Peaches (1/2), for pinch-hitters, Hotch/Morgan, FRAO
Title: Peaches (1/2)
Author: ansera
Recipient: Pinch-hitters innerslytherin and severity_softly
Pairing: Hotch/Morgan
Rating: FRAO
Word Count: 20, 821
Warnings/Spoilers: Slash, Mentions of Past Child Abuse
Summary: Hotch, Morgan and a cat named Peaches.
A/N: Thank you for the beta, all other mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy it.
"The cat is following you?"
Morgan watched as Hotch's brows rose in utter disbelief. It was exactly what Prentiss had done before patting him on the head and telling him to go get some meds. He let out a long sigh.
"Yes, Hotch, the cat is following me," he repeated, keeping his voice steady since the claim was preposterous enough without his making it sound like a lie.
"The cat," Hotch said, still not believing him.
"The cat," Morgan agreed, crossing his arms.
He didn't honestly think that anyone would believe him immediately --because it was a cat, and no matter what Reid said about cats in close proximity with humans, their lives amounting to a symbiotic social adaptation with great affection shown to their human companions, and that, ethologically, the human keeper of a cat functions as a surrogate mother, it was still a cat.
That was why when Hotch's brows lowered and his expression became more neutral, Morgan was surprised.
"Whose cat is it?" Hotch asked, and Morgan shrugged.
"No collar, no identification, it's just a stray cat." He stepped to the side, and Hotch looked down to see the small mangy creature that had been following Morgan for most of the day.
"When did it start following you?" Hotch asked, kneeling down to look at it.
Morgan thought back, "When we found Lacy Maurer's body," he said.
Hotch's brows rose again. "That was close to eight hours ago," he sounded skeptical. "And we've been to four other places since."
"The thing keeps finding me," Morgan said, frowning at the creature.
Hotch looked down, and Morgan had the inkling that he was hiding a smile.
"It is," he said again.
Hotch looked at him, "Okay."
"Really," he frowned.
The corner of Hotch's lip was turned up in amusement. "I believe you."
Liar.
Reid stepped in, looking down at the cat with them. "Cats can hear high pitched sounds, up to 64 kHz, and they have a sense of smell fourteen times as strong as a human's, if they decide to follow a human, it would be difficult for the human to escape." He looked up at them, eyes shining with knowledge, "When a female cat is in heat, multiple males will be attracted to her, and the victor--"
"The cat that wins?" Morgan clarified.
Reid nodded, "Is allowed to mate with the cat."
"What if the cat doesn't want to mate with the victor?" Emily asked, walking up next to Reid. Apparently, if Hotch took a matter seriously, everyone else followed. "What if she likes the loser better?"
"It's interesting," Reid said, thriving on the questions, "Even if the female cat rejects the mate, she will eventually allow the male to mate with her, giving a loud yowl when he pulls out of her. After mating, the female cat will wash her vulva, and if a male tries to mate with her then, the female will attack him. Once the grooming is finished, the cycle will repeat."
Emily grinned. "You can't talk to a pimp about what her prostitutes do but you know so much about cat sex?"
Reid blushed slightly, "It's a purely scientific process involving the phys--"
"Reid," Morgan said, and Reid snapped his mouth shut. The cat let out a loud mewl and Morgan looked back at it, and it curled happily near his feet. "Now, can we please decide what to do with the cat?"
"We should find an owner," Hotch said. "Where's the nearest animal shelter?"
"0.8 miles away," Reid said absently.
Morgan turned to look at him, "You know that why?"
"I studied the maps very carefully for the case," he said, cheeks flushing slightly.
"Here, kitty, kitty," Emily bent down, hands moving forward to pick the cat up. The cat barred its teeth and growled, snapping at her fingers as it twisted its body away. She pulled back, "Not so nice kitty."
Reid shook his head, "If he likes Morgan, then he probably looks at you as someone who is trying to take it away from him--"
"I am."
"And that makes you a threat, so it retaliates," Reid concluded.
Emily shook her head. "Why would it--" she broke off, shaking her head as though telling herself not to bother. "Never mind, come on," she grabbed Reid's arm, "We're going to let these two take care of it. I don't need to be around a jealous cat," she said, throwing the phrase teasingly to Morgan.
Morgan frowned at the creature, which had calmed as the other two left, lying down on the floor comfortably in front of Morgan's feet. It liked this position, Morgan could tell, and he wasn't particularly against it either. Its coat was a strange color, a soft shade of cream with undertones of red, making it almost look peachy. Its eyes, he knew --even if they were closed now-were a bright brown, narrowing every time anyone neared.
Hotch bent down, and then put his hand out. The cat's eyes perked up, sniffing at them carefully, before it brought itself to its four feet and walked forward, tongue flicking out to lick his fingers.
Morgan grinned, "It's not jealous of you."
Hotch didn't reply, but Morgan thought he saw a small tug of his lips that could have been a smile, a genuine one.
"It likes you," Morgan continued, grinning at the cat.
Hotch let out a soft laugh and abruptly changed the topic. "Have you named it?"
"I didn't think I should get attached," Morgan said, although he had already thought of too many names --he had even swallowed his pride and asked Reid what he thought on the matter, which had achieved nothing because the man had spoken too long with too little that he had actually understood- and had eventually chosen one himself.
Hotch did smile then, and he looked up at him knowingly. "What's its name?"
"Peaches," Morgan said, biting his inner cheek uncomfortably. "You know, because its coat is peach and it fits and there isn't a name tag so it should be fine--"
Hotch interrupted his rambling. "I like it," he said softly, standing up.
Morgan grinned, "So do I."
There was a stretch of comfortable silence as Hotch's hand moved through the fur in a glide. Morgan crouched next to him, and Peaches immediately moved so that its head was within petting distance of him.
"It likes you more," Hotch said.
Morgan laughed, "So, you'll take care of it?"
Hotch started, "What?"
"I already have Clooney, so I can't have a cat too, they'll be fighting all the time --I don't care what Reid says about ambivalent behaviour- and my neighbors are already complaining about taking care of the dog. And it doesn't like anyone here but you, so, you're the only person available to take care of it," Morgan said, sounding almost matter--of--fact about the entire thing.
Hotch frowned, "I cannot take care of a cat, we--"
"Are able to keep pets outside of work, I have Clooney, don't I?" Morgan asked rhetorically. Hotch searched for another argument, and Morgan stopped him before he could bother. "We can't abandon the cat, Hotch, and it's obviously not going to let itself get taken in, so why not?"
Hotch grimaced, "But it's a cat," he said it as though a cat was the one of the unsubs they had caught.
Morgan rolled his eyes. "You've always struck me as a cat person," he joked, before grinning at the man. "I'll help you out with taking care of it, but don't worry; cats are easy to take care of."
"But, I haven't even--"
"I'll get you the food and the water and the collar --I think I have Clooney's spare bowl as well- so all you really need to do is keep it since I can't."
"Morgan, I haven't agreed to--"
"I'll visit Peaches all the time and everything," Morgan moved his hand forward and patted the cat's head, and it purred happily at the motion, "Really, you won't even have to do anything."
Hotch let out a sigh. "Well--"
"You aren't allergic to cats," Morgan thought aloud. "Jack isn't allergic, is he?"
Hotch smiled at the mere mention of his son's name, "No, he's not."
Morgan softened, "Kids like cats."
"Yeah, they do," Hotch said, convincing himself more than anyone else.
"And Jack likes cats too?" Morgan asked cautiously.
Hotch was silent, and Morgan wondered if he even knew the answer. "Yes, he does."
"Then, that's that," Morgan said, as though a decision had already been reached.
Hotch pondered on the matter for a few minutes, and Morgan waited patiently, since he already knew the answer.
"I'll keep it for the week, and if it's no problem then," he shrugged, "It can stay."
Morgan tried not to beam at the words.
From the smile on Hotch's lips, he was failing miserably.
+
The cat, Morgan thought as he watched it curl on Hotch's lap, snuggling happily even as it let out a loud purr of pure ecstasy, liked Hotch.
Hotch had managed to have the cat given permission to travel with them in the plane, a few choice words with the pilot while Morgan winked at the woman who looked down at Peaches like it was a fly on her radar --a feat considering the rules of air traffic these days.
Rossi had looked at them when Hotch had brought the cat onto the plane, Morgan patting down its fur, a curious expression, but Morgan didn't let himself think about it for too long. Morgan didn't wonder for too long how Hotch had managed to have it out of the carrier the stewardess had handed over--the man had been a lawyer after all.
Reid had taken one look at the cat and said, "You know that stroking a cat can lower your blood pressure, and, contrary to popular belief, people are not allergic to cat fur, dander, saliva, or urine -- they're allergic to sebum, a fatty substance secreted by the cat's sebaceous glands. And, I thought it was more interesting, someone who is allergic to one cat may not be allergic to another cat. Though there isn't a way of predicting which cat is more likely to cause allergic reactions, it has been proven that male cats shed much greater amounts of allergen than females. A neutered male, however, sheds much less than a non--neutered male."
It was a wonder that he had kept his sanity as long as he had.
Hotch was reading a book, something about astronomy --or was it astrology- which Peaches was reading avidly too, if its narrowed eyes and perked ears were any indication.
Hotch's hand stroked it gently, almost without realizing, and Morgan watched as he started reading the book out unconsciously, softly enough for no one in the plane to overhear, but loud enough for the cat to hear.
He looked around where Reid lay folded into himself on a couch and JJ stretched out on the sofa. Rossi and Emily were talking to each other in a corner, eyes flickering towards Hotch enough for him to know what, or whom, they were talking about.
Morgan hesitated less than a second before he moved towards Hotch and settled himself next to the man.
"Hey," he said.
Hotch looked over, "Hey." He turned back to the book.
Morgan leaned back in his seat, listening to the soft drone of his voice. The cat moved, standing up. Hotch stopped and looked down at Peaches. It walked about before nudging at the arm between the two chairs. Morgan frowned, then moved his hand and settled on, "You want me to move this," which ended up being a good guess because once raising the arm, Peaches let out a soft purr, nuzzling its head against his thigh.
Peaches settled itself between the two of them, and Hotch let out a soft sound that Morgan identified as a laugh.
"He really likes you," Morgan remarked.
"It's a he?" Hotch asked. Morgan looked over to Reid, and Hotch understood. "How much has he told you already?"
Morgan let out a groan. "Too much, I can't remember half of what the kid said."
Hotch smiled --again- and shook his head. "You've taken care of a pet before, though, so it should be better now, since you have an idea of what to do."
"A dog's pretty different from a cat, and Clooney," Morgan broke off. "He's Clooney, best dog in the world, man."
"Best dog in the world?" Hotch asked.
"Certified and everything," Morgan grinned.
"That must be some dog," Hotch said, and Morgan swore that he heard an almost teasing tone to his voice.
"Clooney is the only dog I know which doesn't mind his owner being away five out of seven days of the week," Morgan stated, and he saw something flash across Hotch's face, so he continued quickly. "Of course, he loves the neighbor's place so I don't think he's going to be complaining or anything."
Hotch looked down at Peaches.
"I have heard," Hotch said carefully, "That raising a pet is like raising a child."
"Difficult?"
"Children are not difficult," Hotch said automatically, "Just tedious."
"But they're still hard to take care of, right?"
Hotch shrugged. "They're good, sometimes--"
"You mean, Jack?"
Hotch nodded slowly. "He's a good kid, understanding of all of," Hotch waved his hand around, "This. He doesn't mind my being away, or hardly ever being at home. And Haley lets me have him every weekend, and she's willing to keep him if this comes up," another wave at the plane, "So, we've reached an arrangement," he said delicately.
Morgan couldn't begin to understand the situation, but he nodded all the same.
"Smart kid," he commented.
Hotch hummed in agreement.
Morgan smiled, "Jack'll definitely like Peaches."
Hotch let out a startled laugh. "I think he will."
Morgan leaned back, stroking Peaches' fur. Hotch stroked the fur, and Morgan liked to think that when their fingers brushed against each other --the lightest of movements between the two of them- Hotch felt as hyperaware of it as he was.
+
Morgan pressed on the button near the door of the house, juggling the items he had brought with him in one hand.
"Coming," a voice called out from inside the house, there was the sound of footsteps through what Morgan guessed was the hallway, and the sound of a lock being opened before Hotch opened the door. "Morgan," he said, sounding slightly surprised to see him.
"Not a good time?" Morgan asked.
"No, I mean, it's fine," he stared at Morgan blankly for another second before he shook his head, as though waking from a daze, and took some of the items from Morgan's hands.
"Thanks," he said, letting his arms loosen.
They might not have looked it, but they were heavy.
"Come in," Hotch said, stepping further into the house, and Morgan entered behind him.
He looked around him; the place looked slightly bare. The furniture was there, and the knick--knacks that filled most well lived in homes, but something seemed different. It took Morgan a moment to figure out exactly what --there were pictures missing from the walls. Faded patches of wallpaper that obviously used to be filled with photo frames. The other pictures featured Jack or, more rarely, a smiling Hotch.
He wondered if it was difficult to make the man smile for the microsecond it took to take a picture.
Hotch moved into the living room, where Peaches' basket lay on the table in the middle of the room, the center of attention in every way. Hotch gravitated towards the cat, and Morgan followed.
"You brought all this for Peaches?"
Morgan set down the items in front of the basket that held the dozing cat, feeling more servant than master for a second. "Yeah, I thought it would be easiest if I got them here early, you can't take care of a cat properly without all these," he said, glancing back at Hotch.
He considered sitting on the floor --definitely servant-but Hotch took a seat on the sofa, leaving the other side invitingly empty, and he chose to take advantage of the invitation.
"The bowl used to be Clooney's --everything was at some point, I think-but I got him a new one."
Hotch picked up the bowl. "Morgan, it says Peaches." He sounded faintly accusatory.
Morgan shrugged. "It's not that hard to change the name, they're just stickers."
Hotch shook his head and smiled, placing the bowl on the floor. "I thought you weren't getting attached to the cat," he said, voice light, almost teasing.
He was obviously imagining things.
"I'm not attached," he said firmly. "But it can't hurt to give it some loving," he grinned.
Hotch chuckled, "No, it can't."
Peaches moved in the basket, and then opened bleary eyes, mouth opening in a yawn. Morgan moved, kneeling on the floor to pick it up. "Hey, little one, how are you?" he cooed.
"Do you usually talk to animals?"
"At least I don't expect them to talk back."
"I'm relieved," Hotch deadpanned.
Morgan nodded, "Reid said in 1987, cats overtook dogs as the number one pet in America, over 50 million cats resided in 24 million homes in 1986. And, right now, about 37 percent of American homes have at least one cat."
"Seems like we might have another Reid around." Hotch was amused, Morgan knew it without even looking at the man.
Morgan feigned horror, "You insult me."
Hotch let out a laugh. Morgan stood up, carrying Peaches around the waist, and then gently placed him on Hotch's lap. He was careful not to let his hands brush up against Hotch's sweats, removing them as soon as Peaches settled down.
"You try handling him," he challenged, watching with a small smirk as Hotch's eyes widened minutely and his hands awkwardly picked up the pale creature. The cat yowled immediately. Hotch glared at it and Peaches --the brave creature, more so than most humans Morgan knew-only let out another yowl.
"You could always ask it to behave." The glare transferred itself onto Morgan. "Seriously, try."
Hotch looked down at Peaches, still uncertain. It gave a shriek, and he patted it. "Calm down," he ordered, using the same tone he did on the team, the in--charge Hotch voice that Morgan could recognize a mile away.
Even animals responded to it apparently, because Peaches went limp in Hotch's hands, allowing itself to be transported onto the basket on the table. Hotch looked up at him, eyes twinkling in almost childish delight.
Morgan shook his head, "You ever had a pet?" he asked curiously.
"My father didn't like animals much," Hotch shrugged. "Sean liked them a bit, though. I'd help him take care of them." He opened his mouth, as though to ask something, and then closed it again. Morgan knew what he had been about to ask, though.
"Clooney was my first pet, didn't want one as a kid."
"You liked guns and bangs better?" Hotch asked.
"Football, Hotch, football," Morgan smiled. "Let me guess, you didn't play as a kid?"
"I was a scrawny kid." He had filled out well, though. "I preferred chess and reading."
Morgan snorted. "Why am I not surprised?"
Hotch looked up, "Why aren't you?"
"Because I know you," Morgan said, almost as though it was a foregone conclusion.
Hotch was still looking at him, hand not stilling on Peaches. "Why do you?"
Peaches purred happily, filling up the silence that had suddenly enveloped the room.
+
When Morgan saw the bandage around Hotch's hand, he had to hide his grin, although the action wasn't too successful.
Hotch's eyes narrowed onto him. "Why don't you look surprised?" he asked, voice half--growl, and Morgan felt his gut clench.
"My first week with Clooney, same thing happened."
Hotch snorted. "No more ‘Best Dog in the World'?"
"Oh, he is, just not for his first week with me. It took some time to get used to everything." For him, too. "Animals need time to adjust to new surroundings, and they can be vicious. That's why I made sure that his nails were cut in his first week at my place."
"You couldn't have warned me?" Hotch asked exasperatedly.
Morgan grinned unapologetically. "Some things, Hotch, you got to learn on your own." The elevator doors slid open and Morgan walked out, Hotch close behind him, face closing off as soon as he entered. Morgan wondered why he couldn't be normal within the offices. "Can't be too bad though, not your left hand," he said optimistically.
Hotch was about to answer --or more likely make some sarcastic remark-when JJ walked by. Her eyes widened at the sight of his wounded hand. "Hotch, what happened to your hand?"
"Peaches," Hotch answered shortly, lifting and glaring at his hand.
JJ still looked confused.
"The cat," Morgan explained.
If anything, her confusion grew. "You mean the thing that you thought was fol-- I mean, the one that was following you?" Morgan let the mistake slide and nodded. JJ looked at Hotch, "Why would you want a cat?"
"He doesn't," Morgan cut in. "He's just taking care of it for a while."
JJ still looked confused, but with a hint of happiness in her eyes that Morgan couldn't explain. Maybe he didn't want to, either. She looked between them, "So you're taking care of it," she repeated, looking happier by the second.
"Who's taking care of what?" Emily walked in and then stopped short as she caught sight of Hotch. "What happened to your hand?"
"Hotch is taking care of the cat that followed Morgan," JJ said quickly. "For Morgan," she added, grinning.
She shared a look with Emily, too similar to the one his sisters shared when they thought he wasn't looking or his mother did whether or not he was looking.
"What's that look?" Morgan asked, frowning suspiciously.
At home, the looks meant nothing good. The same went with Garcia. Or maybe it was all women in general. Or just the ones he knew.
"Nothing," Emily said in a tone that meant Something but I'm not telling you.
"Hey Chocolate Buns," Garcia greeted absent--mindedly, flipping through the pages of the thick stack of papers in her hands. "JJ, I have the stuff that you asked for--" She stopped, "What happened to Ho--"
"Hotch's taking care of a cat for Morgan," Emily notified her gleefully. She added, "And it scratched him," as an afterthought.
Garcia lit up. "The one that was allegedly following him?" JJ nodded happily.
Another look.
"It wasn't alleged," Morgan said firmly before looking at Garcia with pleading eyes. "Baby girl, you want to tell me what's going on in that twisted, pretty head of yours?" Morgan asked, seeking the one person who might aid him, since he knew that the other two wouldn't. Garcia was unrelenting.
"Sorry, Angel Face," Garcia patted his arm. "Don't worry, some things you have to learn on your own." Hotch snorted at the words and Morgan threw him a half--hearted glare.
"You have any idea what's going on here?" he challenged.
"You're the one with the sisters and you're asking me?" Hotch pointed out.
Reid exited the elevator, eyes glazed. "Hey, genius," Morgan called out.
Reid nodded, moving, almost in a trance, towards the coffee. He stopped before entering the room, though, eyes taking in the bandage on Hotch and the three women standing in a row opposite him and Hotch. Morgan felt vaguely like he was at war --except he didn't have a clue what he was fighting for.
"Did the cat scratch you?" Reid asked knowingly, eyes clearing slightly.
Garcia turned on him immediately. "You knew that Hotch was taking care of the cat?"
Reid shrugged. "I know Morgan can't keep two pets and that he was attached to the cat."
"I am not attached to--"
"Why didn't you tell us?" Garcia demanded. "You too," she shot at Morgan.
"Why should I have to--"
"Come on Spence," JJ said, taking his shoulder.
Garcia was nowhere near as tactile, shooting Morgan another glare before pulling Reid by the sleeve. "Coffee at my place." Garcia fled the scene with Reid in tow; Emily and JJ close behind her, whispering furiously.
Morgan blinked dumbly. "What just happened?"
Hotch grinned suddenly, "Some things, Morgan, you have to lear--"
"Finish that and I'm not going to help you with the cat."
"It's your cat," Hotch pointed out, still grinning, and Morgan couldn't say anything in return.
+
"Who's taking care of Peaches?" Morgan asked as they climbed into the plane.
"Neighbors," Hotch answered, eyes flipping across the pages of the file.
Morgan pressed the topic, "Are you sure they know how to?"
"They have two cats." Hotch continued reading.
"And Peaches likes these two cats?" he asked.
Hotch finally looked up at him, frowning. "Morgan, they're cats, it doesn't matter whether they like each other."
"Of course it does," Morgan protested, sitting down in one of the seats with Hotch opposite him. "If Peaches doesn't like them he could fight them, which means that he could get hurt if they're bigger than him."
"They're tiny," Hotch said.
"It doesn't matter," Morgan said quickly, "They could still hate him. What happens if he runs away from the place and goes back to yours? And you aren't there? Then he'll be alone in the middle of a new neighborhood and he could get hit by a car, or someone could steal him, or he could be killed, or--"
"Morgan," Hotch said sharply, and Morgan fell silent. "Peaches likes the cats fine." He softened slightly as Morgan continued frowning, "James swore that he'd take good care of him, okay?"
Morgan still felt uncertain, but he let it go.
His imagination tended to be overactive, not surprising considering his job, but he only ever left Clooney with the neighbors after doing a thorough background check and staying an afternoon to check that Clooney felt comfortable in his surroundings.
Reid moved to sit next to him, Emily settling next to Hotch, JJ and Rossi on the seats on the other side.
Emily was the first to comment. "Where's the cat?"
JJ looked up, momentarily distracted from her files. "Yeah, where is Peaches?"
Reid's head fell back on the seat. Morgan looked at him, "You know what's going on?" Reid nodded. "You going to tell me?" Reid shook his head before tilting it towards the two women. "You're scared of tw0, no, three women?" Garcia might not have been there, but she was definitely part of the team. Reid nodded. Morgan shook his head, "Smart man." Reid nodded.
"He's with my neighbors," Hotch answered, before forcing their attention to the case.
Emily wasn't deterred. "Is he safe?"
Hotch glared at Morgan, as though he had made all this happen --and he had in some sense, since it was his cat-and Morgan tried to look as innocent as possible. "He's fine," he answered for Hotch, because he thought the man might snap with the questions. "The case?"
JJ nodded. "Three women found, all in their early twenties, killed by multiple knife wounds to the back."
And that was the end of it.
+
"What about this?" Morgan asked pulling out the small roll of yarn, a bright pink color that Morgan had flinched at seeing the first time Garcia had thrown it to him. A slight shake of the head, and the ball rolled away, the yarn unraveling and spreading across the floor.
"How about this one?" Hotch tried, taking a small rattle that was covered with glitters and sparkles such that Morgan had to smother a laugh seeing Hotch hold it.
The rattle was lying on the other side of the room in the next second.
Morgan rummaged through the bag. "How about this?" He held up a length of rope, a skipping rope.
"It'll be ripped to pieces," Hotch said warningly.
"True," Morgan said, setting it aside. "I think Reid got him a book."
Hotch smiled --Morgan wasn't going to get used to that no matter how many times he did that- "I don't think he can read just yet, he's not Reid after all."
"Rossi got him some freaky little toy, it's not normal," Morgan complained.
"I'm sure he read up on exactly what cats would like before getting the toy."
Morgan looked at him matter--of--factly. "Peaches would not like this thing." He held up the small figurine. "I think it's an Egyptian thing, you can see the mask and everything." Morgan held it up to the light, "Even the hair looks like Cleopatra. And he gave me a pamphlet with this," he added, thinking of the slip of paper that he had ignored in favor of studying the toy and wondering if he could dissect it.
"Did you throw it away?" Hotch asked knowingly.
Morgan shrugged, difficult to do in his position lying on the floor in front of the basket where Peaches lay curled, Hotch next to him, looking more relaxed than Morgan could remember ever seeing him. The man was seated, legs crossed in a position he seemed to be comfortable with, although Morgan had never seen him sit on anything but a chair.
"I might have put it somewhere between those files you gave."
Peaches meowed at the lack of attention, and Hotch dutifully turned back to the cat, although he kept the conversation with Morgan.
"Which means you're never looking at it again."
"Nothing important, anyways."
"I thought you hadn't looked at it," Hotch tickled the back of Peaches' left ear and it let out a happy mewl.
"I haven't," Morgan agreed, "But if it was important, then Rossi wouldn't have given it to me with the weird toy. It's a turn off like nothing else." He frowned as a thought hit him, "Why do you think they're giving us toys anyway?"
Hotch looked surprised at the question. "Because they're nice people?"
Morgan shook his head. "Not good enough."
Hotch looked more amused now. "They want to help us with the cat, then."
"No, there's something there." Morgan knew it. "Did you see those ladies? They kept looking at each other as though something was up, but I don't know what that something is."
Hotch's brow rose. "They're female. You're not supposed to know what their anything's are."
"Still, there's something going on," Morgan stated. "And it would be nice to know exactly what."
"It's nothing bad," Hotch said with a shrug.
"How would you know that?"
Hotch shrugged again. "If it was bad, then Dave would have said something."
"Rossi knows what's up?" Morgan asked.
"Of course he does," Hotch said immediately. "So does Reid. Only those who are involved in the something wouldn't know what the something is, everyone else would be duly aware of the something so as to help them with the something."
Morgan's eyes widened. "How do you know all this?"
"A lot of times, I'm not directly involved in the somethings, so I'm told all about it, of course." Hotch smirked, "Do you realize that being best friends with Penelope means that you're often the subject of somethings?"
Morgan laughed. "Yeah, feel like telling me some of these somethings?"
Hotch shook his head. "I am carefully afraid of the women in the BAU, I'm not going to tell you a thing without explicit permission." Morgan scowled at him.
Peaches let out a loud purr and rubbed his head against Morgan's arm. Morgan immediately softened.
"Good boy," he said cooing at him.
Hotch grinned. "If you really want to know, you could ask Reid. He'd probably be the first to break."
"Really? I would've thought that JJ would be," Morgan said.
"JJ?" Hotch thought on it. "I don't know, she is a mother."
"And mothers don't break," Morgan ended. He rolled over so that he was lying on his back. Peaches moved, walking so that he was next to him before climbing onto his body, curling together on his chest. Morgan propped himself on his elbows, looking down at the brown eyes. Peaches blinked, as if asking why he was frowning. "Nothing big," he answered, rubbing Peaches' head.
"You're talking to the cat again," Hotch commented.
"I'm still not expecting him to talk back," Morgan retorted.
"You just answered its question," Hotch said accusingly.
"See?" Morgan laughed, "You knew that it asked a question, right?"
Hotch didn't argue, hand moving to rub Peaches' back.
Peaches rolled over and Hotch rubbed his stomach, "Jack's coming over this weekend," he commented, and Morgan kept his eyes fixed on Peaches. "He hasn't seen Peaches yet, I don't know what he's going to think about him. I mean, if he gets attached and I don't keep him…" Hotch trailed off, leaving the possibilities open for Morgan's imagination.
"Do you want me to keep him for the weekend?" Morgan offered.
Hotch looked surprised at the offer. "No, I was just wondering if you were serious about keeping Peaches."
Morgan relaxed, although he didn't know when he had tensed. "We've kept him for one week, it's worked out fine I think."
The last weekend there had been a case, and Morgan didn't know how he had done it, but Hotch had managed to take care of matters with Peaches. The cats next door --Morgan had made sure to spend an hour with them before coming to Hotch's house-were fine with Peaches, not overly possessive of their territory. Their owners Morgan hadn't reached a decision on, a couple in their late fifties who were lonely more than anything. Morgan didn't like profiling people who weren't in cases, so he didn't.
Hotch nodded thoughtfully. "Plus, you agreed to keep him because Jack would like him," Morgan reminded him.
Hotch grinned suddenly, "Haley's going to think that I'm bribing Jack, you realize?"
Morgan laughed, "Yeah well, whatever works."
Peaches let out a loud yowl, and the conversation ended in favour of soothing the creature.
+
Morgan knocked on the door to Hotch's apartment. Hotch hadn't exactly invited him over, but there was a long--standing invitation to see Peaches. Clooney was with his neighbors, and the dog hadn't even whined too much about it, as if he knew that Morgan wanted to see Ho-- Peaches, he was here to see Peaches, and if Hotch thought the creature a handful, he could always take him away.
There was a yell, and then soft footsteps and a laugh.
Hotch opened the door, although he looked nothing like Morgan had ever seen. More, and it wasn't difficult to find the word, happy.
There was a shriek from somewhere inside the house and Hotch turned. "Jack," he yelled, "Stop chasing Peaches." He turned back to Morgan, rubbing the back of his head somewhat embarrassed. "Hey, Morgan, what are you doing here?"
Morgan grinned, "No reason, just thought I'd see how Peaches was."
Hotch wasn't fooled. "Jack likes him fine," he said, obviously glad that his son did. "Come on in," he moved inside the house, not looking to see if Morgan was following him. Morgan stood at the doorway for a few moments before he stepped into the house.
The place seemed different.
Brighter.
There was laughter from the living room, and Morgan moved in. He stopped at the sight. Hotch was chasing his son around the room, who was, in turn, chasing Peaches around the room. Morgan felt his feet itch to run around as well, but only grinned and stood still.
The need to run around was stopped as soon as Peaches caught sight of him, turning its body to barrel into his legs. Morgan knelt and easily picked up the cat around its waist. "Hey, boy, how are you?" he asked, lifting it into the air as one might a child. Peaches let out a cheerful meow before flailing its legs in the air to show its desire to be on the floor. Morgan knelt, placing Peaches on the floor, and the cat crawled onto his lap, licking at his fingers.
A body appeared before his, and he looked up to see a young boy with blondish brown hair and wide eyes, brown with flecks of gold, wearing a red shirt and long beige pants that pooled around his feet. "You must be Jack," Morgan said, remembering the videos of the boy that he'd seen Hotch watch.
Jack nodded. "Who're you?" he asked, voice soft, with the ever present childish curiosity.
"Derek Morgan, it's nice to meet you," he introduced himself formally.
"Deh--rehk," Jack said slowly.
"Right," Morgan said, smiling at the boy. "I work with your Dad." His eyes flickered up to Hotch as he used the term. "I've heard a lot of good things about you."
"Derek," Jack said again, before nodding in remembrance. "You're strong. You brought Daddy Peaches," he said, nodding solemnly.
"I am and I did," Derek said. "Have you been taking care of him for me?"
Jack smiled. "Mhm, I've been playing with him."
Hotch laughed, "More like we've been trying to catch him." He looked at Morgan, "You really shouldn't be away for so long, and Peaches can't stand being away from you."
Peaches, not him. Morgan forced his smile to stay on.
"He knows who's good company, smart cat," Morgan teased.
Jack laughed. "I like you," he said with all the somberness of a child. "Want to play with me and Peaches?"
"Peaches and I," Hotch corrected automatically.
"Never thought I'd see you be a teacher, Hotch," Morgan said.
Jack frowned slightly. "Why do you call him Hotch? My name is Hotch."
"Oh," Morgan frowned at the problem, "Aaron then." The name felt awkward on his tongue, but it flowed off naturally nonetheless. Hotch looked at him, something flashing across his face, before he turned to his son with a gentle smile.
"Jack, why don't you show Derek," he paused, looking at him as though asking for permission to use his first name, and continued only when Morgan nodded, "the new toy that you got for Peaches?" Jack brightened before running towards the table, digging through the basket, already full of toys. "We went out earlier and bought a couple of things," Hotch explained.
"So much for not getting attached," Morgan snorted.
"He's a good cat though," Hotch said, picking Peaches up from Morgan's lap with a steady hand. "Go, boy," he murmured, patting Peaches before the cat ran off after Jack, who had picked up a toy. A monkey. Which wore boots. And seemed to be moving its tail.
Morgan shook his head. "So much for not talking to the cat," he said, noticing the order.
"Whatever works," Hotch said, "He kept me up all night scratching at the door." Morgan hid his smile. Hotch saw through it.
"Let me guess, you let him sleep on your floor?" Morgan asked.
"He climbed onto my bed," Hotch said, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "There's fur on it now. It's disgusting."
Morgan laughed, "You'll get used to it."
Hotch lowered his hand, "I really don't want to."
"You'll have to."
"This much for a cat?"
"It's not just any cat," Jack piped up, "Peaches is a magic cat."
"Is he?" Morgan asked, walking towards the boy. "How do you know that?"
Jack giggled. "I can't tell you that, it's a secret." Then he looked suspiciously at his father before tugging at Morgan's hand. "I'll tell you, but you've got to promise not to tell Daddy, okay?" Morgan kept a straight face as he nodded, trying not to laugh at the sobriety on Jack's young face. He pulled Morgan closer, before whispering loudly, "Earlier, Daddy let us play on his bed." Morgan kept silent, wondering if there was something significant about the fact. Jack let out an impatient sigh, "Don't you get it? Daddy never lets us on his bed. Peaches did magic, that's why we got to play."
Understanding dawned, with amusement that he stifled for the sake of the boy.
"That must be some magic," he said, keeping his voice low.
Hotch looked patiently bored with their conversation, sitting on the couch. Jack nodded furiously, "Yeah, it is, don't tell Daddy, ‘kay? If he finds out that Peaches did magic on him, he'll take him away."
"I'll make sure that he never finds out," Morgan promised.
Jack grinned. "Want to go play on his bed with us? Daddy won't mind."
Morgan felt a warmth curl in his body at the words before he said --keeping his voice work-friendly- "I would like that very much." Jack only took his hand and pulled him towards the stairs, Peaches leaping up the stairs before them, already knowing the layout, anticipating where they were about to go.
"What're you guys doing?" Hotch called out from behind them.
"Playing on your bed," Jack yelled, and Morgan looked back to see Hotch's cheeks tinge red, understanding the innuendo as he had. He smirked and Hotch's cheeks turned a darker shade of red. Morgan turned and followed Jack, smirk still in place. "This is Daddy's room," Jack announced.
Morgan looked around, taking in the room --he suspected that he'd never enter this place again unless Jack pulled him in. It was simply furnished, a large bed at the side of the room, with a door that he guessed led to the bathroom, a small table with a book --the same one he had been reading on the plane a week ago, and didn't that speak of how much free time they had to do things like reading?-a dark closet next to it, which he knew would be filled with the suits Hotch wore dutifully every day.
"Nice place," he murmured, more to himself than anyone, since Jack was already climbing onto the bed, where Peaches lay nestled on the pillow in a decidedly familiar position.
"Thanks." He almost jumped at Hotch's voice behind him.
Jack looked at them impatiently. "Hurry up," he said, patting at the bed. Morgan looked uncertainly at Hotch and waited for the man to give a nod before he followed Jack, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Jack frowned, and then patted closer to him.
Morgan looked at Hotch again, and the man shrugged, climbing onto the bed and leaning against the headboard. Morgan sat next to Jack on the bed, a hand on Peaches as if it was the card that allowed him access to the club that was the Hotch's bed.
"Peaches wants to play," Jack stated. He pulled out the monkey toy from his pocket, and the cat immediately jumped on it.
"Is the monkey talking?" Morgan frowned in slight wonder.
Hotch smiled. "It's Boots, he's supposed to talk."
"Boots," Morgan repeated dully.
Jack looked at him, "You know? He's Dora's best friend," he said, and Morgan felt guilty at not knowing the fact.
"Of course, Boots," he said, smiling to hide his utter lack of knowledge on who or what Dora and Boots were.
Jack wasn't fooled --a lot like his father in that sense. He could sense when Morgan was lying. "You don't know Boots?" his eyes widened. "Or Dora?" Morgan wondered if it was a sin of sorts in child speak. "Come on, you have to watch it." Jack promptly jumped off the bed, Peaches cradled in his arms, and there was the sound of rushing footsteps as the boy ran back down the stairs.
Morgan looked at Hotch slightly awkwardly. "Is he always this," he waved a hand loosely to the door that the whirlwind that was Jack had flown out of, "You know."
Hotch nodded, "All the time."
"Man," he breathed.
Hotch smiled, "You'll get used to it. I give you," he looked at his watch, "Two hours."
"Before I break?"
"Into pieces."
A loud yowl erupted from below them accompanied by a childish laugh. "Derek, hurry, I've got Dora," Jack screamed.
"Dora awaits," Hotch smirked.
Only the fact that Hotch was his boss kept him from hitting the man.
+
On their next case, Morgan identified Dora as one of the dolls in the girl's room and Reid stared at him.
He only smiled back.
+
"Peaches misses you."
It was the only reason Hotch had given him, and he had accepted it easily, using it as an excuse to visit Hotch. Again. He guessed that he was becoming a familiar sight at Hotch's house --this would make the fourth time in two weeks. He didn't think he had visited Hotch four times in the past four months before that.
Morgan entered the house quietly, using the key that Hotch had pressed into his hand before walking towards his neighbor's house to collect Peaches.
Morgan stood near the door uncomfortably before moving to the living room.
Neutral territory.
He sat down, throwing the keys onto the table. He moved his hand around the couch, searching for the remote control. His eyes caught them neatly at the side of the couch in a pocket. Figures --Hotch wasn't the sort to have his remote under the seat like most people. He flipped through the channels lazily. After seeing four men murdered in their sleep, everything seemed muted, duller.
A soft mew alerted him to Peaches' presence, which meant that Hotch was there as well.
"Nothing to watch?" Hotch asked, settling next to him.
Peaches crawled out of Hotch's lap onto Morgan's, licking at his face as Morgan picked him up. "Nope," he said as Hotch picked up the remote, settling on some history thing with men who had their skin torn. "Must we?" he asked wearily. He had seen too much blood for one day. He didn't need it as part of his entertainment as well.
"Nope," Hotch said, moving on. One of those home-fixing shows that his Mama was too fond of. "This looks good," Hotch commented.
Morgan laughed at the sight of Aaron Hotchner watching a show with a man in a tight green shirt painting the walls of a bedroom in a light pink. "I think your room could use that color," he grinned.
"It needs some color," Hotch agreed.
"Then paint it," Morgan said wryly.
Hotch seemed surprised. "I should, right?"
"Yeah, you should."
"Why don't I?" Hotch seemed to be asking himself more than anyone.
"Why don't you?" Morgan didn't know why Hotch didn't, but he could only hope that Hotch got to his senses.
Hotch nodded to himself, the question entering his consciousness, making him mutter it to himself as though in a daze. Morgan wondered if he was right to be worried --the divorce had been over a long time ago, but he had never seen Hotch deal with it. He wasn't a Reid, but he figured that that couldn't be a good thing.
"What color?" Hotch asked after a moment.
"What?" Morgan blinked.
"For the room," Hotch said, with a tinge of impatience in his tone.
Morgan blinked again. "Not pink?"
"That's narrowing down my options," Hotch said sarcastically.
"Not black either," Morgan continued, ignoring the remark. "Or gray, doesn't make for a good color."
"But I like gray," Hotch said, almost petulantly.
"It looks good when you wear it on a suit or something, Aaron, not a room," Morgan said, shaking his head. He froze for a millisecond, but Hotch didn't seem to mind his calling him by his first name even though Jack wasn't there.
Hotch huffed out a breath, "Green?"
Morgan made a face.
"What's wrong with green?" Hotch demanded.
"You and green don't," Morgan searched for the word and grinned on finding it, "Fit."
"Right," Hotch said, and --Morgan wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't been there-rolled his eyes. "How about red? Or blue? Or brown? Or orange?"
"Orange is a messed up color," Morgan stated. "Des wore it for her prom, and she looked hideous, although she didn't belief me when I told her, so I had to get Sarah to tell her, and she believed her, of course," Morgan said, annoyed even now. "And brown's too… brown. Red's too bright for you, Aaron, you might die from the color scheme alone. Blue is okay though," he thought aloud, "Blue is good. I like blue."
"So do I," Hotch said agreeably.
"That's good, since it's your room."
Morgan thought it was a wonder that they could have such an inane conversation with straight faces.
Peaches nuzzled his head into his chest and he rubbed the back of his ears with a finger. Peaches let out an annoyed sound, and Morgan rubbed his head with a firmer hand. "Calm down, Peachy, quiet now," he chided. Peaches let out a mew in apology and settled down lazily on his lap. "Good boy," Morgan praised, and Peaches mewled happily.
"It doesn't understand you, you know," Hotch said.
Morgan ignored him. "Do you like blue?" he asked. "What color do you like?" Peaches stood up and jumped off his lap, twisting its body as it walked across the room, finally nudging its nose against a deep blue vase. "You like blue too?" Peaches meowed in answer and resumed its position on his lap. "You like blue, huh, buddy," Morgan said, grinning. Hotch frowned, and Morgan looked at him curiously. "What?"
"Blue and peach, is that even a good color combination?" Hotch asked.
"You're going to choose the color of your room based on the color of your cat?" he asked disbelievingly.
Hotch shrugged, "He's staying, so why not?"
Morgan opened his mouth then closed it shut. "What goes with peach?"
"I don't know, cream, orange, yellow, red, blue," Hotch listed.
"For some who doesn't know, you know a lot," Morgan teased.
"But blue's in there, so blue fits," Hotch decided.
"Blue does fit," Morgan agreed.
"And blue is good."
"Blue is excellent."
Hotch smiled, "So blue it is." He frowned suddenly, "But we don't exactly have the time to go around painting."
"Sure we do," Morgan said, "We're doing nothing now, right?"
"Yes, but," Hotch shrugged, "Painting takes time. A lot of it. We don't get a lot of that with our work."
"We'll find time," Morgan said, using an assuring tone.
"We?"
Morgan grinned, "You can't paint, Aaron."
"You've never seen me paint," Hotch pointed out.
"I'm guessing," Morgan said, "I mean, you and painting," he shrugged. "Not the most matching of words. It's like, Reid and idiot, or Garcia and tame."
"I could paint," Hotch said, although he didn't sound anywhere near convincing.
"Either way, two heads better than one and all that," Morgan said, waving a hand.
"Painting's got nothing to do with your head, Derek," Hotch smiled lightly as he said it.
"Shut up," Morgan said, not offensively.
Hotch smiled, and in his lap, Peaches continued purring, blue yarn that he had found on the seat caught between its claws.
+
It was nine days until Hotch pulled up near his desk, hip resting against it casually. "So, are you free this weekend?"
It was Friday, and they hadn't had a case, which left Morgan to a pile of paperwork that he had been neglecting for the past week. Reid had finished his a week ago, and Emily had left an hour ago, claiming she worked best after a few drinks and at home. He didn't know where Rossi was, and he didn't think the answer would be worth the trouble of finding out.
"I'm thinking of spending some time with Clooney," Morgan shrugged. "But nothing otherwise."
Hotch looked uncertain. "Well, you know that offer--?"
Morgan's brow rose. "What?"
"To paint," Hotch clarified.
"Your room," Morgan said, and Hotch nodded in confirmation. "You're painting it, blue I guess."
Hotch nodded again, "Yes, Jack's going to be over, so he'll be helping me with it. He's," Hotch shrugged, "taken a liking to you. He wanted to see you the last time, last weekend."
Morgan grinned, someone had wanted him. Not the Hotchner he had wanted, but hopefully the son took after the father. Or the father took after the son. He shook his head, Hotch was looking at him for an answer.
"You think Clooney'll get along with Peaches?"
Hotch smiled, "He likes Jack fine, I don't think a dog's that different."
Morgan laughed. "I'll be there."
He was there.
Morgan stood outside Hotch's door warily, Clooney next to him on a leash. He rang the doorbell, tapping his foot against the floor patiently. Laughter that he identified as Jack's, and then a rush of color sprang onto him. Morgan caught it by pure instinct, chuckling as he picked up the ball of fur.
"Hey, Peaches," he said, rubbing at it.
Peaches let out a loud purr, feet scrambling against his chest. Clooney barked next to him, paws landing heavily against his body as he struggled to sniff at the new creature.
"Down, Clooney," he ordered uselessly as Clooney continued pawing at him. He held out Peaches, allowing the cat to hang before Clooney's face. "Peaches, this is Clooney. Clooney, Peaches," he said, introducing them each to the other. They stared at each other carefully. It was better than the clawing he had expected. Then Peaches held out a paw, nudging Clooney's face, before letting out an inquisitive mew. Clooney barked twice, as if in answer to whatever question Peaches had asked.
"Are they talking?" an awe-struck voice asked. Morgan looked down to see Jack standing at the door, Hotch behind him.
He shrugged before setting Peaches on the floor next to Clooney. "Don't know, why don't we let them mingle?" he suggested, pushing both animals into the house gently.
Peaches let out a happy mew, taking the lead as he started sprinting into the house. Clooney stayed near his feet, wary of new surroundings. Peaches stopped, turning back and cocking his head, and Clooney followed. Morgan walked in after the dog, looking down as Jack tugged at his shirt.
"They're talking," Jack exclaimed.
Morgan grinned, and his head turned up at the sound of poorly stifled laughter. Hotch looked amused. "I bet they are, kid," Morgan ruffled Jack's hair, and the boy dashed towards the sounds of two animals playing. Loudly. Morgan looked at Hotch, "Sorry if he makes a mess."
"Peaches or Clooney?" Hotch asked, with a hint of teasing to his tone. "Peaches already defiled the place, it can't actually get much worse. Just need to make sure that neither of them gets into the room when we're painting." Hotch walked through the living room, Morgan following, and into the kitchen. "Peaches has gotten used to this place," Hotch said as he walked, pushing the back door open. "And that is his playing area."
Morgan looked at where Hotch was pointing and his brows rose. He let out a long, low whistle.
It looked like someone had created the ultimate cat haven, with a cactus at one end that he guessed Peaches would scratch against and the ground littered with rolls of yarn. There was a large contraption of a few levels in the middle of the lawn, and Peaches was scrambling to climb them as he watched. Clooney barked as the cat climbed too high, forelegs leaning on the thing.
"What is that?" he asked, stepping closer.
"Something for Peaches," Hotch shrugged.
"You bought this?" He didn't hide the incredulity from his voice.
Hotch shrugged again, cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, since he's going to stay, I thought, why not."
Morgan laughed. "Getting attached?"
"A little," Hotch said cautiously. "I mean, we've had him for a while, and it's going fine for now. But, I don't want to--"
"Jinx it," Jack said, stopping in front of them. He held up his hands and Hotch obediently picked him up, carrying him easily. "Are we going to paint now?" he asked, whining slightly.
Hotch nodded. "I think it should be good now," he looked at Morgan with a question.
"Yeah," Morgan said. He didn't know what he was supposed to do now that he was here, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shuffling his feet awkwardly. "So," he said, trailing off.
"Upstairs," Hotch ordered, letting Jack on his feet after pecking him on his forehead.
Jack laughed before running up, before stepping short and turning around. Jack ran towards Morgan, before grabbing his hand. "Hurry up," he frowned, pulling him to a jog. Morgan looked at Hotch, the corner of whose mouth was turning up in a small smirk, before he made a shooing motion with his hand. Jack looked at him with as well, "Come on, Dad."
Morgan barked out a laugh. "Yeah, come on Daddy."
Hotch turned a slight red, but he followed Jack accordingly. He muttered something under his breath and Morgan smirked. "Say something, Aaron?"
Hotch's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything, couldn't say anything in front of Jack. Morgan's smirk widened.
"Nothing I can't take care of in the office," Hotch said after a beat.
"You would use work to have your revenge? Isn't that unethical or something?"
"I'll live with the sin," Hotch said dryly.
Morgan couldn't hide his smile. He followed Jack into Hotch's room, with everything pushed to the middle and covered with large white sheets. There were tins of paint in the corner, a soft blue that Jack ran to and dipped his hands in.
"Jack," Hotch said, moving towards his son, face as stern as he ever was at the office. "You're supposed to use the brushes." He picked them up, giving Jack the largest one. He threw one at Morgan and he caught it, twisting it between his fingers.
Jack laughed, dumping the brush in the tin before messily slathering it on the wall.
Hotch had a pained expression on his face.
"That's not how you're supposed to do it," Morgan stepped in, smiling at the grateful glance Hotch threw him. "Here," he held Jack's brush, "Be--"
"Neater," Hotch said, "We shouldn't have so much paint on the floor or your shirt or your shoes or your hair--" He closed his eyes. "Your Mom is going to kill me."
"She can't kill you Dad, she wouldn't get away with it," Jack said matter-of-factly.
Morgan laughed, "And how come you know that?"
"Mom said that she would've killed Dad except the people who work for him are his friends and they would kill her," Jack said, innocently painting the walls. He looked up as Morgan laughed louder. "What?"
"Nothing," Morgan shook his head. He grinned at Hotch. "Man, what did you do?"
"No idea," Hotch said. He shook his head to clear it before dipping his brush into the tin. "Just paint, would you?"
Morgan smirked, but he started painting anyway.
+
Part Two
Author: ansera
Recipient: Pinch-hitters innerslytherin and severity_softly
Pairing: Hotch/Morgan
Rating: FRAO
Word Count: 20, 821
Warnings/Spoilers: Slash, Mentions of Past Child Abuse
Summary: Hotch, Morgan and a cat named Peaches.
A/N: Thank you for the beta, all other mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy it.
"The cat is following you?"
Morgan watched as Hotch's brows rose in utter disbelief. It was exactly what Prentiss had done before patting him on the head and telling him to go get some meds. He let out a long sigh.
"Yes, Hotch, the cat is following me," he repeated, keeping his voice steady since the claim was preposterous enough without his making it sound like a lie.
"The cat," Hotch said, still not believing him.
"The cat," Morgan agreed, crossing his arms.
He didn't honestly think that anyone would believe him immediately --because it was a cat, and no matter what Reid said about cats in close proximity with humans, their lives amounting to a symbiotic social adaptation with great affection shown to their human companions, and that, ethologically, the human keeper of a cat functions as a surrogate mother, it was still a cat.
That was why when Hotch's brows lowered and his expression became more neutral, Morgan was surprised.
"Whose cat is it?" Hotch asked, and Morgan shrugged.
"No collar, no identification, it's just a stray cat." He stepped to the side, and Hotch looked down to see the small mangy creature that had been following Morgan for most of the day.
"When did it start following you?" Hotch asked, kneeling down to look at it.
Morgan thought back, "When we found Lacy Maurer's body," he said.
Hotch's brows rose again. "That was close to eight hours ago," he sounded skeptical. "And we've been to four other places since."
"The thing keeps finding me," Morgan said, frowning at the creature.
Hotch looked down, and Morgan had the inkling that he was hiding a smile.
"It is," he said again.
Hotch looked at him, "Okay."
"Really," he frowned.
The corner of Hotch's lip was turned up in amusement. "I believe you."
Liar.
Reid stepped in, looking down at the cat with them. "Cats can hear high pitched sounds, up to 64 kHz, and they have a sense of smell fourteen times as strong as a human's, if they decide to follow a human, it would be difficult for the human to escape." He looked up at them, eyes shining with knowledge, "When a female cat is in heat, multiple males will be attracted to her, and the victor--"
"The cat that wins?" Morgan clarified.
Reid nodded, "Is allowed to mate with the cat."
"What if the cat doesn't want to mate with the victor?" Emily asked, walking up next to Reid. Apparently, if Hotch took a matter seriously, everyone else followed. "What if she likes the loser better?"
"It's interesting," Reid said, thriving on the questions, "Even if the female cat rejects the mate, she will eventually allow the male to mate with her, giving a loud yowl when he pulls out of her. After mating, the female cat will wash her vulva, and if a male tries to mate with her then, the female will attack him. Once the grooming is finished, the cycle will repeat."
Emily grinned. "You can't talk to a pimp about what her prostitutes do but you know so much about cat sex?"
Reid blushed slightly, "It's a purely scientific process involving the phys--"
"Reid," Morgan said, and Reid snapped his mouth shut. The cat let out a loud mewl and Morgan looked back at it, and it curled happily near his feet. "Now, can we please decide what to do with the cat?"
"We should find an owner," Hotch said. "Where's the nearest animal shelter?"
"0.8 miles away," Reid said absently.
Morgan turned to look at him, "You know that why?"
"I studied the maps very carefully for the case," he said, cheeks flushing slightly.
"Here, kitty, kitty," Emily bent down, hands moving forward to pick the cat up. The cat barred its teeth and growled, snapping at her fingers as it twisted its body away. She pulled back, "Not so nice kitty."
Reid shook his head, "If he likes Morgan, then he probably looks at you as someone who is trying to take it away from him--"
"I am."
"And that makes you a threat, so it retaliates," Reid concluded.
Emily shook her head. "Why would it--" she broke off, shaking her head as though telling herself not to bother. "Never mind, come on," she grabbed Reid's arm, "We're going to let these two take care of it. I don't need to be around a jealous cat," she said, throwing the phrase teasingly to Morgan.
Morgan frowned at the creature, which had calmed as the other two left, lying down on the floor comfortably in front of Morgan's feet. It liked this position, Morgan could tell, and he wasn't particularly against it either. Its coat was a strange color, a soft shade of cream with undertones of red, making it almost look peachy. Its eyes, he knew --even if they were closed now-were a bright brown, narrowing every time anyone neared.
Hotch bent down, and then put his hand out. The cat's eyes perked up, sniffing at them carefully, before it brought itself to its four feet and walked forward, tongue flicking out to lick his fingers.
Morgan grinned, "It's not jealous of you."
Hotch didn't reply, but Morgan thought he saw a small tug of his lips that could have been a smile, a genuine one.
"It likes you," Morgan continued, grinning at the cat.
Hotch let out a soft laugh and abruptly changed the topic. "Have you named it?"
"I didn't think I should get attached," Morgan said, although he had already thought of too many names --he had even swallowed his pride and asked Reid what he thought on the matter, which had achieved nothing because the man had spoken too long with too little that he had actually understood- and had eventually chosen one himself.
Hotch did smile then, and he looked up at him knowingly. "What's its name?"
"Peaches," Morgan said, biting his inner cheek uncomfortably. "You know, because its coat is peach and it fits and there isn't a name tag so it should be fine--"
Hotch interrupted his rambling. "I like it," he said softly, standing up.
Morgan grinned, "So do I."
There was a stretch of comfortable silence as Hotch's hand moved through the fur in a glide. Morgan crouched next to him, and Peaches immediately moved so that its head was within petting distance of him.
"It likes you more," Hotch said.
Morgan laughed, "So, you'll take care of it?"
Hotch started, "What?"
"I already have Clooney, so I can't have a cat too, they'll be fighting all the time --I don't care what Reid says about ambivalent behaviour- and my neighbors are already complaining about taking care of the dog. And it doesn't like anyone here but you, so, you're the only person available to take care of it," Morgan said, sounding almost matter--of--fact about the entire thing.
Hotch frowned, "I cannot take care of a cat, we--"
"Are able to keep pets outside of work, I have Clooney, don't I?" Morgan asked rhetorically. Hotch searched for another argument, and Morgan stopped him before he could bother. "We can't abandon the cat, Hotch, and it's obviously not going to let itself get taken in, so why not?"
Hotch grimaced, "But it's a cat," he said it as though a cat was the one of the unsubs they had caught.
Morgan rolled his eyes. "You've always struck me as a cat person," he joked, before grinning at the man. "I'll help you out with taking care of it, but don't worry; cats are easy to take care of."
"But, I haven't even--"
"I'll get you the food and the water and the collar --I think I have Clooney's spare bowl as well- so all you really need to do is keep it since I can't."
"Morgan, I haven't agreed to--"
"I'll visit Peaches all the time and everything," Morgan moved his hand forward and patted the cat's head, and it purred happily at the motion, "Really, you won't even have to do anything."
Hotch let out a sigh. "Well--"
"You aren't allergic to cats," Morgan thought aloud. "Jack isn't allergic, is he?"
Hotch smiled at the mere mention of his son's name, "No, he's not."
Morgan softened, "Kids like cats."
"Yeah, they do," Hotch said, convincing himself more than anyone else.
"And Jack likes cats too?" Morgan asked cautiously.
Hotch was silent, and Morgan wondered if he even knew the answer. "Yes, he does."
"Then, that's that," Morgan said, as though a decision had already been reached.
Hotch pondered on the matter for a few minutes, and Morgan waited patiently, since he already knew the answer.
"I'll keep it for the week, and if it's no problem then," he shrugged, "It can stay."
Morgan tried not to beam at the words.
From the smile on Hotch's lips, he was failing miserably.
+
The cat, Morgan thought as he watched it curl on Hotch's lap, snuggling happily even as it let out a loud purr of pure ecstasy, liked Hotch.
Hotch had managed to have the cat given permission to travel with them in the plane, a few choice words with the pilot while Morgan winked at the woman who looked down at Peaches like it was a fly on her radar --a feat considering the rules of air traffic these days.
Rossi had looked at them when Hotch had brought the cat onto the plane, Morgan patting down its fur, a curious expression, but Morgan didn't let himself think about it for too long. Morgan didn't wonder for too long how Hotch had managed to have it out of the carrier the stewardess had handed over--the man had been a lawyer after all.
Reid had taken one look at the cat and said, "You know that stroking a cat can lower your blood pressure, and, contrary to popular belief, people are not allergic to cat fur, dander, saliva, or urine -- they're allergic to sebum, a fatty substance secreted by the cat's sebaceous glands. And, I thought it was more interesting, someone who is allergic to one cat may not be allergic to another cat. Though there isn't a way of predicting which cat is more likely to cause allergic reactions, it has been proven that male cats shed much greater amounts of allergen than females. A neutered male, however, sheds much less than a non--neutered male."
It was a wonder that he had kept his sanity as long as he had.
Hotch was reading a book, something about astronomy --or was it astrology- which Peaches was reading avidly too, if its narrowed eyes and perked ears were any indication.
Hotch's hand stroked it gently, almost without realizing, and Morgan watched as he started reading the book out unconsciously, softly enough for no one in the plane to overhear, but loud enough for the cat to hear.
He looked around where Reid lay folded into himself on a couch and JJ stretched out on the sofa. Rossi and Emily were talking to each other in a corner, eyes flickering towards Hotch enough for him to know what, or whom, they were talking about.
Morgan hesitated less than a second before he moved towards Hotch and settled himself next to the man.
"Hey," he said.
Hotch looked over, "Hey." He turned back to the book.
Morgan leaned back in his seat, listening to the soft drone of his voice. The cat moved, standing up. Hotch stopped and looked down at Peaches. It walked about before nudging at the arm between the two chairs. Morgan frowned, then moved his hand and settled on, "You want me to move this," which ended up being a good guess because once raising the arm, Peaches let out a soft purr, nuzzling its head against his thigh.
Peaches settled itself between the two of them, and Hotch let out a soft sound that Morgan identified as a laugh.
"He really likes you," Morgan remarked.
"It's a he?" Hotch asked. Morgan looked over to Reid, and Hotch understood. "How much has he told you already?"
Morgan let out a groan. "Too much, I can't remember half of what the kid said."
Hotch smiled --again- and shook his head. "You've taken care of a pet before, though, so it should be better now, since you have an idea of what to do."
"A dog's pretty different from a cat, and Clooney," Morgan broke off. "He's Clooney, best dog in the world, man."
"Best dog in the world?" Hotch asked.
"Certified and everything," Morgan grinned.
"That must be some dog," Hotch said, and Morgan swore that he heard an almost teasing tone to his voice.
"Clooney is the only dog I know which doesn't mind his owner being away five out of seven days of the week," Morgan stated, and he saw something flash across Hotch's face, so he continued quickly. "Of course, he loves the neighbor's place so I don't think he's going to be complaining or anything."
Hotch looked down at Peaches.
"I have heard," Hotch said carefully, "That raising a pet is like raising a child."
"Difficult?"
"Children are not difficult," Hotch said automatically, "Just tedious."
"But they're still hard to take care of, right?"
Hotch shrugged. "They're good, sometimes--"
"You mean, Jack?"
Hotch nodded slowly. "He's a good kid, understanding of all of," Hotch waved his hand around, "This. He doesn't mind my being away, or hardly ever being at home. And Haley lets me have him every weekend, and she's willing to keep him if this comes up," another wave at the plane, "So, we've reached an arrangement," he said delicately.
Morgan couldn't begin to understand the situation, but he nodded all the same.
"Smart kid," he commented.
Hotch hummed in agreement.
Morgan smiled, "Jack'll definitely like Peaches."
Hotch let out a startled laugh. "I think he will."
Morgan leaned back, stroking Peaches' fur. Hotch stroked the fur, and Morgan liked to think that when their fingers brushed against each other --the lightest of movements between the two of them- Hotch felt as hyperaware of it as he was.
+
Morgan pressed on the button near the door of the house, juggling the items he had brought with him in one hand.
"Coming," a voice called out from inside the house, there was the sound of footsteps through what Morgan guessed was the hallway, and the sound of a lock being opened before Hotch opened the door. "Morgan," he said, sounding slightly surprised to see him.
"Not a good time?" Morgan asked.
"No, I mean, it's fine," he stared at Morgan blankly for another second before he shook his head, as though waking from a daze, and took some of the items from Morgan's hands.
"Thanks," he said, letting his arms loosen.
They might not have looked it, but they were heavy.
"Come in," Hotch said, stepping further into the house, and Morgan entered behind him.
He looked around him; the place looked slightly bare. The furniture was there, and the knick--knacks that filled most well lived in homes, but something seemed different. It took Morgan a moment to figure out exactly what --there were pictures missing from the walls. Faded patches of wallpaper that obviously used to be filled with photo frames. The other pictures featured Jack or, more rarely, a smiling Hotch.
He wondered if it was difficult to make the man smile for the microsecond it took to take a picture.
Hotch moved into the living room, where Peaches' basket lay on the table in the middle of the room, the center of attention in every way. Hotch gravitated towards the cat, and Morgan followed.
"You brought all this for Peaches?"
Morgan set down the items in front of the basket that held the dozing cat, feeling more servant than master for a second. "Yeah, I thought it would be easiest if I got them here early, you can't take care of a cat properly without all these," he said, glancing back at Hotch.
He considered sitting on the floor --definitely servant-but Hotch took a seat on the sofa, leaving the other side invitingly empty, and he chose to take advantage of the invitation.
"The bowl used to be Clooney's --everything was at some point, I think-but I got him a new one."
Hotch picked up the bowl. "Morgan, it says Peaches." He sounded faintly accusatory.
Morgan shrugged. "It's not that hard to change the name, they're just stickers."
Hotch shook his head and smiled, placing the bowl on the floor. "I thought you weren't getting attached to the cat," he said, voice light, almost teasing.
He was obviously imagining things.
"I'm not attached," he said firmly. "But it can't hurt to give it some loving," he grinned.
Hotch chuckled, "No, it can't."
Peaches moved in the basket, and then opened bleary eyes, mouth opening in a yawn. Morgan moved, kneeling on the floor to pick it up. "Hey, little one, how are you?" he cooed.
"Do you usually talk to animals?"
"At least I don't expect them to talk back."
"I'm relieved," Hotch deadpanned.
Morgan nodded, "Reid said in 1987, cats overtook dogs as the number one pet in America, over 50 million cats resided in 24 million homes in 1986. And, right now, about 37 percent of American homes have at least one cat."
"Seems like we might have another Reid around." Hotch was amused, Morgan knew it without even looking at the man.
Morgan feigned horror, "You insult me."
Hotch let out a laugh. Morgan stood up, carrying Peaches around the waist, and then gently placed him on Hotch's lap. He was careful not to let his hands brush up against Hotch's sweats, removing them as soon as Peaches settled down.
"You try handling him," he challenged, watching with a small smirk as Hotch's eyes widened minutely and his hands awkwardly picked up the pale creature. The cat yowled immediately. Hotch glared at it and Peaches --the brave creature, more so than most humans Morgan knew-only let out another yowl.
"You could always ask it to behave." The glare transferred itself onto Morgan. "Seriously, try."
Hotch looked down at Peaches, still uncertain. It gave a shriek, and he patted it. "Calm down," he ordered, using the same tone he did on the team, the in--charge Hotch voice that Morgan could recognize a mile away.
Even animals responded to it apparently, because Peaches went limp in Hotch's hands, allowing itself to be transported onto the basket on the table. Hotch looked up at him, eyes twinkling in almost childish delight.
Morgan shook his head, "You ever had a pet?" he asked curiously.
"My father didn't like animals much," Hotch shrugged. "Sean liked them a bit, though. I'd help him take care of them." He opened his mouth, as though to ask something, and then closed it again. Morgan knew what he had been about to ask, though.
"Clooney was my first pet, didn't want one as a kid."
"You liked guns and bangs better?" Hotch asked.
"Football, Hotch, football," Morgan smiled. "Let me guess, you didn't play as a kid?"
"I was a scrawny kid." He had filled out well, though. "I preferred chess and reading."
Morgan snorted. "Why am I not surprised?"
Hotch looked up, "Why aren't you?"
"Because I know you," Morgan said, almost as though it was a foregone conclusion.
Hotch was still looking at him, hand not stilling on Peaches. "Why do you?"
Peaches purred happily, filling up the silence that had suddenly enveloped the room.
+
When Morgan saw the bandage around Hotch's hand, he had to hide his grin, although the action wasn't too successful.
Hotch's eyes narrowed onto him. "Why don't you look surprised?" he asked, voice half--growl, and Morgan felt his gut clench.
"My first week with Clooney, same thing happened."
Hotch snorted. "No more ‘Best Dog in the World'?"
"Oh, he is, just not for his first week with me. It took some time to get used to everything." For him, too. "Animals need time to adjust to new surroundings, and they can be vicious. That's why I made sure that his nails were cut in his first week at my place."
"You couldn't have warned me?" Hotch asked exasperatedly.
Morgan grinned unapologetically. "Some things, Hotch, you got to learn on your own." The elevator doors slid open and Morgan walked out, Hotch close behind him, face closing off as soon as he entered. Morgan wondered why he couldn't be normal within the offices. "Can't be too bad though, not your left hand," he said optimistically.
Hotch was about to answer --or more likely make some sarcastic remark-when JJ walked by. Her eyes widened at the sight of his wounded hand. "Hotch, what happened to your hand?"
"Peaches," Hotch answered shortly, lifting and glaring at his hand.
JJ still looked confused.
"The cat," Morgan explained.
If anything, her confusion grew. "You mean the thing that you thought was fol-- I mean, the one that was following you?" Morgan let the mistake slide and nodded. JJ looked at Hotch, "Why would you want a cat?"
"He doesn't," Morgan cut in. "He's just taking care of it for a while."
JJ still looked confused, but with a hint of happiness in her eyes that Morgan couldn't explain. Maybe he didn't want to, either. She looked between them, "So you're taking care of it," she repeated, looking happier by the second.
"Who's taking care of what?" Emily walked in and then stopped short as she caught sight of Hotch. "What happened to your hand?"
"Hotch is taking care of the cat that followed Morgan," JJ said quickly. "For Morgan," she added, grinning.
She shared a look with Emily, too similar to the one his sisters shared when they thought he wasn't looking or his mother did whether or not he was looking.
"What's that look?" Morgan asked, frowning suspiciously.
At home, the looks meant nothing good. The same went with Garcia. Or maybe it was all women in general. Or just the ones he knew.
"Nothing," Emily said in a tone that meant Something but I'm not telling you.
"Hey Chocolate Buns," Garcia greeted absent--mindedly, flipping through the pages of the thick stack of papers in her hands. "JJ, I have the stuff that you asked for--" She stopped, "What happened to Ho--"
"Hotch's taking care of a cat for Morgan," Emily notified her gleefully. She added, "And it scratched him," as an afterthought.
Garcia lit up. "The one that was allegedly following him?" JJ nodded happily.
Another look.
"It wasn't alleged," Morgan said firmly before looking at Garcia with pleading eyes. "Baby girl, you want to tell me what's going on in that twisted, pretty head of yours?" Morgan asked, seeking the one person who might aid him, since he knew that the other two wouldn't. Garcia was unrelenting.
"Sorry, Angel Face," Garcia patted his arm. "Don't worry, some things you have to learn on your own." Hotch snorted at the words and Morgan threw him a half--hearted glare.
"You have any idea what's going on here?" he challenged.
"You're the one with the sisters and you're asking me?" Hotch pointed out.
Reid exited the elevator, eyes glazed. "Hey, genius," Morgan called out.
Reid nodded, moving, almost in a trance, towards the coffee. He stopped before entering the room, though, eyes taking in the bandage on Hotch and the three women standing in a row opposite him and Hotch. Morgan felt vaguely like he was at war --except he didn't have a clue what he was fighting for.
"Did the cat scratch you?" Reid asked knowingly, eyes clearing slightly.
Garcia turned on him immediately. "You knew that Hotch was taking care of the cat?"
Reid shrugged. "I know Morgan can't keep two pets and that he was attached to the cat."
"I am not attached to--"
"Why didn't you tell us?" Garcia demanded. "You too," she shot at Morgan.
"Why should I have to--"
"Come on Spence," JJ said, taking his shoulder.
Garcia was nowhere near as tactile, shooting Morgan another glare before pulling Reid by the sleeve. "Coffee at my place." Garcia fled the scene with Reid in tow; Emily and JJ close behind her, whispering furiously.
Morgan blinked dumbly. "What just happened?"
Hotch grinned suddenly, "Some things, Morgan, you have to lear--"
"Finish that and I'm not going to help you with the cat."
"It's your cat," Hotch pointed out, still grinning, and Morgan couldn't say anything in return.
+
"Who's taking care of Peaches?" Morgan asked as they climbed into the plane.
"Neighbors," Hotch answered, eyes flipping across the pages of the file.
Morgan pressed the topic, "Are you sure they know how to?"
"They have two cats." Hotch continued reading.
"And Peaches likes these two cats?" he asked.
Hotch finally looked up at him, frowning. "Morgan, they're cats, it doesn't matter whether they like each other."
"Of course it does," Morgan protested, sitting down in one of the seats with Hotch opposite him. "If Peaches doesn't like them he could fight them, which means that he could get hurt if they're bigger than him."
"They're tiny," Hotch said.
"It doesn't matter," Morgan said quickly, "They could still hate him. What happens if he runs away from the place and goes back to yours? And you aren't there? Then he'll be alone in the middle of a new neighborhood and he could get hit by a car, or someone could steal him, or he could be killed, or--"
"Morgan," Hotch said sharply, and Morgan fell silent. "Peaches likes the cats fine." He softened slightly as Morgan continued frowning, "James swore that he'd take good care of him, okay?"
Morgan still felt uncertain, but he let it go.
His imagination tended to be overactive, not surprising considering his job, but he only ever left Clooney with the neighbors after doing a thorough background check and staying an afternoon to check that Clooney felt comfortable in his surroundings.
Reid moved to sit next to him, Emily settling next to Hotch, JJ and Rossi on the seats on the other side.
Emily was the first to comment. "Where's the cat?"
JJ looked up, momentarily distracted from her files. "Yeah, where is Peaches?"
Reid's head fell back on the seat. Morgan looked at him, "You know what's going on?" Reid nodded. "You going to tell me?" Reid shook his head before tilting it towards the two women. "You're scared of tw0, no, three women?" Garcia might not have been there, but she was definitely part of the team. Reid nodded. Morgan shook his head, "Smart man." Reid nodded.
"He's with my neighbors," Hotch answered, before forcing their attention to the case.
Emily wasn't deterred. "Is he safe?"
Hotch glared at Morgan, as though he had made all this happen --and he had in some sense, since it was his cat-and Morgan tried to look as innocent as possible. "He's fine," he answered for Hotch, because he thought the man might snap with the questions. "The case?"
JJ nodded. "Three women found, all in their early twenties, killed by multiple knife wounds to the back."
And that was the end of it.
+
"What about this?" Morgan asked pulling out the small roll of yarn, a bright pink color that Morgan had flinched at seeing the first time Garcia had thrown it to him. A slight shake of the head, and the ball rolled away, the yarn unraveling and spreading across the floor.
"How about this one?" Hotch tried, taking a small rattle that was covered with glitters and sparkles such that Morgan had to smother a laugh seeing Hotch hold it.
The rattle was lying on the other side of the room in the next second.
Morgan rummaged through the bag. "How about this?" He held up a length of rope, a skipping rope.
"It'll be ripped to pieces," Hotch said warningly.
"True," Morgan said, setting it aside. "I think Reid got him a book."
Hotch smiled --Morgan wasn't going to get used to that no matter how many times he did that- "I don't think he can read just yet, he's not Reid after all."
"Rossi got him some freaky little toy, it's not normal," Morgan complained.
"I'm sure he read up on exactly what cats would like before getting the toy."
Morgan looked at him matter--of--factly. "Peaches would not like this thing." He held up the small figurine. "I think it's an Egyptian thing, you can see the mask and everything." Morgan held it up to the light, "Even the hair looks like Cleopatra. And he gave me a pamphlet with this," he added, thinking of the slip of paper that he had ignored in favor of studying the toy and wondering if he could dissect it.
"Did you throw it away?" Hotch asked knowingly.
Morgan shrugged, difficult to do in his position lying on the floor in front of the basket where Peaches lay curled, Hotch next to him, looking more relaxed than Morgan could remember ever seeing him. The man was seated, legs crossed in a position he seemed to be comfortable with, although Morgan had never seen him sit on anything but a chair.
"I might have put it somewhere between those files you gave."
Peaches meowed at the lack of attention, and Hotch dutifully turned back to the cat, although he kept the conversation with Morgan.
"Which means you're never looking at it again."
"Nothing important, anyways."
"I thought you hadn't looked at it," Hotch tickled the back of Peaches' left ear and it let out a happy mewl.
"I haven't," Morgan agreed, "But if it was important, then Rossi wouldn't have given it to me with the weird toy. It's a turn off like nothing else." He frowned as a thought hit him, "Why do you think they're giving us toys anyway?"
Hotch looked surprised at the question. "Because they're nice people?"
Morgan shook his head. "Not good enough."
Hotch looked more amused now. "They want to help us with the cat, then."
"No, there's something there." Morgan knew it. "Did you see those ladies? They kept looking at each other as though something was up, but I don't know what that something is."
Hotch's brow rose. "They're female. You're not supposed to know what their anything's are."
"Still, there's something going on," Morgan stated. "And it would be nice to know exactly what."
"It's nothing bad," Hotch said with a shrug.
"How would you know that?"
Hotch shrugged again. "If it was bad, then Dave would have said something."
"Rossi knows what's up?" Morgan asked.
"Of course he does," Hotch said immediately. "So does Reid. Only those who are involved in the something wouldn't know what the something is, everyone else would be duly aware of the something so as to help them with the something."
Morgan's eyes widened. "How do you know all this?"
"A lot of times, I'm not directly involved in the somethings, so I'm told all about it, of course." Hotch smirked, "Do you realize that being best friends with Penelope means that you're often the subject of somethings?"
Morgan laughed. "Yeah, feel like telling me some of these somethings?"
Hotch shook his head. "I am carefully afraid of the women in the BAU, I'm not going to tell you a thing without explicit permission." Morgan scowled at him.
Peaches let out a loud purr and rubbed his head against Morgan's arm. Morgan immediately softened.
"Good boy," he said cooing at him.
Hotch grinned. "If you really want to know, you could ask Reid. He'd probably be the first to break."
"Really? I would've thought that JJ would be," Morgan said.
"JJ?" Hotch thought on it. "I don't know, she is a mother."
"And mothers don't break," Morgan ended. He rolled over so that he was lying on his back. Peaches moved, walking so that he was next to him before climbing onto his body, curling together on his chest. Morgan propped himself on his elbows, looking down at the brown eyes. Peaches blinked, as if asking why he was frowning. "Nothing big," he answered, rubbing Peaches' head.
"You're talking to the cat again," Hotch commented.
"I'm still not expecting him to talk back," Morgan retorted.
"You just answered its question," Hotch said accusingly.
"See?" Morgan laughed, "You knew that it asked a question, right?"
Hotch didn't argue, hand moving to rub Peaches' back.
Peaches rolled over and Hotch rubbed his stomach, "Jack's coming over this weekend," he commented, and Morgan kept his eyes fixed on Peaches. "He hasn't seen Peaches yet, I don't know what he's going to think about him. I mean, if he gets attached and I don't keep him…" Hotch trailed off, leaving the possibilities open for Morgan's imagination.
"Do you want me to keep him for the weekend?" Morgan offered.
Hotch looked surprised at the offer. "No, I was just wondering if you were serious about keeping Peaches."
Morgan relaxed, although he didn't know when he had tensed. "We've kept him for one week, it's worked out fine I think."
The last weekend there had been a case, and Morgan didn't know how he had done it, but Hotch had managed to take care of matters with Peaches. The cats next door --Morgan had made sure to spend an hour with them before coming to Hotch's house-were fine with Peaches, not overly possessive of their territory. Their owners Morgan hadn't reached a decision on, a couple in their late fifties who were lonely more than anything. Morgan didn't like profiling people who weren't in cases, so he didn't.
Hotch nodded thoughtfully. "Plus, you agreed to keep him because Jack would like him," Morgan reminded him.
Hotch grinned suddenly, "Haley's going to think that I'm bribing Jack, you realize?"
Morgan laughed, "Yeah well, whatever works."
Peaches let out a loud yowl, and the conversation ended in favour of soothing the creature.
+
Morgan knocked on the door to Hotch's apartment. Hotch hadn't exactly invited him over, but there was a long--standing invitation to see Peaches. Clooney was with his neighbors, and the dog hadn't even whined too much about it, as if he knew that Morgan wanted to see Ho-- Peaches, he was here to see Peaches, and if Hotch thought the creature a handful, he could always take him away.
There was a yell, and then soft footsteps and a laugh.
Hotch opened the door, although he looked nothing like Morgan had ever seen. More, and it wasn't difficult to find the word, happy.
There was a shriek from somewhere inside the house and Hotch turned. "Jack," he yelled, "Stop chasing Peaches." He turned back to Morgan, rubbing the back of his head somewhat embarrassed. "Hey, Morgan, what are you doing here?"
Morgan grinned, "No reason, just thought I'd see how Peaches was."
Hotch wasn't fooled. "Jack likes him fine," he said, obviously glad that his son did. "Come on in," he moved inside the house, not looking to see if Morgan was following him. Morgan stood at the doorway for a few moments before he stepped into the house.
The place seemed different.
Brighter.
There was laughter from the living room, and Morgan moved in. He stopped at the sight. Hotch was chasing his son around the room, who was, in turn, chasing Peaches around the room. Morgan felt his feet itch to run around as well, but only grinned and stood still.
The need to run around was stopped as soon as Peaches caught sight of him, turning its body to barrel into his legs. Morgan knelt and easily picked up the cat around its waist. "Hey, boy, how are you?" he asked, lifting it into the air as one might a child. Peaches let out a cheerful meow before flailing its legs in the air to show its desire to be on the floor. Morgan knelt, placing Peaches on the floor, and the cat crawled onto his lap, licking at his fingers.
A body appeared before his, and he looked up to see a young boy with blondish brown hair and wide eyes, brown with flecks of gold, wearing a red shirt and long beige pants that pooled around his feet. "You must be Jack," Morgan said, remembering the videos of the boy that he'd seen Hotch watch.
Jack nodded. "Who're you?" he asked, voice soft, with the ever present childish curiosity.
"Derek Morgan, it's nice to meet you," he introduced himself formally.
"Deh--rehk," Jack said slowly.
"Right," Morgan said, smiling at the boy. "I work with your Dad." His eyes flickered up to Hotch as he used the term. "I've heard a lot of good things about you."
"Derek," Jack said again, before nodding in remembrance. "You're strong. You brought Daddy Peaches," he said, nodding solemnly.
"I am and I did," Derek said. "Have you been taking care of him for me?"
Jack smiled. "Mhm, I've been playing with him."
Hotch laughed, "More like we've been trying to catch him." He looked at Morgan, "You really shouldn't be away for so long, and Peaches can't stand being away from you."
Peaches, not him. Morgan forced his smile to stay on.
"He knows who's good company, smart cat," Morgan teased.
Jack laughed. "I like you," he said with all the somberness of a child. "Want to play with me and Peaches?"
"Peaches and I," Hotch corrected automatically.
"Never thought I'd see you be a teacher, Hotch," Morgan said.
Jack frowned slightly. "Why do you call him Hotch? My name is Hotch."
"Oh," Morgan frowned at the problem, "Aaron then." The name felt awkward on his tongue, but it flowed off naturally nonetheless. Hotch looked at him, something flashing across his face, before he turned to his son with a gentle smile.
"Jack, why don't you show Derek," he paused, looking at him as though asking for permission to use his first name, and continued only when Morgan nodded, "the new toy that you got for Peaches?" Jack brightened before running towards the table, digging through the basket, already full of toys. "We went out earlier and bought a couple of things," Hotch explained.
"So much for not getting attached," Morgan snorted.
"He's a good cat though," Hotch said, picking Peaches up from Morgan's lap with a steady hand. "Go, boy," he murmured, patting Peaches before the cat ran off after Jack, who had picked up a toy. A monkey. Which wore boots. And seemed to be moving its tail.
Morgan shook his head. "So much for not talking to the cat," he said, noticing the order.
"Whatever works," Hotch said, "He kept me up all night scratching at the door." Morgan hid his smile. Hotch saw through it.
"Let me guess, you let him sleep on your floor?" Morgan asked.
"He climbed onto my bed," Hotch said, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "There's fur on it now. It's disgusting."
Morgan laughed, "You'll get used to it."
Hotch lowered his hand, "I really don't want to."
"You'll have to."
"This much for a cat?"
"It's not just any cat," Jack piped up, "Peaches is a magic cat."
"Is he?" Morgan asked, walking towards the boy. "How do you know that?"
Jack giggled. "I can't tell you that, it's a secret." Then he looked suspiciously at his father before tugging at Morgan's hand. "I'll tell you, but you've got to promise not to tell Daddy, okay?" Morgan kept a straight face as he nodded, trying not to laugh at the sobriety on Jack's young face. He pulled Morgan closer, before whispering loudly, "Earlier, Daddy let us play on his bed." Morgan kept silent, wondering if there was something significant about the fact. Jack let out an impatient sigh, "Don't you get it? Daddy never lets us on his bed. Peaches did magic, that's why we got to play."
Understanding dawned, with amusement that he stifled for the sake of the boy.
"That must be some magic," he said, keeping his voice low.
Hotch looked patiently bored with their conversation, sitting on the couch. Jack nodded furiously, "Yeah, it is, don't tell Daddy, ‘kay? If he finds out that Peaches did magic on him, he'll take him away."
"I'll make sure that he never finds out," Morgan promised.
Jack grinned. "Want to go play on his bed with us? Daddy won't mind."
Morgan felt a warmth curl in his body at the words before he said --keeping his voice work-friendly- "I would like that very much." Jack only took his hand and pulled him towards the stairs, Peaches leaping up the stairs before them, already knowing the layout, anticipating where they were about to go.
"What're you guys doing?" Hotch called out from behind them.
"Playing on your bed," Jack yelled, and Morgan looked back to see Hotch's cheeks tinge red, understanding the innuendo as he had. He smirked and Hotch's cheeks turned a darker shade of red. Morgan turned and followed Jack, smirk still in place. "This is Daddy's room," Jack announced.
Morgan looked around, taking in the room --he suspected that he'd never enter this place again unless Jack pulled him in. It was simply furnished, a large bed at the side of the room, with a door that he guessed led to the bathroom, a small table with a book --the same one he had been reading on the plane a week ago, and didn't that speak of how much free time they had to do things like reading?-a dark closet next to it, which he knew would be filled with the suits Hotch wore dutifully every day.
"Nice place," he murmured, more to himself than anyone, since Jack was already climbing onto the bed, where Peaches lay nestled on the pillow in a decidedly familiar position.
"Thanks." He almost jumped at Hotch's voice behind him.
Jack looked at them impatiently. "Hurry up," he said, patting at the bed. Morgan looked uncertainly at Hotch and waited for the man to give a nod before he followed Jack, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Jack frowned, and then patted closer to him.
Morgan looked at Hotch again, and the man shrugged, climbing onto the bed and leaning against the headboard. Morgan sat next to Jack on the bed, a hand on Peaches as if it was the card that allowed him access to the club that was the Hotch's bed.
"Peaches wants to play," Jack stated. He pulled out the monkey toy from his pocket, and the cat immediately jumped on it.
"Is the monkey talking?" Morgan frowned in slight wonder.
Hotch smiled. "It's Boots, he's supposed to talk."
"Boots," Morgan repeated dully.
Jack looked at him, "You know? He's Dora's best friend," he said, and Morgan felt guilty at not knowing the fact.
"Of course, Boots," he said, smiling to hide his utter lack of knowledge on who or what Dora and Boots were.
Jack wasn't fooled --a lot like his father in that sense. He could sense when Morgan was lying. "You don't know Boots?" his eyes widened. "Or Dora?" Morgan wondered if it was a sin of sorts in child speak. "Come on, you have to watch it." Jack promptly jumped off the bed, Peaches cradled in his arms, and there was the sound of rushing footsteps as the boy ran back down the stairs.
Morgan looked at Hotch slightly awkwardly. "Is he always this," he waved a hand loosely to the door that the whirlwind that was Jack had flown out of, "You know."
Hotch nodded, "All the time."
"Man," he breathed.
Hotch smiled, "You'll get used to it. I give you," he looked at his watch, "Two hours."
"Before I break?"
"Into pieces."
A loud yowl erupted from below them accompanied by a childish laugh. "Derek, hurry, I've got Dora," Jack screamed.
"Dora awaits," Hotch smirked.
Only the fact that Hotch was his boss kept him from hitting the man.
+
On their next case, Morgan identified Dora as one of the dolls in the girl's room and Reid stared at him.
He only smiled back.
+
"Peaches misses you."
It was the only reason Hotch had given him, and he had accepted it easily, using it as an excuse to visit Hotch. Again. He guessed that he was becoming a familiar sight at Hotch's house --this would make the fourth time in two weeks. He didn't think he had visited Hotch four times in the past four months before that.
Morgan entered the house quietly, using the key that Hotch had pressed into his hand before walking towards his neighbor's house to collect Peaches.
Morgan stood near the door uncomfortably before moving to the living room.
Neutral territory.
He sat down, throwing the keys onto the table. He moved his hand around the couch, searching for the remote control. His eyes caught them neatly at the side of the couch in a pocket. Figures --Hotch wasn't the sort to have his remote under the seat like most people. He flipped through the channels lazily. After seeing four men murdered in their sleep, everything seemed muted, duller.
A soft mew alerted him to Peaches' presence, which meant that Hotch was there as well.
"Nothing to watch?" Hotch asked, settling next to him.
Peaches crawled out of Hotch's lap onto Morgan's, licking at his face as Morgan picked him up. "Nope," he said as Hotch picked up the remote, settling on some history thing with men who had their skin torn. "Must we?" he asked wearily. He had seen too much blood for one day. He didn't need it as part of his entertainment as well.
"Nope," Hotch said, moving on. One of those home-fixing shows that his Mama was too fond of. "This looks good," Hotch commented.
Morgan laughed at the sight of Aaron Hotchner watching a show with a man in a tight green shirt painting the walls of a bedroom in a light pink. "I think your room could use that color," he grinned.
"It needs some color," Hotch agreed.
"Then paint it," Morgan said wryly.
Hotch seemed surprised. "I should, right?"
"Yeah, you should."
"Why don't I?" Hotch seemed to be asking himself more than anyone.
"Why don't you?" Morgan didn't know why Hotch didn't, but he could only hope that Hotch got to his senses.
Hotch nodded to himself, the question entering his consciousness, making him mutter it to himself as though in a daze. Morgan wondered if he was right to be worried --the divorce had been over a long time ago, but he had never seen Hotch deal with it. He wasn't a Reid, but he figured that that couldn't be a good thing.
"What color?" Hotch asked after a moment.
"What?" Morgan blinked.
"For the room," Hotch said, with a tinge of impatience in his tone.
Morgan blinked again. "Not pink?"
"That's narrowing down my options," Hotch said sarcastically.
"Not black either," Morgan continued, ignoring the remark. "Or gray, doesn't make for a good color."
"But I like gray," Hotch said, almost petulantly.
"It looks good when you wear it on a suit or something, Aaron, not a room," Morgan said, shaking his head. He froze for a millisecond, but Hotch didn't seem to mind his calling him by his first name even though Jack wasn't there.
Hotch huffed out a breath, "Green?"
Morgan made a face.
"What's wrong with green?" Hotch demanded.
"You and green don't," Morgan searched for the word and grinned on finding it, "Fit."
"Right," Hotch said, and --Morgan wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't been there-rolled his eyes. "How about red? Or blue? Or brown? Or orange?"
"Orange is a messed up color," Morgan stated. "Des wore it for her prom, and she looked hideous, although she didn't belief me when I told her, so I had to get Sarah to tell her, and she believed her, of course," Morgan said, annoyed even now. "And brown's too… brown. Red's too bright for you, Aaron, you might die from the color scheme alone. Blue is okay though," he thought aloud, "Blue is good. I like blue."
"So do I," Hotch said agreeably.
"That's good, since it's your room."
Morgan thought it was a wonder that they could have such an inane conversation with straight faces.
Peaches nuzzled his head into his chest and he rubbed the back of his ears with a finger. Peaches let out an annoyed sound, and Morgan rubbed his head with a firmer hand. "Calm down, Peachy, quiet now," he chided. Peaches let out a mew in apology and settled down lazily on his lap. "Good boy," Morgan praised, and Peaches mewled happily.
"It doesn't understand you, you know," Hotch said.
Morgan ignored him. "Do you like blue?" he asked. "What color do you like?" Peaches stood up and jumped off his lap, twisting its body as it walked across the room, finally nudging its nose against a deep blue vase. "You like blue too?" Peaches meowed in answer and resumed its position on his lap. "You like blue, huh, buddy," Morgan said, grinning. Hotch frowned, and Morgan looked at him curiously. "What?"
"Blue and peach, is that even a good color combination?" Hotch asked.
"You're going to choose the color of your room based on the color of your cat?" he asked disbelievingly.
Hotch shrugged, "He's staying, so why not?"
Morgan opened his mouth then closed it shut. "What goes with peach?"
"I don't know, cream, orange, yellow, red, blue," Hotch listed.
"For some who doesn't know, you know a lot," Morgan teased.
"But blue's in there, so blue fits," Hotch decided.
"Blue does fit," Morgan agreed.
"And blue is good."
"Blue is excellent."
Hotch smiled, "So blue it is." He frowned suddenly, "But we don't exactly have the time to go around painting."
"Sure we do," Morgan said, "We're doing nothing now, right?"
"Yes, but," Hotch shrugged, "Painting takes time. A lot of it. We don't get a lot of that with our work."
"We'll find time," Morgan said, using an assuring tone.
"We?"
Morgan grinned, "You can't paint, Aaron."
"You've never seen me paint," Hotch pointed out.
"I'm guessing," Morgan said, "I mean, you and painting," he shrugged. "Not the most matching of words. It's like, Reid and idiot, or Garcia and tame."
"I could paint," Hotch said, although he didn't sound anywhere near convincing.
"Either way, two heads better than one and all that," Morgan said, waving a hand.
"Painting's got nothing to do with your head, Derek," Hotch smiled lightly as he said it.
"Shut up," Morgan said, not offensively.
Hotch smiled, and in his lap, Peaches continued purring, blue yarn that he had found on the seat caught between its claws.
+
It was nine days until Hotch pulled up near his desk, hip resting against it casually. "So, are you free this weekend?"
It was Friday, and they hadn't had a case, which left Morgan to a pile of paperwork that he had been neglecting for the past week. Reid had finished his a week ago, and Emily had left an hour ago, claiming she worked best after a few drinks and at home. He didn't know where Rossi was, and he didn't think the answer would be worth the trouble of finding out.
"I'm thinking of spending some time with Clooney," Morgan shrugged. "But nothing otherwise."
Hotch looked uncertain. "Well, you know that offer--?"
Morgan's brow rose. "What?"
"To paint," Hotch clarified.
"Your room," Morgan said, and Hotch nodded in confirmation. "You're painting it, blue I guess."
Hotch nodded again, "Yes, Jack's going to be over, so he'll be helping me with it. He's," Hotch shrugged, "taken a liking to you. He wanted to see you the last time, last weekend."
Morgan grinned, someone had wanted him. Not the Hotchner he had wanted, but hopefully the son took after the father. Or the father took after the son. He shook his head, Hotch was looking at him for an answer.
"You think Clooney'll get along with Peaches?"
Hotch smiled, "He likes Jack fine, I don't think a dog's that different."
Morgan laughed. "I'll be there."
He was there.
Morgan stood outside Hotch's door warily, Clooney next to him on a leash. He rang the doorbell, tapping his foot against the floor patiently. Laughter that he identified as Jack's, and then a rush of color sprang onto him. Morgan caught it by pure instinct, chuckling as he picked up the ball of fur.
"Hey, Peaches," he said, rubbing at it.
Peaches let out a loud purr, feet scrambling against his chest. Clooney barked next to him, paws landing heavily against his body as he struggled to sniff at the new creature.
"Down, Clooney," he ordered uselessly as Clooney continued pawing at him. He held out Peaches, allowing the cat to hang before Clooney's face. "Peaches, this is Clooney. Clooney, Peaches," he said, introducing them each to the other. They stared at each other carefully. It was better than the clawing he had expected. Then Peaches held out a paw, nudging Clooney's face, before letting out an inquisitive mew. Clooney barked twice, as if in answer to whatever question Peaches had asked.
"Are they talking?" an awe-struck voice asked. Morgan looked down to see Jack standing at the door, Hotch behind him.
He shrugged before setting Peaches on the floor next to Clooney. "Don't know, why don't we let them mingle?" he suggested, pushing both animals into the house gently.
Peaches let out a happy mew, taking the lead as he started sprinting into the house. Clooney stayed near his feet, wary of new surroundings. Peaches stopped, turning back and cocking his head, and Clooney followed. Morgan walked in after the dog, looking down as Jack tugged at his shirt.
"They're talking," Jack exclaimed.
Morgan grinned, and his head turned up at the sound of poorly stifled laughter. Hotch looked amused. "I bet they are, kid," Morgan ruffled Jack's hair, and the boy dashed towards the sounds of two animals playing. Loudly. Morgan looked at Hotch, "Sorry if he makes a mess."
"Peaches or Clooney?" Hotch asked, with a hint of teasing to his tone. "Peaches already defiled the place, it can't actually get much worse. Just need to make sure that neither of them gets into the room when we're painting." Hotch walked through the living room, Morgan following, and into the kitchen. "Peaches has gotten used to this place," Hotch said as he walked, pushing the back door open. "And that is his playing area."
Morgan looked at where Hotch was pointing and his brows rose. He let out a long, low whistle.
It looked like someone had created the ultimate cat haven, with a cactus at one end that he guessed Peaches would scratch against and the ground littered with rolls of yarn. There was a large contraption of a few levels in the middle of the lawn, and Peaches was scrambling to climb them as he watched. Clooney barked as the cat climbed too high, forelegs leaning on the thing.
"What is that?" he asked, stepping closer.
"Something for Peaches," Hotch shrugged.
"You bought this?" He didn't hide the incredulity from his voice.
Hotch shrugged again, cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, since he's going to stay, I thought, why not."
Morgan laughed. "Getting attached?"
"A little," Hotch said cautiously. "I mean, we've had him for a while, and it's going fine for now. But, I don't want to--"
"Jinx it," Jack said, stopping in front of them. He held up his hands and Hotch obediently picked him up, carrying him easily. "Are we going to paint now?" he asked, whining slightly.
Hotch nodded. "I think it should be good now," he looked at Morgan with a question.
"Yeah," Morgan said. He didn't know what he was supposed to do now that he was here, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shuffling his feet awkwardly. "So," he said, trailing off.
"Upstairs," Hotch ordered, letting Jack on his feet after pecking him on his forehead.
Jack laughed before running up, before stepping short and turning around. Jack ran towards Morgan, before grabbing his hand. "Hurry up," he frowned, pulling him to a jog. Morgan looked at Hotch, the corner of whose mouth was turning up in a small smirk, before he made a shooing motion with his hand. Jack looked at him with as well, "Come on, Dad."
Morgan barked out a laugh. "Yeah, come on Daddy."
Hotch turned a slight red, but he followed Jack accordingly. He muttered something under his breath and Morgan smirked. "Say something, Aaron?"
Hotch's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything, couldn't say anything in front of Jack. Morgan's smirk widened.
"Nothing I can't take care of in the office," Hotch said after a beat.
"You would use work to have your revenge? Isn't that unethical or something?"
"I'll live with the sin," Hotch said dryly.
Morgan couldn't hide his smile. He followed Jack into Hotch's room, with everything pushed to the middle and covered with large white sheets. There were tins of paint in the corner, a soft blue that Jack ran to and dipped his hands in.
"Jack," Hotch said, moving towards his son, face as stern as he ever was at the office. "You're supposed to use the brushes." He picked them up, giving Jack the largest one. He threw one at Morgan and he caught it, twisting it between his fingers.
Jack laughed, dumping the brush in the tin before messily slathering it on the wall.
Hotch had a pained expression on his face.
"That's not how you're supposed to do it," Morgan stepped in, smiling at the grateful glance Hotch threw him. "Here," he held Jack's brush, "Be--"
"Neater," Hotch said, "We shouldn't have so much paint on the floor or your shirt or your shoes or your hair--" He closed his eyes. "Your Mom is going to kill me."
"She can't kill you Dad, she wouldn't get away with it," Jack said matter-of-factly.
Morgan laughed, "And how come you know that?"
"Mom said that she would've killed Dad except the people who work for him are his friends and they would kill her," Jack said, innocently painting the walls. He looked up as Morgan laughed louder. "What?"
"Nothing," Morgan shook his head. He grinned at Hotch. "Man, what did you do?"
"No idea," Hotch said. He shook his head to clear it before dipping his brush into the tin. "Just paint, would you?"
Morgan smirked, but he started painting anyway.
+
Part Two