#Hank Morgan

[idkaguyorsomething]

any retelling of the arthurian mythos could be vastly improved by the presence of hank morgan in its story. ¿bbc merlin? needed an episode where a 19th century engineer with a gun tries to usurp uther for his crimes against the common people. ¿camelot the musical? could’ve used a song where a connecticut yankee sings about all the bicycles he’s going to invent to improve this place’s infrastructure. ¿disney’s sword in the stone? ffs they already have a time-traveling wizard who introduces anachronistic technology and modern ideologies to king arthur. there is no excuse.

[masterwords]

Hi, I’d like to order a 32 please: A kiss while someone watches 😙

Coming right up! How about 2500 words of heart trouble that leads up to a heart-racing finish with a LOT of someones watching? Chicago retirement universe, football, sappy soft old men. This is unedited and scrappy, so please forgive glaring errors and halfway correct medical nonsense - I used to work in a coumadin clinic and with a cardiologist so I have some (probably outdated and definitely sketchy at this point) knowledge and that's about where we sit here. Forgive me for errors, I tried to remember things without trying to dive too far into research just to get them to kiss. We're in the CM universe, this is probably still closer to accurate than most of the show was. LOL (I'll put this on AO3 tomorrow. I have to go clean my house and get ready for a football game filled weekend of my own now.)

Warning ⚠️: heart problems & procedures, mention of death/implied abusive household (hotch's father)

(Send me a kiss (or LOTS of them) and I'll write you some hotchgan!)

**

Hotch hadn’t been to work in months. Summer vacation provided a clever cover for his ailing health, he thought. Usually he would pick up a summer course or two, just to keep busy, but it wasn’t required and this year he didn’t even consider it. His heart had begun to act funny sometime around spring break – nothing he hadn’t experienced before. Since Foyet, he’d had random periods of erratic heartbeats. Too fast, sometimes alarmingly so, but always over quickly. A few scary minutes accompanied by a seasick feeling and then back to normal. He would think about it for an hour after, sitting and waiting for the next one, for the Big One.

His father, riddled with cancer though he were, died of a heart attack right there in front of his eyes. One minute he was sitting on the couch talking, complaining about how dry his sandwich was (his mother made it without mayo, just meat and bread, because his body couldn’t tolerate the fat anymore) and then...everything stopped. His eyes went wide, his jaw went slack and he was gone. His heart just stopped, at least that’s the way Hotch remembered it. It was possible it didn’t go quite that way, he was young enough and filled with enough teenage vitriol that if he compared notes with his mother, it might look completely different. He didn’t care to find out, though. The idea that his father’s ticker just ceased to function one minute had always brought him some kind of strange comfort, scared as he was of it happening to him too. Like no matter how terrible a person he was, his clock had run out. His time was up. (Sean asked if his heart exploded, later, after the funeral. The image became ingrained in him, even now as an adult – a heart attack meant that your heart exploded gore in your chest, meat and blood everywhere. In relation to most people he hated the thought, but in relation to his father...well it seemed a fitting end.)

It came and went over the years, sometimes for days at a time, but his doctors assured him that it wasn’t anything to worry about. There were medications and treatments if it became persistent, if it didn’t reset on its own. It always did. He would worry his time was up, and then his heart would say no, not yet. You get another day, another week, another year. Just making sure you remember I’m here and I’m in charge.

But he was older now, and just before spring break as he taught a class on Criminal Law to his to his grad students, he felt his heart begin hammering in his chest faster than it ever had before. He put his hand on his chest and swallowed hard, that had always worked before somehow (maybe only by coincidence) but it only served to make him feel faint. Stubbornly, he pressed on and turning toward the white board, he looked up, squinted to read the words he’d written and grabbed for the red marker he intended to use.

The next thing he knew he was waking up on the floor with a sea of concerned faces staring down at him.

Most people could go a whole lifetime without collapsing in the middle of a presentation, yet he’d done it twice now. Where was the justice in that? The only silver lining was that this time he happened to wake back up before he was in an ambulance with an oxygen mask obscuring his face. (Just barely. The EMTs arrived just a few minutes later and he was alert enough to insist on standing with their help and walking to the ambulance rather than ride on the stretcher through the hallway of his university.)

This time, it didn’t reset on its own, not for hours.

This time Derek was called out of his classes, leaving his baseball team to the assistant coach so he could rush over and sit with Hotch while they attempted to get his heart back into a normal sinus rhythm. Even then, it was precarious. They didn’t expect it to last, not with the onslaught of concerning symptoms that brought him here in the first place. He went home with a pile of new prescriptions to try and treat it medically, all of which failed spectacularly in everything except making him feel like garbage. His least favorite was the re-introduction of blood thinners into his life. The last time he’d taken them was the months after Foyet when they feared that he was at risk of stroke due to the severity and location of his injuries, and the lasting effects those same injuries had on George Foyet himself. Hotch had argued that Foyet had stabbed himself more times, that he’d practiced, that nine was a lot less than what Foyet wore but he had taken the blood thinners dutifully then and he did now too. He suffered through weekly appointments to check his INR, make sure that everything was looking like it should, and because he had Jack and Hank and Derek looking at him like that...wondering if he was going to have a stroke...he never missed or rescheduled a single appointment even if it meant throwing his entire day into disarray. He limped himself along to the end of the year on sheer determination, refusal to cut and run before his students were finished with the courses they’d all begun together. He’d seen them this far, and if his last couple of lectures were given while he leaned heavily on the podium (or sat at his desk on one particularly bad afternoon) then so be it. They always forgave him.

As soon as school was out, he scheduled himself in for an ablation – a procedure to try and go at it from the inside. They assured him that he might feel bad for a while after while he healed, but it was likely to be the ticket. The way to get him back to feeling like himself. The way to get him off of the blood thinners.

The whole time he just felt tired. Not necessarily sick, just unable to do much of anything. His normally active lifestyle had become difficult and sometimes impossible. He and Derek would ride bikes on the weekends or run in the morning and he tried to maintain it, his doctors told him it was in his best interest to be as active as he could be, but some days were just too hard and he couldn’t keep up. No one in his family made him feel bad about it, he did that plenty on his own.

He was miserable, watching summer slip by without getting to do much more than lie in a lounge chair in the backyard and soak up whatever sun Chicago provided him with. He missed out on their usual big summer trips to wherever Savannah was working, he’d said goodbye to Derek and Hank and Jack as they flew to southern Mexico to spend two weeks with her at the ocean. He wasn’t up for the flight and knew they’d all just spend the whole time worrying about him if he went at all. He was better off at home, spending afternoons playing cards with Anthony and Fran while Cindi was at work or going to movies with Desiree and Sarah. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t enjoy himself, he just had to stay close to home because when the exhaustion hit him it hit hard.

Once he had the procedure, things would be better. He was certain. At least after the healing period which would probably make him seem worse, and for the most part, he was right. He’d still decided not to work for a while, to take the first semester of the year off. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the time built up. He probably could have worked, but he didn’t need to and he wasn’t in the habit of killing himself for his job anymore. Things were already looking up a few weeks after the procedure. His energy was slowly returning along with his appetite and his desire to get out and be part of the world. The ever present fear that he would collapse again in public started to slip back into the recesses of his mind. He wasn’t feeling good, necessarily, but he was feeling better. There was hope that he was on the upswing finally.

Occasionally he overdid it and there were setbacks, but he was being good. Taking his medication on time every day, not missing appointments, things his younger self would have deemed impossible. A luxury he didn’t have. Well, now he had it in abundance. He’d spent the day before in the backyard, getting it ready for winter while he had the energy to do it. Derek had started the job but he had no love for these tasks and would avoid them as long as he could – Hotch wanted to do it, he wanted to push his hands into the cold soil and prepare it to sleep. But being outside all day had come with an evening of exhaustion like he hadn’t had in weeks, and the next morning he could barely pull himself out of bed. His body was scolding him again. “Rest today,” Derek said, kissing him on the top of the head. “Please. For the love of everything holy, rest.”

“Yes sir.”

He did. He didn’t exactly stay in bed all day but he did take it easy. He was motivated to take it easy, he had a reason. And when Derek came out of the bedroom and saw Hotch standing near the door dressed in the highschool’s colors, bundled up with Derek’s beat up old ball cap on, he couldn’t really understand it. Not after the way he looked that morning. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Hotch asked, checking the time. Derek frowned.

“It looks like you think you’re coming to the game. BOYS HURRY UP!” The last part was shouted as Derek turned back toward the hallway, a hallmark of dad-mode. Being able to carry on two simultaneous conversations, in different pitches and intensity, without skipping a beat. Jack shouted something back and something crashed against the floor, but Derek had already turned back to Hotch.

“I am coming to your game.”

“Like hell you are. You’ve been sick all day.”

“If I can sit at home then I can sit in the stands at a football game. It’s the state championship, Derek. You guys worked your tails off to get here, I’ve hardly seen you in months. How long has it been since your school has won?”

“Thirty years. We won when I was a senior.”

“Thirty years and I’m going to miss it because I’m tired?”

“Aaron…”

“Don’t Aaron me. I’m coming to watch you coach your team to a championship.”

“DAD!” Jack called, rushing down the hallway with Hank dangling upside down from his arms giggling. He was wearing his football jersey, minus the pads, and a pair of jeans that looked about two sizes smaller than Hotch would have preferred but he supposed that was the style these days. “You’re coming?!”

“Yes, I’m coming.”

“DADDY COMES!” Hank shouted, wiggling almost to the point of Jack dropping him.

“See? It’s settled.”

Derek gave him an unconvinced, almost exasperated look but he didn’t have the time to argue, he just took the whistle that Hotch extended to him with a smile and ushered them all out to the car in the cold October evening. They were playing on the Northwestern field, and some part of Hotch was a little worried – he’d taken the semester off to recover, to try anyway, and hadn’t seen his colleagues in months. He hoped they wouldn’t pay him too much attention.

The game moved fast – the crunch of shoulder pads, the shouting of gruff coaches and screaming of fans, the bright lights catching the freezing rain as it fell to the field and whipped around in the wind. The announcer called out name after name, and he watched Jack on the sidelines in his uniform cheering his friends on, holding a towel and wiping off game balls for the referees, helping keep the team hydrated. He was hoping to make Varsity next year, but his entire Junior Varsity team was there to cheer on the big guys and Jack was working a little extra hard to make sure his contribution was noticed. He couldn’t get onto Varsity by slacking, not with his dad coaching. He had to work twice as hard. It looked to Hotch, as he squinted at the full university stadium, that the whole city of Chicago had turned out to watch these boys from the south side bring home the title.

And when it came down to a field goal, when the whole stadium held its breath and watched that ball soar through the uprights, and when Derek was jumping around like a mad man amid shoulder pads and helmets and shouting crying teenagers, Hotch stood and cheered just as loud as anyone. His heart beat faster, thumped intensely in his chest, but it felt normal. The good fast. The kind that reminded him that he was alive and his body was built for a lot more than he gave it credit for sometimes. That he might be tired tomorrow but he would never get tonight back.

Being alive sometimes meant being uncomfortable, he realized as Derek bounded up the metal stairs taking two and three at a time, as he launched himself through the bleachers until he reached Hotch at his comfortable perch and practically threw himself at the man. “WE DID IT! WE DID IT! THEY DID IT!” He was beside himself with excitement, the pride of knowing what his kids had achieved, the memory of achieving it once himself so long ago he thought he’d forgotten but it felt the same now as it did then. It made his skin prickle, shock waves that made his bones jump, his head screaming for joy. The stadium had erupted in so much noise, but Hotch even with his bad hearing managed to hear him loud and clear, and when Derek wrapped him up and kissed him hard right there he didn’t put up a fight. He found his arms sliding around Derek’s waist, pinning them both in place, and the air sucked from his lungs, the beat in his heart all but stopping now. The stadium got quiet around them, the sound sucked into a vacuum, and then slowly a new sound erupted, a different kind of cheer, led by the football players on the field hooting and hollering. Hotch peeked one eye open to see the two of them kissing on the big screen right above the scoreboard, right above the score proclaiming their victory. He smiled into the kiss and closed his eyes again as fireworks began, and he let himself believe just for a moment that those fireworks were for them.

Being alive never felt so good. “Congratulations,” he whispered against Derek’s lips. “I love you.”

“Hot damn! I love you too baby! WE WON!”

[publicdomaincharacters]

Here is a public domain character,Hank Morgan from A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

[vicontheinternet]

When we eventually get a third spin off of criminal minds with jack henry and hank as adults>>>

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

How You Say It

This CM Garvez fic was also published a year ago today and never shared on here. Kind of angsty, kind of funny. Rossi hosts a Solstice party at Penelope's insistence, Hank Morgan unknowingly uncovers a secret. WC: 2,169 Ao3

It was a blissfully warm summer day at Rossi’s house, a rare day not marred down by the typical mugginess of the east coast. Emily, Penelope, Kristy, and JJ sat on the back patio enjoying the afternoon sun, drinks in hand. Smaller groups of agents and family dotted the expanse of his property; Spencer, Tara, and Savannah standing in the shade of a tree on the lawn, Matt and Rossi congregating around a grill, Will and Luke busily setting up a game of flag football for the kids, who were off playing with bubble wands and the horseshoe pit. Derek, naturally, was flitting from cluster to cluster catching up with all his family, and Krystall was inside mixing up more of the deliciously citrusy Sangria everyone was sipping on. Penelope thought it was a perfect way to enjoy Summer, her family all together, sun shining, and happy feelings all around. She felt rather proud of herself for having convinced Rossi to host it, and for arranging things so that everyone she loved would be there.

Hank Morgan, adorable, funny, and straight forward, A perfect miniature of her favorite person, was sitting on her lap snuggling in to his favorite gift giver, taking a break before the kids vs. adults game started. "Auntie, what’s charade?” he asked turning to her.

"Ooo! my little muffin,” she said, shimmying him, "it’s one of my favorite games! Have you played?”

Emily leaned in, whispering conspiratorially to Hank, teasing, “It may be your aunt Penelope’s favorite game, but she’s not always the best.”

Penelope mocked shock, howling out “oooh!”

He smiled at Emily and shook his head in a sign of no to his aunt. His face, growing pensive, finger coming to the small ‘o’ of his mouth, he asked, "Does Luke like it too?”

JJ and Kristy seemingly knowing where this was going shot each other looks, eyebrows raising and small smiles forming before going back to watching the two.

She laughed leaning her face to his, tickling him. “I don’t know, you’d have to ask him. And seeing as how you’re full of questions today that shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

He shrieked with laughter and twisted in her hold. When she stopped he sucked in a few lung-fulls of air catching his breath and relaxed against her chest, her chin resting on his head and hand across his stomach. Morgan, from his place with Spencer, caught her eye and gave a warm smile that she returned, his baby girl holding his baby boy.

After a moment of silence Hank turned in her lap to look back up at her again, continuing his probe, "But, I don’t understand. Why would mommy want you to stop playing your favorite game? Do you play it too late?”

There was a chorus of “OOooooo!” as the trio of women around her covered their mouths to hide smiles and laugh.

“Auntie P. plays a lot of things too late for mommy’s liking.” JJ winked at the boy.

The suggestive comment going over his head, Hank only went on, "Does Luke play too though? Why won’t you play with him Auntie?”

Penelope's body flamed red from her chest to the tips of her ears at the barrage, mind suddenly blank of any clever response. Emily nearly slipped out of her chair at the physiological reaction from Penelope, JJ and Kristy cackled with laughter at the terribly kept secret that was the tension between the two agents.

“Yeah, Penelope, why don’t you play with Lu-“ Kristy joined in teasing, but was cut off.

“O-KAY! We are stopping right there.” she said just a little louder and more panicked than she’d intended, shooting a evil look at the three.

Luke and Derek both turned to face the noise, questioning, as did Savannah, who might have looked the slightest bit guilty through her amused grin. Where the couple turned back to their conversations, Luke watched on. Penelope Garcia seemed to always exuded joy and happiness, except for right now where she was clearly flustered. He found it incredibly adorable, the attention made her glow, cheeks and nose coloring, and filled her with nervous energy.

"She looks nice today…then I expect you always feel that way.” Came the slow southern drawl.

“Yeah…” was his immediate distracted reply, then squinting back at Will, “Who?”

Will smiled lightly seeing through his bullshit easily, “You know who. Sometimes we say things with words, and other times with a look. People say things different, but it all has the same meaning.”

Luke eyed him and shook his head, “Right. Well, we should go get the kids, cones are all set up.”

Will took one last look over at the group, then back to Luke, “Yeah, why don’t you get Hank, while I round up the bubble crew.”

Penelope turned her attention to the boy on her lap ignoring the titters and giggles around her. "My delectable little candy bar, what has mommy been saying?"

Hank looked very self-assured, reciting, "Mommy told daddy she want’s to know when you and Luke will 'give up this whole charade and get together’ so I wanted to know what charade was and why you won’t hang out with Luke. Is he mean? Does he cheat? Daddy cheats at games sometimes.”

Again she was encased in a cacophony of laughter and howls from her friends around her. Penelope’s head came crashing into his back trying her best to hide her face, bury her shame, and cover her reddening cheeks, muttering to herself against his shirt. Hank wiggled a little against her, trying to get free.

“Oh, little man, we all want to know the answer to that.” Said a getting-more-tipsy-by-the-moment Emily through the noise.

At that moment Luke walked up.

“I came to collect this one for the game, but you all appear to be having a great time here…” Penelope looked to Luke with culpable embarrassment. He knit his eyebrows together, mouth hanging open in an amused grin, wondering what they’d all been talking about to make her blush five shades darker.

“LUKE!” The boy’s eyes widened in excitement, nearly shooting up and out of Penelope's lap. "Do you like charades? Do you cheat at games? Are you mean? Why won’t Auntie Penelop-“

Penelope’s hand flew out and over his mouth muffling what she knew was next. She tucked him back against her into a hug, eyes never straying from Luke’s, as she death-whispered into his ear “Hank Spencer Morgan, you finish that question and we will never play that video game again.” and released her hand.

His aunt once again had his full attention, turning on her with imploring eyes, “But Auntie P, you said to ask him!”

“What’s going on here, Baby Girl?” Derek had been watching with interest and decided to join in.

Penelope’s face showed every emotion tumbling inside of her, rage, embarrassment, mortification, rage. She fought the urge to snap at the people around her and stalk off. She wanted to kill Derek, but that would only lead to confirmation of the complicated feelings she was having for her teammate, she wanted to strangle the women around her who were intent on teasing her, and she wanted to melt into the cement at the sight of Luke, who had no business looking as fine as he did today in a regular old t-shirt and shorts.

Luke took in the faces of the women around her, hands and drinks covering mouths, eyes looking at anything but him. A devious smile graced his face as he worked out what might have been the topic. Holding out his hand to the Morgan in her lap, he said, “Hey, Hank, we’re gonna get the game started, why don’t you help me round up everyone else and you can ask me that question faaar away from Auntie Meanie.” and winked.

Hank jumped up grabbing his hand, glancing back tentatively over his shoulder at Penelope, who was burying her face in her hands, as they walked in the direction of the horseshoe pit.

Once the pair were out of range she reeled on Derek, voice dark and dangerous, “Derek Morgan, charade ? A CHARADE?!” she shrieked, and the tittering trio broke into fits of laughter again. Awareness hit Derek and his hands shot up as he started to explain, walking slowly towards her like he would a suspect, tone placating. “Look, Mama, that wasn’t me, and he wasn’t supposed to hear it-“

Penelope got up wanting to finish the conversation away from the prying ears of her co-workers, Derek following behind.

A wave of “Ahh, Penelope!”s and “Come on, we were just playing!”s falling flat in her wake.

Penelope stalked into the house, echoes of her shoes all around before picking a door and entering. Safely tucked away in a study off the main room, she turned, hot tears filling her eyes and hushed out “The things I tell you, I tell you in confidence!” How he could betray her like this, how he could allow hesitant confessions between them to become gossip…

“Baby Girl-“ he started again. Her finger shot out, “No! Don’t you 'Baby Girl' me right now, Derek!”

He continued, “I didn’t tell her anything, Savannah’s just being Savannah. But when I told you to be friendlier to Alvez, I didn’t mean fall in love with the man!

Penelope jerked back, reflexively gagging at the word “I am not-“ her knees slipped from under her and she swooped holding on to the mantle next to her for support. He chuckled lightly coming over to wrap her in an embrace.

“Sweetness, there’s no shame in that.” She held him back, leaning into him, insisting whisper tickling his ear “I’m not.” He laughed again, “Ok, hotshot, but know, if you were, you’d have the full support of everyone out there, and he absolutely wouldn’t deserve you.”

She laughed pulling away and wiped at the unshed tears, emotional crisis mostly averted “I am pretty great.” Derek straightened, fixing her with a look, “Damn straight, woman. Now let’s get out there before someone suspects we're in love.” Penelope pouted, “Oh, Sugar, you saying we’re not?” He just winked and led her back out into the sunny backyard.

While Penelope occupied herself with one Morgan, Luke was having a very entertaining and eyeopening conversation with another. He looked down at Hank with a smile as they walked, “So you gonna ask me that question?”

The boy looked up, apprehension apparent on his face, and squinted, “Auntie Penelope said if I do, we can’t play the video game any more.”

Luke laughed at her cleverness, bartering game time for secrets, he wouldn’t push it. “Ok, well, I never did answer your other questions. "I do like Charades, and I do not cheat. Even if i’m losing….and I’m only mean to bad guys.”

Hank was pleased he wouldn’t be losing out on video game time with auntie P, and nodded, doubly satisfied with Luke’s answers. "Auntie Penelope said she loves Charades. Do you ever play with her?”

Luke’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead, “I don’t think we’ve ever played Charades together, but your auntie and I have definitely played games.” he said, chuckling.

Hank’s brow furrowed in confusion at the response “Why does mommy think you do then? She said-“ He froze, remembering what happened the last time he repeated the phrase. “Uhh, never mind."

Luke watched the kid who’d now stopped in his tracks, wheels of his own turning. He had nieces and nephews, he knew how this went. “Hank, how about I guess? Then you aren’t telling me, not really…” he tempted. “And if Auntie P gets mad, we say it’s my fault. She can be mad at me.”

A massive toothy smile broke out across the boy’s face and he eagerly shook his head. "Ok."

Luke took his time playing at solving the puzzle, “I think it has something to do… with Charades…” He glanced down checking in, Hank again nodded eagerly.

“And Auntie Penelope?” Another nod.

“And me?” Another look down confirming he was on the right track.

“Hmmm" he mused, hamming it up. “...Mommy said me and auntie Penelope play Charades together?” he finally guessed.

Hanks head jerked up and down so hard he was making himself dizzy. Luke, however, was very confused by the incorrect revelation and even more so about why Penelope wouldn’t want him to know about it.

Hank, unable to stop his curiosity, went on to deliver the missing piece, “Luke, whys everyone keep saying CharadeS mommy called it Charade.”

And then it hit him.

Luke smiled a small private smile at the realization that perhaps, perhaps, it wasn’t just him, if other people saw it too... He wrapped a large hand on the boy's small shoulder as they got to the pit. “Sometimes people just say things differently, little man, don’t worry about it.” Now if only he knew how to make Penelope hear what he was saying...

[sublimegentlemanalpaca]

I wonder what would happen if Don Quixote after some severe head trauma found himself in Camelot in stead of our beloved Connecticut Yankee. Alternatively, if Hank found himself squire to the good Lord of Lamancha in place of Sancho or a certain badger. Either scenario sounds interesting. Like…what if Don Quixote crossed paths with King Pellinore? Imagine that

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

Hank Morgan is 6-7 years old right now

Do with that what you will

[natti-ice]

in another universe, your favorite characters are reading fanfic about you. Feel special.

[mx-pastelwriting]

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Hello! I am doing Kinktober this year; here is the month's menu. For every year I will make my own and it will be open for anyone to use for a list promps.

Minors do not interact!

1 ☆ 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠: 𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙪𝙨 𝙎𝙣𝙖𝙥𝙚

2 ☆ 𝘽𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙡𝙚 𝘾𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙣

3 ☆ 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧: 𝙂𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙊𝙧𝙘𝙖/𝙆𝙪𝙜𝙤 𝙎𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙖

4 ☆ 𝙊𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙨𝙢 𝘿𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙖𝙡: 𝙉𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙣 𝙎𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙝

5 ☆ 𝙆𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙀𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠 & 𝙑𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙢

6 ☆ 𝙒𝙚𝙩 𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢: 𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝙋𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙚

7 ☆ 𝙋𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙎𝙚𝙭: 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙗𝙖𝙡 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧

8 ☆ 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙘𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙨: 𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙮 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙞

9 ☆ 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙩: 𝙍𝙚𝙢𝙪𝙨 𝙇𝙪𝙥𝙞𝙣

10 ☆ 𝘿𝙧𝙮 𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙚𝙡 𝘽𝙖𝙧𝙗𝙖

11 ☆ 𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙟𝙤𝙗: 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙪𝙨 𝙑𝙤𝙡𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞

12 ☆ 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙧/𝙇𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙝: 𝙇𝙪𝙘𝙞𝙪𝙨 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮

13 ☆ 𝘼𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙡: 𝙅𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙑𝙤𝙤𝙧𝙝𝙚𝙚𝙨

14 ☆ 𝙑𝙞𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧: (𝙋𝙧𝙚-𝙒𝙖𝙧 & 𝙋𝙤𝙨𝙩-𝙒𝙖𝙧) 𝘾𝙤𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙃𝙤𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙 (𝙎𝙚𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚)

15 ☆ 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙚: 𝘾𝙖𝙞𝙪𝙨 𝙑𝙤𝙡𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞

16 ☆ 𝙋𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙤: 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙋𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙚𝙧

17 ☆ 𝙉𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙨: 𝙇𝙚𝙚 𝙍𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙡

18 ☆ 𝘿𝙚𝙨𝙠: 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙙 & 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙚𝙮 (𝙎𝙚𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚)

19 ☆ 𝘾𝙪𝙢 𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙮: 𝙏𝙤𝙣𝙮 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙠

20 ☆ 𝙂𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙚: 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙧 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙣

21 ☆ 𝙋𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙚: 𝙃𝙚𝙞𝙢𝙙𝙖𝙡𝙡

22 ☆ 𝘽𝙖𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙮: 𝙆𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙨 𝙈𝙞𝙠𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣

23 ☆ 𝘿𝙧𝙮 𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘼𝙡𝙛𝙞𝙚 𝙎𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙨

24 ☆ 𝙇𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝙀𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧/𝙀𝙣𝙟𝙞 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙞

25 ☆ 𝙍𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙊𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙨𝙢: 𝙑𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙯𝙞

26 ☆ 𝘽𝙚𝙜𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩/𝙎𝙞𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙍𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙮

27 ☆ 𝙌𝙪𝙞𝙚𝙩: 𝙅𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙨𝙘𝙪𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙖

28 ☆ 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙥𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢: 𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙡 𝘿𝙞𝙭𝙤𝙣

29 ☆ 𝙇𝙖𝙥 𝘿𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚: 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝘼𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣

30 ☆ 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙧 𝙃𝙪𝙡𝙠

31 ☆ 𝙐𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢: 𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙋𝙖𝙥𝙖 𝙀𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙨 (𝙎𝙚𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚)

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

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[multi-fandom-imagine]

Christmas Morning and your man walks out wearing these

What would you do?

<Suck his fucking dick thats what!>

{Greg House, Joel Miller, Stan Pines, Arthur Morgan, Bruce Wayne, Billy Butcher, John Price, Sam Drake,Bigby Wolf, Hank Anderson, Chris Redfield, Decker, Johnny Mactavish,Russell Adler,Frank Woods,Jayce}

[scivors]

"maybe I'm not so mentally ill" be so fucking for real your comfort characters are literally the worst people on this planet..

[masterwords]

every day is a start of something beautiful

Summary: It's time for the leaves to be cleaned up. When kids are involved, you have to be ready for anything.

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: a few casual mentions of Hotch's childhood not being idyllic, a reference to Foyet, and references to Hotch having chronic pain/ailments.

Words: 2.3k

Notes: Comfortember Day 3 - Leaves. I couldn't resist Hank here. As with everything else this month, this is part of the Chicago Times universe. I hope you enjoy!

**

Hotch couldn’t actually remember the last time he raked up autumn leaves.

Maybe because the last time he raked up leaves was when he was a teenager. That was an awfully long time ago, judging by the faded edges of his memories.

He could vaguely remember waking up in the morning to the sound of his father hollering about the damn leaves. “Why in God’s name do we have so many damn trees?” It never failed, he’d be shouting about Hotch cleaning them up before he’d even wiped the sleep from his eyes. It would be a quick breakfast and then out the door with a thermos of hot cocoa for a long day of hard work. The icy breeze would bite at his fingertips through his wool gloves and his hands would be bleeding and blistered and bright red by the end of the day. During the course of his time outside, he would have picked up three or four more jobs – neighbors who were older and couldn’t do the work or simply wanted to outsource. He preferred those, they got him away from his house for days at a time. His weekends would be occupied with what he considered easy money during that lull between the glory of football season and the horrors of basketball – a sport he was truly terrible at. He was hardly more than a bench warmer or someone whose shoes squeaked on the court only when their team was so far up in points that they could put their third string kids in, but it was better than the nightmare of wrestling and it kept him busy and away from the house. He would rake for free, but everyone paid him. It kept his gas tank full and he was able to buy Haley flowers and snacks and maybe even one nice date without touching the money his parents gave him.

After University, they lived in apartments, never quite settled. A nice condo in DC when he was appointed as a Federal Prosecutor, and a grungy little dump in Seattle when he took a steep paycut to pursue his dreams as an FBI Agent. While the trees planted to line the streets had falling leaves, he never had to touch them. He only watched them flutter to the ground and be scooped up by city trucks, that was the same no matter which side of the country you inhabited. The type of trees might have changed, but the behaviors never did. When they moved back to D.C, they hired a lawn care service, and again when they moved out to Alexandria. Haley didn’t want to do it on her own and he didn’t have the time. They installed sprinkler systems, did all the mowing and all of the cleanup while Hotch worked his long hours and never saw any of it. Then came two apartments back to back, and lawn care services that would come and go in an hour, sucking up all of the beautiful decaying leaves in their big riding mowers and move on. It was impersonal and loud, and when it was all cleaned up he missed the joy of the colors the leaves brought. There were children who lived in his building who would play in the leaves until they were cleaned up, and the sound of their laughter and the rustling got him through a lot of long lonely days after Foyet’s attack.

Now, he and Derek had a house. Well, Derek had a house and was kind enough to open his doors to Hotch and Jack, inviting them to move in rather than see them go back to Virginia when they were released from protective custody. They were still taking things a little slow, poking along, living together but not saying words like love too often. (Even if it was always heavily implied.) Derek’s divorce was still fresh enough to be a wound and the year of witness protection, the loneliness and fear and physical decline, were still wearing on Hotch in ways he couldn’t cope with some days.

But then the leaves fell, and he felt grounded and connected and useful just thinking about doing something mundane and simple. Something people just did at a certain time of year. Something that meant he belonged.

The front lawn was not just scattered with leaves, it was covered. At least a foot existed between the crisp upper layer and the damp, darkness of the bottom layer that was killing the small patch of grass they called a front lawn. Maple leaves and Oak leaves married in a sea of velvet orange and yellow and brown. The acorns pelted the sidewalk and made walking a hazard. He hadn’t even bothered to look at the backyard yet, those trees were still dropping leaves. They had another week or so before he could look at it as a project.

“I’ve got the riding mower,” Derek said, kicking his feet up with a beer in front of the TV. He was ready to watch some football and relax, and Hotch was about to join him. At least for the relaxing bit, he couldn’t tell you who was playing in the game. It was more about settling in beneath a blanket with Derek, resting his cheek against the mound of his shoulder, and maybe even falling asleep. “I’ll just take it out.”

“Too many leaves and acorns, it’ll clog it all up. I don’t want to lose a window to an acorn. I’ll do it, I have tomorrow off.”

Derek eyed him and scrunched his nose, shaking his head no. Like he’d considered the offer and instead of making a counter was outright refusing it. “I’ve used that mower the last two years. It’ll be okay.”

“I’d like to do it,” Hotch said, recanting his previous offer and rewording it. He was a lawyer in another life, he could do this all day until he found a loophole to exploit. Derek wasn’t an idiot, he knew what Hotch was doing and he kind of liked it. This sort of back and forth almost always led to sex, and it had been a few days since they’d had any...he was ready for that outcome. He’d even give up watching football for it.

“How about we wait until the weekend? We’ll get the kids out there playing and it’ll go quick if we work together. Then we can walk down to Lem’s and grab a bite to eat.”

“You don’t have to help, it’s a small yard. This football season has been exhausting, you deserve a break.”

“I got all winter, bud. I’m not coaching wrestling or basketball, just overseeing. Don’t worry about me.”

“But you’re worrying about me.” Hotch could feel his upper hand slipping away as his feelings crept in, knowing now that Derek was only concerned about whether he could do it at all. They went out running most mornings together, went to the gym, played all sorts of sports with the kids and Derek was worried his body suddenly couldn’t handle raking leaves? It hurt a little and he didn’t bother to hide it.

“Of course I am. I know we’re pretty active as a family, but that’s exactly it. As a family. You’ve had ticker problems since Foyet, don’t you dare pretend you haven’t. I know we don’t talk about what’s up with your body after Foyet much, it’s your business, but I think about it all the time. Plus your back’s all jacked up, you’ve been walking like an old man all week. I’m not letting you do it by yourself.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m an invalid.”

“No, I’m preventing a reasonably healthy middle-aged man from putting himself in the hospital because he’s stubborn. There’s a difference.”

Hotch scoffed at that, but when the weekend came and they were all bundled up under the bright morning Chicago sun he was glad for the help. And the company. The yard looked larger than he thought as he stood on the porch scanning the job with the last of his coffee warming his hands, and the sound of Jack and Hank playing catch with a football nearby made him feel instantly warmer. Derek was right, loathe as he was to admit it. This was a task better suited to the whole family.

He and Derek began at opposite ends of the yard, raking big piles of leaves, smelling the sweet decay, that smell of fall that’s so intrinsic and almost cathartic it was hard to put into words. It signaled to Hotch that it was time to hibernate, to hunker down in a way nothing else could. He imagined another night on the couch, probably with his heating pad nestled against the ache in the small of his back (because Derek was right about that too), a mug of tea or a nice dark beer and a movie – sharing a blanket and a laugh with Derek. This was the good stuff.

It would be the reward for a job well done.

They managed four giant piles in the front yard. “Not bad for a days’ work,” Derek announced, grabbing Hotch triumphantly by the hand and walking him back toward the garage for the carpenter bags to stuff the leaves into. They spent a little extra time in the garage, kissing in the shadows beside the shelves of fertilizer and tools. Warm lips and cold hands, safe from the biting wind for just a few minutes. “Aren’t you glad we did it together?”

“Yes,” Hotch smiled into another kiss before insisting they get back to the yard and finish up because he was starving. When they returned to the front yard, they found Jack throwing Hank wildly into the piles. Screaming and squealing, arms in the air, hair flying wildly where a knit cap had been moments before. That knit cap was now in the mess of leaves, what remained of their nice neat piles. Hotch couldn’t find it in him to be angry, even if they had undone much of the work he’d effectively destroyed his body for. He’d be in pain for the next few days, and it was worth it, but it would have been nice not to have to do it all over again.

“Again! AGAIN!” Hank was squealing with delight, throwing his arms wide, giggling madly when he hit the pile on his belly and sent a spray of leaves around him up into the air.

Hotch stopped and folded his arms, just watching with the ghost of a tired smile. Derek, on the other hand, dropped his bags and rushed forward, diving right into a pile himself. He didn’t need an invitation to the fun, and he certainly wasn’t going to be upset at work wasted. Jack tossed Hank down on top of him and soon they were both laughing and throwing the little guy, taking turns. Hank’s appetite for flight was insatiable.

“Come on Aaron!” Derek yelled and Hank rushed, covered in scraps of leaves and dirt and grass, toward Hotch. The leaves in his hair caught the sunlight and gave the impression of a golden crown, Hotch thought as he watched the kid run toward him.

“AGAIN!” Hank shouted, raising his arms like Hotch knew exactly what he meant. And, in spite of how badly he wanted to preserve the piles because of all of their hard work, he couldn’t resist playing. He looked at Jack standing there, a brand new teenager, and realized he’d never done this with his own son. He’d never thrown Jack into a leaf pile. Had Jack ever played in one? He didn’t know, but he thought maybe not. And when had he last done it himself? Those memories were faded sepia and silent and slow. His grandfather had tossed him into one, he thought. Yes, his grandfather played with him in the leaves, long before Sean was born. Never his father (or his mother). His father hated the trees, hated the leaves, hated it all. And he’d always been too busy with teenager things to play with Sean. What a waste, he thought.

Resigning himself to the fate of doing the work all over again, he lifted Hank into the air, gave him a kiss on the nose that made the kid giggle and launched him toward the pile. Derek raised his arms and caught his son, burying them both in the leaves quickly while Hotch walked up behind Jack and shoved him in. Just toppled him right over into the last fresh pile, watching him sink in with a look of surprise that eventually melted from teenage too-cool-horror into a smile.

So, they would have to rake again. Maybe Hotch would let Derek get the riding mower out for the second time, make short work of it. Hotch did like watching Derek out on that thing, he had to admit. There was something about it that felt so domestic and sweet he couldn’t help it. He always managed to sit on the porch and watch Derek looking so pleased with something so silly. But when he and Derek began throwing leaves at one another, he didn’t think about all the work they’d put in or all the work they’d have to do again. It wasn’t easy to take his mind away from it, he had a way of getting on a loop of work done before fun, but Derek wasn’t having any of that. “You never have the fun,” Derek would remind him when he got so caught up in the work that he couldn’t see his way out. “Sometimes fun before work is fine.” That attitude was infectious. His smile managed to pull Hotch in and get him playing too.

He’d be itchy, would definitely have to suck down some benadryl when all was said and done, but even he wasn’t immune to ending up in a pile of sticky wet leaves and enjoying himself.

“AGAIN!”

[miguel-owhora]

MASTERLIST GALORE

to be regularly updated :)

ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE

MIGUEL O'HARA - PETER B. PARKER

CALL OF DUTY

JOHN PRICE - KYLE GARRICK - SIMON RILEY - JOHN MACTAVISH - PHILLIP GRAVES - KONIG - VLADIMIR MAKAROV

MOON KNIGHT

STEVEN GRANT - MARC SPECTOR - JAKE LOCKLEY

RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2

ARTHUR MORGAN - DUTCH VAN DER LINDE - HOSEA MATTHEWS - MICAH BELL - BILL WILLIAMSON - KIERAN DUFFY - SEAN MACGUIRE

MISC

OTHER SHIT - MINOR CHARACTERS - TASK FORCE 141 - AUS - MODERN COLLEGE!MORBELL/REACTION YOUTUBER!MICAH AU

© MIGUEL-OWHORA

[likeafantasy]

DEXTER REWATCH — 6.09 GET GELLAR Have you ever wanted to wipe everything clean and start your whole life all over again?

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

Oh By Gosh By Golly

A Christmas fic? On the 27th of December? *shrugs* It's still December!

Garvez WC: 2935 Ao3 *Exists after S15, but if he never asked her out and she never left the BAU*

“Hey Garcia, you mentioned something about a place with a bunch of lights earlier?” Matt said, by way of greeting, entering the kitchenette. 

His approach, Penelope could tell, while phrased like a statement, was really a question. 

“Yes sir, Candycane Lane. Ohh! You should take the kiddies!” she released her tea, hands flying up, fingers spread, “They’d love it, it’s so fun! There’s little hot chocolate stands and this one house sells churros fresh from their kitchen on a line drawn zeppelin! Another house has a ferris wheel they fill with stuffed animals. And all the lights…It’s just magical!” Matt watched in amusement as Penelope’s eyes gleamed with excitement at the visions surely dancing in her head.

“And it’s pretty local?” he chuckled. “You bet your pretty biceps it is! Most people drive through it, but walking is really the only way to get the full experience.” She said, resuming her tea dressing, “Are you thinking about going? Please tell me you’re going. They’d have a blast!” Scooping up her mug and linking an arm with his, she walked herself to her cave, “You know, Derek, Hank, and I are going. It’s a tradition we started before he met Savannah. She very graciously has allowed us to keep it up and now we take my beautiful godbaby. Really though I think she enjoys the treat of a quiet house around now.”   “Kristy would love that.” He agreed, smiling. Reaching her office door, he slipped his arm from hers. “Ok, Garcia, you’ve convinced me. We might even see you there tonight.” he said, turning to go. Penelope beamed at the prospect of the Simmons clan buzzing joyfully from lawn to lawn, hot chocolate in gloved hands. Just a few more hours of work, then she was off to a winter wonderland with her two favorite boys. And if she was lucky she might even spot a familiar face or six. 

—------------- 

“Derek, come on! Just find a spot, let’s gooo!” The ex-agent gave her a not-so-withering look, grinning, “Woman, you’re gonna regret having pestered me into parking so far away by the end of the night.” “I’m gonna regret letting you come with Hank and me if we get there so late everyone’s lights are out and the hot chocolate’s cold!” She shot back, wrapping her scarf around her neck and tucking it into her coat, then turning to do the same for Hank while making sure his beanie was pulled over his ears.  Morgan finished eeking them into a spot and killed the ignition. “Fine, but I don’t wanna hear a word later.” Penelope smirked, already hopping out, “Oh, you’ll hear more than one, and you’ll like it.”

—------------- 

As they approached the first block, Hank’s eyes doubled in size, his tiny fists squeezing even tighter to the two adult hands he was gripping, body vibrating with excitement. There were houses glowing bright blue and frost white, ones that radiated red and gold, there were life-sized animatronics of a kissing Mr. and Mrs. Claus and large wooden hand painted cut-outs of Santa painting toys, and the Peanuts gang singing around the piano lining yards, all lit up with floodlights seasonally serving as spotlights left on the ground. Some were lavishly coated in bulbs, and some were sleek and modern, a neon green strip of “Merry Christmas” hanging from the porch, each house bringing its own special flair, a small representation of what symbolized Christmas for each neighbor. Apart from the displays, the thing Penelope really enjoyed was the people, the feel of togetherness it brought. Neighbors parking chairs in driveways sharing barbecue and stews, a group of ukulele carolers singing their hearts out for the throngs of passers by. A feeling of love and caring and unity and joy. And there was hot chocolate.  

—------------- 

The trio had made it about three streets in before Penelope finally succumbed to the cold. “Ok, next drink stand we come across, I’m buying. It is freezing!” She said, emphasizing the complaint by squeezing Hank’s hand and playing up a fake shiver.

Hank giggled looking up at her, “Yeah! Burrrr” he mimicked, playing along. Penelope smirked looking from the little Morgan, to Derek, “Hey Hank, tell your daddy I need some hot chocolate.” Derek’s mouth dropped open, eyebrows raising in faux surprise, ready to say something when a voice called from behind them, “Penelope Garcia, that wouldn’t be you I hear, feeding children inappropriate lines would it?”  Derek and Penelope stopped, turning to see who was behind them. Penelope, more than familiar with the voice, was positive she already knew exactly who she was going to find on the other side of her shoulder.  But Morgan was quicker, “Alvez, what are you doing here?” he grinned broadly at the man and extended a hand, tugging him in for a hug. “I’m spending time with my beautiful nieces and nephews, well, Matt’s kids.” he smiled releasing the hug, “Morgan, I didn’t know you were in town.”

The chance meeting took Luke by surprise who thought he’d be helping out a friend, hanging with Matt to keep an extra set of eyes on the brood for a while, he didn’t expect to run across Penelope while out tonight. Penelope who had obviously changed from her work clothes to this more casual and weather appropriate one of flair jeans and black snowflake sweater, peppermint scarf carefully knotted and topped off with a sweeping baby blue wool coat to keep out the chill.     Derek stepped back, one arm wrapping around his baby and the other pulling in Penelope “Here with my Babygirl for our yearly date.” Derek, having his suspicions and hearing the gossip, but never the opportunity to see firsthand, observed every microexpression that flitted over the other man at his actions. The cast of his eyebrows, the tightening of his eyes, and then the downturn of his mouth all arranging for a fraction of a second before sweeping back into his perpetually sunny self. “Savannah's present from me,” Penelope chirped, “I’m here with these two handsome men so she can have a relaxing night of peace and quiet.” A teasing smile spread across her face, jostling Derek with a bump of her hip. 

Luke visibly perked at her voice, shoulders squaring, face lighting up, eyes widening and glossing seemingly sparkling in the light as his pupils dilated. Yep, all the confirmation he needed. “Hey, Morgan! What a nice surprise crossing paths!” Matt wandered up behind Luke, Lily on his shoulders, Rose Mary on his chest, and reached out a hand to shake. “Thanks again for the tip, Garcia, the kids are loving it.” he said looking around, as if by merely mentioning them the missing three should materialize. Penelope wondered if that’s how it worked for Simmons, as with only a slight delay, three miniature animated people came popping out of nowhere. “Hey man, how’s it going? No Kristy tonight?” Derek asked, slapping a hand out to shake. “Not tonight, no, Garcia gave me an excellent idea earlier though,” Matt bent, letting Lily slip off his shoulders to rejoin her siblings, all dancing and shrieking through an impromptu or continued game of tag, Hank joining in. “So I roped Luke here into helping out.” He gave a squeeze to Luke’s shoulder, but winked to Morgan, smiling easily. “How about we all…walk together?”       

Derek, unable to turn it off where his loved ones were concerned, couldn’t help but profile. Yeah, he had his answer within the first 5 seconds of interaction, but he couldn’t help noticing over the hour they’d all been together the way Luke looked at her when she spoke, how he found little ways to touch or brush her, that his focus, though divided, never strayed entirely from Penelope, and he almost never resisted an opportunity to tease and play with her. Something Simmons had obviously noticed too, setting up this little chance outing. 

—------------- 

With Penelope giddily leading the parade, the group of nine merrily made their way to the house she knew to have sweet pastries delivered by air. Children clamoring busily to spot the contraption, they fell into the end of the line rapidly threatening to wrap around the corner. The four adults talked and caught up while keeping a loose eye on the little ones. There were “ooohs!” and “aaahhs!” as the silver blimp flew, but Derek was more focused on how Luke mindlessly played with Penelope’s scarf and how his cheeks flushed red making eye contact when Derek smirked at him, crossing his arms, thinking,‘Yeah, you bet I know.’       

“INCOMING!” was bellowed down from an open window glowing softly at the top of the hill. Penelope squealed and clapped with joy as the zeppelin sailed down the zipline, their order of piping hot churros dangling from a basket below. Sweet, cinnamony confections distributed, and Penelope’s coat saved from certain ruin by Luke who expertly brushed it clean of crumbs, they pushed on with their adventure taking in the various decorations and entertainment. Watching the way Luke was with her and her being so unaware was painful, to see them interact and play off one another was killing him. Why Penelope didn’t see it (or didn’t want to) he wasn’t sure, but he was going to let her know at least one person did. Waiting until they’d gotten back into a flow, wandering from house to house, Derek fell back holding Penelope with him, friends and children wandering ahead just out of earshot, the ukulele group singing about mommy kissing Santa Claus disrupting anything that might be overheard. Risking an eyebrowed glance to where Luke stood, his breath stilted, still feeling dubious about the whole thing, about her willful ignorance. “Babygirl, you’re tellin’ me you have not given this man one ounce of sugar?” Wrapping her arms around him she pushed up on her tiptoes, beaming with pride, “Not one lovin’ spoonful” No, she would not fall into that trap. Though, truthfully, it was getting harder, he was so sincere and so persistent.   “Mama, why on god’s green earth not?! He is clearly head over heels for you!” It was a genuine question, the night leaving no doubt in his mind, if Luke Alvez was not in love with his girl, he really did retire in time. There was no way Penelope couldn’t see it too,  if it was fear holding her back, he hoped his vote of confidence would help ease that. Jason Battle was a one-off psycho, what he meant when he told her to listen to her gut, was just that, she had told him it felt off, and she turned out to be right. This though he knew was not off, could see it, hell he could feel the electricity between them, she had to as well.   What the heck? “N-no he’s not! Oh my god, we are not talking about this right now!” Penelope, thrown at the suggestion and what seemed to be Morgan’s active enthusiasm for the very not happening situation between her and Luke, became flustered, letting go and bolting for their friends where she stood behind them shoving her hands into her pockets with a scowl on her face. Derek, feeling guilty at having upset her, let her go, giving her space. Maybe he’d overstepped… he only wanted her to be happy, he could see Luke making her happy. He just needed her to see it too. He hoped this would get her thinking about it. When it was so clear to everyone else, he hoped she wouldn’t continue to block out something that could be good for her.  

Penelope reappearing caught Luke’s attention and seeing her frustration, he looked between her and Morgan, hand instinctively coming to her back. She twisted from his touch, but didn’t move away. His hand dropped automatically, but his pinky continued contact, brushing soothing strokes against hers in her coat.

One and a half songs later Derek rejoined them, an apology for getting out of line mumbled in her hair. All forgiven, Penelope fell easily back into his embrace and returned it tenfold, most of the party none the wiser. 

—-------------  Crossing the street, the boys lined up, stern, menacing, and friendly faces ensuring traffic stop at their stop signs. Penelope, chain of children in one hand, cocoa in the other leading the dash giggling behind their own personal guard of bollards. 

It was during one of these dashes, post musical concert, that Luke was caught for the hundredth time staring after her in wonder. Matt, feeling enough games had been played between actual children that night, nudged his shoulder and nodded in her direction, “Go.” Pausing for a beat, Luke looked between his friend and Morgan, whose expressive eyebrows were now most of the way up his forehead in a similar manner. Seeing no way around something so obvious, and hoping to avoid the embarrassment of more encouragement and/or blessings, he flickered a ‘thank you’ smile before trailing close behind her. 

With a shwoop, the small hand was smoothly replaced with a large one, Luke’s warm palm effortlessly slipping into Penelope’s. Her pulse catapulted, Derek’s words fresh in her mind. Feeling the shift in texture and size, his thumb coming to brush the outside of hers, her steps came to a standstill facing him. She looked back for Derek, for Chloe whose hand had been in her own, only to spot the group of children bookended by the imposing figures of current and former FBI agents not so covertly directing the group’s attention to a house with their backs to her. Profilers? Pfft. More like planners.   Luke checked his shoulder as well, a small smile appearing before moving closer, twined arm wrapping high on twined arm, shoulder kissing shoulder, and tugged forward, some redirection of his own. “Mind being my escort?” he asked with his usual sunny lilt.   

Penelope looked back to him, head tilting in question to see Luke nod ahead of them. The way they were facing, they were bound for an icicle archway, rhythmically blinking blue and white drips interspersed between swaths of fir garland calling to them. Her steps started then stopped, faltering with her thoughts,body following through with an automatic ‘yes’ while earlier dilemmas were subconsciously processed for her, then thinking brain not in the know shouting a panicked ‘NO’ giving her pause. Her head swiveled from Morgan to Luke, unsure.  Luke stopped just as quickly, curious eyes scanning her face for clues. “It’s just a tunnel, Penelope, just a sidewalk with some poles.”  Her expression changed to exasperated disbelief, head bobbling as she shot at him sarcastically, “Nice. Romantic. I can’t imagine why you’ve only had the one girlfriend this whole time.” “Hey!” he defended at the dig, but his smile only got bigger, face completely incongruent to someone who’d just been insulted. Romantic? Did that mean she was on the same page? That this, them, they, were something she was open to? With a last look to the group, Penelope rolled her eyes, internal battle seemingly forgotten, and jerked him forward towards the arch, “Oh come on, let’s go.”            Luke ducked under the “Let it snow” sign entering the archway, the pair walking hand in hand wordlessly through the bright tunnel, but as she went to exit, she was tugged back, clasped hands stretching and jerking, Luke frozen in place just at the end, Penelope ricocheting into his solid body where he caught her.

Before she could ask, his head tilted and a finger pointed up, Luke innocently explaining as he looked back down, “Mistletoe, I can’t move until you kiss me, bad luck.”

Penelope wiggled in his hold regaining balance, trying to regain space. Despite his tactile nature this was all very new, as in less than five minutes new, as in she could start freaking out at any minute- new. “And if I refuse?” she asked, trying to infuse some levity and calm her twisting stomach.

Luke frowned, brow furrowing and arms tightening around her. “Guess we’re stuck here.” 

Penelope gawked, the flat of her palm working its way between them to smack his chest “What happened to it’s just a sidewalk?!”

Luke made a show of flinching under the hit, but again, was too busy grinning at her to play it off fully “What happened to being romantic?” 

Sighing, her arms looped around his neck, pulling herself up to face level “Alvez, we’ve really gotta work on your definition of romance.” There was a second where she looked at him, and then fingers laced and lips slowly melded, her eyes slipping closed. She felt the strong beat of his heart on her, his warm, firm lips against hers, and the rough scrape of stubble as the kiss became more forceful. She smelled the smokey burn of wood from chimneys and fire pits in the cold air mixing with the earthy leather of his coat. From the east Mele Kalikimaka rang out clashing with Walking in a Winter Wonderland to the west, a Bing Crosby battle between neighbors that was soon drowned out entirely by whoops and hollers. The pair broke apart to see Matt and Derek loudly applauding and whistling, the kids caught up in their parents joy, joining in the celebration, Penelope and Luke each turning beet red attempting to hide in the other. 

Hank, tugging on Derek’s hand, asked, “Daddy, why’s aunty Penelope kissing that guy?”

Derek laughed, stooping down to answer, “Don’t worry about it baby, but tell you what, you can be the first to tell mamma about it when we call her tonight.”

[strawberrinoz]

me when they look intimidating and have a stubble/beard