Title: Punch Drunk
Author: Sam
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairings: Gideon/Reid, Hotch/Morgan implied
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, just exorcising the bunnies.
Warnings: None. Well...sap?
Summary: Morgan spiked the punch at the BAU office Christmas party.

***

/While it is true that crime does not take a holiday, it is also true that
even the fiercest of those who battle it must./ - Jason Gideon, three hours and
fourteen minutes ago at the beginning of the annual BAU office Christmas
party...

--

Wearing his new santa hat slightly askew - a gag gift from Morgan along with
a more sincere volume of English short stories, not one unsub in them to be
found, from Hotch - Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid slipped inside the
semi-darkened room gratefully, ever mindful of where he needed to put his feet
to
avoid tripping himself up as well as of the headache slowly developing behind
his eyelids, threatening to steal his pleasant fruit punch buzz.

Leave it up to Morgan to have thought that spiking the punch bowl was a good
idea...

He hoped JJ liked the Soloman Island Birdwing butterfly shadowbox he had
found for her. He had drawn her name in the secret santa lots this year and -
while he hadn't wanted to bring up old Fisher King memories - the second he
came across it, Spencer had known it would be perfect for her collection.

Making it to the overstuffed red leather chair - the only spot of color in
the otherwise ordinary office - Spencer sat both himself and his half full cup
of equally red punch gingerly down on their respective surfaces. He was
rather amused at the thought of possibly mixing it all up and placing himself on
the table and the cup in the chair, but he wasn't quite that far gone just
yet. Maybe after he finished the cup...

He had just lain his head back against the comfortable leather when the door
opened, bringing a familiar black silhouette against the brilliant light
outside in with it. Spencer shut his eyes against the invading glare.

"I thought I saw you sneak in here," Gideon said, the curiosity in the
pleasant tone turning to concern when Spencer never lifted his head. "You
alright?"

"I think Morgan spiked the punch," Spencer told him, reaching out to shake
his now empty cup (and when had he finished it?), the small chips of ice all
that were left of the two large cubes he had started out with rattling around
in the plastic.

He could all but imagine Gideon taking that information in; weighing it
along with the fact that the younger man had all but snuck his way into his
darkened office and had yet to open his eyes and look at him.

"And you thought it would be better to face a possible drunk in here than
out there where Morgan might make fun of you?"

"Would make fun of me," Spencer corrected though without heat. He was much
too mellow and - let's face it - heading into sleepy, to worry about his
fellow agent's teasing. Morgan may make him uncomfortable sometimes but he was
never mean. Besides, he wasn't drunk, he was...pleasantly mellow. "And I
thought a nap would be good."

This time he when he heard Gideon chuckle it sounded closer. Cautiously
cracking open a eye, Spencer saw one blue denimed thigh resting on the table
where his drink had been. The wonderfully dark voice still held that hint of
amusement. "So you're a sleepy drunk, then?"

In his current mood Spencer only tipped his head up at the older man,
smiling happily. The wide yawn only added credence to the accusation. "Yep."

"I see. In that case, maybe we should get you home," Gideon suggested.
"Let you sleep off your buzz in a nice comfortable bed. Before you get a crick
in your neck."

"'m comf'table right here," he denied, snuggling into the warmth of the
padded chair, forgetting for the moment the party, complete with lighted and
garlanded Christmas tree, still going on outside in the main pit. He thought
he
heard the door open again, but now that he was stationary the alcohol was
quickly catching up with him and he didn't feel up to opening his eyes to be
sure. In no way was he taking the metro home.

He did hear another chuckle, though, and maybe an echo as he drifted further
down to sleep. "Alright then," the voice whispered, fading as he began
falling into darkness. "Sleep, Spencer."

And with one last rub of his cheek against leather he did just that.
--

The two men gazed down at their colleague curled up in old easy chair
fondly. Sharing a smile at the slight snores and the drool already forming,
they
moved far enough away from that corner of Gideon's office as to not disturb
the slumbering man.

"You going to take him home?" Hotch asked.

"Eventually," Gideon admitted, shaking his head. "After everyone leaves.
He seems to be comfortable enough at the moment - though I can't imagine how
- and there's no sense in wagging the rumor mills. Though I am going to
have a talk with Morgan about spiking the community punch."

"He sleeps on the plane the same way." Hotch grinned outright at that, the
dimples on his cheeks showing up and lending the teasing tone a mischievous
quality rarely seen in the serious agent. "All knees and elbows. Going to
thank him are you?"

Gideon looked from an adorably innocent Spencer Reid and smiled. "Yes."

Hotch laughed softly at that. Slapping the older man on the shoulder, he
offered suggestively, "So take Spencer home, put him to bed and maybe he'll be
the present under your tree this year. He already has the hat."

Gideon only smiled, deferring with a murmured, "Maybe I will."

No doubt knowing him better than that, the younger man only snorted. "Sure
you will." Getting ready to slip out of Gideon's office, Hotch offered one
last piece of advice, "Ever stop and wonder why it was your office Reid came
to and not mine? Or JJ's? Think about it."

Reluctantly, Gideon did. However, he only waved the other man out, saying
lightly, "You and Morgan go have fun. Go home."

"Merry Christmas, Jason," Aaron smiled warmly.

"Merry Christmas, Hotch."

The door once more firmly closed on the lights and merriment coming from the
office party outside the semi-darkened haven that was his office, Gideon
looked at the young man who had captured his mind as well as his heart. Curled
up in the old red chair with his cheek pressed against the crevice in the
back, Spencer looked young. Too young.

But Gideon knew better. And contrary to what Hotch thought, he hadn't been
blind to the multitude and varied glances Spencer had cast his way while
working through his changing feelings. Figuring himself out. Gideon had
noticed
every changing nuance that had been Spencer Reid from the time he came to
work at the BAU a few years earlier up to the moment he had slipped away from
the party and crashed in Gideon's office tonight.

A fond look down and Gideon was running his hand over Spencer's hair, the
fingers carding through the silky strands. As Reid sighed in his sleep,
leaning into the caress, Gideon admitted he wasn't strong enough to deny himself
this chance. He was going to take the advice given him and take Spencer home,
tuck the young man into Gideon's own bed and see where the morning would take
them.

With any luck Santa would be kind and they would both get what they wanted
for Christmas this year.

end