Title: Look at your man…
Author: Kuria Dalmatia
Rating/Warnings: PG (profanity). Crack!fic!
Characters/Pairing: Morgan, the BAU (Hotch/Reid)
Summary: With those three simple words, chaos erupted. Morgan scanned the crowd, desperate to see a member of the Team. He was stunned as his apparent savior effortlessly cut through the crowd.
Word Count: ~2,100
ARCHIVING: my LJ & my FFN... anyone else? Please ask first.
Feedback always welcome.
DISCLAIMER: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I totally don't own Old Spice or their commercials. Salut! I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done. I'm not making any profit just trying to get these images out of my head.
COMMENTS: All because wordofwyrd and capybara_sun mused about Morgan and a certain bare-chested actor riding a horse… Where did this come from? Follow IKU_dU on Twitter and find out! (I'm KuriaDalmatia there).
Screen cap courtesy of capybara_sun. Thanks!
"Oh. My. God. It is him!" The woman's shriek could barely be heard over the loud music in the club, but she had just enough volume to attract the attention of several other women nearby. She pointed and the group turned as a whole.
Immediately, they whipped out their camera phones and surged to the floor.
A dainty hand squeezed his ass and Morgan grinned. It was refreshing to let loose at the local nightclub with plenty of fine, fine women to dance with. With wheels up at 9 a.m., there was plenty of time for Morgan to have some company for the evening. Plenty of time.
The case hadn't been all that bad: a serial arsonist targeting homes in the process of being built. There was a bit of tragedy; the UnSub was the son of a local contractor who had been underbid on almost every available build. The local contractor had been forced to declare bankruptcy and then committed suicide. The son's mission was to avenge his dad's death. There had been no fatalities and they had caught the kid before he'd escalated to burning down an apartment complex.
Bonus: it had only taken the team two and half days to catch the UnSub.
Morgan had lost track of the Team after the first thirty minutes in the club, but didn't really care. He had a few drinks but was always careful not to overdo it. Yes, he was the in-resident "Ladies' Man" but he was also a very responsible Ladies' Man.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see camera flashes but ignored them, concentrating on his current dance partner. Her gold necklace announced her name, Brianna, and the woman was channeling some fierce Beyonce moves. He grinned. She grinned back.
Oh yes. It was going to be a good night…
The flashes grew more intense and Morgan looked up, thinking it must be a bachelorette party or something. He was surprised to see an army of women brandishing cellphones… all aimed at him.
That was when he heard, "It is so totally him!" screeched over the din of the crowd.
Before he could fully process what was happening, the crowd of women surged forward, another round of flashes went off, and another round of, "It's so totally him!" echoed.
"What the…?" he began.
Brianna was ruthlessly pushed aside by two eager ladies, one terrifyingly thin and the other heavy set. The profiler in him automatically began assessing their motivations but his train of thought was interrupted by, "Take a picture with us!"
"Ladies, ladies," he began and held his hands up. He was nearly blinded by another round of flashes. "Please!"
Morgan struggled to think where all the attention was coming from. The case they finished didn't have all that much media coverage; JJ had given the press conferences. He hadn't granted any interviews, so nothing was making much sense.
"Will you say the line!"
"Take your shirt off!"
When several hands tugged at the hem of his shirt, he twisted a little and yelled out, "Whoa! Whoa! Ladies! Stop!"
"Oh, come on! You're shirtless all the time!"
"Take it off! Take it off!" And with those three simple words, chaos erupted. The chants were deafening, alternating between, "Take it off!" and "Say the line!"
Morgan searched the crowd for the Team, knowing that they wouldn't leave him in a situation like this. When he didn't see them immediately, he yanked out his credentials from his front pocket and held it high for the crowd to see.
"Federal agent!" he shouted.
There was a momentary pause in the chanting before a clear, "Oh. My Gawd! The Old Spice Man is gonna be an FBI agent!"
There were shrieks, blinding flashes, and more cries for him to take his shirt off.
"Ladies, please!" he tried again, wondering where the hell the Team was. He scanned the crowd again and then blinked twice. He was stunned as his apparent savior effortlessly cut through the crowd.
Badge held high. Voice strong and authoritative as he ordered the crowd to calm down. Women parting like the Red Sea as he strode across the dance floor and up to Morgan
Hotchner-esque but uniquely… Spencer Reid.
Morgan just stared as Reid addressed the group and then grabbed him by the upper arm. The crowd settled down and there was an occasional flash. Morgan was tugged forward and then… Reid led him to the back of the club and then outside.
"My tab…" Morgan stuttered. Between the mob and Reid's ability to quiet them down, he hadn't been this flabbergasted in… years.
"Prentiss is taking care of it," Reid answered coolly.
"What the hell was going on in there?" Rossi asked as he approached the two. "Jesus, kid, I know the Bureau doesn't pay much, but stripping?"
"Whoa!" Morgan again held up his hands. "It wasn't like that at all. They thought I was someone else."
"The Old Spice Guy from the commercials, apparently," JJ clarified as she, Hotch and Prentiss approached the group.
Morgan rolled his eyes. He shook his head. "You gotta be kidding me."
"Apparently one of the woman though she recognized you," Hotch continued as he walked over and stood by Reid. "She told the others."
Prentiss nodded. "Yep. And since it's ladies night at the bar and… well… they thought they hit the jackpot."
"Look at your man, now look at me…" JJ giggled.
"I'm on a horse!" Prentiss added.
"The Old Spice Guy," Morgan muttered, still shaking his head.
"Who?" Reid asked.
"Aw, c'mon man," Morgan glared at his younger colleague who was staring him with a questioningly look. "You know. That joker who rides a horse and hawks shower gel?" He glanced at Hotch. "You're gonna tell me that your boy doesn't know who the Old Spice Guy is?"
Hotch arched an eyebrow. "First, he's not my 'boy'." The chill in his words sent a shiver down everyone's spine. "Secondly, we don't watch a lot of television."
Morgan winced and he held up his hands. "Sorry."
"The Old Spice Guy?" Reid asked again.
"I'll explain in on the way to the hotel," Hotch said and then looped an arm around Reid's shoulders, turning them towards the vehicle. Over his shoulder, he called back, "I trust we've had enough excitement for one evening?" When they all nodded, he said, "Good night, everyone."
"Good night," the rest of the team chorused and watched as the couple walked away.
"Way to put your foot in it, Morgan," Prentiss said.
"You didn't get mobbed by the Ladies' Night crowd!" he shot back.
"Poor, poor, Morgan," Rossi mock-sympathized as he pulled out the keys to the second SUV. "C'mon, we'd better get back. Mom's pissed off enough as it is. You don't want an early morning debriefing over breakfast."
"As opposed to Morgan almost being de-briefed tonight?" Prentiss asked with a laugh.
JJ giggled. "I can't wait to tell Garcia. I wonder if any of them took video. It may be up on You Tube tomorrow morning!"
"No. No, no, no, no," Morgan groaned and clutched the sides of his head. "Please, not that."
Aaron drove, trying not to be too pissed off about Morgan's comment. Yes, he and Reid were 'out' to the Team, but that wasn't something that couldn't really be avoided with a group of profilers. Trust was a precious thing, and he and Spencer had agreed that putting all the cards on the table once they were sure of their relationship was really the only option.
It was nights like this, however, when someone (usually Morgan) popped off with a comment, that Aaron wondered if he and Spencer should be on the same team.
If they were on different teams, Aaron would have never witnessed his lover effortlessly slice through the crowd and assert control. He squirmed a little in his seat as lust shot through him again. Dave's snarky comment of, Is he like that in the bedroom? hadn't helped, and Aaron had shot his friend down just as ruthlessly has he had Morgan.
Still, the scene at the club… he then let out a light laugh. "You did a great job in there tonight."
"Hmmm?" Spencer asked, turning to face him. Clearly, the younger man had been musing about something else. Their hotel was only five minutes from the club.
"Tonight. You made you way out on to the dance floor, you got the crowd to calm down, and you got Morgan out of there before he lost any clothes," Aaron clarified as he turned into the hotel's parking lot. It was late and parking was going to be a bitch to find, but it had been worth it to get out for the evening. Even if Morgan almost caused a riot. "Very impressive."
"I've had a good teacher."
Aaron snorted. "You're review is with Dave, not me."
Spencer tilted his head slightly and then shrugged. "Teach-ers," he amended, with an emphasis on the plural.
He let out a chuckle as he maneuvered the SUV into a parking spot. "Touché."
His lover grinned widely and unbuckled his belt.
Aaron put the vehicle in park and then shut off the engine. "About the Old Spice Guy…"
Spencer had already opened his door and was halfway out. He looked over his shoulder. "Don't worry about it." He winked, got out of the car, and shut the door.
Suddenly, Aaron's memory kicked in to three weeks ago when Spencer had been particularly sullen.
Morgan's teasing was usually good-natured and, over the years, Spencer had learned how to verbally tease back. But it had been a discussion about exuding authority that had Spencer down that night.
"Morgan said I couldn't part a crowd if I had Moses on onside and the entire FX team from ILM on the other."
"I doubt that's true," Aaron replied. "You just haven't had that much opportunity."
"He bet me first dibs on driving if I ever managed to pull it off."
"Do I need to have a talk with Morgan?"
"No! Jeez. You're naked. I'm talking to Aaron, my lover, not Hotch, my boss. Those are the rules."
Aaron then recalled Spencer's actions tonight, right before all hell broke loose around Morgan. Spencer had gone to get a round of drinks for them, because their waitress was abysmally slow and had obviously decided a middle-aged man and retro-geek dressed friend weren't worth much tip-wise.
Out of habit, he had watched Spencer go down the stairs and then weave through a crowd. Instead of going straight to the bar, Spence had stopped by a group of rowdy women.
The same rowdy women who had mobbed Morgan on the dance floor.
Aaron's mouth dropped open. He briefly closed his eyes.
He wondered if Morgan figured it out yet.
He wondered if he'd have to again warn the Team that Spencer Reid didn't get mad, he got even. The man was not some innocent little school boy who couldn't defend himself. No. Spencer's revenge was usually harmless but brilliant and methodical.
Aaron scrambled out of the SUV and saw the rest of the team arriving. He didn't acknowledge them, but made sure his pace to the hotel's entrance wasn't too quick. The Team was sharp. They were nosey. They would wonder if Aaron and Spencer had had an argument.
Aaron found Spencer waiting by the elevator, hands in his pockets and he was rocking back and forth on his heels.
The "Innocent Spencer" stance.
"Hey," Aaron said as he approached. Spencer looked over, nodded, and returned his attention to the elevator. Aaron could hear the rest of the team entering the hotel, JJ and Prentiss still giving Morgan hell about the mob.
Spencer's lips twitched.
"You set him up," Aaron stated quietly as the doors to the elevator opened.
Spencer's smile turned mischievous as he stepped inside. Aaron joined him, watching has his lover press the button for their floor and then his fingers hovered over the 'close door' button.
"Wait up!" Morgan called. They could see the group jogging towards them.
Just as Morgan got close enough, Spencer whistled a pitch-perfect little tune—the Old Spice one— and then grinned wolfishly.
Morgan's mouth dropped open. He stared.
Spencer hit the 'close door' button and the door obediently slid shut.
Not before they both heard Morgan snap, "You conniving little shit! You set me up!"
Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't do that again."
Spencer laced his fingers with Aaron's. "I won't have to."
"Warn me next time, then?"
"I won't have to," Spencer repeated.
"Are you going to apologize at least?"
"Right after he hands over the keys to the SUV."
/ Finis /