car, address already memorized as he rehearses how he’ll knock and greet whoever answers the door. The house is only a few minutes away and he pulls up the driveway quickly. It calms him to see that the front lights are on and there’s a silhouette of a woman and a teenager in the living room, both seated on the couch. For just a brief moment, he allows himself to be a nervous wreck. He hasn’t stopped shaking and he feels nauseous but he has a job to do. One deep breath and he’s climbing out of the car and walking to the door. The rest of the kids should still be sleeping so he opts to knock very gently, just twice because he knows they’re near the door.
A couple seconds later and the door swings open to reveal an old woman with a very kind smile and soft features. “Hi there, are you Spencer?”
He wasn’t expecting her to know his name so he hesitates for a second before nodding. “Yeah, hi. I’m here to pick up Jack?” He instantly feels stupid because of course she already knew that.
“Yes, the poor kiddo must’ve caught a bug. He’s just grabbing his things right now. Oh, where are my manners? I’m Mrs. Garner, Louise if you’d prefer,” she sticks her hand out and even though he’d rather just get back into his car and wait for Jack, he shakes it.
Luckily, the teen comes around a corner with two bags in his hand. He walks up to Spencer and passes him the plastic one tied in a knot at the top. “These are the clothes I got sick in,” he explains and Spencer has to keep himself from stepping back and instead takes it. Excellent, now he’s got a bag of vomit-covered children’s clothing in the entrance of a stranger’s house in the middle of the night on a weekday. What luck he has.
“Okay. Do you… how do you feel?” He’s absolutely failing at his job as an emergency babysitter.
“Hungry,” Jack shrugs a little and readjusts his backpack over his shoulder.
Spencer nods in acknowledgment and then looks at Louise. “Okay, well, thank you for,” he trails off trying to place what to thank her for. “For Jack? I guess?” No, he definitely shouldn’t have gone with that. “Um, goodnight,” he says and then flees the scene with Jack trailing after him.
The moment the front door closes behind them, Jack speaks. “You’re worse at talking to people than I remember,” he comments.
“Thank you very much,” he pulls open a door to the backseat and sets the bag of clothes down. “You can sit in the front seat,” he points. Jack nods and gets in and as soon as he’s settled, leans his head against the cool glass of the window. Spencer frowns. “Are you okay? Do you still feel sick?”
“No.”
“Do you want to take some medicine?” He doesn’t know much about comforting children but he knows that sick people should take medicine.
“No.”
Come on, he has to say something . “Do you.. Are you,” he starts to question.
Jack takes pity on him and shifts in his seat. “Can we just go now? I just want to sit and wait for my dad,” he grumbles.
The man nods. “Yeah, we can do that,” and then he peels out of the driveway and towards his apartment.
The drive is slow and quiet with only soft music in the background. He nearly breathes a sigh of relief when he sees his apartment building and he pulls into a spot closer than his usual one just in case Jack gets sick. Spencer gets out and grabs the plastic bag while the boy carries his own backpack. He unlocks the two sets of doors and then guides them towards the stairs before thinking better of it and stopping in front of the elevator. Jack doesn’t need to make the trek up three flights of stairs when he’s already unwell.
Opening the door to his apartment is much scarier than he thought it’d be and he instantly wishes he’d stopped to clean it up a little bit. Jack doesn’t seem to care about the clothes strewn everywhere and just stands perfectly still in the doorway until Spencer talks. “You can just, um, leave your stuff anywhere. Your dad said he should be here before 3. You’re welcome to help yourself to, um, anything. I don’t have a lot of food, mostly just coffee and granola bars and some dry cereal but that could be good to settle your stomach.” He closes the door behind them and sets the bag of clothes on his table, between a pile of old textbooks.
“You have a lot of books,” Jack comments, looking around critically.
“I like to read a lot,” he responds dumbly and then frowns at his own stupidity.
“Cool if I sit on the couch?” He starts to walk over to it, sliding his bag off and onto the floor beside the hideous green monstrosity he calls furniture.
Spencer nods quickly. “Of course. There’s, uh,” he jogs over and picks up the remote and hands it to him. “Here’s the remote. Do you want anything to eat? Or drink?” He feels so useless in this situation, in his own home with someone quite a bit younger than him.
“I’m fine. You don’t have to freak out. I’m not going to get you fired for not feeding me,” he says as he starts to flip through the channels.
The agent noticeably deflates, shoulders sinking. “That’s not really what I was worried about,” he mutters. “It’s not a good idea to have an empty stomach when you’re sick, especially if you’ve just thrown up. At the very least you should have some ice water but I think I have some sort of fruit juice if you’d prefer,” he offers.
Jack rolls his eyes. “Whatever you have to do to help you sleep at night,” he responds, eyes glued to the TV.
“Okay, sure,” Spencer gives in and steps away to the kitchen. He feels a cup with ice and water and then returns and sets it on one of his coasters where Jack ignores it.
“There’s nothing good on your TV. You have like four channels,” he complains, flipping through them rapidly.
“I don’t watch TV. I have a movie collection if you want to look through those otherwise you’re getting Seinfeld reruns for the next three hours,” he says and then goes to his entertainment center and pulls out a basket of DVD’s. He’s accumulated them over the past 6 years so the basket is overflowing a bit and a couple fall out when he places it on a couch cushion beside the boy. Spencer checks the clock and straightens himself up. “I’m going to throw your clothes in the wash. You can pick a movie or just… sit on your phone or something, that’s fine. I’ll be back,” he grabs the bag on his way to the front door. He rumages through the coin tray next to his front door but only finds three quarters. He huffs a bit and then starts to search for more.
Jack laughs. “Seriously? You’re an FBI agent and you only have 75 cents? Are you really bad at your job or do you have a shopping addiction?”
Spencer bites his lower lip to keep himself from getting annoyed. The boy is sick, and tired, and his boss’s son, for God’s sake. “I don’t keep cash or change around. It’s much easier to cancel a card than to chase after a thief.” He lifts some books on his kitchen table and then moves to check the coffee table.
“It’s easier to steal your identity if you exclusively use a card,” he counters.
He snorts. “You are your father’s son.”
Jack shrugs. “I get that a lot. Here,” he holds out his hand with a quarter resting on his palm.
The doctor shakes his head from where he’s kneeling on the carpet looking for dropped change. “No, thank you. Keep your money. I know I have some around here somewhere,” he takes a stack of books off the table to be able to see it a bit better.
The boy shakes his hand. “It’s yours. I took it from the tray,” he explains and then sets it on the table and leans back against the couch.
Spencer furrows his brows and then slowly takes it. “Oh, alright. Well, thanks for not stealing it. I’ll be right back,” he stands and rights himself before heading out. He starts the laundry and sets a timer on his phone to switch it to the dryer and then makes his way back.
Jack is pulling all of the DVD’s out of the basket and stacking them on the cleaned off coffee table, his books now stacked in front of the entertainment center. “You have an awful taste in movies. This,” he holds one up, “is a documentary about coins. Who would watch a documentary about coins?”
He laughs. “Your dad gifted that to me for Christmas last year. He collected coins when he was younger, I guess, and he thought I’d enjoy learning about it.”
“Was he right?” He sets down the documentary and picks up two more to read the descriptions.
“Not at all,” he sits on the other side of the basket and watches Jack pick through them. “I’ve seen hundreds of documentaries and that was, by far, the worst. But he wanted me to watch it so I did.”
“You’re enabling him,” Jack shakes his head. “Now he probably thinks you like coins as much as he does and that’s all he’ll want to talk about. I asked him one question about Back to the Future and it’s all he ever talked about for two weeks before I pretended I couldn’t hear him.”
Spencer finds the boy shockingly funny, not unlike his dad. “Really? Back to the Future? I didn’t take your dad for a time travel fan.”
The 16 year-old shrugs. “I think he might just think Marty McFly is cute.”
He can’t stop himself from choking on his spit. He has to cough it out and then he’s practically wheezing. “He… what?”
“Thinks he’s cute? He was watching way too closely to just be enjoying the movie. I thought for a while that he was watching the girl but then I paid more attention and he was definitely staring at his ass,” he picks up a new DVD and squints to read the smaller print.
“Don’t say ass,” he automatically scolds and then he shifts. “Your dad isn’t gay, you shouldn’t just assume he was watching it for that.”
“I didn’t say he was gay. He’s bi. He told me when I started high school. He said it like I was a kindergartener, though. ‘Daddy likes girls and boys. Some people just like girls and some people like boys, sometimes both or neither. Whoever you like is your business and I’ll love you no matter what.’ It was sort of ridiculous that he didn’t think I knew about it already.” As he had been mimicking his father’s voice, he made his own deep and menacing.
Spencer gives an easy smile. “You’re very good at that.”
“Thanks, I practice. Can we watch this?” He holds up a very well-loved copy of The Wizard of Oz.
“Are you sure? You wouldn’t rather watch Men in Black or something? Your dad bought that for me, too,” he says.
“That’s because he’s trying to trick you into liking him. If you like the movie, you’ll like him because he’s exactly like the guys in the movie. He’s tall and strong and wears suits and has stupid hair,” he says and gets more comfortable on the couch.
“I don’t think that was his intention but you’re right in saying he’s like the guys in the movies.” He kneels down in front of his DVD player and slides the movie in, waiting for it to close and a light to blink green before standing. He grabs one of the two big piles of movies to put back into the basket and then realizes it’s all the movies Hotch had bought him. He frowns. “Did you do this?” It’s very clear, of course, that he did.
“Yeah,” he nods, distracted by the previews.
“How?” He puts the basket down on the floor and pushes it to a corner.
“I put some of the movies in one stack and some of the movies in another,” he snarks, folding his arms over his chest.
Spencer grabs a blanket off the back of the couch and hands it to him. “You know what I meant. How did you know which movies your dad got me?”
Jack accepts the blanket and unfolds it, no longer needing to cross his arms for heat. “I help him pick out gifts for you whenever he needs to buy one. He says it’s because we’re closer in age but I think he’s just completely clueless so he asks me. I decide on the movies, not Men in Black or the coin movie, though. That’s all him not knowing what to do when I’m not home.”
Huh. “Well, you’ve got a great taste in movies. Drink some water,” he nods towards the cup. Jack rolls his eyes but picks it up and takes a few gulps before setting it back down. “Coaster,” Spencer reminds him and he moves the cup over. He starts to pick up the area around the couch, sorting sweaters into clean and dirty piles and stacking half-read books. He tosses socks into a hamper and folds pants.
“Stop cleaning so vigorously, I can hardly hear the movie,” he comments.
Spencer frowns to himself but starts to clean slower and quieter. He moves around, picking up little things and wiping down dusty surfaces. Every couple of minutes, he pauses to watch the movie over the back of the couch. His fourth time doing it, Jack turns around and looks at him. “Yeah?”
“Do you have popcorn?”
He nods. “Yeah,” he folds a pair of pants in his hands.
There’s a brief pause of Jack just staring at him. “Can I… have some?”
Spencer cracks a grin. “Yeah. Just give me a second.” He carries a pile of clothes to his bedroom and then goes into the kitchen and grabs a bag of popcorn. In the time it takes to pop it, he refills Jack’s drink and sorts socks. When it’s done, he dumps the bag into a large bowl and carries it over to the kid who thanks him and sets it on the middle cushion of the couch with a handful in his mouth already. The adult moves to continue his chores but Jack stops him.
“Aren’t you going to eat this with me?” He looks up at him. “It’s way too much popcorn for just me but I notoriously eat everything on my plate so I’ll eat this whole thing and get sick again, this time all over this gorgeous couch.” It’s a very blatant dig at his couch. It was less than $20 at Goodwill.
He takes the offer for what it is, though, and sits down on the couch. “I think the vomit would improve the appearance of it,” he jokes with a smile.
Jack laughs. “It’s such an ugly couch,” he agrees.
They don’t talk again until the popcorn bowl is emptied. Spencer refills Jack’s cup once again and gets one for himself to wash down the artificial butter. He sits back down and stays until the end of a scene. He hadn’t realized he’d stayed longer than that until his phone was beeping and alerting him that it’s time to switch the laundry. He carries the empty bowl and his cup over to the sink and sets them down.
“I’m going to switch the laundry. Don’t break anything,” he says.
“Not even the couch?” Jack grins over at him.
Spencer bites back a giggle and gives a mock stern look. “Nothing more than the couch,” and then he smiles and leaves.
When he returns, it’s to Jack back in the basket of movies pushing aside old horror films. “The Wizard of Oz is better when you’re ten,” he says in lieu of a real explanation for the sudden change. He pulls out Men in Black. “Can we watch this instead?”
Spencer nods and prompts him to put the movie in by pointing to the DVD player. Jack switches them out and climbs back up to the couch, getting comfortable again with his blanket. The agent hovers behind the couch, watching the movie from a distance so as to avoid disturbing the kid. He’d do more chores but it appears he’s already cleaned everything and Jack notices too. He looks up at him with wide honey brown eyes almost exactly like his father’s. When Spencer notices he questions, “do you need something?”
Jack shakes his head. “No.” He turns to face the TV. “What are the light flash things called?”
“Neuralyzers. The prefix ‘neuro’ means your nerves or nervous system but most people associate it with your brain because neuroscience is the study of the structure of the nervous system and brains.”
“So it’s probably being used like that here because it’s wiping their brains?” Spencer nods. “Cool.” They sit in peaceful silence for a bit longer. At some point, his legs get tired of all the standing and he moves to sit on his wingback chair. Jack snorts and scoots over on the couch like he’s showing how harmless he is. Spencer gets the idea and sits, leaving an open seat between them like he had with the popcorn bowl. A while into the movie, Jack gives a quiet yawn and curls up a bit. With a quick check of the time, Spencer realizes he should’ve encouraged Jack to go to sleep hours ago. He stands now, though, and brushes off his hands. “You should get some sleep. I can grab you some pillows from my room if you’d like or you can just crash on my bed,” he offers.
“I’m okay here. I’d take another blanket, though,” he says, tucking some of it under his feet.
Spencer nods and retrieves a blanket from his own bed and tosses it to him. Jack thanks him and drapes it over his lap and arms. The man bites his lower lip nervously. “Are you feeling okay? Do you have a fever?”
“I’m fine, just a little cold,” he shrugs it off.
The man is not so easily convinced. “Yeah, probably, sure, but do you think we could check it just for my peace of mind?” Even as he asks, he’s headed towards his bathroom where he knows the thermometer is.
Jack groans in annoyance. “Fine.”
He returns with a freshly washed thermometer and hands it over. They wait for 15 seconds for the beep and Spencer snatches it out of his mouth before he gets a chance to read it himself. “99. God, I should’ve been more careful. You should be medicated, hydrated, and sleeping by now. I’ll grab the Tylenol and get you some fresh water,” he bustles back in the bathroom.
“I’m fine. Stop mothering,” Jack shuffles on the couch, deeper into the corner.
“I’m not mothering,” Spencer pulls out the pills, “I’m… school-nursing. If I was mothering you would’ve been fed chicken noodle soup and tucked into bed within five minutes of being here.” He hands over the medicine and gets a fresh cup of water and his phone makes a noise on his way back. He pulls it out. “Your dad texted, do you want to talk to him? He says he’ll be back around four because traffic is unexpectedly heavy and he wants to know how you’re feeling,” he reads.
Jack reaches for the phone and then gets a bright glint in his eyes. “I could say whatever I wanted right now and he’d think it was you,” he laughs.
“What? Wait, give it back,” he reaches for it but Jack moves away too fast and he’s typing too fast that even if Spencer could get to the other side of the couch in a timely manner, it’d be too late. He hits send and a moment later a phone call rings through. “Give me that,” he says and snatches it out of his hand. Of course, it’s Hotch. “I’m sorry, so sorry, please ignore whatever text you just got,” he mutters, deeply embarrassed.
Hotch laughs to himself. “Was it Jack that texted me?” They can’t see each other but Spencer knows his boss has an arched brow and amused smirk and his boss knows that he’s flushed bright pink and his fingers are twitching nervously.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I handed him the phone so he could text you back and I forgot that teenagers are menaces,” he narrows his eyes at the boy who is giggling.
“Not all of them, mostly just him. Could you put me on speaker?” Spencer does just that. “Jack?”
“Hi, dad,” Jack greets.
“You should be sleeping,” he chastises.
“You should be in New York,” he bites back with a wide grin.
“Jack, I’m being serious. You’re sick and you should be sleeping. I’ll pick you up in an hour and a half and you can be as mean and sarcastic as your heart desires but until I get there you should be nice and considerate and asleep,” he instructs.
“I am being very nice and considerate! I haven’t beaten him up more than three times,” Jack laughs.
Hotch’s smile is audible as he responds. “Okay, but no more than four times, alright? He’s still an FBI agent and I’m not going to bother with all the paperwork that comes with him suing you for elder abuse, kid.” There’s a pause where the man seems to move around a bit. “How are you feeling? Have you thrown up again? I’ll stop at the store and get you some medicine and a small snack before picking you up. It’s not a good idea to sleep on an empty stomach when you’re sick,” he reasons.
Jack looks at Spencer with a vaguely annoyed look. “You guys are so irritating. I’m fine, dad. Spencer already checked my temperature and made me eat and drink. I barely have a fever at all,” he huffs.
“I get it, I get it. I’ll stop mothering,” he responds. Jack gives the agent in the room a half-amused look with raised brows that clearly says ‘see? Mothering!’ but Spencer rolls his eyes and ignores it. Hotch continues speaking. “I’m just checking in. You sure you’re alright? You don’t want me to bring anything?”
“Dad,” Jack groans and flops back against the couch heavily.
“Got it. Try to get some rest, buddy. I’ll be there as soon as I legally can. Goodnight,” he says, voice softer than Spencer has ever heard it before.
“Night dad.”
Spencer takes the phone off speaker and steps away from the boy who is busy tucking the blankets around himself more comfortably. Hotch speaks before he gets the chance. “Sorry if he’s been a bit of a brat. He’s not sick very often but he’s a little high maintenance when he is.”
“Oh, he hasn’t been a problem at all. Actually, he’s kind of fun to hang out with. I didn’t realize dry humor ran in the family,” he hovers in his kitchen.
“Ah, a blessing and a curse. Well, thank you, again, for agreeing to watch him. You should try to get some sleep, too. I’m breaking every traffic law but I’m still a while out. I don’t want to have ruined your whole night.”
“No, it’s fine. You haven’t ruined anything, but I’ll try to rest a bit if it puts your mind at peace. Goodnight, Hotch, drive safe. We’ll see you in a little bit,” he hums.
“Goodnight, Spencer.”
He walks back out to the living room and sits on the couch, forgetting to leave a space between them. Jack is blinking heavily but still attentively watching the movie, fighting the sleep with all his might. “You’re exactly like your dad,” he jokes.
Jack shrugs. “I have better hair.”
That gets a loud laugh out of both of them. “Having more hair doesn’t necessarily mean better hair,” he replies, light-hearted. He grins and turns the volume on the TV up a few before settling against the cushion behind him. Jack doesn’t think he’s tired and he doesn’t feel particularly exhausted himself so he resigns them to trying to finish the movie.
About 20 minutes later, Jack’s head softly hits the pillow to his right. His eyes are closed and his mouth parted just enough to let soft sighs escape, the same way Hotch always does after longer cases. Spencer has to pretend it doesn’t warm his heart to see him comfortable in his shitty apartment. Instead, he stands slowly and readjusts the blankets to cover the boy, tucking the sides in tightly. He turns the volume down until it’s just whispers and then grabs the book he had been reading earlier and opens it up to the bookmarked page.
He had really mastered reading in the dark so he finds it easy to get through three chapters before his eyes start to get heavy. Spencer pushes through it knowing Hotch can’t be more than an hour away by now. He considers getting a coffee to keep himself up but doesn’t want to risk the noise waking the teen. At some point, he must drift off because when he wakes it’s to movement to his right.
He sits up quickly but his eyes are still sealed shut with sleep. “Jack? Are you okay?” He lifts a heavy arm to wipe at his face and then opens his eyes and looks right to Jack. The teen grins at him and it takes a while to register that it’s because there’s another man in the room. Spencer looks over to his boss who is standing in front of the couch, crouched to meet his son’s eyes more easily.
“Hi. I hope you don’t mind that I used the spare key to get in. I figured after the third time knocking you were probably asleep,” he tilts his head.
Spencer sits up fully and moves the open book to the table. “Oh, that’s alright. Sorry I wasn’t awake,” he cracks his neck and then stands. “How was the drive? Or, no, that’s a stupid question. Would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee?” The doctor stands and starts towards the kitchen slowly with every intention of getting himself something to drink.
Hotch laughs at the adorably sleepy genius but nods. “Coffee would be great, thank you.” He shifts onto the couch and leans against his son. “How are you feeling after you’ve had some sleep?”
The boy is quick to lean against his father. “I feel fine. I actually got some sleep before I got sick so I’m not that tired.” As he says it, though, his body is getting heavier against the unit chief’s.
“Right, of course,” he smiles.
“Can we stay up all day and watch movies? I don’t think I could really fall asleep right now,” he reasons, eyes wide and already pleading.
The man sighs loudly and brings a hand to his son’s hair. “I suppose we could. I’d be getting up in a couple hours, anyways. What do you want to start with?”
Spencer re-enters the living room area as Jack responds. “Mm, Back to the Future?” He shares a look with the younger agent.
He giggles in response and Hotch arches a brow. “What? Do the two of you have an inside joke already? I should’ve known better than to let you talk all night,” he shakes his head. He looks over at Spencer now that they’re all more awake. “Thank you, Spencer, really. If you hadn’t agreed to watch him I would’ve had to send him home on a bus and I really didn’t want to risk that. He’s a bit of a trouble magnet,” he directs the last line to his son.
“It really wasn’t a problem. Like I said, he’s not so bad when he’s not insulting my couch,” he leans against the edge of his kitchen door and crosses his arms.
Hotch grins. “It really isn’t a great couch,” he shakes his head and looks distastefully down at the sofa.
“I’m aware it’s an ugly couch but unless you want to buy me a new one, you can go ahead and shut up about it,” he frowns.
The Hotchner’s share a laugh and then Jack leans forward to see Spencer better. “Do you want to stay up with us?”
Spencer gives him a confused look and Hotch mimes it to Jack before filling in with an explanation to the agent. “It’s something we like to do every now and then. Usually when he’s sick or we’ve just returned from a long case, we’ll stay up as long as we can and watch movies and eat junk food until we’re too tired to see straight. We’ve decided to do that today and you’re more than welcome to join us,” he offers.
Jack chimes in. “And I really think you should if you want to get back the $3 in quarters I stole from your coin tray,” he produces a handful of shiny quarters and Hotch sighs but Spencer grins.
“Thief! You’re a thief!” He points an accusing finger despite his wide smile.
“I am and as punishment for my crimes I think that I should be forced to watch mediocre movies with a couple of lame FBI agents,” he nods very seriously.
“Hey,” both Hotch and Spencer give playful glares at the teen and then they share a happy look.
“So? Do you want to watch movies with us or have to scour your entire apartment everytime you need to do laundry?” He tilts his head.
Spencer pretends to think about it. “I suppose I could fit that into my schedule. But you know you’re a punk, right?” He steps forward and accepts the coins being dumped into his hand and then carries them back to the coin tray. “Have you seen Doc Hollywood?” He turns to face Hotch who shakes his head.
“No. Who’s in it?”
“Micheal J Fox,” he says, barely containing a laugh.
The father is quick to turn to his son with narrowed eyes. “Okay. What’s going on? Do you guys seriously have a Back to the Future inside joke or what?”
The younger man shrugs. “I wouldn’t know anything about that, I’ve got clothes in the dryer,” and then he excuses himself rather quickly.
He can hear delightful screams as he’s returning and opens the door to see Hotch and Jack engaged in a half-hearted pillow fight with Hotch very clearly winning. Jack rolls around helplessly, squawking like an injured bird but with a wide smile the whole time. He smiles at the scene and sets the clothes on his table before heading to the kitchen and pouring out two cups of coffee for himself and Hotch. The man has settled down against the couch by the time he has the full mugs but his chest is heaving.
“So, he told you about our joke?” Spencer offers up the mug which is taken with a silent thanks and then he sips on his own.
“My son mentioned that he may have shared some terribly false information with you about a sort of… infatuation with a movie star from the late 80’s and early 90’s.” He brushes some hair out of his face with a dark flush high on his cheekbones.
“That’s not what I said. I said you were totally obsessed with his ass,” Jack laughs.
“Don’t say ass,” the adults scold without pause.
“Okay, fine. His butt, then, you’re obsessed with his butt,” he rolls his eyes. “Can I have some coffee?” He nods towards the cup.
“No,” Spencer frowns.
“What? Why? I’m 16,” he argues.
“Exactly. Coffee is very unhealthy especially for a developing teen. If you’d like, I can make you some hot chocolate instead. I have a mug that’s wide enough to fit six marshmallows in it.” Jack nods eagerly. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” He brings his mug with him to the kitchen, unable to ignore the feeling that Jack would try to steal it and drink from it.
The teen takes the hot chocolate and brings it right up to his face to let the steam warm him. “How do you know how many marshmallows fit in this cup?”
Spencer shrugs. “I have a sweet tooth. I’ve had one all my life. My tolerance is particularly high for it by now but I still really enjoy indulging in some sugary treats.”
Aaron looks up from his coffee mug. “Do you always keep marshmallows in your house?”
The doctor nods sheepishly. “Henry really likes them but I always have to eat the rest after he leaves before they go bad.” He brings the bag over to the coffee table and sits on a chair on the other side of it. “Plus, they’re great in hot chocolate which I have to switch over to whenever my caffeine tolerance gets too high.”
Aaron rolls his eyes and takes another sip. “You’re a bit of a disaster.”
“Perhaps, but at least I never collected coins,” he challenges.
“Oh, you are asking for it,” Aaron leans forward and grabs a handful of marshmallows from the bag and tosses them to Spencer. Somehow, he manages to catch one in his mouth and two in his cup, leaving just one to bounce helplessly on the carpet.
Jack throws his head back in laughter and Aaron looks rather impressed. “You’re like one of those seals at the zoo they toss fish at,” he giggles.
Spencer picks up the abandoned treat and tosses it at the boy. “Rude.” Jack opens his mouth and catches it and the doctor holds back a gag and hurries to grab the trash can. “Spit it out,” he shakes his head, looking away and expecting the teen to do as instructed.
“Seriously? You carried a bag of pukey clothes without batting an eye but a marshmallow that hit the ground for a second is too much?”
“I didn’t have to watch the clothes get thrown up on,” Spencer reasons and sets the bin down beside the couch in case Jack feels sick from his hot chocolate.
The three of them share a quiet laugh and continue to sip at their drinks before Jack sets down his mug, on a coaster, and crawls forward to reach the DVD basket. As he does that, he talks to his dad. “Dad, you remember that coin documentary you got Spencer for Christmas?”
“Yeah? What about it?” The man shifts a bit closer to his son to keep him from falling off the couch entirely.
Jack grabs the DVD he was looking for and sits up on his knees. “He actually watched it.”
Hotch turns and gives Spencer a look. “Really? You watched that?”
Spencer shrugs. “It was a gift. Of course I watched it.”
The older agent shakes his head. “It was a joke gift, Spencer, I thought you knew that. It was just because you’d actually listened to me talk about a 1942 coin for like an hour a couple weeks earlier even though you were clearly bored. I tried to watch some of it before I gave it to you and I made it maybe 15 minutes and I actually collected coins.”
Spencer’s mouth falls into an “O” shape and then he snaps it shut. “Well, I still watched it.”
“I appreciate that, Spencer. That must’ve been the worst hour of your life,” he shakes his head.
“It was actually 127 minutes but you’re right, it was awful. Apparently coin forgery is a much bigger deal in the coin community than I ever could’ve imagined and coin collectors are called numismatists from the latin word numisma which means coin.” He smiles at Hotch’s attentive listening. A theme song from the TV behind him takes his attention. “Star Trek? I thought you wanted to stay awake?”
Jack gasps. “What?! Star Trek is awesome! Or have you not seen it? I figured you were the kind of person that’s seen every DVD they own,” he gets comfortable again, settling his mug in lap when his dad passes it over.
“I do, you’re right. I love Star Trek. I assumed that’s why your dad got it for me as a gift,” he smiles. He reaches for the remote and turns it up before passing it to Jack. He awkwardly stands just to the left of his TV. Sensing the uncomfortable position, Aaron moves over to show the empty cushion between himself and his son. Spencer immediately occupies it.
“Nope! I picked this one out! I love Star Trek. You’re kind of a science geek, right?” He looks at Spencer who nods quickly. “Okay so you understand that like the actual science they use as the foundation for the show is amazingly accurate given it’s time period. It’s revolutionary,” he rambles on, Aaron watching in adoration and Spencer in excitement.
Spencer responds with the same amount of enthusiasm. “I know! It’s totally bizarre how their random guesses are so accurate even down to the general times when discoveries were made. I’ve done a lot of research on the specific theories they mention and the mistakes are minimal if not obsolete. Have you seen much of it?” He tucks his knees to his chest and rests his mug on one, the other one gesticulating wildly.
“He’s seen all of it, trust me,” Hotch chimes in. “We go to a marathon screening every summer and the convention that follows,” he grins.
“No way! You go to KlingCon?” Spencer’s eyes widen even more as he stares down the teen.
“Every year since I was 10. I have a ton of signed stuff like posters and shirts and everything and it’s all framed and all around my room. A couple times we stayed the whole weekend and I got to meet some of the people that worked on the show and I got to take pictures with them!”
Spencer is so jealous and so happy for the kid to get to experience something that obviously meant the world to him. “That’s so cool, Jack, and very nice of your dad to take you,” he spares a smile in Aaron’s direction.
“As boring as I find it, it’s nice to spend the time with him as he nerds out,” he shakes his head.
“Let me guess. You like Star Wars ?” He gives him an incredulous look. At his nod, he rolls his eyes. “Of course you do. You’re basic, Hotch, basic.”
Jack picks his head up. “That reminds me. Why is my dad in your phone at Mr. Boss Man?” He smiles mischievously into his hot chocolate.
Aaron snorts. “Really? Not Hotchner or Hotch? Not even just Aaron?”
Spencer blushes a pretty shade of pink and looks away. “Well those are your actual names. I like to use nicknames. Everyone in my phone has a nickname,” he shrugs and then reaches for his phone to prove himself.
“What’s Morgan’s?”
He giggles. “I can’t say,” he bites his bottom lip.
Jack lets out an overdramatic fake gasp. “Doctor Reid! That is highly inappropriate and unprofessional,” he lifts a hand over his heart.
Spencer playfully elbows him and lets his feet fall back to the floor. “If you don’t say anything, I won’t tell your dad about how you swore earlier,” he says.
“Jack,” Aaron chastises. “How many times have I told you this? I allow you to swear as long as you limit yourself and don’t use it in front of others. It makes you sound stupid.”
“You let him swear? He’s a child,” Spencer shakes his head in disbelief.
“He’s 16 and I don’t let him swear, I just don’t punish him for doing so. He’s old enough to understand the severity of the words and know not to abuse them,” he explains.
Spencer huffs. “Not punishing him for it is the same as letting him do it! That’s like our whole job! We can tell people not to murder but if we don’t stop them and put them in jail, they’ll just keep doing it! That’s why law enforcement exists! That’s why our jobs exist!”
Jack smiles to himself over their interaction. It’s so natural and parental that it sort of warms his heart. He’s known for years, probably longer than his own dad, that he’s interested in him. If he used this opportunity to see if Spencer was really right for his dad, so be it. His dad notices his little grin and slows his conversation.
“What are you smiling about, kid?”
“Nothing,” he shrugs. He levels him with his famous glare without all the heat behind it. “Okay, fine. I was just thinking that… if you ever actually get up the nerve to ask him out, I wouldn’t mind doing this more,” he smiles.
Aaron’s eyes widen comically. “Jack.”
“What? Come on! It’s been like four years and you still haven’t asked him out and in two years I’m going to go to college and I don’t want you to be alone. You should ask him now so you guys have something established before your only child moves.”
Spencer’s head tilts, thin eyebrows arched. “What’s happening?”
Jack looks at him. “I’m telling my dad to ask you out. He’s been in love with you forever and won’t do anything and you obviously like him back so I think one of you should just make a move before the credits roll,” he says.
The younger man very pointedly does not look at his boss and instead focuses on his son. “Wait, why do you think I’m interested? I-I’m not saying that I’m not but I want to know why you think I am,” he shifts.
“Come on! It’s so clear! You picked me up at midnight and you were super nice to me even when I was being a jerk and when I stole your money you actually thanked me for giving it back! Plus, you watched the coin documentary. Nobody in their right mind would watch that unless they thought it meant a lot to the person that gave it to them, which you did. I don’t even think the people that made that movie could’ve watched the whole thing. So, you like him and he likes you. Figure it out,” he waves his hands in their direction.
They all sit in the silence, letting the words hang in the air, until Spencer turns to face Aaron. “Do you actually… like me?”
Aaron sighs but nods. “Yes, I do. You’ll have to excuse my God-forsaken son for making me admit it like this. I don’t think he really understands the importance of romance. He’s more cut and dry.”
Spencer smiles. “He gets that from you,” he jokes.
“I’d like to think I’m a bit more romantic than ‘figure it out’ but I suppose, to some extent, I’m fairly bland,” he agrees.
“Not bland,” he counters, “classic. But you’re more than welcome to class it up for me.”
Aaron lets out a shaky breath but does just that. “Spencer, I really like you. I’ve liked you for quite a while, longer than would really be considered appropriate, probably. I thought for a while it was just a brief crush based on how amazed I was that you have the intelligence and skills you have at your age but it grew into something a lot deeper than that which I can really only compare to how I feel about Haley.” Jack clears his throat. “Okay, I’ll wrap it up. Would you like to go on a date with me? Preferably without my son?” Spencer nods very quickly, unable to contain his excitement.
“God, finally! Now will you stop staring at his ass every time you see him?”
“Don’t say ass,” they both say, a little too affectionate to be serious.