(no subject)
Title: Shoes
Author: Becky_H
Characters: Morgan, Hotch
Genre: Meta!Fic
Word count: 250, exactly.
Rating: G
Summary: Morgan doesn't believe Hotch was on a SWAT team. Then he sees Hotch's shoes.
Author's Notes: This is more meta than fic. Posted here for posterity.
When Gideon told Morgan that Hotch had been on a SWAT team Morgan laughed: No way.
Lawyer he didn’t have a problem believing. The guy moved, smelled and sure as hell dressed like somebody more interested in chasing a political agenda than an unsub.
Then he and Hotch got stuck sharing a hotel room, on some case in butt-fuck-nowhere, and he’d gotten a real close look at a couple of Hotch’s suits.
They were tailored all right, but not to look good.
The fabric felt all wrong - it was too smooth and too cool to be all wool. A little more investigation revealed that the seams were different. There was some kind of extra fabric hidden in them, or something. It didn’t take Morgan long to figure out why that would be - more room to move without ripping out the crotch.
He was crouched down in front of the closet, pair of Hotch’s shoes upside down in his hand when Hotch walked in from the bathroom. Hotch stopped and leaned against the door-jam, arms and legs crossed, and raised his eyebrows at Morgan.
Morgan glanced at the soles of Hotch’s shoes again. The soles had been replaced. They weren’t the smooth, slick ones that came standard. They had tread.
Morgan put the shoes he was holding back down and looked up at Hotch. “SWAT, huh?”
“SWAT,” Hotch confirmed, with a very slight nod. “Now get out of my pants and stay out of them. My wife wouldn’t approve.”
Author: Becky_H
Characters: Morgan, Hotch
Genre: Meta!Fic
Word count: 250, exactly.
Rating: G
Summary: Morgan doesn't believe Hotch was on a SWAT team. Then he sees Hotch's shoes.
Author's Notes: This is more meta than fic. Posted here for posterity.
When Gideon told Morgan that Hotch had been on a SWAT team Morgan laughed: No way.
Lawyer he didn’t have a problem believing. The guy moved, smelled and sure as hell dressed like somebody more interested in chasing a political agenda than an unsub.
Then he and Hotch got stuck sharing a hotel room, on some case in butt-fuck-nowhere, and he’d gotten a real close look at a couple of Hotch’s suits.
They were tailored all right, but not to look good.
The fabric felt all wrong - it was too smooth and too cool to be all wool. A little more investigation revealed that the seams were different. There was some kind of extra fabric hidden in them, or something. It didn’t take Morgan long to figure out why that would be - more room to move without ripping out the crotch.
He was crouched down in front of the closet, pair of Hotch’s shoes upside down in his hand when Hotch walked in from the bathroom. Hotch stopped and leaned against the door-jam, arms and legs crossed, and raised his eyebrows at Morgan.
Morgan glanced at the soles of Hotch’s shoes again. The soles had been replaced. They weren’t the smooth, slick ones that came standard. They had tread.
Morgan put the shoes he was holding back down and looked up at Hotch. “SWAT, huh?”
“SWAT,” Hotch confirmed, with a very slight nod. “Now get out of my pants and stay out of them. My wife wouldn’t approve.”