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Fic: By Any Other Name
By Any Other Name - Criminal Minds/Supernatural - Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid - Words: 1,616
Written for jacklemmon's fandom stocking.
Summary: Aaron should know better than to let Spencer pick their names when they go undercover.
Content Notes: Implied homophobia from a minor character. PG
Author Notes: This is a Criminal Minds/Supernatural fusion where Hotch and Reid are hunters instead of FBI agents.
On AO3: By Any Other Name
"One room is fine," Aaron overheard Spencer say to the motel clerk for the second time in the space of two minutes. He looked up from the packet of papers they'd printed off at the library, all information about their next hunt, and found Spencer staring at the clerk with an uncharacteristically hostile expression. Aaron tensed automatically, ready to respond with violence at the first indication something was amiss - memories of the demonic motel keeper in Virginia had never quite faded from his mind and the scars on his chest were constant reminders that he'd once let his guard down when he'd thought he was safe.
"The only rooms we have open are rooms with one bed," the hotel clerk said, pronouncing each word slowly as if Spencer hadn't understood him the first time.
Spencer glared and his hand dropped to his hip, where he wore his holster when they were hunting. "Look, it's late. So when I tell you that one room with one bed is fine, then it's fine."
Aaron rolled his eyes and picked up his bag. He walked to the front desk and wrapped one of his arms around Spencer's shoulders, pulling him so that Spencer was effectively cocooned against him. "Sweetie, what's the hold up?"
Fortunately the motel clerk was too busy staring at Aaron - whose own expression was daring him to say something about them - to see Spencer's jaw drop at the use of the word 'sweetie'.
"Well?" Aaron asked, this time directing his question at the clerk. Aaron knew that people perceived him as intimidating, dangerous even, and they were absolutely right. He wouldn't actually attack a helpless motel clerk, unless he attacked them first, but Aaron didn't see any reason to inform him of that.
"No hold up. I'll just get the key." The clerk scrambled to get the key out of the box and handed it to Aaron.
Aaron handed the key to Spencer, who had gotten over his surprise at Aaron's approach, and they left the front office. Aaron didn't miss the hateful glare they received as soon as they were far enough away from the clerk that Aaron didn't present an immediate threat.
"So that's our cover story?" Spencer asked as they got their bags from the trunk of Aaron's car. "We're a gay couple that decided to come see the sights of southern rustic Bayou Cane, Louisiana?"
"Gay couple, FBI agents, health inspectors." Aaron shrugged. "Does it matter? We've used all of those as covers before."
Spencer just shook his head and led the way to the motel room. Once inside he held out his hand for the stack of papers Aaron had been flipping through and sat at the table while Aaron examined the room for evidence of harmful enchantments or other indicators that someone might know where they were. It was unlikely, they'd only picked up word of the case the day before, but Aaron knew that something was after them. There hadn't been any evidence yet, but Aaron was certain.
"We should probably start at the mill on the edge of town. We might be looking at a vengeful spirit who drowned? That would explain the trails of water around the victims." Spencer said. He had finished with the papers long before Aaron had finished checking over the room.
"Tomorrow," Aaron agreed. "After breakfast."
Their nightly routine was simple: salt, protective runes and sigils, knives slipped in between the headboard and the mattress, and guns loaded and placed within easy reach. The first time they'd shared a room Aaron had nearly shot Spencer when he'd gotten up to use the bathroom in the night. In the seven months since they'd started traveling together Aaron had gotten used to sharing a room again and the times they nearly shot or stabbed each other slowly diminished.
Neither of them bothered to do more than kick off their shoes and take off their jackets when they went to bed. Aaron slept on top of the covers and didn't say anything when Spencer wrapped himself in the blankets. Having his arms and legs easily tangled and hampered by the blankets was a liability, but Spencer had gotten cold easily ever since a demon in Montana had nearly suffocated him in snow four months ago. Aaron would stand guard, even in his sleep, for both of them.
*****
"You must be the guys that Jacob told me about." The waitress smiled expectantly at both of them, her long hair slipping forward over her shoulder as she leaned closer to the table. "Jacob, at the motel. He told me last night that he had a couple of men check into a room together last night. A couple."
Spencer recovered first. "That's us. I'm Steve and this is my partner Adam. We're just here, seeing the sights of lovely Louisiana."
Aaron did his best not to cringe. Adam and Steve? Was Spencer trying to get them chased out of the town?
The waitress just grinned. "That's so cute! What can I get for you?"
"Breakfast platter number two. And coffee, as black and strong as you've got it," Aaron said quickly.
"Coffee with cream and sugar, and a pancake stack with raspberry syrup," Spencer said, folding his menu and handing back to the waitress.
As soon as she'd disappeared, Aaron raised his eyebrow at Spencer and used his expression to convey every thought he had about that little display.
"I know, I'm lucky you love me." Spencer grinned, his head tipping back in a silent laugh.
It was the happiest Aaron had seen Spencer in months, so Aaron restrained himself from rolling his eyes and let himself smile just a little in response.
The first time they'd met, Aaron had saved Spencer from a djinn. In turn, Spencer had promptly saved Aaron's life by having the weapon - a knife dipped in lamb's blood - that they needed to actually kill the damned thing. Aaron had been hunting on his own for seven years at that point, ever since his parents had died and his brother Sean had disappeared to New York to become a chef. Aaron dropped by from time to time, let Sean cook him a meal and take a shot at convincing Aaron to retire. It never worked, but it was nice to know that Sean cared enough to try.
He still didn't know Spencer's full story. Spencer was a hunter, but he wasn't like any other hunters than Aaron had ever met. Most of them were muscled, carried weapons like they'd been born holding them, and drank too much. Aaron had spent the first month that they'd traveled together teaching Spencer to shoot straight, working with him on building some muscle, and Spencer wouldn't touch alcohol. He'd asked Spencer, only once, how he'd gotten into hunting. Spencer had said his mother. When Aaron asked if Spencer's mother had been a hunter, Spencer had shook his head and walked away. He'd disappeared for two full days and just when Aaron was getting ready to give up and leave town without him, Spencer had shown back up again covered in demon ichor and bruises.
"So, the mill first and then maybe walk up the river a bit?" Spencer asked.
"Oh, you can't go to the mill. It's haunted," the waitress, having overheard Spencer, said as she set down their coffees.
"Will you tell us about it?" Spencer asked. He brushed his longer hair away from his eyes and smiled up at the waitress.
Aaron sat back and let Spencer work his own particular brand of magic. If he hadn't seen it dozens of times, Aaron would swear that Spencer knew exactly what he was doing when he looked at women like that.
The waitress told them just about everything they needed to know, filling in the gaps that the newspaper articles and internet rumor sites had left.
After their meal, Aaron settled their bill and found Spencer at the front of the diner feeding quarters into the candy machines. "Ready to go?" he asked, standing closer than was probably necessary even with their cover.
Spencer stood up and they were suddenly face to face. "Yeah, ready."
Before he could think about what he was doing, Aaron leaned in and kissed Spencer briefly. He'd kissed Spencer before, when their cover had required a display of affection, but this felt a little bit different. It felt more genuine. "To establish our backstory," Aaron explained when Spencer stared at him.
"There's nobody who can see us," Spencer said, gesturing to where the waitress had disappeared into the back with her tray.
"I guess I'll just have to do that again when there is somebody who can see us," Aaron said, keeping his voice neutral. "If you think that's a good idea. Steve."
Spencer smiled, the same full and bright smile he'd given before. "Well, Adam. I think that would be an excellent idea. In fact, the waitress seems to be returning right now."
Aaron leaned in and kissed Spencer again and then stole a piece of candy from Spencer's cupped hands. He didn't have to look back to know that the waitress was peeking out from behind the corner.
They walked out to the car, Spencer already giving directions to the mill. "You know, you can do that again. When people aren't looking. And when I'm not Steve and you're not Adam," he said, interrupting himself abruptly.
"First of all, we're never being 'Adam and Steve' again," Aaron said, putting as much command into his voice as he could.
Spencer just laughed.
"Second of all, can I?" Aaron asked, the words softer.
"Yeah," Spencer nodded. "Sometime, I might even kiss you first."
Written for jacklemmon's fandom stocking.
Summary: Aaron should know better than to let Spencer pick their names when they go undercover.
Content Notes: Implied homophobia from a minor character. PG
Author Notes: This is a Criminal Minds/Supernatural fusion where Hotch and Reid are hunters instead of FBI agents.
On AO3: By Any Other Name
"One room is fine," Aaron overheard Spencer say to the motel clerk for the second time in the space of two minutes. He looked up from the packet of papers they'd printed off at the library, all information about their next hunt, and found Spencer staring at the clerk with an uncharacteristically hostile expression. Aaron tensed automatically, ready to respond with violence at the first indication something was amiss - memories of the demonic motel keeper in Virginia had never quite faded from his mind and the scars on his chest were constant reminders that he'd once let his guard down when he'd thought he was safe.
"The only rooms we have open are rooms with one bed," the hotel clerk said, pronouncing each word slowly as if Spencer hadn't understood him the first time.
Spencer glared and his hand dropped to his hip, where he wore his holster when they were hunting. "Look, it's late. So when I tell you that one room with one bed is fine, then it's fine."
Aaron rolled his eyes and picked up his bag. He walked to the front desk and wrapped one of his arms around Spencer's shoulders, pulling him so that Spencer was effectively cocooned against him. "Sweetie, what's the hold up?"
Fortunately the motel clerk was too busy staring at Aaron - whose own expression was daring him to say something about them - to see Spencer's jaw drop at the use of the word 'sweetie'.
"Well?" Aaron asked, this time directing his question at the clerk. Aaron knew that people perceived him as intimidating, dangerous even, and they were absolutely right. He wouldn't actually attack a helpless motel clerk, unless he attacked them first, but Aaron didn't see any reason to inform him of that.
"No hold up. I'll just get the key." The clerk scrambled to get the key out of the box and handed it to Aaron.
Aaron handed the key to Spencer, who had gotten over his surprise at Aaron's approach, and they left the front office. Aaron didn't miss the hateful glare they received as soon as they were far enough away from the clerk that Aaron didn't present an immediate threat.
"So that's our cover story?" Spencer asked as they got their bags from the trunk of Aaron's car. "We're a gay couple that decided to come see the sights of southern rustic Bayou Cane, Louisiana?"
"Gay couple, FBI agents, health inspectors." Aaron shrugged. "Does it matter? We've used all of those as covers before."
Spencer just shook his head and led the way to the motel room. Once inside he held out his hand for the stack of papers Aaron had been flipping through and sat at the table while Aaron examined the room for evidence of harmful enchantments or other indicators that someone might know where they were. It was unlikely, they'd only picked up word of the case the day before, but Aaron knew that something was after them. There hadn't been any evidence yet, but Aaron was certain.
"We should probably start at the mill on the edge of town. We might be looking at a vengeful spirit who drowned? That would explain the trails of water around the victims." Spencer said. He had finished with the papers long before Aaron had finished checking over the room.
"Tomorrow," Aaron agreed. "After breakfast."
Their nightly routine was simple: salt, protective runes and sigils, knives slipped in between the headboard and the mattress, and guns loaded and placed within easy reach. The first time they'd shared a room Aaron had nearly shot Spencer when he'd gotten up to use the bathroom in the night. In the seven months since they'd started traveling together Aaron had gotten used to sharing a room again and the times they nearly shot or stabbed each other slowly diminished.
Neither of them bothered to do more than kick off their shoes and take off their jackets when they went to bed. Aaron slept on top of the covers and didn't say anything when Spencer wrapped himself in the blankets. Having his arms and legs easily tangled and hampered by the blankets was a liability, but Spencer had gotten cold easily ever since a demon in Montana had nearly suffocated him in snow four months ago. Aaron would stand guard, even in his sleep, for both of them.
"You must be the guys that Jacob told me about." The waitress smiled expectantly at both of them, her long hair slipping forward over her shoulder as she leaned closer to the table. "Jacob, at the motel. He told me last night that he had a couple of men check into a room together last night. A couple."
Spencer recovered first. "That's us. I'm Steve and this is my partner Adam. We're just here, seeing the sights of lovely Louisiana."
Aaron did his best not to cringe. Adam and Steve? Was Spencer trying to get them chased out of the town?
The waitress just grinned. "That's so cute! What can I get for you?"
"Breakfast platter number two. And coffee, as black and strong as you've got it," Aaron said quickly.
"Coffee with cream and sugar, and a pancake stack with raspberry syrup," Spencer said, folding his menu and handing back to the waitress.
As soon as she'd disappeared, Aaron raised his eyebrow at Spencer and used his expression to convey every thought he had about that little display.
"I know, I'm lucky you love me." Spencer grinned, his head tipping back in a silent laugh.
It was the happiest Aaron had seen Spencer in months, so Aaron restrained himself from rolling his eyes and let himself smile just a little in response.
The first time they'd met, Aaron had saved Spencer from a djinn. In turn, Spencer had promptly saved Aaron's life by having the weapon - a knife dipped in lamb's blood - that they needed to actually kill the damned thing. Aaron had been hunting on his own for seven years at that point, ever since his parents had died and his brother Sean had disappeared to New York to become a chef. Aaron dropped by from time to time, let Sean cook him a meal and take a shot at convincing Aaron to retire. It never worked, but it was nice to know that Sean cared enough to try.
He still didn't know Spencer's full story. Spencer was a hunter, but he wasn't like any other hunters than Aaron had ever met. Most of them were muscled, carried weapons like they'd been born holding them, and drank too much. Aaron had spent the first month that they'd traveled together teaching Spencer to shoot straight, working with him on building some muscle, and Spencer wouldn't touch alcohol. He'd asked Spencer, only once, how he'd gotten into hunting. Spencer had said his mother. When Aaron asked if Spencer's mother had been a hunter, Spencer had shook his head and walked away. He'd disappeared for two full days and just when Aaron was getting ready to give up and leave town without him, Spencer had shown back up again covered in demon ichor and bruises.
"So, the mill first and then maybe walk up the river a bit?" Spencer asked.
"Oh, you can't go to the mill. It's haunted," the waitress, having overheard Spencer, said as she set down their coffees.
"Will you tell us about it?" Spencer asked. He brushed his longer hair away from his eyes and smiled up at the waitress.
Aaron sat back and let Spencer work his own particular brand of magic. If he hadn't seen it dozens of times, Aaron would swear that Spencer knew exactly what he was doing when he looked at women like that.
The waitress told them just about everything they needed to know, filling in the gaps that the newspaper articles and internet rumor sites had left.
After their meal, Aaron settled their bill and found Spencer at the front of the diner feeding quarters into the candy machines. "Ready to go?" he asked, standing closer than was probably necessary even with their cover.
Spencer stood up and they were suddenly face to face. "Yeah, ready."
Before he could think about what he was doing, Aaron leaned in and kissed Spencer briefly. He'd kissed Spencer before, when their cover had required a display of affection, but this felt a little bit different. It felt more genuine. "To establish our backstory," Aaron explained when Spencer stared at him.
"There's nobody who can see us," Spencer said, gesturing to where the waitress had disappeared into the back with her tray.
"I guess I'll just have to do that again when there is somebody who can see us," Aaron said, keeping his voice neutral. "If you think that's a good idea. Steve."
Spencer smiled, the same full and bright smile he'd given before. "Well, Adam. I think that would be an excellent idea. In fact, the waitress seems to be returning right now."
Aaron leaned in and kissed Spencer again and then stole a piece of candy from Spencer's cupped hands. He didn't have to look back to know that the waitress was peeking out from behind the corner.
They walked out to the car, Spencer already giving directions to the mill. "You know, you can do that again. When people aren't looking. And when I'm not Steve and you're not Adam," he said, interrupting himself abruptly.
"First of all, we're never being 'Adam and Steve' again," Aaron said, putting as much command into his voice as he could.
Spencer just laughed.
"Second of all, can I?" Aaron asked, the words softer.
"Yeah," Spencer nodded. "Sometime, I might even kiss you first."