Fic: Co-Operation, Chapter 3/3 (Criminal Minds / Without a Trace)
Title: Co-Operation, Chapter 3/3
Fandom: Criminal Minds / Without a Trace
Pair: Spencer Reid / Derek Morgan,
Danny Taylor / Martin Fitzgerald,
Aaron Hotchner / Chad Christensen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Feedback: Always Welcome
Notes: The connection to Without a Trace was previously mentioned in chapter 9 of Visitors of All Sorts.
Criminal Minds Main List
Chapter 1/3
Chapter 2/3
“It just happened, I didn’t do it on purpose.” Reid pleaded. He checked their surroundings to make sure no one was listening, but both teams seemed to have lost all interest in their argument.
Hotch and agent Fitzgerald were having a lively conversation about the new bureau politics, while Prentiss and agent Spade were chatting at the bar, supporting Morgan’s theory about blonds and brunets. Chad and agent Taylor were working up a sweat on the dance floor, while agent Johnson was gathering her things and getting ready to leave. She gave them a quick wave and started the awkward walk through the crowded dance floor.
“You expect me to believe that?” Morgan grunted into his beer. “You knew I was waiting for a good blow-out, and you just ruined it.”
“How was I supposed to know, that making a remark like that would get Hotch to bury the hatchet before he even hit anyone with it? Metaphorically speaking.”
“A remark like that?” Morgan repeated. “You just happened to mention to Hotch that his current’s ex and agent Fitzgerald are both wearing identical rings. That’s about as deliberate as it can get!”
“The situation was getting heated, so I took the first thing I could find to re-track the discussion. I noticed it and thought it would be a good topic turner. I couldn’t have guessed that they’re together.”
“Identical rings and you couldn’t figure it out, what kind of a genius are you?”
“I wasn’t thinking about it, I just said it as soon as I noticed it. You know me, I open my mouth and things come out.”
“And what about what happened after that?”
“I couldn’t have guessed that the last kidnapped victim would escape.”
“I know…” Morgan sighed.
“Just like I couldn’t have know that she would find a pair of rusty pliers.”
“Yeah.”
“And there was definitely no way I could have guessed that she would overpower the unsub and cut off his-”
“Enough!”
“So this was just a sum of several smaller incidents. All is well that ends well.”
“Don’t try to pull Shakespeare into this.”
“It wasn’t a quote, just a statement.”
“That’s too creepy…”
“Shakespeare may have written countless homicides into his plays and sonnets, but-”
“I meant those.” Morgan nodded at the other side of the booth. Hotch and Fitzgerald were currently commenting on the pair grinding on the dance floor, but they both seemed to find the situation quite humorous.
“What about them?”
“Hotch finds out that the ex is getting it on with his teammate, and suddenly they’re like one big happy family? It’s not normal.”
“They’re acting like adults do.” Reid groaned. The half a pint he had consumed didn’t do any good for his level of frustration. “Like you did when Chad moved to Virginia. You’re not the best of buddies, but your lives are connected by several points, so you try to live with it as well as you can. If we go by your logic that nobody can get along with their ex`s new partner, we would have to leave the team.”
“I’m not following-”
“My ex is dating our boss, therefore we would have to resign or apply for a transfer.”
“Yeah…” Morgan downed the rest of his beer with one gulp. “Maybe you’re right. They get along, so good for them.”
“Bravo.” Reid smiled.
“But there’s still one problem. What do I do about Garcia?”
“Don’t worry, I already got her one of those “I Heart NY” -shirts.”
“No, she’s been trying to call me at least ten times.”
“I didn’t hear anything…”
“I put it on vibrate. She’s waiting for the video.”
“You didn’t really tell her that you were expecting a fight?”
“Sure, she got all exited. I event send him a snapshot of Taylor, as a teaser.”
“Morgan…” Reid moaned and buried his face in his hands. “You`re just as bad as she is.”
“I’m not! She was railed up, because she thinks men in a fistfight is hot, when there’s a love-triangle behind it, especially if their shirts get ripped.”
“Garcia, get out of Morgan’s head slowly with your hands in the air.”
“I was just repeating what she said!”
“I don’t care, you sounded so much like her, that it was scary.” Reid eyed him restlessly, biting his bottom lip. “Is she still in there?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What`s your favorite color?”
“Pink. I mean black.”
“Complete the sentence: Blonds have more fun, because-”
“-they deserve it after all the decades of blond-jokes.” Morgan’s expression became horrified. “Oh crap… She really is inside my head.”
“Think about Morgan. Think tattoos and motorcycles and Clooney.”
“I’m thinking…”
“Is she out now?”
“Yeah, I think so, but that was a really scary place… It was all pink and frilly…” Morgan shook his head. “Scary, scary place…”
Hotch turned to look at him, and Morgan gave him a hasty smile.
“We’re okay, I just had Garcia haunting inside my head.”
“Of course.” Hotch nodded and gave agent Fitzgerald an amused little shrug. “Happens to all of us sometimes.”
Morgan buried his face in Reid’s shoulder and breathed deeply.
“This day is too crazy….”
“You want to go get some sleep?”
“Not yet, I’m not drunk enough. If Hotch understands the voices in my head, the world is not right.”
“Try dancing.” Reid suggested. “I could quote several studies, that support the positive effects of music and dancing in a time of emotional distress-” He gave Morgan a knowing look. “-but I know you wouldn’t listen to it anyway, so I won’t quote them.”
“Not a bad idea.” Morgan got up and put his empty glass on the table. “Come on, Pretty Boy.”
“I’m not coming.” Reid crossed his arms across his chest. “Even thought I have familiarized myself with the style of music these clubs play, mostly at your insistence, I draw the line at wiggling myself under strobe lights to electro music.” An unsure expression showed up on his face. “This is electro music, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Did you know that-”
“If you don’t wanna dance to this, just say it.”
“I don’t want to dance to this and if it was up to me, I wouldn’t even listen to it.”
“Thanks for your honesty.”
Underlining the conversation, Chad and agent Taylor returned to the booth, both sweaty and beaming at full wattage.
“Babe?” Chad grinned at Hotch and raised his eyebrows.
“Don’t ask.”
“Just one dance…”
“I’ll pass, this isn’t really my kind of an environment.”
“And same goes to you too.” Agent Fitzgerald announced to Taylor, who had skipped verbal pleading and gone straight to using puppy dog eyes to get his way. “Don’t even try the eyes, it’s not gonna work.”
“That’s what I always tell Pretty Boy here.” Morgan added. “But in the end I always give in.”
“Are you coming or going?” Chad asked, eyeing him with a little grin on his lips.
“I’d be going if Reid didn’t have his dance hung-ups-”
“I don’t have hung-ups!” Reid protested.
“I can get him on the floor when they’re playing something slower, but I can count with my fingers all the times I’ve had him bumping and grinding.”
Chad and Taylor shared a brief look and grinned in tandem. They both caught one hand and pulled Morgan to the dance floor. Morgan shrugged and went along, throwing himself into the rhythm.
“I’ll go get some more drinks.” Hotch offered and got up from his seat. “Who wants what?”
“I`ll pass, but thank you.” Fitzgerald responded. “We have an early morning, so I don’t want to be the only one, who’s hung over.”
“Reid?”
“I think I’ve had enough for one night.” Reid said. He was busy trying to find something from his messengerbag. Finally he found his cellphone and flipped on the camera setting. He pointed it on the dance floor where Morgan was currently sandwiched between Chad and Taylor, obviously having a good time. “I think this will make Garcia’s day. Or night, whatever it may be.”
“What are you doing?” Hotch frowned. “And what does Garcia have to do with it?”
“Morgan promised her something he couldn’t deliver, so this should cover some of that debt.”
“You think Garcia wants footage of three men grinding on the dance floor?”
“Yes.” Reid stated automatically. “She’s Garcia.”
“She is.” Hotch agreed and shivered just a bit. “She really is.”