A/N: Hello, loves, Happy New Year! Another little Hotch/Reid fic-lots of fluff here, and hopefully, humor. See below for warnings, etc. Hope you like it!


Rating: M, FRAO
Characters/Pairings: Hotch/Reid
Warnings: Slash, language, sex. Intense fluffiness. Insulin available upon request.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one from "Criminal Minds" and no money is made from this, it is just for fun.
Summary: A quiet weekend for Aaron and Spencer leads to some naughty goings-on-and a happy realization. Set after "100," established relationship.
Author's Note: Written for the IKY'dU Blog Hotch/Reid Writing Challenge #10.
Prompt: Ratty jeans and a t-shirt.
Blog link: http:/www dot Iknewyoudunderstand dot / (replace "dot" with . to get to site.)

A Saturday morning.

Aaron Hotchner didn't mark time the way most people did. Not when he was working a case, anyway. Weekends, holidays, the magical 5:00 hour which so many workers equated with freedom-none of these mattered to him when lives were on the line, when his team was working feverishly, dangerously, to bring in an unsub.

But, it had been a quiet week. For once, Friday night had been, well, Friday night, a time when the burden of his responsibilities as Unit Chief could be safely laid down, when he could look forward to two days (two!) of blessedly mundane household chores, hours with his son, and some all-too-brief private moments with a certain someone who was currently sharing his bed.

Aaron opened his eyes, but he was aware of the younger man's presence long before that. A warm weight nestled against his chest. Soft, even breathing. That curious (delicious) scent combination of freshly washed hair and sex-generated sweat. Aaron opened his eyes and took in the mop of honey-colored curls, some of which tickled his nose, and the bare shoulder poking out from under the patchwork quilt that covered them both.

As Aaron's eyes adjusted to the morning light, he focused on a dark discoloration on the pale skin-when did that happen? He hadn't noticed it before... He shifted so that he could examine it better, then broke into a smile. Oh. That's right, he'd done that. In a moment of wild abandon, just before he'd let go and ejaculated deep into his lover, he'd clamped his teeth down on Spencer's shoulder, right at the neck. Hard enough, apparently, to leave this interesting bruise in the cream-colored skin.

Aaron brought one hand out from beneath the covers and gently traced the tell-tale pattern. He gathered Spencer closer to him and ran his tongue over the mark. Spencer sighed and companionably wriggled his rear end into Aaron's groin.

"Admiring your handiwork?" he asked, his voice raspy from sleep.

"I'm sorry. I must have gotten carried away."

"I'll say." Spencer yawned extravagantly. "I'll barely be able to walk, after a night like that." He rolled over to face Aaron and kissed him deeply. Aaron chuckled and joyfully kissed him back; he'd experienced nothing in his life that compared to the feeling of Spencer Reid, warm, naked, lusty and eager, wrapped in his arms first thing in the morning.

It didn't happen often enough.

They kissed. They ran their hands over each other, and to Aaron's delight, Spencer disappeared under the quilt, kissing his way down Aaron's belly until he reached his cock. Aaron closed his eyes; a warm little tongue flicked out and lapped over the head, teasing, teasing. Long, elegant fingers wrapped around the base; a squeeze, gentle enough, but promising more, then Aaron felt Spencer take him into his warm, wet mouth; goddamn, a deep suck, powerful, the swirl of a tongue, and-

"Daddy! I'm hungreee!"


Spencer emerged from under the covers, reminding Aaron of a curious prairie dog, and he couldn't help but laugh. Spencer grinned back. "'Hungry, Daddy,'" he mimicked, and he kissed Aaron before rolling out of bed and pulling on underwear and a robe. "I'll go start coffee and wrangle the starving young Hotchner progeny. You get dressed-remember, you promised to take a look at my car today."

Aaron groaned. He wasn't exactly a mechanic, but he did know a thing or two about engines, and while Spencer had a degree in engineering, he'd cheerfully gone along in life content to allow the workings of the internal combustion engine to remain a mystery to him, except on paper.

"It's one of the defining goals of my life, to have enough money to afford to have other people repair my car," he'd once confided to Aaron. Aaron supposed he could at least make a preliminary diagnosis for him. From the sound of the ailing vehicle's symptoms, it was probably something simple. Or, something insanely expensive. Aaron noticed it tended to be one or the other with Spencer's aged car.

Reluctantly, he got up, took a quick shower and dressed in his favorite ratty old jeans and a white t-shirt. It wasn't an outfit that had gotten much use lately; in fact, he'd hardly worn the jeans at all, since taking the BAU job. But, he wouldn't get rid of them. They were a treasured relic from his college days, and they were just right for performing homey tasks and working in the garage. He pulled them on, sliding the wear-softened denim up over his legs. He buttoned the burnished brass button, pulled up the zipper, and was rewarded with a crisp "zip!" sound. He took a quick glance in the mirror and allowed himself a little smirk of satisfaction-they still fit perfectly.

He headed to the kitchen, where Spencer and Jack were seated at the table. Jack was eating cereal and the two of them were arguing about who was tougher, Batman or Superman, seeing that Batman was just a regular human being, while Superman had super powers that made him invincible (what's 'VINS-ble, Spencer?), so it really wasn't a fair comparison, but, yeah, Batman did have a really cool car, so that counted for something.

Spencer looked up when Aaron came in, and a pleased smile crept across his face. "Wow. I wasn't expecting Marlon Brando to make an appearance."

"This is my day-off outfit, I'm not surprised you've never seen it," Aaron commented as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Spencer nodded. He now had a nice view of Aaron's denim-clad ass, and he paused to enjoy it a moment before replying. "Clearly, I've been missing out. It's quite fetching."

"Glad you like it." They leveled highly inappropriate looks at each other, then Aaron turned to Jack. "Hurry up, son, you've got a play date with Danny this morning, remember?"

"Oh, yeah! I'll go get dressed." The little boy scooted off to his room, then returned to present himself for inspection. Aaron approved, took him out to the car, belted him into his car seat, and then, thirty minutes later, Aaron returned home from dropping Jack off at his friend's house.

"Spencer?" he called as he entered his house. No answer. He noticed the door to the garage was ajar, and he heard noises from within. "Spencer?"

"I'm here." The hood was up, and Spencer was leaning into the depths of his battered Volvo with a dismayed expression and a smudge of oil on his cheek. He looked up as Aaron walked in. "Now it won't even start. I was going to surprise you with bagels from Stein's, but it just made this weird noise and then, nothing."

"Hmm. Where'd this come from?" Aaron used his thumb to remove the smudge.

"I thought perhaps I could, you know, do something about it."

"I see. And, what, exactly, did you do?"

"I poked things."

"Poked things."

"Yes, but it didn't help."

"I imagine not. Let me take a look." Aaron took over the mechanic's stance and noted a couple of things immediately. "Your alternator is shot."

"It is?"

"Yes. Look, this buildup of corrosion indicates that it's not keeping the battery charged."

"That's bad, isn't it?"

"Pretty bad. Also, you have a loose belt, see?"


"You're not even looking."

"I find it distasteful, becoming so intimate with my car's innards. I prefer to keep things casual between us." Spencer had found some wet-wipes and was now meticulously cleaning his hands, like a surgeon after a particularly bloody operation.

Aaron grinned slightly, then motioned toward his tool cabinet. "Hand me a wrench, please."

"Okay." Spencer went to fetch the item, but just stood peering into the cabinet.

Aaron raised an eyebrow. "You do know what a wrench is, correct?"

"Oh, yes. They're occasionally used as murder weapons. But, there are several sizes-which one do you want?"

"Actually, just hand me the multi-tool."

"The what?"

"The multi-tool. It's that folding thing. You know-like a Swiss Army knife."

Spencer gave him a dubious look, but found the item, removed it from its package and handed it to Aaron. Spencer then leaned against the car, and began to read the care instructions out loud. "Regularly clean and fully dry your multi-tool, especially after use. Well, that makes sense." Spencer cleared his throat and continued.

"When necessary, oil the pivot points with light oil. Be sure to clean the blade and handle set after each use. A mild solution of soap and water should remove any dirt and debris that have accumulated during use-"


"To remove any debris from inside the handle you can use a toothpick for any visible lint or dirt, or a Q-Tip for smaller amounts of dirt and debris. Also, a can of compressed air is useful for-"


"-completely clearing out any embedded dirt or lint. (Ensure that you follow all recommended cautionary guidelines that the product provides, as some compressed air canisters use an accelerant which might damage your tool's finish.) Hey, that's a good point, you better not forget to do that... If extremely dirty-"

"Spencer, please."

"-or after exposure to salt water, rinse the tool in fresh water, or with a mild solution of diluted soap and water, and completely dry the tool with a soft cotton cloth. Apply a light coat of-"



"Enough-I don't care about all that.".

"But, Aaron, it says right here, Practicing proper care for your SG-450 will extend the life of your multi-tool as well as increase its reliability and durability. Do you do that?"

"Not really."

"Well, you should. That thing looks expensive."

"I'll keep it in mind. Could you grab a flashlight and give me some light over here?"

Spencer did as requested, and he pretended to take an interest in what Aaron was doing with the multi-tool, but it quickly became obvious that he was only using it as an excuse to sidle up closer to his lover. Amused, Aaron slipped an arm around him and gave him a reproving look.

"This is hardly conducive to the task at hand."

Spencer gave a low chuckle. "Well, we were interrupted earlier. Maybe we should finish that up that little task, before we move on to another one. Especially since we're alone in the house now, and you look so damn sexy with a, um, multi-tool in your hand." Spencer sank to his knees and pulled Aaron around to face him. He looked up and down at Aaron's jeans and fingered the tattered hole in one knee. There was a matching one on the other leg. "So-how'd you get these?"

"Not the way you're thinking." Aaron leaned back as Spencer's deft fingers unzipped, unbuttoned, and freed Aaron's cock from its faded blue confines.

Aaron watched his member disappear into Spencer's mouth. He loved that sight; Spencer was absolutely beautiful. His full lips slid along Aaron's length, teeth pressing teasingly into velvet over hard flesh, then he pulled back and lapped at him with his tongue. Aaron ran his left, still-clean, hand through Spencer's hair, then gripped the back of his head, and pushed the tip between Spencer's lips. Spencer looked up with darkened eyes, took him in, and let Aaron guide himself down his throat to thrust back and forth a few times.

It was too deep, too much. Spencer coughed, pulled back, then began sucking him. Aaron shuddered, and shocks of pleasure ran throughout his nervous system. He gasped, moaned, and caressed his lover. A surge of emotion, something more, something different than lust, went through him like a torrent.

"Spencer..." he said softly.

Saying "I love you" at that particular moment probably wasn't appropriate. Maybe it wasn't even true. But, the fact was that he was happier with the slender young profiler than he had ever been with Haley, and he wanted nothing more than to bring him as much pleasure as he received from him. He looked down and carefully disengaged from Spencer's warm mouth.

"Come here."

Spencer looked up and pulled back. Aaron's eyes were warm and loving and Spencer smiled. Just to see Aaron happy-regardless of the reason-made Spencer's heart feel lighter. He stood up and Aaron engulfed him in a tight hug. They swayed together for a moment, then kissed hungrily. Aaron grabbed a cloth, cleaned his hands, then fumbled at Spencer's slacks and pulled them down, aware of the bright brown eyes watching him. He kissed him and turned him around, had him grip the edge of the car, then reached for a bottle of hand lotion he kept on his work table.

Spencer sighed as he felt Aaron's long, slender middle finger slide into him. It felt so good; he began shifting his hips in rhythm with Aaron's gentle attentions, feeling himself relaxing, opening up for him. He spread his legs wider, raised his ass, and leaned further forward, giving Aaron full access. He wanted him inside him, wanted to feel Aaron taking him, possessing him. He wanted to belong to him, and when Aaron held him that way, when he penetrated him, he felt as if he did.

"Please, Aaron." The garage was quiet except for the sound of a soft autumn wind that rustled tree limbs against the house. Aaron heard the breathed plea and slicked his cock with the lotion; Spencer felt the wet tip probe at him, then slip inside, and he gasped. He felt alive like this; more than at any other time, except perhaps during an adrenaline-fueled confrontation with an unsub. Aaron's thrusts began to take him to another level, and he lost his connection with the present. In his mind, everything was swirling, and all he knew was pleasure.

Aaron liked this; he liked raw sex surrounded by his tools and worktable. Liked smelling grease and motor oil and gasoline; and the familiar scent of Spencer's warm body. Liked the feeling of an old white t-shirt clinging to his torso, and his well-worn jeans in a puddle around his ankles. For a moment, everything lined up into sharp focus, and he shot into Spencer, filling him, relieving himself of all worry and tension, and for a moment, he felt the way he had in college, when his jeans were brand-new, and his world was anything he could imagine.

"I love you," he gasped, not caring if it was the wrong time to say it, not caring if it was too much. He loved Spencer, and he wasn't going to pretend anymore.

He pulled out and reached down to pull up his jeans. Spencer gingerly did the same, zipped up, and turned to face him. He looked uncertain.

"What did you say?"

"I said, I love you." Aaron held Spencer's gaze, never faltering, silently telling him what the words were too weak to convey. Suddenly, a huge smile took over every inch of Spencer's face and he threw himself into Aaron's arms.

"You mean it, don't you? You... mean it."

"Yes, I do." Aaron pulled back to look at him, and smiled. "And, what about you? Have I just made a fool of myself or what?"

Spencer shook his head eagerly. "No! I love you, too-you know that."

"Mm. Maybe. But, it's nice to hear the words."

"Well-you're going to hear them a lot. I love you. I love you, Aaron."

"Thank God."

They stood smiling at each other for a long moment, then somehow they managed to turn back to the car, and Aaron removed the cracked belt and the bad alternator, and after a quick clean-up, he took Spencer with him to the auto parts store, and to breakfast afterwards.

By the end of the day, Spencer had a working vehicle. Jack was fed and in bed, and Aaron had muscles aching that he'd forgotten he had. He groaned as he perched on the edge of the bed and bent down to take off his shoes.

"I'm old, Spencer," he announced, clutching his back as he straightened up.

"I know."


"But, you're not too old. You're in better shape than my car is." Spencer sat down beside him and put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"That's not saying much."


"Maybe you should get a new one."

"Nah, I just got it broken in the way I like it."

"There's a thin line between broken in and broken down."

"Kind of like those jeans of yours?"

"I'm not getting rid of these jeans. Apparently, I tend to get lucky in them."

Spencer's smirk broke into a genuine laugh. "I've got news for you-luck had nothing to do with it. You look hot in those ratty old jeans, and I sincerely hope to see you in them more often. Or, out of them, preferably."

"Well, that can be arranged. In fact, they're coming off right now. How about you?"

"I'm on it." Spencer and Aaron undressed, slipped into bed and finished off the day with a loving kiss. But, Aaron didn't have the energy for anything more, and Spencer suggested he turn over on his stomach so he could give him a backrub. Spencer raised himself into a kneeling position alongside Aaron, and set to rubbing and kneading tight muscles until he felt Aaron drift off to sleep.

He didn't mind doing that for his lover. He knew that practicing proper care for a well-worn and beloved item would extend its life, as well as increase its reliability and durability.

Like a wonderful old car and the perfect pair of jeans, Aaron Hotchner was a keeper.

-The End-