Title: Perception

Author: Kadeeleigh

Rating: Mature/Explicit language and situations

Pairing: Hotch/Reid Slash – Established Relationship

Summary: The Team has a perception problem when it comes to Reid.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters residing in the world of Criminal Minds. I just like to take them out to play.

Inspiration: Watched the You Tube video of Sergei Polunin dancing ballet to Hozier's "Take Me To Church". Take away the tattoos and don't focus on the face...it reminds me of Reid (or MGG!).

"There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception."
―Aldous Huxley

SSA Aaron Hotchner, file in hand, headed purposefully into the office of his Technical Analyst, Penelope Garcia.

"Garcia. I need you to look at the documentation sent by the Philadelphia P.D. They're saying that our suspect has an alibi for the nights of the murders, but I'd like you to see if you can blow some holes in that by following his digital trail for the specific times..." Hotch's speech petered out as he realized that the headphones Garcia was wearing prevented any meaningful dialogue.

"Garcia?" prodded the section chief more forcefully. Still no reaction from the flamboyant analyst. "GARCIA!" Hotch growled in the best rendition of 'unsub intimidation' voice he could muster, considering he wasn't actually facing an unsub. There was still no response from Penelope.

Placing a hand on Garcia's shoulder finally did the trick. It caused the young woman to jump nearly all the way out of her chair, and an incredibly high-pitched scream to emanate from the computer genius.

Finally realizing that it was her boss behind her, she quickly pulled off her headphones with one hand, while holding the other to her chest to calm her wildly beating heart. She swiveled her chair in Hotch's direction, waiting for the dressing down she deserved.

"Sir. I am so, so sorry about that. I didn't hear you come in, and that scream was so loud...I only had the headphones on for a minute, Sir, I swear. There is no way that I would normally do that, and never when the team was in the field, but since you are all here, and it is lunch time and I just got this e-mail from a friend and I didn't think that anyone would be..."

Her boss cut her off mid sentence, with a smile. "Penelope, it's fine. You're right, it is lunch time. The morning got away from me and I didn't notice the time. I have to say, though, that I don't recall ever seeing you quite so absorbed in an e-mail before."

Garcia smiled. "A friend of mine, Meredith, someone from my hacker days," she added with embarrassment, "is finishing up her degree in digital media. She sent me her final project to critique before she hands it in. I mean, she was always an excellent hacker, but she also had a real artistic bent to her skills. At one time, she was the most successful spear phisher in the US. She..."

"Spear Phisher?" asked Hotch in confusion.

"Oh, yea...yea. Phishing means that she would set up phony, copycat websites, designed to trick people into willingly giving up their personal info; credit card numbers, date of birth, mother's maiden names...stuff like that. But she only targeted specific, greedy, capitalist, billionaire types...hence the name 'spear phishing'. Her phony websites were so perfect that even the real companies she imitated had trouble realizing they were spam. Truly works of art. But, after a lengthy discussion with the Feds, she has chosen to pursue a more socially responsible career path."

"Well, based upon your total absorption, her project must have lived up to expectations." stated Hotch warmly. He knew how the daily work that they did affected the young woman, and he was always happy to encourage her to seek out the good things that mankind offers.

"Oh, Sir. It was absolutely moving." Garcia began. "Her project was to take an audio file, and merge it with a video file to create a totally unique piece of art that complemented both of the original works, while adding an emotional resonance that was reflective of her artistic vision."

Hotch raised his eyebrows a bit in surprise. "That is probably one of the longest assignment descriptions I have ever heard."

"You know, Sir. It's really good, would you like to see it?"

Hotch looked out at the empty bull pen, and then at his watch. Spencer was out on a consult, and the rest of the team wouldn't be back for another twenty minutes. He had nothing else pending at the moment. Nodding his head at his Tech Analyst, he grabbed the spare rolling chair in her office and joined her in front of her monitor. "Let's see what she's got." announced Hotch to a delighted Penelope.

Garcia unplugged her earphones from the computer, adjusted the speaker volume, and clicked 're-play' on the waiting video.

The scene began with a high interior shot of a white barn, bathed in brilliant sunlight. A series of random chords meld into a hauntingly ethereal melody, as the camera pans down the wall of the barn to reveal a man...a tall, lean ballet dancer, with a mop of curly, honey colored hair, which served to obscure his face. It was obviously not a formal performance. The young man was bare-chested, wearing only a ripped pair of spandex work-out shorts and his toe-shoes.

The ballad was an angry, yet melancholy condemnation of the Catholic Church. In Hotch's view, the sensuous young dancer personified the sadness and frustration of the composer completely. The two performances melded into one. Hotch was simultaneously moved by the piece as a whole, while aching for the young dancer's pain. Sweaty and breathless, the beautiful dancer fell to floor at the end of the song, exhausted.

"Wow!" exclaimed Hotch, as the screen faded to black. "That was very powerful."

"Didn't I tell you she was talented, Sir?"

"You did. It's hard to believe that the music and the dace came together after the fact. I understand why you were so immersed when I came in. Let your friend know that I thoroughly enjoyed it." Hotch arose from the chair and headed to the door, file still in hand. His mind was re-playing the sight of the graceful young man, and he began to blush. Flustered at the inappropriate thoughts he was having, he nearly walked out without leaving Garcia the file he wanted her to review. When he reached for the door knob, he realized his error, cursing himself internally for his distraction.

"Garcia, sorry. Here is that file for you to look at...Oh, I had a question..." said Hotch feigning innocent curiosity, "did your friend mention the name of the dancer in the video? I thought maybe Spencer and I could catch a performance of his sometime." He hoped that his savvy Tech Analyst wouldn't notice the carefully hidden hitch in his voice as he asked. He wanted to see that man again...and again, but it wouldn't do for rumors to start floating around the office that he was lusting after someone other than his husband.

Garcia appeared not to notice any thing untoward, as she innocently scanned the e-mail that accompanied the file. "No, Sir. She didn't mention a name. I was going to ask her about the song when I call her, so I'll see if I can hit her up for that info too!" she finished with a radiant smile.

"Good, good." was all he could muster before he promptly vacated the office.

oOo

Hotch was preoccupied for much of the afternoon, unable to get the vision of the sensual, half-naked man out of his mind. Morally, it felt wrong to lust after someone other than Spencer, but the visuals wouldn't cease. The young genius would probably laugh at that, before going on to lecture him about the affects of hormones and chemical reactions affecting the hypothalamus portion of the brain. He chuckled at the fact that he was starting to retain so much of his husband's ramblings.

He took a deep breath, regained his focus, and grabbed a file from the top of his pile, ready to get back to work. He made his way through three files before his computer chimed, indicating that an e-mail had arrived from Garcia. Assuming that she was delivering him the results of her file review, he clicked it open, only to find the name Scott Ryan, and a file attachment of the video he watched earlier.

'Fuck!' thought Hotch in frustration. Now he had a name, and his own personal copy of the tantalizing video. There was no way he was going to get any more work done today.

Three hours later, Hotch was at his wits end. His Google search under the name Scott Ryan yielded 392 million results, Scott Ryan, dancer, got him down to a mere 3 million. 'How does Garcia do this?', Hotch asked himself. The frustration finally got the better of him, and he called Garcia to his office.

"Penelope, I was hoping you could do me a huge favor," Hotch began. "I know that this is highly unorthodox, and slightly inappropriate, but would it be possible for you to use your magic to narrow the search parameters on this...this thing..." growled Hotch, gesturing to his computer.

Confused, but always enthusiastic, Garcia made her way around her boss's desk. Peering over Hotch's shoulder, she immediately saw the source of his frustration. "Boss? Do you want me to track him down?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Hotch with exasperation. Then, immediately realizing the awkwardness of his request, he added "No...not track him down...per se...just see what you can find out."

The Tech Analyst eyed her supervisor suspiciously behind his back. "Sure thing, Sir." said Garcia quickly as she began shuffling out of the office. Mumbling as she walked, Hotch was sure he heard her mention Spencer's name under her breath.

As she reached the door, Hotch added, "Garcia. I would appreciate it if we could keep this between the two of us for the moment, okay?"

The young woman turned and gave him a sad smile. "Of course, Sir, of course."

Alone again in his office, he put his head in his hands. 'Why am I being such an idiot? What am I doing this for?'

oOo

SSA Dr. Spencer Reid arrive home late in the evening. He'd had a long drive home, and was looking forward to a relaxing shower and a glass of wine before cuddling up with Aaron for a good night's sleep.

He probably should have mentioned that plan to Hotch before he got home. Instead, as his key hit the lock, the door flew open and he was dragged into the house by his lapels. In shock, the young genius stood helpless as his husband pushed him up against the foyer wall and began divesting him of his clothing, almost faster than he could process.

"Aaron! Aaron?" implored Spencer as he continued to be manhandled. "What has gotten into you?"

"No talking," growled Hotch. "more skin. I need you...NOW!"

Spencer let his messenger bag slip from his shoulder just in time to prevent the older man from ripping it off of him, bodily. Jacket gone, blazer gone, the young genius had just enough time to unholster his weapon and place it on the entry table before Hotch grabbed him by the shirt collar and propelled him backwards towards the couch.

"Aaron! What are you do..." was all that he was able to say, before his lover's hand covered his mouth firmly.

"I said...NO TALKING!" exclaimed Hotch vehemently, as he used his free hand to rip Spencer's dress shirt from his thin frame.

The young man could see the hungry desire in his partner's eyes. He'd seen it there many times before, but this was something more. Either way, it was obvious that Aaron needed a release. Nodding knowingly at his husband, he signaled his understanding of the situation. The dark haired agent grunted, then released the hand covering Spencer's mouth and kissed him greedily.

The bruising kiss was followed by a shove, which propelled the lanky Doctor onto the couch. His pants were removed with a brutal yank, pulling his shoes off with them. Aaron removed his own pants with similar speed, pausing only briefly to grab a bottle of lube from the pocket, before throwing them aside.

He held the genius's wrists tightly in one hand, pinning him down as he prepped him. He entered him roughly and pounded into his partner with a ruthless urgency. The frantic fucking was accompanied by rough, violent kisses and bites that were hard enough to draw blood.

Reid moaned in pleasure at the physicality of the encounter. He could feel his orgasm building, and knew that he was close. Aaron took one more long stroke, and bit down hard on Spencer's shoulder. Reid cried out at the glorious mixture of pleasure and pain, causing both men to tumbled over the edge.

Aaron collapsed on top of the younger man in exhaustion, nuzzling his husband's chest as he came to his senses.

Finally he spoke. "Spencer...I am so, so sorry. I didn't hurt you, did I?

Reid chuckled as he put his arm tightly around Aaron's waist. "I will definitely feel it tomorrow, but no, you didn't hurt me." He lightly touched a spot on his lip that was starting to swell, and winced. "But you get to explain my fat lip to the rest of the team! Now...are you gonna tell me what that was all about?"

Safe in the comfort of Spencer's arms, Aaron recounted his trip to Garcia's office, the video, and his irrational reaction to the handsome young dancer. "I even asked Garcia to use her magic to find out more about him. She probably thinks I'm planning on cheating on you. I'm an idiot. That's my only excuse."

"Well, SSA Hotchner, it appears you are evolving. It wasn't all that long ago that you told me that I was the only man able to get your motor running...should I be concerned that you might be turning into a morally bankrupt man-whore?"

Aaron laughed heartily, and started tickling the young man. Reid squirmed his way out from beneath his husband and landed on the floor with a thud. "Ow!" exclaimed Spencer, rolling over to rub his tailbone.

"Here," said Hotch as he scrambled to help the genius to his feet. "let me show you the video before you keep teasing me." Pulling the young man behind him, he made his way to their home computer, and pressed play.

Reid stood behind Aaron, who was seated in front of the computer, with his hand resting on his husband's shoulders. As the video began, Spencer smiled.

oOo

Examining Spencer's swollen lip the following morning, Aaron was close to tears. Overnight, the right side of of the young man's bottom lip had taken on a faint bluish tint and grown to twice it's normal size. The places where his teeth had broken the skin burned bright red against the young genius's pale complexion.

Seeing that his husband was about to have a complete emotional breakdown, Spencer laughed and lifted Aaron's chin so that he could look him in the eyes. "It'll be fine Aaron. Remember, you are talking about the infamously uncoordinated Dr. Reid. I'll say that I tripped on my shoelaces and bit my lip when I fell...they'll laugh, and possibly make stupid comments throughout the day, but that will be it. Seriously...it will be more amusing for us, knowing the truth. Trust me...they are incapable of visualizing a scenario in which this happened during a torrid sexual encounter."

Hotch smiled lovingly his young agent, and kissed his swollen mouth gently. "As usual, you're right. Now...what to do about the request I made to Garcia?"

Reid thought a moment before replying. "Let me handle Penelope. If she knows that I am aware of your obsession, it will go a long way to slowing the rumors of our imminent divorce."

Hotch chuckled softly and nodded in agreement, squeezing his lover's hand tightly. As he turned to finish dressing, he completely missed the hint of dread in Spencer's eyes.

oOo

Spencer entered the bullpen shortly after Hotch had ensconced himself in his office, having stopped to retrieve his second cup of coffee of the morning. "Hey guys!" he called as he threw his messenger bag behind his desk and turned on his computer.

He began to type his password, when he realized that he had been greeted with dead silence. Cautiously, he looked up to find Morgan, JJ and Kate staring at him with great interest. "Hey, Kid...wanna tell us what happened to that gorgeous face of yours?" asked Morgan gleefully.

Reid smiled, then winced at the pain that accompanied his grin. Touching the swollen area lightly, he glanced up and gave his team members a look of wide-eyed embarrassment, in a performance that could have won him an Academy Award.

"I fell, okay? I tripped over my shoe laces, and there were books involved...guys...it was humiliating enough when it happened. Staring at me isn't making it any better!" Reid then opted to hang his head in shame, hoping that they would pity him enough to not look too closely.

Ever the mother, JJ rubbed his shoulder gently. "We didn't mean to make you feel bad, Spence. We were just concerned. It looks painful."

"It's fine." mumbled Spencer. "I just don't need a reminder that I'm a klutz."

As expected, Morgan began a gentle ribbing of his friend, teasing him for continuing to wear his beloved Chucks,as opposed to 'grown-up' shoes. Kate shook her head at Morgan's taunts, which continued until JJ smacked him on the shoulder, and encouraged him to get back to work. As they all made their way back to their desks, Rossi, who was watching the scene unfold below him, saw Spencer crack a satisfied smile.

oOo

Dave chuckled at the situation as he made his way to Aaron's office. Knocking lightly, he slid in before before his supervisor had the time to reject him. "You're a bastard, Aaron...just wanted to let you know."

Surprised at his friend's pronouncement, The senior agent chuckled. "What did I do now?

Sliding into the chair across from his boss, Rossi continued. "The others might be fooled, but I could see the tooth impressions from up here...those marks are definitely from a bottom row of teeth. You bit that poor boy hard enough to bruise, and you left him to his own devices to explain it away?"

Aaron cleared his throat and sat up in his chair with a smile. "That 'poor boy', as you call him, is my husband. He was the one that decided to take the heat for my...enthusiasm. Admittedly, I didn't argue with his rationale, because he's usually right. He correctly assumed that their virginal view of him wouldn't allow them to consider a more...passionate explanation."

Rossi laughed heartily. "Well, he was on target with that assessment. I have to hand it to him...he is a great actor and an even better profiler. I was amazed that none of the others noticed...I mean, we see those exact injuries on our victims all the time.

Hotch squirmed uncomfortably in his chair at his friend's statement. Rossi saw his discomfort. "Aaron...I didn't mean to imply that he was a victim..."

"I know...I know." murmured Hotch. "It's just that..."

The elder agent raised his hand in protest. "I don't need to know the particulars. He's happy and obviously pretty proud of himself for pulling one over on the team. If I thought for a second that he was covering up something serious..."

"I know, I know..." interrupted Hotch. "If you thought anything untoward was happening, you'd run right down and tell Morgan!"

"You can count on it!" exclaimed Rossi with a winking nod.

oOo

After grabbing his third cup of coffee, Reid made his way to Garcia's lair.

"Hey, Garcia!" exclaimed Spencer cheerfully. "Did I miss anything exciting yesterday?"

The young woman grinned. She was being visited by one of her most favorite people in the world. She whipped around in her chair to greet her Junior G-Man when she immediately caught sight of his swollen lip. "My poor baby! What happened to your beautiful, beautiful mouth?" cried Penelope in horror.

Spencer laughed. "I tripped, Garcia. No big deal...I can barely feel it."

Suddenly serious, the young woman leaned closer to her friend. "If he did this, you would tell me, right?"

Spencer was in shock. "That is a terrible thing to even think, Garcia. Aaron would never, ever hurt me!"

"I didn't mean that...exactly..it's just...yesterday he was acting..." The young woman fumbled with her words, unsure of exactly what she had meant. "You're right, he would never...unless maybe you argued..."

"Garcia...not even if we argued! Besides, Aaron told me about the video and the crazy hot guy in the video. In fact I watched it with him when I got home. Tell your friend that I enjoyed it immensely." Spencer let his tongue run lightly over his injury, and winced again. "Aaron also told me that he asked you to try to find more information on this mystery man, and I'm here to help you with that."

Garcia stared at the young Doctor with a look of utter confusion. "Help me? How? I talked to my friend last night, and she called the videographer. All they know is his name. There isn't even one clean view of his face, which rules out any kind of facial recognition software."

"You're not gonna need it." stated the young man with confidence.

Garcia looked at him warily. "What do you know?" she asked.

Reid laughed. "I recognized the building where the video was shot."

"Baby boy...how does that help me?"

"Well, technically that bit of knowledge doesn't actually help you, but it helps me help you." said Reid with a grin.

The bubbly Technical Analyst was confused. "I'm not sure if I am supposed to be following this, but I'm not...and normally I would, but now...not so much...care to explain?"

"Not right now, no. I have a few phone calls to make. I'll get back to you this afternoon. Don't worry...you'll have an answer for Hotch before the end of the day. And, Garcia...like he said...let's keep this between the two of us."

Still confused, Garcia asks "You mean keep it between the three of us, right."

"Nope!" said Spencer firmly as he exited the office.

oOo

Spencer had over-stated the number of phone calls he needed to make. Once he was confident that his other team members were occupied elsewhere, the young genius picked up his phone, accessed his contact list, and dialed a number. His deepest desire was that the person he was calling would hinder, rather than help in Garcia's quest for Aaron's elusive dancer.

A women picked up the call on the first ring. "Why is it, young Mr. Reid, that after ten years of radio silence, we are suddenly chatting so often that my husband is getting jealous?"

Reid chuckled. "Marjorie...you started all of this! As I mentioned when you originally called, I was happy to do anything for my former manager. But, when I signed your release, I told you that I would only agree if I could remain anonymous! You led me to believe that only your sister, and her instructors would see it. Now, suddenly, your sister's video has become the talk of the FBI."

"The FBI? Is that who's looking for you?" the woman asked with sly amusement. "Are you wanted, Spencer? I guess it's true what they say...It's always the shy ones..."

"You're hilarious, Marj." stated Spencer while shaking his head.

"Well, do you want to tell me why the FBI is putting pressure on my sister because of a music video? I thought she was staying out of trouble."

"Oh, no...this isn't about her at all. From what my friend Penelope says, she is doing great, and totally on the straight and narrow." Stumbling a bit, the young genius continued. "Penny, a friend of your sister's, works for the FBI. She showed the video to her boss, who apparently became, for lack of a better word...enamored with the the dancer."

"Sticky, sticky...young man." said the woman knowingly. "Unless you're looking for a date, in which case..."

Spencer chuckled again. "It's more than that, Marj. Her boss is also my boss...and my husband."

Stunned into a moment of silence by his proclamation, the woman finally continued. "Shy little Spencer Reid is in the FBI? Wow! That's gonna take a moment to process. Really?...okay...okay. I'm done. Now, for my next thought...Your husband fell in lust with a younger version of you? How sweet is that?"

"This is serious, Marj. What am I gonna do if they find out?"

Marjorie took a deep cleansing breath. "Spencer, you are an adult, and I can't do anything but give you advice...not as your former manager, but as a friend. You worked your way through your final years at Cal Tech allowing people to capture that gorgeous visage on film. By doing that, you were able to take care of your Mom, and kept yourself from starving. You didn't rob banks or sell drugs or do anything else that other people do to make fast money. You were beautiful, incredibly photogenic and paid handsomely...that is not a crime or an embarrassment."

The young genius exhaled in resignation. "I'm not embarrassed, its just that...I don't know what I'd say. At first I thought that it would be fun and kinda sexy to spring the truth on my husband, but with Penelope in the middle of all of this, it won't be that simple. I won't be able to keep it between Aaron and I...everyone I know will find out."

"They'll find out, and then what? ...finally realize that there is more to you than that gigantic brain of yours?"

"I refuse to be seen as a superficial Ken Doll!" cried Spencer vehemently.

"No one will think you are, Sweetie, but have you Googled you lately?" asked the woman gently.

"Googled who? Myself? Or Scott Rhyn?"

"Spencer, honey...there is no Scott. There is just you with a different name."

"Well no, then. I have absolutely no reason to Google..."

"Did you know there are several Pinterest pages devoted to you? My personal favorite is called 'Scott Rhyn -The Hottest Model That Ever Lived'."

"Now you're just making things up." huffed the young genius.

"My hand to God, Spencer...I know better than to lie to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Darling, you only dropped off 's top 50 three years ago."

Spencer frowned. "How could that be? I stopped modeling 10 years ago."

The woman laughed heartily. "And yet you still live on in their hearts...go figure."

Reid could hear his teammates growing restless in anticipation of lunch, and started to get anxious. "Can you just tell Penelope that Scott Rhyn died in a car accident or something? That worked well for a friend of mine."

"No." stated the woman firmly. "I'm not going to enable your lack of confidence, young man. Especially when it is totally unwarranted...and your mother would tell you the same thing."

"My mother is a paranoid schizophrenic Marjorie. She would tell me I looked good in a suit made of lettuce. As a friend, Marj, please help me!" begged Reid.

"Spencer, I have to go. A belated Mazel Tov on your nuptials, young man! Ta Ta for now!"

The call disconnected, and Reid could do nothing but stare blankly at his phone. He dropped the offending bit of technology into his messenger bag, and tried to figure out if it would be possible to spend the rest of his working life under his desk.

Less than ten minutes later, a chime from his phone notified him of an incoming e-mail. To his horror, Reid realized at once that he had been cc'd on an e-mail from his former agent, to the all-knowing tech goddess, Penelope Garcia...he was doomed.

oOo

Early afternoon found Garcia in her office, finishing up a beta test on a new data collection system she had developed. Suddenly, she heard a ping, and saw an e-mail sent to her from an address she didn't recognize. The subject line simply said 'Enjoy!'. Cautiously, she took a moment before opening it, verifying that firewalls were up and virus scanning software was running. Once she was confident that her computer systems were safe, she opened the correspondence.

Penelope realized immediately that that this wasn't random spam. Meredith had put her in contact with someone who knew something about the elusive Scott Ryan, and for some reason, they had sent a copy to Reid as well. The body of the message contained links to three private Pinterest pages, and a note that simply said 'Be kind'. In addition, there was a file attachment, which appeared to be an extended version of Meredith's project. She was definitely intrigued.

oOo

Damage control was foremost in his thoughts, as Reid forced himself to run full speed over to Garcia's Lair, and throw himself at her mercy. Unfortunately for the young doctor, events were already in motion. As he got to Penny's office, he heard the now familiar strains of Hozier's 'Take me to Church' emanating from the Tech Analyst's space. He opened the door just as the song ended, and he knew immediately that he was too late. He watched the screen as the dancer, now in silence, breathed heavily. He remained crouched in exhaustion...until finally, he raised his head with a smile...his smile.

Garcia pushed her chair back in shock, barely missing a collision with the tall young agent behind her. She squealed in delight, and stood to run and inform her boss what she had learned. Instead, she found herself face to face with Spencer...the gorgeous dancer.

The young agent grabbed his friend by the arms, to stop her forward momentum. "Garcia!" said Reid firmly. "Wait! Please wait a second. I need to explain how bad it'll be if anyone else finds out..."

Confusion clouded the young woman's face. "Bad? This is way outside the realm of bad. This is GOOD!" exclaimed Penelope. "...way more than good, this is the most awesome thing ever!"

"How can this be considered good or awesome?" asked a distressed Spencer.

"Oh, my Baby Boy...I was so afraid that your big strong he-man of a husband had developed a wandering eye, I cried myself to sleep last night. I was so upset that I actually wore black today," said the wildly dressed woman, pointing out her fishnet stockings. "I couldn't bring myself to put on my normal hues. Distraught...that's how I felt. But this, this is so much more romantic!"

"Garcia...you can't tell anyone."

The young woman looked at Reid quizzically. "Why are you freaking out about this? So you know how to dance...why exactly would that be humiliating? I mean, honestly...it's kinda hot! And while I hand out those compliments to my Chocolate Thunder quite frequently, it is not capricious. It should still be worn as a badge of honor by all those who receive it!."

"I'm not just talking about the dancing..."

Penelope looked at the young genius in confusion. "What else would you be..." began Garcia before she realized that she hadn't checked the Pinterest pages yet. A satisfied smile crossed her face as she turned back to her computer and clicked on the first link.

Spencer knew when he was beaten. He sighed in frustration, as he collapsed his tall frame into the extra office chair, cringing openly as the page opened.

'Scott Rhyn, Where Are You?' posited the first fan. Garcia was shocked into silence as she scrolled through page after page of slick fashion shots...all featuring a much younger version of Dr. Spencer Reid. The second, titled simply 'A Tribute', contained many of the same photos, but also had an entire section devoted to runway stills, showing the young genius among lines of other models.

"Oh my God...Reid...is that the same messenger bag?" squealed Garcia, as she pointed to a particular shot.

"Yes, Penelope...it's the same bag..." answered Spencer, without even acknowledging the photo.

"Oh, Baby Cheeks, this is the absolute best thing I have ever seen in my life!" cried Garcia in delight.

The final page, 'Scott Rhyn -The Hottest Model That Ever Lived', was the most revealing. Photo spreads in Esquire, GQ, Vogue and Glamour, along with covers of French, Italian and Asian fashion magazines littered the screen. Spencer refused to look, hoping upon hope that the final bastion of his dignity might be preserved...it was not to be.

"Please Garcia!" begged Spencer. "Don't tell anybody. If anyone finds out...if Morgan finds out, I'll never hear the end of it."

Garcia smiled, and pulled the young genius in for a hug. "Listen, 187, you maybe a genius when it comes to geographical profiles and statistics, but trust me when I tell you that this," she said, pointing at her computer screen, "this is a hundred years of bragging rights over Pants Morgan!"

"That's overstating it a bit, don't you think?"

"Are you kidding me?" began Penelope excitedly. "Just look at you, all dressed to the nines...seductively draped all over those hot super models. My Chocolate Thunder would probably cry real tears just to be in the same room with these women. Use that brain of yours, Cupcake, this will be a gigantic bruise to his huge male ego!"

Reid gave Penelope a sad smile. "One time, not long after I shot Dowd, I told Hotch that I was worried that my age, and awkwardness, was a detriment to the team. Hotch laughed, and told me that I should considered my youth and unassuming appearance to be my super power."

Garcia looked at him quizzically.

"He said that because the LEOs and Unsubs constantly underestimated me...their perceptions gave me power over them. He said that if it had been Morgan with him in that Emergency Room, instead of me, he doubted that he would still be alive." Spencer laughed. "He called me his own personal super hero. It made me feel better...though in hindsight, he was probably just flirting with me, and I didn't realize it! Either way, I don't want to lose that."

"Oh, Pumpkin!" giggled Garcia warmly. "I can guarantee you that Boss Man will always see you as his super hero, despite my previous worries to the contrary. And, I can assure you that no one will expect you to start dressing or acting any differently. But remember this, Son of Kal-El...if Superman had never put on that awesome cape, no one would have ever known what a bad-ass Clark Kent was!"

oOo

At three forty-five, the team gathered in the Round Table room for a briefing on Garcia's new software application. The program she had developed would save time, by narrowing their search requests on the fly, prior to contacting the computer genius by phone.

The Tech Analyst winked knowingly at the young genius, who was immediately filled with a dread that surpassed even the fear of contracting Anthrax for a second time. He was comforted slightly by Garcia, who rested a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him in his seat.

The rest of the team looked at the scene quizzically, as the young woman began. "Okay, crime-fighters!" she said with a song in her voice."As I explained the last time we talked about this, there are times when you guys are in the field, and need information quickly. You all know that I am always at the ready to take your calls, but unfortunately, audio communication can lack certain...how should I say this...nuance."

The team nodded their understanding. The precipitation for the new app occurred a few months previous, when the home of an eighty-five year old senior citizen was raided, due to an LEO's spelling error.

Garcia began the demonstration by projecting her tablet onto the larger screen. "Yesterday, as part of an investigation, I was asked to locate information pertaining to a man that I mistakenly believed was named Scott Ryan..."

Aaron frowned. "Garcia, I don't think this is the time..."

"Oh no, Sir...this is definitely the time..." added Garcia with a grin. "This is the perfect example for my demo, and not only will everyone learn the importance of clear communication, but you will also get your answers!"

Hotch eyed her suspiciously, but allowed her to continue.

"When you begin a search, the more information you have, the easier it is. In this particular case, I had nothing but a name, and a potential occupation. Entering those variables, produced this..." Garcia's screen erupted with thousands of images, links, bits and bytes, covering hundreds of individuals named Scott Ryan.

"Obviously, this huge glut of information is going to be very little help to you in the field. This is the type of situation that the app will hopefully prevent. As you can all see on your tablets, there are fields aplenty for you to complete...name, alias, address, occupation, age, marital status...you get the picture. If each of you completes one of these, based upon the information gathered from your various locales, I will be able to aggregate the accumulated details,with a much more accurate picture, lickity split."

The team nodded in agreement as she continued. "So, going back to yesterday's manhunt...After hours of futile searching, I was forced to call back my source for additional information. I quickly realized that I had completely misheard the name she had given me." On the large screen, they watched as the tech genius erased the name Scott Ryan, and entered the new name Scott Rhyn.

"I supplemented that with additional information from an another source..." Under address she typed in Pasadena, California, and under occupation she typed Model, and hit enter.

Spencer squirmed in his seat as he watched Garcia work her magic. The tech goddess continued. "Suddenly, with very little additional information, I went from nothing, to this."

Instead of pulling up the results of the search, the computer began to play the music video of Hotch's obsession.

"Garcia!" Hotch growled.

The video was paused."Sir?" questioned Garcia defiantly, "To quote the famous FBI Agent, Fox Mulder, 'The Truth Is Out There'...Sir."

Hotch frowned. "You have very little latitude, Garcia...but go ahead."

The melancholy song began, followed by a long pan of the white barn, with the camera finally settling on the gorgeous young dancer. Like Aaron had been, the team was mesmerized by the video. It was produced to evoke emotion, and it did it's job well. Kate and JJ were awestruck at the beauty of the dance, and it was obvious that both Rossi and Morgan appreciated the talent behind what they were seeing. Aaron smiled broadly, until he looked over at his husband, to see that he was purposely looking away from the screen.

Aaron nudged the young Doctor with his knee to get his attention. "Spencer?" he asked quietly. "What's wrong?"

Spencer looked at his husband with trepidation. He opened his mouth to try to explain, but before the young genius could speak, the music ended...his eyes were drawn to the screen. Unlike the video Hotch had seen before, this time, there was no fade to black. The videographer had continued to film. There was no more music...no soundtrack for this. The camera stayed with the young dancer, struggling to catch his breath. Suddenly, without warning, the dancer raised his head and smiled in triumph for the camera. The team was in shock as they realized that they were looking at a very disheveled, and very young, Spencer Reid.

The confusion on their faces caused Penelope to laugh out loud. Spencer, on the other hand, chose to cover his face, striving for an ostrich 'head in the sand' scenario.

Peeking through his fingers, Spencer saw Aaron turn towards him in shock. "Spencer?" he questioned quietly.

"Oh Boss. This ain't over yet!" said Garcia with a smile.

The proud young dancer faded away, and suddenly the song, I Wanna Be A Supermodel by Avril Lavigne, began to play. Spencer cringed openly, as Garcia's artfully prepared photo montage filled the screen. Runway shots, magazine covers, print ads for Hugo Boss, Hilfiger, Aldo, Klein and Burberry...

Spencer counted the seconds. One hundred and ninety six seconds...one hundred and ninety six seconds of his life laid bare. He had to believe that Garcia was right about this...he truly wanted to be Clark Kent.

The music ceased, and Reid looked around the table at his friends and family, staring at him incredulously. Quickly, Spencer began to ramble..."My Faculty Advisor threatened to stall my PhD until I completed a few non-academic electives to balance out my education. Ballet covered both Fine Arts AND Physical Education...I was multi-tasking! An agent saw me, and told me I could get lots of money...my mom..."

As usual, SSA Hotchner took charge, cutting his husband off mid-sentence. "Reid!...Spencer...calm down!"

His stern countenance softened quickly into a smile. He grabbed the young man's hand and entwined their fingers, pride evident in his eyes. "Spencer...oh my god...you're my dancer? That is beyond perfect."

Spencer smiled knowingly at his husband, then turned to face his teammates.

Shaking his head, Morgan turned to Garcia. "Baby Girl...you photo-shopped that, right? I mean...no way is any of that even possible! First, Pretty Boy can't dance..."

"Obviously, he can." mumbled Rossi.

"Two...The kid has never worn a jacket that isn't tweed!"

"Obviously, he has." mumbled Rossi again, with a chuckle.

"And Third...He is totally awkward around women!"

"He seemed comfortable in the pictures." offered Rossi again, under his breath.

"Oh, my Love God...you are totally jealous!" giggled Garcia.

"I'm not jealous!" croaked Morgan. "I just don't understand this. This doesn't even feel like reality. How are we even having this conversation?"

JJ ended Morgan's pathetic rant by slapping him in the shoulder with a file. "Face it Morgan, Spence lived your dream...great clothes, beautiful women and an adoring public!"

Still flustered, Morgan sputtered. "All those times...you didn't want to go clubbin' with us...I thought you couldn't dance."

JJ laughed at Morgan's statement. "He was probably afraid that we'd embarrass him!"

Spencer blushed noticeably.

"Sweetie," said Kate. "You're beautiful. It doesn't matter whether you are here or there...but I'm glad you chose to be here."

Garcia saw the look of wide-eyed consternation on the young genius's face. "Oh, Honey...I know you don't understand, but we all love you, and this makes us love you all the more."

Aaron nodded his agreement, and leaned in, kissing his husband passionately. As Hotch ended the kiss, he unconsciously ran his thumb over Spencer's bruised lip.

Suddenly the three women shared a look, and a realization. "Oh my God! Hotch bit him!" they screamed in delight.

Clearing his throat, Hotch was embarrassed but defiant. "You saw him...who wouldn't?"

Spencer smiled as his husband whispered seductively in his ear. "At least we don't have to worry about that whole man-whore issue anymore!"

"Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for."
― Epicurus