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Hotch wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up in this predicament.
Actually, that wasn't entirely true. He was pretty sure his entire team had been in on it, and if he really wanted to place blame on someone, he could likely trace everything back to either Rossi or Garcia. And if he had to bet, his money would be on Garcia because only she could manipulate everyone without them realizing she'd done it.
It had started out as a normal Friday workday, one that didn't involve them flying to some city or other in an effort to assist the local PD with its current difficult case. Jack had a sleepover he was attending that evening, so Hotch hadn't had a reason to leave work early, which was how he'd ended up going out to dinner with the team. Dinner had somehow turned into basically a night out, and before long there was a great deal of drinking going on. Hotch still wasn't sure how much Reid had ended up drinking, but it was clear fairly early that Reid needed to go home before he either got sick or fell asleep on the floor or in a booth somewhere. No one really jumped at the opportunity of taking the young profiler home, and several of the team members gave Hotch an expectant look, which was how he'd ended up at Reid's apartment complex, helping a stumbling Reid up the stairs and into his apartment.
Hotch had expected that Reid would let go of him and drop onto the couch once they'd gotten inside, but that hadn't happened. Instead, Reid had clung to him as if he was afraid to let go. "Don't go," Reid whined, leaning more of his weight on Hotch like he could keep him there if he had too much weight to hold.
"Reid," Hotch started, but his protest died at the pleading look on the younger man's face. "Okay, I'll stay. But you can't—I'm going to fall if you keep leaning into me."
Reid's expression shifted just the tiniest bit, and Hotch wasn't able to do anything as Reid slumped entirely into him and sent them both falling onto the couch. Hotch grunted in irritation and pain because the landing was less than ideal, and the position was far from comfortable.
"Reid, stop," Hotch hissed, and he almost instantly regretted it as the other man flinched. Reid's mind seemed to put the situation together, but Hotch was able to grab Reid's wrist before he could entirely stumble to his feet. "Wait," he ordered, and Reid went still, halted in a precarious position that Hotch knew he wouldn't be able to stay in for long.
Which was why Hotch was cursing his entire team for getting him into this situation in the first place. But it wasn't Reid's fault, and it wasn't fair to take his anger out on the genius.
"I'm sorry for snapping at you. I said I'd stay, and if you want me to, then I will," Hotch stated, absently rubbing his thumb over Reid's wrist. "I just wish you wouldn't have forced us to fall on the couch like that. It wasn't a comfortable landing or position." In an effort to take the edge off his words, Hotch smiled wryly.
"Sorry," Reid whispered, looking like a kicked puppy. Hotch sighed and closed his eyes against the swell of guilt. "Hotch?"
Hotch opened his eyes again and sat up, glad that Reid moved back as he did it so they didn't butt heads. He released Reid's wrist and stood, offering his arm to the other man. "Come on. You can at least sleep in your bed."
Reid stared at Hotch's arm for a long moment before looking up at Hotch. "Please stay," he murmured before grabbing Hotch's arm and allowing Hotch to lead him through his apartment to his room.
"I will," Hotch replied, and he could practically feel the tension leave Reid at those two words. "Do you want to change?" Reid seemed to consider that question, squinting down at his clothes before shaking his head. "All right. Why don't you lie down, and I'll go get you some water and Tylenol. Sound good?"
"Yes," Reid replied. He (thankfully) waited until Hotch pulled down the sheets before he released Hotch's arm, collapsing onto the bed and curling up on his side.
"I'll be right back," Hotch promised before turning and heading back to the kitchen. It didn’t take him long to find a glass and a water pitcher, but it took a few tries to find the correct place for the Tylenol. Figuring it was best to just take the container back into the room, he grabbed the bottle and the glass of water and headed back to Reid's room.
Not wanting to disturb him, Hotch gently set the glass and the bottle down before turning to walk out of the room. He hadn't made it more than two steps when he felt a hand attempting to grab his arm, and when he looked back, Reid was frowning at him. "Stay."
Hotch furrowed his brows. "I am," he answered, but when he moved to continue walking, Reid's hand finally grasped his wrist and squeezed.
"No. In here," Reid mumbled sleepily. Hotch felt a pleasant buzz start underneath his skin as those words sunk in. "Please," Reid implored, and Hotch hated that he couldn't quite bring himself to say no, plenty of reasons running through his mind to support the idea. It was just one night. Nothing was going to happen. He would just be sleeping next to Reid. That was it.
If only that were true. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel the pulse in his ears, and his body was thrumming in excitement at the prospect of simply lying next to the younger man. It was a terrible idea. He knew if he gave into this one small request he would have to set up some sort of boundaries. It would hurt no matter what to act like everything was normal after he got a taste of it; there was no telling how bad it would be when he had to room with Reid again. It really was in his best interest to walk away.
"Okay." Well, that wasn't what he'd meant to say. The word was more of a croak than anything, but Reid's sleepy smile indicated it was at least coherent. "Move over," he ordered, this time less hoarse, as he toed off his shoes. He'd expected Reid to move fully over, but when he slipped under the covers, he found himself in a space just big enough for him to be on his side. He realized belatedly that he shouldn't have laid down facing Reid, but it was too late to fix that as Reid pressed closer.
Hotch wasn't sure how he was going to make it through the night with Reid so close he could feel the other male's breath on his lips. He shut his eyes tightly, but that only made it more impossible to not focus on just how close Reid was. He was dizzy with want—wanting to brush a comforting hand down Reid's hair; wanting to wrap an arm around Reid's waist and pull him impossibly closer; wanting to slant his mouth over Reid's in slow, heated kisses to draw as many delicious sounds from the younger man's throat as possible.
Hotch hissed as his nails bit into his palm from his hands clenching into fists so hard. It helped, though only marginally, to clear his head, and he swallowed thickly, his throat and mouth impossibly dry. He had been right about how bad an idea this was because Reid may as well have been everywhere; his warmth and his breaths—hell, his damned scent, which of course had to be all over the pillow—were practically driving him insane. Something needed to give, or he was going to do a very, very stupid thing; most likely kiss a sleepy Reid senseless, which was definitely one of the last things he should do at that moment.
"Hotch?" Reid's concerned murmur had his eyes snapping open, and he abruptly pushed himself up into a sitting position to avoid the soft, warm look in Reid's eyes that did not mean what he wanted it to mean. "Hotch, what's wrong?" Reid asked, sounding a little more lucid, and Hotch nearly flinched when Reid's hand touched his shoulder. His muscles still jumped under the touch, however, which was probably equivalent to a flinch in this situation. "Hotch?" Reid's query was more of a demand.
"I'm fine," Hotch managed to mutter, his breath shuddering. "It's... I'm not used to sharing a bed anymore." It was a lie based on a partial truth, and he hoped Reid would accept it. He could practically hear Reid thinking, and he took the time to calm himself down.
Reid moved over in the bed, putting space between them that sent a spike of disappointment through Hotch that he tried to ignore. He started when warm fingers slid over his, twining both his and Reid's hands together. "Is this okay?" Reid asked softly, and the concern in the younger man's voice turned his heart over.
"That's perfect, Reid," Hotch answered, quirking his lips into a weak smile as he laid back down. Reid's responding bright smile caused his heart rate to spike again, and he embraced it as he closed his eyes again. The skin contact was oddly satisfying, the warmth and feel of Reid's hand and fingers against his making him relax into the bed. And against nearly impossible odds, Hotch managed to drift off to sleep, his palm pressed firmly against Reid's.
(The position they found themselves in when they woke up the next morning, however, wasn't quite the same one they'd fallen asleep in. And while they were both quite mortified, each of them was as equally, secretly thrilled by it.)