(no subject)
Title: Clothes-lined
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Prompt: Asphyxiation for hc_bingo
Medium: fic
Wordcount: 567
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: Morgan grapples with an unsub. Morgan/Hotch
The term clothes-lined has never been so literal in Derek Morgan’s life than right now. The unsub had been waiting for them, as he moved to clear the room the unsub jumped out at him and wrapped the vinyl-coated wire quickly around his neck. He pulled harshly on the cord; he rivaled Morgan in size, strength, and finesse. His leverage had Morgan gasping and flailing; he knew Hotch would be there soon when he didn’t hear his brusque “clear,” he just had to position the unsub to face the doorway. It wouldn’t be hard as long as he didn’t pass out first; he can’t breathe, but he tries to stay calm. The man was like a typical movie villain, always wanting to expound on his victories rather than end it quickly. Morgan tried to fly back and knock the unsub in the stomach, but he was a quick bastard who dodged the elbow efficiently. His chuckle was condescending and egotistical; Morgan kept working to angle him towards the doorway.
Morgan can hear Hotch’s light footfalls in the hallway as his vision begins to blur; the unsub was enjoying himself too much to open his ears. There’s a quick crack and the wire loosens around his neck.
“That was much more satisfying than a gunshot,” Hotch says; he’s quickly followed by Rossi, Reid, and the locals who handcuff the subject and tempt him into consciousness.
“Are you all right?” Hotch says, standing a judicious foot away from Morgan who is rubbing his neck where a red line is embedded in his skin.
“Yeah,” Morgan croaks; Hotch, Reid, and Rossi look at him speculatively, before Reid and Rossi, followed by the locals, escort the unsub to the police cruiser outside.
Hotch’s gaze softens and he reaches to run a gentle finger along the angry line; it startles Derek: Hotch is never physically affectionate. They’re relationships consists of ripping each other’s clothes off and fighting for dominance.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Derek?”
“Yes.”
Later that evening when they’re alone in Hotch’s hotel room, Morgan pretends that everything is okay, but the irremovable necklace and constant throat-clearing tells Hotch otherwise. He sets about making a cup of tea; he exams the box of “Throat Coat” and hopes it helps.
“Making me tea, Hotch?” Morgan asks as Hotch pours hot water into the little hotel-room mug.
Hotch doesn’t respond, doesn’t think he has to as he hands Morgan the mug. Morgan swallows slowly; a wince of pain flashes across his face as the liquid runs down his throat.
“I’m sorry, Derek.”
“Part of the job, Hotch.”
“We should’ve known with his signature that something like this could happen.”
“I’m fine.”
“But you’re clearly not,” he grouses as he reaches out to touch the scarlet streak.
“I didn’t know you cared like that,” Morgan half jokes; Hotch knows he’s referring to their exclusively sexual relationship, emotion-free.
“I care about everyone on my team, Derek.”
“I know; I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know. Clearly, I do, Derek.”
“You do care like that?”
“I do.”
Morgan grins through a wince as he takes another sip. When he looks up again, he sets down his mug and reaches for Hotch. He kisses him reverently, but pulls away to cough. Hotch kisses his forehead and then gently kisses Morgan’s injured neck. They’ll never admit it, but they fall asleep curled around each other.
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Prompt: Asphyxiation for hc_bingo
Medium: fic
Wordcount: 567
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: Morgan grapples with an unsub. Morgan/Hotch
The term clothes-lined has never been so literal in Derek Morgan’s life than right now. The unsub had been waiting for them, as he moved to clear the room the unsub jumped out at him and wrapped the vinyl-coated wire quickly around his neck. He pulled harshly on the cord; he rivaled Morgan in size, strength, and finesse. His leverage had Morgan gasping and flailing; he knew Hotch would be there soon when he didn’t hear his brusque “clear,” he just had to position the unsub to face the doorway. It wouldn’t be hard as long as he didn’t pass out first; he can’t breathe, but he tries to stay calm. The man was like a typical movie villain, always wanting to expound on his victories rather than end it quickly. Morgan tried to fly back and knock the unsub in the stomach, but he was a quick bastard who dodged the elbow efficiently. His chuckle was condescending and egotistical; Morgan kept working to angle him towards the doorway.
Morgan can hear Hotch’s light footfalls in the hallway as his vision begins to blur; the unsub was enjoying himself too much to open his ears. There’s a quick crack and the wire loosens around his neck.
“That was much more satisfying than a gunshot,” Hotch says; he’s quickly followed by Rossi, Reid, and the locals who handcuff the subject and tempt him into consciousness.
“Are you all right?” Hotch says, standing a judicious foot away from Morgan who is rubbing his neck where a red line is embedded in his skin.
“Yeah,” Morgan croaks; Hotch, Reid, and Rossi look at him speculatively, before Reid and Rossi, followed by the locals, escort the unsub to the police cruiser outside.
Hotch’s gaze softens and he reaches to run a gentle finger along the angry line; it startles Derek: Hotch is never physically affectionate. They’re relationships consists of ripping each other’s clothes off and fighting for dominance.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Derek?”
“Yes.”
Later that evening when they’re alone in Hotch’s hotel room, Morgan pretends that everything is okay, but the irremovable necklace and constant throat-clearing tells Hotch otherwise. He sets about making a cup of tea; he exams the box of “Throat Coat” and hopes it helps.
“Making me tea, Hotch?” Morgan asks as Hotch pours hot water into the little hotel-room mug.
Hotch doesn’t respond, doesn’t think he has to as he hands Morgan the mug. Morgan swallows slowly; a wince of pain flashes across his face as the liquid runs down his throat.
“I’m sorry, Derek.”
“Part of the job, Hotch.”
“We should’ve known with his signature that something like this could happen.”
“I’m fine.”
“But you’re clearly not,” he grouses as he reaches out to touch the scarlet streak.
“I didn’t know you cared like that,” Morgan half jokes; Hotch knows he’s referring to their exclusively sexual relationship, emotion-free.
“I care about everyone on my team, Derek.”
“I know; I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know. Clearly, I do, Derek.”
“You do care like that?”
“I do.”
Morgan grins through a wince as he takes another sip. When he looks up again, he sets down his mug and reaches for Hotch. He kisses him reverently, but pulls away to cough. Hotch kisses his forehead and then gently kisses Morgan’s injured neck. They’ll never admit it, but they fall asleep curled around each other.