Criminal Minds | Fitting | PG | Hotch/Rossi
Title: Fitting
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: PG
Pairing: Hotch/Rossi
Summary: The lesson serves a dual purpose.
Word Count: 1,120
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use.
A/N: Mild spoilers for 7x02, "Proof." Mostly just for the very last scene. Apparently, Hotch and Rossi have taken over my brain. Thanks for the beta, Kelly.
Morgan smirked as he sat down next to Prentiss on Rossi’s couch. “So we’re thinking this is recent, yeah?”
“Recent?” J.J. asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The Iron Chefs over there,” Morgan replied, indicating the kitchen, where Hotch was taking his turn at the stove. Rossi was nearby, “supervising,” but even Morgan could see he didn’t need to be; Hotch clearly already knew what he was doing. “Unless you think Hotch just happened to know how to make pancetta all on his own.”
“Plus, Hotch is obviously comfortable in Rossi’s kitchen,” added Prentiss, sneaking her own glance at them. Hotch was now grinning at something Rossi had said, and their eyes met—and lingered. Not long, no, but enough.
“It has to be recent,” J.J. said, after a moment. She looked amused. “As obvious as they’re being, we’d have known before now.”
“This cooking lesson obviously served a dual purpose,” Reid added. “To improve morale, and to…let us know. In their way.”
“And what are we talking about over here, boys and girls?” Garcia chirped, walking up to them, a fresh glass of wine in her hand.
“Hotch and Rossi playing house,” Morgan said, smirking.
Garcia glanced back over at Hotch and Rossi, who were now standing just too close to be casual. She chuckled. “I don’t think they’re playing, mi amor.”
“She has a point,” Prentiss said, sounding amused.
Laughter drew their attention back to the two men in the kitchen. Hotch was smirking at Rossi, who was apparently doing his damnedest to look stern. “What’s so funny, boss man?” Garcia called, grinning impishly.
Hotch only continued smirking. Rossi, in a long-suffering tone, replied, “Aaron seems to think he’s surpassed the master.”
“Well, how long have you been giving him private lessons?” J.J. asked, the picture of innocence.
Morgan hid a smirk. He saw Prentiss do the same, using her wine glass as cover. Garcia didn’t even bother to try, and Reid didn’t seem to be able.
Rossi and Hotch both rolled their eyes. “Five months,” Rossi replied. “Obviously with a three month break in between.”
“Man, I don’t know, Rossi. He might have surpassed you. Hotch is probably a quick learner,” Morgan said, smirking.
Rossi shook his head. “No respect,” he said. “Not even in my own house.”
“Mansion,” Hotch corrected, deadpan. Everyone grinned.
“Yeah, yeah,” Rossi said, glancing at the pan on the stove. “Planning on burning down my kitchen, Aaron? That’s done.”
“Almost. I know what I’m doing, Dave.”
Their good-natured squabbling continued. Amused, Morgan turned back to the others. “How is it they’ve been together five months but they bicker like they’ve been married fifty years?”
“That’s just Hotch and Rossi,” Prentiss said.
“Yeah,” Garcia said. “I totally agree. It’s one of those things that just kinda makes sense in a crazy intuitive weirdly illogical but also still totally logical way.”
“Objectively, I suppose we should probably find it surprising,” Reid replied. “Rossi has been married three times before, to women, and Hotch was married to a woman for years. While past heterosexual relationships are obviously not a 100% reliable indicator of heterosexuality, in a heteronormative society, it is assumed.” He shrugged. “Subjectively, however, I have to agree with Garcia’s assessment.”
“I think what all that translates to is: they fit,” J.J. said, clearly amused.
“Yes,” Reid said, looking sheepish. “They fit.”
“If you’re all done gossiping,” Rossi called then, “Aaron has finally managed to finish—and somehow, my kitchen survives. Let’s eat.”
*
After dinner, they all helped clean up, before they gravitated back into the living room with a fresh bottle of wine. Hotch and Rossi ended up on the couch, looking relaxed; they sat slightly closer than would probably be considered usual, with one of Rossi’s arms stretched along the back, absently brushing Hotch’s shoulder. In his other hand was a glass of wine.
It wasn’t overt, or even obvious; Morgan wasn’t sure that anyone else would actually notice any difference in their behavior. To the five of them, though, the message was loud and clear: this dynamic had shifted.
“So are we all on our way to being master Italian chefs?” Prentiss asked with a grin.
“I don’t know if I would say that,” Rossi replied, taking a drink from his glass. “Though some of you showed more promise than others.” He gave Reid a pointed look.
“Hey, I was late!” he said, indignant. Everyone laughed.
“Still, kid,” Morgan said, “I think you should stick to takeout.”
“There, there, boy genius,” said Garcia, patting him sympathetically on the leg. “You’ve still got basically every other subject ever to be good at.”
“I’m still surprised Morgan didn’t burn the place down,” Prentiss said, grinning.
“I’ve got some game,” he said, smirking back at her.
“But Hotch was the best out of all of us,” J.J. said.
“Yeah, but he cheated,” Morgan pointed out. “He’s had a private tutor.”
Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Is that cheating, or merely…being better prepared?”
Morgan exchanged a look with Prentiss, Reid, J.J., and Garcia. “Cheating,” they said simultaneously, breaking out into grins.
Hotch shook his head, holding up his hands in a surrender motion. “Then I take myself out of the running.”
“At least you’re a noble cheater,” Prentiss said, amused.
“Sounds like a contradiction in terms,” Reid replied.
“Were you people expecting trophies?” Rossi asked then, raising his eyebrows. “You’re going to be sorely disappointed.”
“Aw, there should at least be certificates of completion,” Garcia said, pouting.
“You could just make your own, baby girl,” Morgan replied.
“It’s not the same.”
He chuckled, taking a drink from his glass.
*
J.J. ended up being the first to leave, citing Will and Henry; she was followed shortly by Reid. He, Prentiss, and Garcia started trickling toward the door not long after.
“This was a good idea,” Prentiss said before she left, smiling. “See you guys at work on Monday.”
“I had fun!” Garcia agreed. “Thank you, Rossi. Your words of wisdom will be remembered.”
That meant he was the last to head out, or at least he assumed he would be, since he doubted Hotch would be leaving; with the way he and Rossi had been exchanging the occasional meaningful glances, he figured that was a safe bet.
As Rossi walked him to the door, Morgan told him, “Thanks for having us,” then, after a beat, added, “And, sincerely, man—congratulations. You both know we’re happy for you guys, right?”
Rossi smiled. “Yeah, we know. Thanks, Morgan.”
Morgan smiled back, nodding. Then he smirked. “Have fun tonight.”
Rossi gave him a look. “Keep in mind I say this with a lot of affection,” he replied, “but get the hell out.”
Laughing, Morgan left, shaking his head. Yeah, they fit.
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: PG
Pairing: Hotch/Rossi
Summary: The lesson serves a dual purpose.
Word Count: 1,120
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use.
A/N: Mild spoilers for 7x02, "Proof." Mostly just for the very last scene. Apparently, Hotch and Rossi have taken over my brain. Thanks for the beta, Kelly.
Morgan smirked as he sat down next to Prentiss on Rossi’s couch. “So we’re thinking this is recent, yeah?”
“Recent?” J.J. asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The Iron Chefs over there,” Morgan replied, indicating the kitchen, where Hotch was taking his turn at the stove. Rossi was nearby, “supervising,” but even Morgan could see he didn’t need to be; Hotch clearly already knew what he was doing. “Unless you think Hotch just happened to know how to make pancetta all on his own.”
“Plus, Hotch is obviously comfortable in Rossi’s kitchen,” added Prentiss, sneaking her own glance at them. Hotch was now grinning at something Rossi had said, and their eyes met—and lingered. Not long, no, but enough.
“It has to be recent,” J.J. said, after a moment. She looked amused. “As obvious as they’re being, we’d have known before now.”
“This cooking lesson obviously served a dual purpose,” Reid added. “To improve morale, and to…let us know. In their way.”
“And what are we talking about over here, boys and girls?” Garcia chirped, walking up to them, a fresh glass of wine in her hand.
“Hotch and Rossi playing house,” Morgan said, smirking.
Garcia glanced back over at Hotch and Rossi, who were now standing just too close to be casual. She chuckled. “I don’t think they’re playing, mi amor.”
“She has a point,” Prentiss said, sounding amused.
Laughter drew their attention back to the two men in the kitchen. Hotch was smirking at Rossi, who was apparently doing his damnedest to look stern. “What’s so funny, boss man?” Garcia called, grinning impishly.
Hotch only continued smirking. Rossi, in a long-suffering tone, replied, “Aaron seems to think he’s surpassed the master.”
“Well, how long have you been giving him private lessons?” J.J. asked, the picture of innocence.
Morgan hid a smirk. He saw Prentiss do the same, using her wine glass as cover. Garcia didn’t even bother to try, and Reid didn’t seem to be able.
Rossi and Hotch both rolled their eyes. “Five months,” Rossi replied. “Obviously with a three month break in between.”
“Man, I don’t know, Rossi. He might have surpassed you. Hotch is probably a quick learner,” Morgan said, smirking.
Rossi shook his head. “No respect,” he said. “Not even in my own house.”
“Mansion,” Hotch corrected, deadpan. Everyone grinned.
“Yeah, yeah,” Rossi said, glancing at the pan on the stove. “Planning on burning down my kitchen, Aaron? That’s done.”
“Almost. I know what I’m doing, Dave.”
Their good-natured squabbling continued. Amused, Morgan turned back to the others. “How is it they’ve been together five months but they bicker like they’ve been married fifty years?”
“That’s just Hotch and Rossi,” Prentiss said.
“Yeah,” Garcia said. “I totally agree. It’s one of those things that just kinda makes sense in a crazy intuitive weirdly illogical but also still totally logical way.”
“Objectively, I suppose we should probably find it surprising,” Reid replied. “Rossi has been married three times before, to women, and Hotch was married to a woman for years. While past heterosexual relationships are obviously not a 100% reliable indicator of heterosexuality, in a heteronormative society, it is assumed.” He shrugged. “Subjectively, however, I have to agree with Garcia’s assessment.”
“I think what all that translates to is: they fit,” J.J. said, clearly amused.
“Yes,” Reid said, looking sheepish. “They fit.”
“If you’re all done gossiping,” Rossi called then, “Aaron has finally managed to finish—and somehow, my kitchen survives. Let’s eat.”
After dinner, they all helped clean up, before they gravitated back into the living room with a fresh bottle of wine. Hotch and Rossi ended up on the couch, looking relaxed; they sat slightly closer than would probably be considered usual, with one of Rossi’s arms stretched along the back, absently brushing Hotch’s shoulder. In his other hand was a glass of wine.
It wasn’t overt, or even obvious; Morgan wasn’t sure that anyone else would actually notice any difference in their behavior. To the five of them, though, the message was loud and clear: this dynamic had shifted.
“So are we all on our way to being master Italian chefs?” Prentiss asked with a grin.
“I don’t know if I would say that,” Rossi replied, taking a drink from his glass. “Though some of you showed more promise than others.” He gave Reid a pointed look.
“Hey, I was late!” he said, indignant. Everyone laughed.
“Still, kid,” Morgan said, “I think you should stick to takeout.”
“There, there, boy genius,” said Garcia, patting him sympathetically on the leg. “You’ve still got basically every other subject ever to be good at.”
“I’m still surprised Morgan didn’t burn the place down,” Prentiss said, grinning.
“I’ve got some game,” he said, smirking back at her.
“But Hotch was the best out of all of us,” J.J. said.
“Yeah, but he cheated,” Morgan pointed out. “He’s had a private tutor.”
Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Is that cheating, or merely…being better prepared?”
Morgan exchanged a look with Prentiss, Reid, J.J., and Garcia. “Cheating,” they said simultaneously, breaking out into grins.
Hotch shook his head, holding up his hands in a surrender motion. “Then I take myself out of the running.”
“At least you’re a noble cheater,” Prentiss said, amused.
“Sounds like a contradiction in terms,” Reid replied.
“Were you people expecting trophies?” Rossi asked then, raising his eyebrows. “You’re going to be sorely disappointed.”
“Aw, there should at least be certificates of completion,” Garcia said, pouting.
“You could just make your own, baby girl,” Morgan replied.
“It’s not the same.”
He chuckled, taking a drink from his glass.
J.J. ended up being the first to leave, citing Will and Henry; she was followed shortly by Reid. He, Prentiss, and Garcia started trickling toward the door not long after.
“This was a good idea,” Prentiss said before she left, smiling. “See you guys at work on Monday.”
“I had fun!” Garcia agreed. “Thank you, Rossi. Your words of wisdom will be remembered.”
That meant he was the last to head out, or at least he assumed he would be, since he doubted Hotch would be leaving; with the way he and Rossi had been exchanging the occasional meaningful glances, he figured that was a safe bet.
As Rossi walked him to the door, Morgan told him, “Thanks for having us,” then, after a beat, added, “And, sincerely, man—congratulations. You both know we’re happy for you guys, right?”
Rossi smiled. “Yeah, we know. Thanks, Morgan.”
Morgan smiled back, nodding. Then he smirked. “Have fun tonight.”
Rossi gave him a look. “Keep in mind I say this with a lot of affection,” he replied, “but get the hell out.”
Laughing, Morgan left, shaking his head. Yeah, they fit.