Several words could be used to describe Jason Gideon, and while retired was one such word, dedicated, emotionally distant, and emotionally damaged were others. Even as his own attachment to his protégé Dr. Spencer Reid had been severed by his own hand, in the form of a neatly scripted letter, he still felt a certain amount of entitlement to the young man's life. For Christ's sake, he was like a son to Gideon. Sadly, that line was carried to the extremes of being estranged from him, just like he was estranged with his real biological heir.

It didn't change the fact that he was still curious about him and the happenings in his life. He knew it was his own selfishness, his own gall to think he was so entitled. But of course he was entitled, he practically raised Reid as far as his FBI career went. He had been hand picked by Gideon to join the BAU no less! Yes, he knew it was foolish to feel any form of entitlement over another human being, and yet, here he was with that very same belief that he was in fact entitled and that it made the most sense in the world for him to be. Gideon pawed at the white bishop, twisting it in his hand before placing it back on the board. That had spawned all these thoughts, the thoughts he happily forgot about to the best of his ability of his time in the BAU.

Unlike Rossi, Gideon didn't have it in him to glorify gory details on white pages, tainting them blacker with the sordid details of murder and rape. He couldn't stomach professing or training other field agents either, not after Sarah. The days of walking onto a college and not feeling guilty that someone didn't go home alive was now permanently epoxied with the images of Frank's torture chamber, that nagging, chewing pain behind the eyes always quick to follow. No, Jason Gideon did not profess anymore.

That left him with little to do, sure he had his hobbies, but his career had all but consumed his life and now staring at birds and chess-boards between his bouts of cooking took him only so far from that dark world. He wondered how a person with an eidetic memory would be able to cope successfully, or even if that were possible. He had a responsibility to Reid to understand if he had opened Pandora's box upon the young man's world by selecting him for the BAU. He took out his go-bag, a bag he had unpacked 283 times since retiring, and yet managed to pack 284 times.

Loading into his comfortable sedan, he steeled himself for a car-ride. He had been reading the news online lately, probably thanks to Garcia's influences but he'd never admit to it. The team was currently in the Chesapeake Bay area of Maryland, by what he gathered, it was a serial rapist graduating to murder, more precisely, graduating to serial murder. He supposed much like John Wayne Gacy that the rapist was still keeping the one skill set sharp as he dappled in murder, too.

Reid set his bag done inside the hotel before moving toward the shower, miserably. Hotch raised an eyebrow watching his subordinate strip the layers off to expose his lover, as his own tie fell he transformed as well.

"You worried me today."

Holding up a singular, slender finger, pointed upward Reid gave the non-verbal cue for Hotch to shut up, the pointer finger tsked to the side in an admonishing wag. "I don't want to hear it. You think I had fun being pushed through a glass-pane?" He caught sight of his own bandaged wrist and forearm before giving it a dirty look.

Hotch approached in fast steps to wrap his arms around Reid's waist. "I love you."

"I love you too, but don't try to change the subject. That's my job." Reid smiled despite himself, and after going on the tips of his toes kissed Hotch's hairline before rocking back to the flats of his feet. "I need to take a shower, someone should accompany me to make sure I don't make a mess of my bandages though. Any volunteers?"

Hotch gave a wolfish grin to besmirch the sheepish way he raised his own hand to offer his services. Reid fully disrobed leaving the stark white bandage on soft translucent skin, managing to make his pasty complexion appear more tan as Spencer walked into the bathroom fully.

Aaron closed the gap between the two, managing to slide into the cramped tub and drawing the curtain around most of the other occupant, a stray arm sticking out and perpendicularly as the two fumbled with soap and each other.

The shower fellatio had been superb to Spencer, despite how uncomfortably close they were forced to get, and to keep his arm in that awkward angle constantly outside the shower (and thus not raking through Aaron's hair) had been challenging, but the pay-off was well-worth, sort of. Being shoved through a large pane of glass and genuinely being fearful of bleeding to death because some perp with an open warrant out on him decided it was worth adding seven years for assaulting a federal agent instead of pay child-support… it was hard to let fellatio be worth that. Now, mind blowing sex, that might be a compromise he could make, but only mind-blowing sex, not just a quick romp.

Aaron was allowing Spencer, patiently, to finish his own inner musings before pulling himself back upright, one hand still pushing Spencer's elbow outside the shower, and locking lips with him. His tongue and Spencer's seed, mingling over and around the mouth of his younger lover, pleasantly cumulating in the taste that was Dr. Spencer Reid and equally all parts amazing. Spencer didn't seem impressed by the flavor though. He pulled back, with the inch of space he was allotted before hitting shower-stall tile to give Aaron a look. He let out a wispy, "That's bitter…"

"Too much coffee." Aaron informed him, in a low, gruff, sexy voice that belayed the statement as to holding no merit with him, "I think it's just right."

Spencer pinched the bridge of Aaron's nose playfully at that. "You're talking too much." The smile evident as he spoke proved he didn't mind the role-reversal to Aaron's delight.

"We should cut the short." Aaron sighed, moving his hand for the spigot. "We still don't have our unsub."

"I know, I just got lucky and spooked a jerk who thought he had nothing to lose. He was wrong." Spencer said coldly, almost ecstatic that the dead-beat would get an extra seven years in a box for pushing him through that window, of course that was depending on the information he had. There was a good chance that if he rolled on his friend, like they supposed he would, that he'd get a set of wage reductions so that his baby's mama would simply get the child support due to her kids and Reid would be rewarded the joys of knowing that his little scare helped put away a rapist serial killer. That and work-man's comp bought a coffee. Okay, several coffees.

Aaron had pulled out an over-starched towel and began rubbing Spencer's hair with the scratchy thing dry. Spencer wasn't finding the treatment too favorable thanks to the quality of the material, but couldn't break himself from the proximity with Aaron. He leaned in close to Aaron, blowing hot breath to his ear erotically. Aaron felt the hardness that was Spencer in the front of his upper, inner thigh. His smile faltered at the knock to the door.

Not the outer door, but to the bathroom door. Both men reverts instantly to agent mode, assessing where the nearest gun was located, which coincidentally was the gun safe under the bed closest to the main entrance, opposite the kitchenette by seven paces.

Hotch held his finger to his mouth, as he signaled to Reid to get against the wall closest to the door, luckily his uninjured arm aligned with the plan. He'd open the door, take the brunt of any blitz attack, and then kick the ass of whoever the hell intruded on their bliss, and leave Reid to cover him as best as he'd be able to. That had been the plan, of course, until the knock was repeated and followed by a, "Reid, how long has Hotch been fucking you?"

It would have amused Hotch to watch Reid deflate so quickly, if the circumstance didn't stand as it was.

"Gideon? What the hell are you doing in my hotel room in Maryland?" Reid's voice cracked indignantly.

"I'll leave you two to finish up, I'll be downstairs. We need to talk. Does Strauss know what you're doing, Hotch?"

At the thought of the nagging blond, Hotch found himself going semi-soft, refusing to give Gideon the gloating rights of completely robbing him of his momentum, thanks to compartmentalization Hotch kept half a hard-on for sheer stubbornness.

Fumbling finally for a bathrobe, Reid wrapped the one around himself before telling Hotch with his eyes to stay there and not dare exit until an 'all clear of Gideon' was given off. Hotch didn't have the heart to let Reid know that it was obvious Gideon would know Reid was lying, but he let his lover have the security he afforded himself. So he waited as Reid walked into an empty hotel room, deadbolt and chain-lock a hotel room door, and then ahem loudly enough for Hotch to realize the signal for what it was and walk into the room, dressing casually, be damned if he was putting the suit of for Gideon of all people.

Reid was thankful, in the instance that he walked into the restaurant of the hotel, that it was before last-call as he spotted Gideon at the bar. He ordered up two drinks, a brandy and a shot, the shot went first, the brandy sipped at secondly as he looked at Gideon expectantly.

"Fucking your boss, not the smartest thing in the world, I'd have thought you'd know better than that." Reid gave Gideon a tempered glance that was really a short-lived glare before signaling the bartender to return with two shots in the line-up. He knocked them back before meeting eyes with Gideon again.

"The drinks aren't that great and they're over-priced so I know you aren't here for that, so why are you here?" Reid gave no illusion that he wanted to know that, but Gideon pretended he had and continued.

"I wanted to see how you were. I heard you hurt your arm."

"How?" Reid was indignant, not used to being stalked, but knowing he all but had to have been for the past half hour to have happened as it did. It was particularly perturbing that his former mentor was the one stalking him, apparently.

"I came to Maryland to reminisce, then I heard the police talking."

"You don't cross state lines to reminisce with a person you haven't written a letter to or spoken on the phone for several years with and then appear in their hotel rooms accusing them of…" his voice started haughtily but tapered at the confession, "…of sleeping with his boss, especially when followed by the names of their supervisors." His brow furrowed heatedly.

"He's emotionally damaged, he'll never give you a sense of security that you need. You'll never be first place to him, you'll always be number three at best, right behind his job and his son, and actually, I'd say four, because his image would come before you too. After all, he isn't here now, now is he?"

Reid signaled for another round and slid it to the empty seat beside him, "He will be. He had to ask the hotel clerk a question first." Reid's mind screamed a sound, 'Namely, why the hell you were let into our room' which Gideon picked up on with ease.

Before he had the chance to comment, Hotch came into the bar area, bee-lining for the empty seat beside Reid and taking in the sight of the drink before him, a scotch. He didn't think it was quite the social event to warrant a drink with an old colleague, but he assumed Reid had done that for bravado, proof that he knew Hotch would show.

He put his hand on the small of Reid's back, consciously, as he sat down, making damn sure to catch eyes with Gideon first. Reid was now sandwiched between to opposing forces who both knew exactly what was best for the genius. He didn't envy him at the moment, and would have told Reid he should go back to his room but Gideon interrupted him, not surprisingly.

"This isn't what I came here to talk about. I wanted to know how you were doing since I left."

"So by talking about how, what and who I have been doing would go against that, right." Reid nodded curtly. Hotch ran a finger along his eyebrow, a non-verbal cue to signal Reid to shut up that didn't work when Reid wasn't looking at him. He just owned up to Gideon what they had been accused of, well, not technically, but close enough to make him sweat. This was a high-stakes poker game.

"It's not like I'm in open communications with Strauss, you can drop your guard for crying out loud, Hotch. Well, maybe you shouldn't, they seem pretty damn lax already. What the hell are you thinking SHARING a hotel room… a single king suite no less!"

"We accommodated them when they were short one room. They didn't know who went into what room."

"Right." Gideon looked at him incredulously, "Reid, I'm heading back tonight, we should catch up over dinner." His look read the invitation was instead of a conversation with Strauss, the kind of 'recommendation' that it was very mandatory to attend, Reid felt miserable all over again.

He mused internally if Hotch's fellatio would kiss and make it better twice in one night or if the charm was a one-time only deal.