Title: Tat for Tat
Author: Kuria Dalmatia
Rating/Warnings: PG (mild profanity)
Characters/Pairing: Morgan's POV, Hotch/Reid
Summary: Ansera's Kink Meme prompt "Hotch/Reid Matching Tattoos – the team accidentally sees them."
ARCHIVING: my LJ and FFNet account... anyone else? Please ask first.
Feedback always welcome.
DISCLAIMER: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. 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: This was written a few months ago. It didn't turn out the way I had hoped, although I did discover I have a "quietly scandalize Morgan" kink now.
Changing in the men's locker room of the local PD wasn't anything new, especially after a foot chase through a rainstorm. Morgan sat on the bench and fished through his bag for a dry pair of shorts. Hotch stood next to him, already stripped down to his undershirt and boxers. They discussed the likelihood that the guy was their UnSub as they continued to undress.
At one point, Morgan glanced over just as the other man straightened. Hotch was naked from the waist down, pulling up a pair of dry boxers. Morgan was never one to stare in the locker room, but there was no mistaking the artwork etched just above the crease where Hotch's left leg met his torso.
Hotch has ink? The thought momentarily dumbfounded Morgan. The location spoke volumes; it was an intimate tattoo, one that had a deep personal meaning to Hotch. What was more intriguing was that the ink was dark and the edges were crisp, indicating that the work was relatively new.
A knock at the door interrupted Morgan's musings. Rossi popped in, told them to stop being so prissy and get back out there.
They had the wrong guy.
Musings about Hotch's secret tattoo would just have to wait.
There are some things Derek Morgan just did not need to know.
That Reid could mimic Chewbacca was one of them.
In retrospect, that was the least brain-bleaching moment of the night that they bid JJ farewell.
They were all dressed casually for the evening at the Auld Dubliner. Reid wore low-slung jeans and an untucked, black silk shirt, an ensemble Morgan was positive Garcia and/or Prentiss probably bullied him into wearing.
An ensemble that held Hotch's attention the entire night.
An ensemble which … aw, hell. There were things Morgan did not need to know.
Standing next to Reid at the row of urinals, doing their business because one didn't drink beer, one rented it and, goddamn, light beer made Morgan piss like a racehorse.
But Reid's jeans were not the pull-out-and-pee type. No. The man had a button fly. Which meant somehow, the skin of Reid's left hip and groin were exposed.
Again, Morgan was never one to "Stare and Compare." Yet the stark black ink against the pale white of Reid's skin …
Morgan had a good memory; it wasn't eidetic but good enough to recall details that struck him as out of place.
Like what looked like a relatively new tat on Reid's white skin.
The same location as Hotch's.
Morgan zipped up, dashing out of the men's room after barely washing his hands, leaving Reid wondering why he had fled.
Morgan didn't care.
All the brain bleach in the world wasn't going to erase the fact that Hotch and Reid had matching ink.
Something Morgan decided he never needed to know.
### Finis ###