Title: Ironman

Warnings: PG-13/T (profanity)

Pairings: Hotch/Reid

Summary: Reid helps Hotch train for his triathlon. Written for hotchxreid promptmeme.

Word count: ~1300

DISCLAIMER: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise to put them back when I'm done. I also don't own anything else you can recognize from other places.

Feedback is welcomed with open arms.


First thing which Spencer did upon reaching their finish line was staggering over to the grass, doing quick look around and promptly collapsing on the ground. To make his exhaustion even more dramatic he lied down completely still and twinned his hands together over his stomach and closed his eyes.

He looked like a dead man, almost. Dead men usually aren't breathing heavily and most of them aren't wearing green sweatpants and old, washed off FBI issued hoodies.

"How are you?" Aaron asked as he sat down on the ground next to Spencer after taking a sip of water.

Spencer cracked his right eye open and immediately closed it before he said, "I'm so fucking happy that FBI permits Olympic distance only for triathlons. If we had gone full length I would have said 'screw it' and dropped out after fiftieth mile on the bike."

"But you've made it," Aaron smiled.

"Barely," Spencer deadpanned. "0.93 miles of swimming in icily cold water, 24.8 miles on the bike and 6.2 miles of running, 32 miles and 1.08 yard of my life I will never get back. I think that you just shortened my lifespan by a decade. I'm not doing it ever again."

"I heard of a small community in Nevada..." Aaron started.

"Aaron," Spencer opened his eyes and looked at Aaron seriously. "Let's settle few things straight. I love you, I covered Olympic distance of a triathlon for you because that biker lost interest in training when she realized... How she put it? Oh, I remember: face it girl, it's official Prince Charming is living with Mr Right. I wish her the best of luck in finding one that doesn't, elsewhere. I'm rooting for you to win it but I'm not going to do this. Ever again. Sooner I will jump with a parachute and take tap-dancing lessons, from Morgan and we both know that he can't tap-dance to save his life..."

Aaron's smile grew even bigger, for a dead man Spencer was on the top of his game, or at the very least getting there.

"So, to sum it up, I love you and I'm not going to participate in reverse athletic training because last time I checked people bathed after training and not before," Spencer finished his tirade with a huff. "No matter how great your ass looks in this pants," he added.

"I will make it up to you," Aaron offered with a grin.

"That you will Hotchness, that you will. How about first you carry me to the car and we will see what else you can make up to me?" Spencer asked.

"I think that there is something I really don't need to make up to you," Aaron said dryly as he looked at Spencer's crotch.

"Not fucking fair," Spencer groaned. "I changed my mind, I hate you."

"That's too bad because you are stuck with me, Mr Right," Aaron smiled. "Come on, let's get home and put in the shower."


On the day of the race he was up long before Spencer dragged himself from the bed and into the shower before he padded his way to the kitchen to make breakfast for Jack and himself. By the time the two of them were finished Aaron managed to make a warm-up circle around the block, twice, call Dave to check up with him that if Jessica got called away that he would stay around to keep Spencer and Jack the company, got himself at the same time assured and mildly freaked out that the whole team would be waiting for him at the start and finish and in general managed to make a real nuisance out of himself that Spencer started giving him a look which was slowly bringing him towards spending the night on the couch.

But once they left the flat time started flying faster. Checkpoint, getting the number, making last minutes checks, breathing exercises to calm his nerves and to prepare himself for the race.

Finally the sign for start and go...

With time miles began to blur but finally after five hours and eighteen minutes he saw the finish line and his team, grinning, cheering and making a hell of a noise.

The sight made him smile as he did quick headcount. Dave with Jack on his shoulders, Jack holding the transparent that from the distance was a bit too blurry for Aaron to read properly but he could tell for sure that it contained 'GO DADDY!', Penelope, Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, Jessica... but as hard as he tried he couldn't see one of the most important faces in the crowd.

Spencer promised to be there and Aaron couldn't help but feel a pang of regret and slowly settling fear that something big had happened... Of course something big had happened because Spencer wouldn't have left otherwise without a warning.

Newly arose concern for his younger lover made him quicken his peace, bypass Morganstern from White-Collar Crime and Gravers from Crimes Against Children and reach the finish line as fast as his legs allowed him. He didn't even acknowledge his time. He simply crossed the finish line, made sure that the judges acknowledged it and he made a beeline to his team.

"Where is Spencer?" he panted out uncaring for the line between Spencer and Reid because the other had been simply missing and most probably had a helluva of a head-start.

"We lost him from our sight at the start before the race had started," Penelope replied. "He said that he needs to take care of something but that we will see him at the finish line. We had been here for two hours and he hadn't showed up. Turned both of his cell-phones off, left them in his car which is still at the parking lot there and Seth, that nice man said that he will call us if someone would come to pick his car... I swear that once I will see him I will throttle him."

"That might not be necessary," Dave said slowly. "It seems to me that he is barely breathing."

"What you... Spence? Reid?" coursed through the air.

On the curve of the road, emerging from behind the tree that covered the bend emerged a thin, tall figure. In black spandex tracksuit, with one lime green and one viciously pink socks, number 919 was plastered to his shirt and as he had gotten closer Aaron could see more clearly his lover.

His lover, who said that he was not doing it ever again, that sooner he would jump with a parachute and take tap-dancing lessons from Morgan.

His lover, who was running towards the finish line, running steadily, surly, with his head held high, hair plastered all over his face but grinning like a fool.

His lover, his lover who was a fucking Ironman for participating in the race. His lover, who had a very little training in triathlon. His lover, who almost flew past other two participants, who looked like they were about to fall down right before the finish line.

"GO REID!" Garcia hollered. "GO BOY WONDER!"

"You will make it!" Morgan yelled.

"Faster Spence!" JJ screamed.

"GO SPENCE!" Aaron found himself howling.

Twenty-fucking-eight. Spencer was twenty-eight.

The group tore themselves past other well-wishers and moral support groups to get to Spencer, who ran past the finish line, steered slightly to the right and stopped abruptly looking as if he didn't know if he should just collapse or keep standing.

Aaron immediately had his arms wrapped around his lover.

"I'm so proud of you, Spence," he whispered. "I'm so fucking proud of you. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought..." Spencer panted. "I told myself... there was... nothing wrong... with signing up... and not showing... thought I would... chicken out. And then... I thought... I made it once... I can make it twice... and I'm seriously... not doing it... ever... again. I love you."

"I love you too, Ironman," Aaron beamed at him.

The End

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