Safe
Title: Safe
Pairing/Characters: Reid, Garcia, Rossi, JJ, Prentiss, Hotch, Morgan
Prompt: Current team, puppy pile after a long case (via the CM kink meme) & dream (via my crimeland prompt table)
Rating: G
Words: 1017
Warnings: None! (Kinkmeme!fail)
Notes: I think I'm the only person in history to write a G-rated fic for a kink meme. Oops.
They should all be used to it by now -- the violence, the torture, the despicable truth of what people do to one another -- and for the most part, they are. They can be clinical and technical; professional and objective. They have to be if they want to stay sane, if they want to keep from becoming the monsters they chase.
But there are cases that approach the threshold of too much, and this last one had been one of the worst. It had ended in a suicide, as they'd predicted it would -- the crowning horror in what had been six solid weeks of carnage -- and by the time all of their statements had been taken, it was well past 2am. Nobody felt like flying, and the decision to return to their hotel for one more night had been unanimous.
It had been Morgan who suggested a drink and JJ who convinced Reid that, at this point, it could almost be considered a professional necessity, and they'd all agreed with an exhausted sort of enthusiasm when Morgan said he'd been tucking rum away under his bed since they'd arrived.
They all cram into Morgan's room, Hotch and Rossi pulling two chairs up alongside the king-sized bed that the rest of them all pile onto, and they drink rum and coke out of plastic bathroom cups, shoulder-to-shoulder in the dim light of the desk lamp. The warmth of their bodies and the warmth of the liquor and the lulling rhythms of heartbeats and breaths and murmured conversation makes them all feel heavy. Their proximity to one another makes them feel safe, something they rarely feel when they're alone.
Prentiss is the first to nod off, her head lolling against Morgan's shoulder where they are sitting side-by-side against the headboard. She can sleep anywhere -- a benefit of having spent her childhood in so many different beds -- and Rossi smiles as Morgan takes her drink from between her knees and sets it aside. He starts to ease her down to the mattress, but she grumbles, so, afraid to wake her, he eases down with her, handing his own cup off to JJ.
JJ sips it and passes it to Reid, who passes it to Garcia, who downs it with a sleepy grin and tosses the empty cup to the floor over her shoulder. By the time they've finished Morgan's drink, he's passed out, also, his breathing ruffling Prentiss's hair. JJ smiles and tucks the blankets around them as best she can, but they've rumpled and caught everywhere, so it's basically useless.
You should get this on film, Reid says to Hotch, nodding his head at Morgan and Prentiss. Garcia glares at him, backhanding him gently in the arm. Reid moves to block her, catching her by the wrist, and their eyes meet and their hands drop into her lap together and stay there, crossing JJ's body. Garcia squeezes his fingers and rubs patterns into his palm, and by the time she's worked her way to his thumb, he's slumped down and dozing into his own chest, soothed by her touch.
Garcia smiles as JJ scoots sideways and lets Reid curl into a ball between herself and Garcia. Garcia drops his hands and pats his head and exchanges an affectionate glance with JJ, who removes Reid's glasses and sets them next to Prentiss's half-empty drink.
JJ's fingers find their way into Reid's mussed-up hair, and she rubs circles into his scalp slowly, rhythmically, until her own eyes start to close.
Prentiss has rolled so that she's lying flat against Morgan's chest, her body draped over his, one foot hanging off the end of the bed by Hotch's knees. Hotch takes off her shoes and sets them neatly, side-by-side, by the nightstand, then does the same with Morgan's. Prentiss curls up tighter, drawing her knees into the space between Morgan's sprawled-open thighs.
JJ finds herself trapped between the Morgan-Prentiss knot and Reid's sleeping body, and she doesn't want to wake any of them. Instead, she maneuvers herself down in the middle and curls herself to align with Reid, tucking her head against the warm curve of his neck and breathing in his rhythm. Behind her, Prentiss's hand comes to rest against JJ's cheek, but before she can move it, she's asleep.
Garcia takes her glasses off and looks around for somewhere to put them. Rossi reaches over and takes them from her, setting them beside Reid's, and Garcia smiles gratefully.
Might as well, Rossi says, nodding towards the bed, and Garcia laughs and snuggles in beside Reid. His fingers creep out, and he twists the hem of her shirt between them. Garcia wriggles up close to him and passes out within seconds.
Hotch and Rossi look at each other and roll their eyes fondly, then Rossi shrugs and kicks off his shoes. Hotch gives him a look that says Are you serious?, but it's a heavy, sleepy-looking reprimand, which Rossi ignores with grace. He settles himself at the foot, lying horizontally beneath the five pairs of legs and feet curled and sprawled at haphazard angles and shuts his eyes.
During the night, Prentiss's feet tangle up with Rossi's, and her toes worm their way into his pantleg. Reid begins to whimper in his sleep, his face screwing up in terror. The change in his breath and the noise he's making wake Garcia, who presses her cheek to his and whispers shhhhhh. Without waking, JJ wraps her arm around him and mumbles it's all right, and Garcia fits her hand neatly into JJ's. Reid twitches and whispers Mom one last time, then slips a hand beneath Garcia's shirt to feel her skin and is quiet.
In the morning, Hotch is the last to wake. Morgan opens his eyes to find him still in the chair, pulled up next to the bed. He has one hand beneath the blankets, sandwiched between Morgan's own hand and Prentiss's. The other is in his lap, his thumb loosely hooked through the earpieces of both Reid's and Garcia's glasses.
Pairing/Characters: Reid, Garcia, Rossi, JJ, Prentiss, Hotch, Morgan
Prompt: Current team, puppy pile after a long case (via the CM kink meme) & dream (via my crimeland prompt table)
Rating: G
Words: 1017
Warnings: None! (Kinkmeme!fail)
Notes: I think I'm the only person in history to write a G-rated fic for a kink meme. Oops.
They should all be used to it by now -- the violence, the torture, the despicable truth of what people do to one another -- and for the most part, they are. They can be clinical and technical; professional and objective. They have to be if they want to stay sane, if they want to keep from becoming the monsters they chase.
But there are cases that approach the threshold of too much, and this last one had been one of the worst. It had ended in a suicide, as they'd predicted it would -- the crowning horror in what had been six solid weeks of carnage -- and by the time all of their statements had been taken, it was well past 2am. Nobody felt like flying, and the decision to return to their hotel for one more night had been unanimous.
It had been Morgan who suggested a drink and JJ who convinced Reid that, at this point, it could almost be considered a professional necessity, and they'd all agreed with an exhausted sort of enthusiasm when Morgan said he'd been tucking rum away under his bed since they'd arrived.
They all cram into Morgan's room, Hotch and Rossi pulling two chairs up alongside the king-sized bed that the rest of them all pile onto, and they drink rum and coke out of plastic bathroom cups, shoulder-to-shoulder in the dim light of the desk lamp. The warmth of their bodies and the warmth of the liquor and the lulling rhythms of heartbeats and breaths and murmured conversation makes them all feel heavy. Their proximity to one another makes them feel safe, something they rarely feel when they're alone.
Prentiss is the first to nod off, her head lolling against Morgan's shoulder where they are sitting side-by-side against the headboard. She can sleep anywhere -- a benefit of having spent her childhood in so many different beds -- and Rossi smiles as Morgan takes her drink from between her knees and sets it aside. He starts to ease her down to the mattress, but she grumbles, so, afraid to wake her, he eases down with her, handing his own cup off to JJ.
JJ sips it and passes it to Reid, who passes it to Garcia, who downs it with a sleepy grin and tosses the empty cup to the floor over her shoulder. By the time they've finished Morgan's drink, he's passed out, also, his breathing ruffling Prentiss's hair. JJ smiles and tucks the blankets around them as best she can, but they've rumpled and caught everywhere, so it's basically useless.
You should get this on film, Reid says to Hotch, nodding his head at Morgan and Prentiss. Garcia glares at him, backhanding him gently in the arm. Reid moves to block her, catching her by the wrist, and their eyes meet and their hands drop into her lap together and stay there, crossing JJ's body. Garcia squeezes his fingers and rubs patterns into his palm, and by the time she's worked her way to his thumb, he's slumped down and dozing into his own chest, soothed by her touch.
Garcia smiles as JJ scoots sideways and lets Reid curl into a ball between herself and Garcia. Garcia drops his hands and pats his head and exchanges an affectionate glance with JJ, who removes Reid's glasses and sets them next to Prentiss's half-empty drink.
JJ's fingers find their way into Reid's mussed-up hair, and she rubs circles into his scalp slowly, rhythmically, until her own eyes start to close.
Prentiss has rolled so that she's lying flat against Morgan's chest, her body draped over his, one foot hanging off the end of the bed by Hotch's knees. Hotch takes off her shoes and sets them neatly, side-by-side, by the nightstand, then does the same with Morgan's. Prentiss curls up tighter, drawing her knees into the space between Morgan's sprawled-open thighs.
JJ finds herself trapped between the Morgan-Prentiss knot and Reid's sleeping body, and she doesn't want to wake any of them. Instead, she maneuvers herself down in the middle and curls herself to align with Reid, tucking her head against the warm curve of his neck and breathing in his rhythm. Behind her, Prentiss's hand comes to rest against JJ's cheek, but before she can move it, she's asleep.
Garcia takes her glasses off and looks around for somewhere to put them. Rossi reaches over and takes them from her, setting them beside Reid's, and Garcia smiles gratefully.
Might as well, Rossi says, nodding towards the bed, and Garcia laughs and snuggles in beside Reid. His fingers creep out, and he twists the hem of her shirt between them. Garcia wriggles up close to him and passes out within seconds.
Hotch and Rossi look at each other and roll their eyes fondly, then Rossi shrugs and kicks off his shoes. Hotch gives him a look that says Are you serious?, but it's a heavy, sleepy-looking reprimand, which Rossi ignores with grace. He settles himself at the foot, lying horizontally beneath the five pairs of legs and feet curled and sprawled at haphazard angles and shuts his eyes.
During the night, Prentiss's feet tangle up with Rossi's, and her toes worm their way into his pantleg. Reid begins to whimper in his sleep, his face screwing up in terror. The change in his breath and the noise he's making wake Garcia, who presses her cheek to his and whispers shhhhhh. Without waking, JJ wraps her arm around him and mumbles it's all right, and Garcia fits her hand neatly into JJ's. Reid twitches and whispers Mom one last time, then slips a hand beneath Garcia's shirt to feel her skin and is quiet.
In the morning, Hotch is the last to wake. Morgan opens his eyes to find him still in the chair, pulled up next to the bed. He has one hand beneath the blankets, sandwiched between Morgan's own hand and Prentiss's. The other is in his lap, his thumb loosely hooked through the earpieces of both Reid's and Garcia's glasses.