Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Spencer’s been thinking about Halloween.

That by itself is not particularly strange. After all, it’s the week of the sixteenth of September — they’re starting to get close enough to it that it’s hard to avoid. The candy has entered the stores, and one of the houses on their drive to work is already decked out to the nines. Of course, he’s thinking about Halloween. The strange bit is what precisely he’s thinking about.

Most people, when thinking about Halloween, would think about one of the many regular trimmings of the season — pumpkins and Jack-o-Lanterns. Ghosts and ghoulies. Witches. Anything that could be described as going bump in the night. Skeletons, vampires, and other undead or partly dead beings. You might even think of the general themes of the season. Spooky palettes of purples and warm oranges. Macabre motifs. Spooky silhouettes. You probably also think of traditions — scary movies, trick-or-treating, pumpkin carvings and costume contests. These are normal Halloween thoughts. And, in a normal year, this would be what could come to Spencer’s mind, too. Not this year. No. This year, it’s something else entirely.

This year, Halloween is making Spencer think of progress.

It’s been a rough year. Spencer hates to admit that, but it’s true. This year has sucked a little bit. Don’t misunderstand, there has been a lot of good in the year; the good has brought with it an alarming amount of bad. As it turns out, getting everything you ever wanted isn’t always easy. It’s wonderful. Amazing. Invigorating. And very, very hard. The start has been rocky. Spencer had gotten so used to trauma in his life, so he’d spent months waiting for the other shoe to drop and for everything to go wrong. They haven’t yet. His whole family have remained the brilliant, loving people that they are. They’ve been with him all the way. Because of them, Spencer is still having the best time of his life. He’s slowly adjusting, and learning to fight the instincts that tell him that all this love and safety must be a lie. And they are winning. The struggles are fewer, and they’re farther between. Still, those are such small wins.

Spencer wants a win. A real win. Something to prove that they have made progress, that they’ve come a good distance, and that he’s in a much better place now. He wants proof that this year is still better than last year. Yeah, he wants a big win.

Halloween is going to be that win.

You see, Halloween represents something that Spencer can’t quite explain to anyone. It’s the first opportunity to fix his perceived failings from the year. All through the year, little things have come up that Spencer wasn’t ready for. Like spoon-feeding. Like crying when he’s overtired. Like having a caregiver with him while he bathed — he still hasn’t gotten anywhere near that one. Hundreds of little things he never knew he wanted, and now that he could have them, he isn’t ready for it. That’s been fine, mostly. Hotch and Rossi don’t mind. They’ve never tried to force him to do anything, never manipulated or coerced him. With love, kindness, and care, they’ve supported him. They’re scarily good at that. They’ve got the right blend of comfort and courage, always willing to push him to do the hard things whilst still providing a safe place to land. And dammit, he wished he could just trust that and jump into everything. He can’t, though. He’s stuck in this slow-progress, useless, unintentionally defiant and traumatised place.

He hates how he feels like he’s getting in the way of himself. But that’s about to change. Halloween will be the event that changes that.

At least, that’s what he meant for it to be. As it started to get towards Halloween, his family started to talk. About Halloween. Spencer keeps thinking back to the conversation they had the week before. 

———

“Have we made any plans?” Emily had asked when Halloween had first been mentioned.

A question everyone already knew the answer to, but a more socially acceptable way to ask what the fuck are we doing and can we hurry up and start doing it?

“I had thought we’d do what we always do,” Rossi had remarked.

Spencer thought he knew what that was, but couldn’t bring himself to ask. Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

“I thought so too, and, not to be way too prepared, but I have been tracking where in the neighbourhood we’ve gotten the best candy for the last few years and made a detailed map of the optimal route to maximise our candy return while minimising the amount of wasted movement we would have on some of the more traditional routes.” Penny giggled. “And before anyone asks, I definitely didn’t use my special FBI clearance to get super clear maps — you’re just imagining that.”

Hotch sighed deeply but with a hint of a smile.

Spencer didn’t notice at first, but he’d slowly started to drift into his head. The ongoing chatter and light about trick-or-treating felt about a million miles away. He hadn’t expected that. After weeks and weeks of preparatory thought had come to nothing. Once again, he wasn’t ready. This time, he wasn’t ready for all the memories that were coming back.

He hadn’t been trick-or-treating in over two decades. He hadn’t thought about the memories of it in almost that long — too painful. Still, he remembers it with the crispness and clarity of all his memories.

It was eight-thirty before they’d even left the house, well passed his four-year-old bedtime. He was so tired but too excited to really care. His Mom — just her, his father couldn’t be bothered — had taken him around the streets. He remembered how exciting it was to knock on his neighbours’ doors, holding out his little bucket and nervously asking trick or treat? They had gushed over him, dressed up like a little astronaut. He got candy corn and smarties and full-size Snickers bars. He’s pretty sure it wasn’t his first Halloween celebration, but it’s the one he remembers. It’s also the last one. 

All the joy fades away as he remembers coming home. His father, angry on the couch, demanding that she shouldn’t have taken him. Listening to his parents fight in the other room. Eating so much candy, trying to get rid of the evidence that he’d done something so childish as trick or treating; the stomach ache the next day. He remembers what his father said the next year.

You’re too old for that kid shit. Focus on growing up so you don’t become one of those spineless freaks.

Yeah, that had sucked.

The memories of it had even stopped him from going trick or treating in college. Some of his friends from class had invited him, and he’d been very excited to go. It was just meant to be around the dorms and the campus — he wasn’t going to be able to get into any of the other nearby venues, having only been sixteen at the time. Still, he’d started socking away some of his living costs scholarship to afford a costume. It hadn’t happened, though. One of the women in his friend group let slip that they’d only invited him so they could use his classification as an excuse to get more candy. That had made him feel all sorts of uncomfortable. In the end, he’d declined the invitation. 

This Halloween promised to be better than those. Spencer was determined to forget all that and keep his past from getting in his way.

He realised much too late that he’d failed on that front already — so lost in his own thoughts, he hadn’t even noticed that the conversation around them had screeched to a halt. Reading the room, Spencer realised quite quickly that someone must have asked him a question. 

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Emily repeated herself. “Do you wanna go trick-or-treating this year, or is that too much too soon?”

She didn’t ask in a judgemental way, but that’s the way he felt it. It makes his heart rise and fall in a sick way. It is too much. He’s not ready. But he doesn’t want to not be ready. That’s not fair to anyone, least of all his siblings. And he’s already decided that Halloween is going to be his proof that he is ready — for this and every other good thing his family wants for him.

The answer tumbles out of his mouth.

“I wanna go.”

———

The next few weeks are filled with stoic avoidance. Spencer refuses to think about all his Halloween worries. You know the ones. The hard things. The bit of the process where he has to be a real Little. Moreover, the fear of being perceived as a Little. The feeling of actually being a real Little, and being perceived as such because he’s being Little in front of people. All that rolled into the squirmy, worm-like agony of knowing that if he does it wrong, he’ll ruin everyone’s fun. His own fear that he’ll ruin it just because he’s himself. And, underpinning it all, the knowledge that he’s actually not ready for it. All that stuff. (And the side effects of those, mustn’t be forgotten: the fear, trembling, stress dreams about wandering through the neighbourhood, surrounded by people who don’t know him personally but certainly know who he is, watching him carrying on like a child.)

He’s not focusing on any of that.

Instead, he’s fretting about the only part of it he can really control: his costume.

It’s been a very popular topic of conversation among his siblings. It seems that they all take this very seriously. Months of meticulous planning go into it every year. Everyone is full of ideas. Spencer’s been caught out — he’s behind on the planning. Thankfully, everyone is here to help him by talking about it constantly. It’s good escapism if nothing else.

The first conversation happened at work. They were stuck in New York on a rapidly developing but fairly tedious case. Arson - grisly business but fairly routine. Their host precinct was overrun with police officers, FBI agents, arson investigators, and a half dozen of the city’s bravest. As the firefighters gathered in the break room, JJ nudged Emily.

“There goes Derek.”

They both laughed, as did Derek. Spencer, a moment later, laughed as well - he’d remembered seeing a photo of Derek dressed up as a firefighter the previous Halloween.

“Will we be seeing Lieutenant Morgan and Firehouse Dog Smokey this year?” 

Derek laughed and gave her a playful shove.

As it so transpired, Derek had worn the same firefighter costume every year since he was adopted by Hotch. That was Derek’s costume. It was much a tradition as trick-or-treating. Unfortunately, the costume had met with misadventure the previous year. An exhausted caregiver had the hand wash-only fabric into the washing machine and then into the dryer. Whilst the helmet and Smokey had survived, the rest… had not.

The debate this year was whether to replace it or break the tradition. As you can imagine, that debate took up the majority of their free moments for the rest of the case. 

———

On their first night back, Spencer had asked Penny what everyone else had dressed up as last year. Instead of simply telling him, Penny had pulled out the photo albums. It took a while to flick through to find all the Halloween pictures — apparently, Rossi takes a lot of family photos and does up an album each year. 

Spencer choked up a little looking at all the family fun he’d missed out on — and all that he was still missing out on, thanks to his own stupid mental health. Thankfully, Penny didn’t notice. She just passed him album after album, open to the photos of her costumes.

Each Penny costume can be summed up in one word: pink. They could be even better described in two words: pink and sparkly. She had dressed up as anything a five-year-old girl might aspire to be. Her first year she was a ballerina — the pictures apparently don’t do the skirt justice. The next year was a fairy. Then a princess. Then a fairy princess. And, the previous year, a fairy princess ballerina. She had looked equally fabulous in each. 

“How do you pick?” He asks her.

She shrugs, “I guess I just always know.”

Spencer doesn’t know how to just know, but he’s determined to figure it out. 

———

He learns a few days later that Emily isn’t much of a fan of dressing up. This isn’t particularly surprising. What is surprising is that JJ isn’t big on it either. He hadn’t ever considered her an avid dresser-upper (a word Penny had introduced him to, or possibly invented). Still, he’d seen her dress up on many occasions without fuss.

When questioned, she offered a very simple answer.

“I don’t mind being dressed up,” she said, “but if I have to put too much effort into it, then it just feels like work.”

With a sly smirk, Hotch had beckoned Spencer over to whisper teasingly in his ear.“Teenagers are too cool to dress up.” 

He’d swallowed his laugh just as JJ had looked over.

Despite her thoughts on the matter, she dressed up every year. Her costumes always had that lacklustre air to them. More effort went into looking like she didn’t care than went into the actual costume. Most of them looked like normal outfits, save for one feature or another — last year’s black jumpsuit was transformed into a cat with the addition of some drawn-on whiskers. Another year she had just worn her normal workout clothes (a soccer player, apparently, but they hadn’t caught the ball in any of the photos). Spencer feels a twinge of affection for her bored teenager energy.

Emily has a sensory objection to most costume pieces. She has to source really high-quality pieces to be comfortable. This hasn’t happened yet. Mostly due to having limited time to dream up costumes, and partly due to procrastination. In her first year with the family, she literally raided the costume bin in Penny’s room five minutes before they left. (In her defence, she’d only joined the family three weeks before. That hadn’t left much time for costume sorting). She had looked happy but moderately itchy in her ill-fitting plastic armour and knight’s helmet. 

Still, she’s optimistic about the year to come.

“I’m either gonna be a pirate, or I’ll see if I can convince our sisters to do a group thing.”

While interesting, the bits of history hadn’t helped Spencer at all in trying to figure out his own costume. 

———

Over the weeks, costumes were decided slowly. 

The sisters came to the decision to be the PowerPuff girls. Some hours of research went into finding soft dresses in the right colours, white tights, and shiny black shoes. Thankfully, Rossi doesn’t mind bankrolling the whole endeavour. Their costumes were sourced, purchased, and neatly folded into their closets by October 15th.

Derek and Spencer had briefly considered doing a matching costume of their own. This had dominated their conversation for a few weeks.

They learnt very quickly they didn’t have a lot in common to build on.

After ruling out Garfield and Odie, Superman and Batman, Batman and Robin, two out of the four Ninja Turtles, Hotch and Rossi, Sherlock and Watson, and Batman and Alfred, they couldn’t really come up with anything else they could do. 

With no consensus reached, they decided to go it alone. Derek returned to his original thoughts. Spencer returned to his worrying. He spent the next two weeks writing down every idea that came to mind. His running list was constantly being updated. New ideas got added and rejected ones got scratched out. It’s chaotic. It’s also not as decisive as he’d hoped it would. His notebook is now more ink than paper — Rossi had caught a glimpse one day, and joked it looked like a redacted CIA file. It’s a bit funny. It’s also a bit sad. (Spencer hopes desperately that everyone is focusing on the funny. They’re not).

He goes a bit insane the night they ordered Derek’s costume — the firefighter, who could have guessed.

Thankfully, Rossi corners him before he can go too insane about it all.

“You know it doesn’t have perfect.” 

Spencer, who had been in the middle of towelling his hair dry after bath time, doesn’t immediately connect that to his quest for a Halloween costume. 

“I don’t think it’s possible to perfectly dry hair with a damp towel.”

Rossi laughs, “Your Halloween costume, kid.”

“Oh.”

“Or whatever grand worry the Halloween costume is masquerading as.”

He feels himself go a bit red. Rossi offers him a hug. He melts right in, burying his still-damp mop into his caregiver’s chest and breathing in his dry warmness. 

“I just want to get it right so badly.” He whispers.

“I know,” Rossi smiles, patting his hair, “You always do, and most of the time you get to the right answer eventually. Your issue this time is that there isn’t a right answer. Whatever you pick will be right. There are no rules except for the ones in your head.”

That’s all too true.

“And, even if there were rules, and you break them and get it wrong, you’ll always have another chance to get it right.”

“Thanks, Papa.”

They hug for a while longer. As they pull away, Rossi holds him at arm's length to look into his eyes.

“Do me a favour? Try not to keep worrying about it.”

He nods, even though he doesn’t think that’s within his control. He focuses on calming down. As suggestions from his caregivers often do, it works. It actually works. Spencer’s quite pleased. It’s funny — when you stop blowing things wildly out of proportion, they become easier to handle. He lets go. And then he starts having fun with it.

He gets it narrowed down to two — a cowboy or an astronaut. When he really can’t decide, Rossi just drives him out to the store one afternoon to look at them both and make a decision that way. In the end, the universe makes the decision for him. The cowboy was sold out in his size. They make their way home with his prized astronaut costume tucked safely in the trunk. The weight finally lifts fully off his chest.

He’s excited for the first time and all at once. He’s still not ready. He’s halfway there, though. That’s what matters. 

They’re gonna have so much fun on Halloween.

Chapter Text

“Wheels up in thirty.”

It’s October 25th, less than one week until Halloween. There’s not a single member of the BAU who feels favourably about flying out to southeast Buttfuck, Texas. Not one. You’d even be hard-pressed to find anyone who feels any positive emotion about it. It’s not like they really have a choice, though. They’re FBI agents. The job comes first. The job always comes first. They have to go. Nothing can change that and no one can stop it. Not even as the air grows thick, and the tension mounts. It stings worse because they can all tell this will be a long case.

It won’t be the first time the job has taken the front seat. 

There’s a feeling of barely contained anger on the jet. Everyone is reviewing the case file, but no one is really reviewing it. Spencer, for one, is running the numbers on how long similar cases took them. The very bleak seven-to-nine days doesn’t give him much hope. He doesn’t share that number, though. His family is already on edge. He doesn’t need to add more vitriol to their stewing. So he memorises his file. He memorises and catalogues and hopes that it will somehow get them home on time. 

He also sneaks glances at Derek. Occupying opposite seats, he feels strangely more connected to his brother’s anger than anyone else’s. And boy does he feel it. Well, he feels the shaking of the floor as Derek agitatedly bounces his knee. He’s not usually a big fidgeter. It’s odd. 

An hour into the journey, and the knee bounces on. It’s gotten too distracting for Spencer. Sure, he can drown the movement out. Derek’s demeanour is the real clincher — he just can’t stand to see his brother like this. 

He taps Derek’s knee with his foot, drawing him away from his brooding and reading. 

“We’ll make it back in time,” Spencer comforts.

Derek looks up at him. Spencer realises a little too late how hollow it had sounded.

“For trick-or-treating.” He clarifies.

Derek laughs mirthlessly.

“We will.” He says again, with a bit more conviction. He doesn’t believe a word of it.

“Glad you’re confident.” 

A thick silence passes between them. Spencer feels, not incorrectly, that he’s made it all worse. He goes back to his file. Derek sighs deeply. He balls up a piece of paper from his file and tosses it at Spencer.

“Well, we’d better start doing some real work if we’re making it back in six days.”

They fall into a steady rhythm of sharing notes on the case.

———

Aaron feels, not for the first time, that being a good FBI agent gets in the way of being good at anything else. Today specifically, it’s getting in the way of him being a good parent. 

It’s October 28th at 7 o’clock in the morning. They’re stuck in Beaumont, Texas. Most of his family have been here for the last three days. Any minute now, Penny will be landing at the airport and joining them. Then all seven of them will be stuck here. Together. In Beaumont, Texas. Three days out from Halloween. With no end in sight. 

Aaron is not pleased.

Their killer is an asshole. Well, that’s a given. Most killers they deal with are. He’s also smart. The running theory is that he’s hacking his victim’s computers and phones; that’s why Penny abandoned her sacred den and joined them in the south. She’s helping enormously, but it’s still not enough. Eight known victims and that number threatens to rise. They’re snowed under. The idiotic local police officers are determined to deny the link between their victims. All in all, the odds are stacked against them.

Aaron’s really not pleased. 

He’s trying to keep a cool head and to stay focused. They all are. His team - his /family/ - is very good at burying their needs under the needs of the public. Despite their growing disappointment as the window to get home closes, they’re here. They’re putting in the work. Good work, too. On task and at pace, they’re hunting this bastard with all they have. As a parent, a boss, and a friend, he takes pride in their work. If anyone could pull it off, it’s them.

And they might even pull it off. 

Still, he can see the wear it’s having on them. A general malaise has settled over them. They trudge forward without hope or light. They’re tired and irritable, and giving it their all. God, he loves these kids. More than anything in the world, he loves them. So he tries to take some moments away from his work to check in with everyone. 

Starting with David.

His partner-in-crime takes to his check-in with love and graciousness.

“Cut the touchy feely crap, Hotchner, and go get me a win.”

He muttered a sentimental bastard as Aaron left, so at least that’s a win.

———

He offers to drive JJ out to meet with some reporters about their media strategy. She definitely doesn’t need him there. She’s badass. She accepts his offer all the same, mostly so that she doesn’t get paired up at random with one of the local meatheads.

“You doing okay?” He asks as they pull away from the station. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Trick-or-treating is more for the others anyway.”

She’s saving face, but he’s not convinced. He’s seen that smile she gets as they wander the streets, her big goofy holiday grin when they get into it. She always hordes that candy, too; she hides it from her siblings, sneaking pieces every day for months after everyone else’s has run out. She loves Halloween. 

“I know you still look forward to it.”

She shrugs him off. “It’s whatever. We get plenty of cases.”

He waits. After this many years with JJ, he has learnt to hear the difference between a finished silence and a waiting pause. He glances her way.

“I just kind of wish I hadn’t opened the file. I prioritised it.”

Aaron reaches across to squeeze her shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, and I know you know that.” He says gently. She agrees. “It’s just your job.”

“Still feels like my fault when it happens.” 

They talk through it a little more, until she’s laughing it off.

“The stress goes to my head sometimes.” She admits. “And I just wish it didn’t always fall on my things.”

That’s the crux of the issue. Of JJ’s last three birthdays, they’ve been away for two. They flew home late for Christmas last year, missing JJ’s favourite tradition. And now, they’re gonna miss Halloween. No one else had had so many disappointments in a row. Cases make them miss lots of things, sure, but these ones stand out for JJ.

And Aaron can’t do anything about it.

“Wish I could fix it for you.”

JJ laughs.

“Put some extra candy in my stash and then we’re even.”

———

Neither Derek nor Emily have a free moment for a heart-to-heart, but he does manage to shove fresh, hot coffees into their hands as they leave to interview a potential witness.

Penny also doesn’t have much time to talk.

“I’ve almost gotten through his back-routing, and as soon as I do…”

She smacks the desk emphatically.

Aaron waits patiently for her to look up. He’s got an almond croissant with her name on it. Usually, he doesn't get to make sure she’s taken care of on cases, so he’ll seize the opportunity. She continued to mumble about her work for far longer than he expected. When she finally looks up — probably to check why he’s still here — she softens.

“Thanks, Hotch.”

He waits for her to swallow her first bite.

“You doing okay?”

She sighs. “I thought about bringing all our costumes down, but then I thought it might be a bummer.”

Aaron feels that in his chest — a twisting, wrenching grind of awfulness. It would’ve been a bummer, but part of him wishes she had brought them. Maybe they could’ve saved the day somehow if they were here. 

They share a very sad smile.

“We may still make it back in time.” She says, lip wobbling slightly.

“Oh, Pumpkin,” he says, but she cuts him off.

“Nope, no, your Daddy voice is gonna make me cry, and if I cry, we will for sure not make it back in time. Shoo.”

He goes with an ache of affection and defeat.

———

Spencer can feel Hotch watching him, even though Hotch clearly thinks he’s getting away with it. He’s making them both a coffee — without being asked because he’s attentive like that - and using the time to spy on Spencer.

He might not have noticed on any other case, but Derek had texted him earlier.

/Derek Morgan: mama hen is henning it up in here/

Spencer is trying to focus on his work. He’s got to find the connection that unravels the case. He keeps going, mostly out of the desperate, misguided thought that if he just focuses, they’ll be able to get done in time and get home. They won’t, though. That’s kind of a given. He’s known they won’t since the plane. And he still keeps on going.

And right now he’s keeping on going mostly to try and ward off Hotch.

Hotch continues to float about three feet from Spencer’s elbow, being attentive and sweet and wonderful. Spencer stares at his map. The map stares back. The tension rises. He knows that if he keeps waiting, eventually one of them is gonna break. Judging by the way he’s breathing, that someone is likely to Hotch. And if Hotch breaks first, they’ll get sucked into some heart-to-heart that’ll break the dam on all the thoughts he’s been avoiding in his mind. So, as soon as Hotch gets a little too close with that coffee, he breaks.

“At least we get to spend it together. And we can always go next year so really it’s like we didn’t miss out at all.”

He refuses to look at Hotch. He knows what will happen if he does. 

Hotch stands in stunned silence. After a moment, he barks a laugh and rubs Spencer’s shoulder playfully.

“Okay, bud. I’ll take the hint.” He places the coffee down behind Spencer’s little stack of pins and markers. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” he whispers.

Swallowing a ball of tears in his throat, Spencer gets stuck back into his work. Because, you know, talking about his feelings just to avoid talking about his feelings has brought his feelings to the surface. Now, facing the harsh reality of missing out on his first family Halloween, he doesn’t want to miss it. He was so ready for this. He is ready for this. He wants it.

Why did he have to want it?

Then, with a shock sort of like electricity, he comes back to himself. Wanting it is a good thing. He wants to want it. And he’s going to get it. He shakes himself, trying to push away the feelings. He’s a big boy, and he’s got a job to do. He wants to get his family home. And all that’s standing in his way is the serial killer. No biggie. He’s caught serial killers before. It just takes time, his brain and a shitload of coffee. 

Good thing his caregiver brought him one after all. They’re gonna make it home.

Chapter Text

Hard work pays off, even in this case. 

In the small hours of the morning on the 31st, they broke the case wide open. All the pieces fell into place. Penny got the computer trail, Spencer found their link, and Derek found their suspect from the pool. As the dawn broke over the city, the whole team and a swarm of uniformed officers raided a warehouse. Just in time, too. He was caught in the act. More than just stopping his reign of terror, they also saved his would-be ninth victim. She was going to be okay. Their suspect? Not so much. 

From the way he howled when they brought him to interrogation, it was clear he knew he was done for. He hissed. He spit. He cursed and cussed and swore. And then he clammed right up the second his arse hit the seat. Stewing in interrogation, he was living out his last hours as a free man.

The energy in the station was electric. The sun had broken through, bathing them all in warm and glorious light. They’ve done it. They closed the case — with time to spare, too. It’s over. Or, at the very least, mostly over. There’s some paperwork to do, and case reports, but that’s small fish. The real work has been done. All the rest will be wrapped up by late morning. 

Everyone is flying high.

Well, everyone was, until it was time to leave.

A lesser-known part of Hotch’s job was to call in the jet. Rossi had seen it many times. Their leader would step away for a few moments as they wrapped up their duties, speak momentarily with the flight coordinator, and get their jet going. Simple. Routine, even. It normally goes off without a hitch. Rossi was expecting today to be no different.

So the expression on Hotch’s face when he came back from the call worried him. 

“Freedom!” Derek cheered, throwing down his file. “Hotch, we ‘wheels up in thirty’ or what?”

Hotch sighs. “Our jet is grounded.”

“What?”

“They’re still investigating what’s going on, but as far as I’ve been told it looks like there’s something in the engine block that shouldn’t be there. There’s no getting it off the ground, so we are effectively locked down — Strauss has offered us that we can either have paid leave for the lost days while we’re here, or fifty-percent reimbursement for making our own travel arrangements.”

Rossi thinks those are both technically good options. He lets the rest of the conversation wash over him as he thinks of ways to get them home. He’s got more money than God. He’ll make some calls and figure it out.

He tunes back in just in time to hear his eldest son ask the dumbest question he’s ever heard.

“What if we all just get behind the plane and give it a push? 

He’s pretty sure it’s rhetorical. He hopes it is.

Instead of waiting around to hear the rest of that conversation, he steps away to make some calls. He’s gonna get their arses home. He calls American Airlines. And JetBlue. And Spirit. And Delta, Virgin, United, and SkyWest. Then he calls every other airline in the country, and every airport within a seventy-five-mile radius. I think you can probably imagine how well that went.

The upshot of the situation? There’s not an airline in the country that can get them all home. Well, technically there is if you combine them all. Almost. They'd still be missing one seat, but he can stay behind. He could. It still doesn’t solve their problem — most of the planes land tomorrow morning, or at least very late into the night. There just isn’t a way to get them all back to Quantico together and in time for trick-or-treating. No commercial way, at least.

Rossi knows some people. Lots, actually. He’s also done a lot of people favours. So he starts trying to call those in, starting with the people he knows who have private jets. (Yes, he knows multiple people with private jets. That’s a side effect of writing a lot of bestsellers). That’s a bust. All three of them and their jets are international right now; funnily, two of them are in Aruba. One of them offers to try and get their get back. He thanked them, but it wouldn’t land before nine. 

He calls the guy who used to schedule his tour travels. They have no tit-for-tat type relationship, but he gave him a good bonus. The man is sweet and chipper, but can’t help him. They wrap up quickly.

Hope slowly waning, he calls an old army buddy. He’s not the type of person who has access to planes. He’s not the type of person who has access to people who have access to planes. It’s worse than a long shot. He’s trying, goddammit. And it’s not working.

No, sorry pal.

There’s no winning this. They’re stuck here. They solved the case, and they did the work. And now they’re all sitting in the dank bullpen of a disgusting police station. They won just to lose again.

———

Aaron left his kids and David at the station, reeling from the whiplash. That stings. He should be there with them. He should be comforting them, fixing this for them. Instead, he’s headed back to the motel alone. His bad luck had stretched again, and a drunken arrestee had vomited on him. He had no choice but to go change.

It gives him a little too much time to reflect.

He had gotten his hope up. For a brief moment, he’d lived in a world where they made it home tonight. A world where they get to go trick-or-treating. A world where his kids aren’t let down again. They’d pulled off the one-in-a-million shot they needed. It should’ve worked out. Instead the universe — this stupid universe he’s stuck in, the one where his luck always seems to run out too early — didn’t want that to happen. Apparently, they were just doomed to miss it. It was always going to be that way. 

Admittedly, he fixates on that. He runs the numbers. The what-ifs. He runs scenarios in his mind, playing out their case again. He thinks of all the little things he could’ve done that he’s sure would’ve prevented failure. He retroactively sets up contingencies and failsafes. He changes the past. In his own mind, he all but gives himself superpowers and days saves the day. He tries to fix it. Or, at the very least, he tries to take the blame. He tries to make this outcome his own fault, so he could have affected the ending in some meaningful way. 

It’s a bad line of thought. If Dave knew he was thinking this, he’d probably cuff him upside the head. That wouldn’t stop him from thinking about it. It just makes him feel a bit more guilty about it. 

So lost in his own thoughts, he almost walks directly into another guest in the hotel lobby.

“Sorry!” She laughs. “I shouldn’t just stand in the middle of the room like this.”

Aaron almost brushes her off, but he stops. He looks at her. Being a profiler, he really sees her. Swollen, red eyes. Crushed and creased clothes, maybe the same ones as yesterday. Far-off look and tissue tucked discreetly in her sleeve. There’s a general sadness about her. 

“Tough day?”

She smiles softly. “We flew down three days ago to try and organise my aunt’s funeral, and the day of, my uncle tells me she wouldn’t have wanted one and called the whole thing off. We could’ve just stayed home. And I promised my kids we’d be home for trick-or-treating tonight.” She gestures over to the vending machine, where two elementary-age children stand admiring the snacks. “I don’t know how to tell them they’re missing it.”

Aaron understands that a little too well.

“I thought it was a miracle when I managed to get three plane ticket at the last minute.” She rambles. “But its just my luck that there’s a big storm over Nevada. All flights cancelled until further notice.”

Aaron’s last bit of hope dies. It curls up in a ball in his stomach and starts decomposing immediately. Even if David managed to find them transpiration, they wouldn’t get off the ground. 

He returns the woman’s sad smile. “We’re in the same boat — all my Littles were looking forward to it.”

They lament it for a moment, just rolling the grief back and forth between them. 

“I guess we’ll just have to live with it.” She says in the end. Acceptance. 

Aaron nods vaguely. He was distracted by something across the lonny. A candy bowl sat on the front desk. It sets off a chain reaction in him. A thrill of fatherly determination bolts through him. An impossible idea comes with it. Not impossible, actually. Only close to impossible. A very thin chance — still better than what he had moments before. 

“What if we didn’t?”

———

bzzt-bzzt-bzzt-bzzt

Rossi’s phone vibrates on the desk and he dives for it. His army buddy knew a guy who knows a guy who might be able to get them home, and he’d gone ahead and left him a message. He’s pushing his luck. Still, he hopes this is a callback. The name on the screen kills that hope. A. Hotch.

“You can borrow another one of my shirts,” he says in place of a greeting, because why else would Hotch be calling him? “You don’t have to ask every time.”

Hotch laughs a bright bite of laughter.

“No, listen — you need to sneak out and buy the kids some Halloween costumes.”

Rossi all but blue screens. A dozen or so questions rise up his throat, but Hotch just keeps on rolling.

“I spoke to the motel staff — they’re happy to set up some trick-or-treating stations around the hotel, you know, the lobby, the restaurant, the maid station — so we can give all the kids a proper Halloween experience. Not just our kids, either, all the kids staying here tonight. So that’s a start.

“And I’m waiting for a call-back from the manager. She’s out of the office right now, but Kelly at reception thinks that she might be willing to send out a memo to all the guests and see if they’ll mark their doors in some way if they’re happy to have trick-or-treaters tonight. They’ve done it before, but we would have to provide the candy.

“Oh, and the bartender said he’s friendly with staff from a few restaurants up the street. He’s making some calls to see if any of them are happy to have bowls of candy for us as well.”

It’s Rossi’s turn to laugh. He covers it with a cough, so as not to alert the kids. Only Hotch could’ve pulled something like this off. Hell, he’s been gone less than an hour. 

“I’m going out for candy, buckets, and some cheap door decorations — it can’t hurt to provide them, since the motel is being so accomodating. But if I’m gone too long the kids will notice. I need you to make your excuses and go get them some costumes.”

“Okay,” Rossi rasps in disbelief.

“I love you. Don’t tell the kids.”

“I won’t. Oh, and Hotch?” He waits until he hears Hotch hum in response. “Make sure you change your shirt before you go.”

The phone turns the answering laugh tinny. Yeah, Rossi knows him too well.

“Right, yes.”

The dial tone beeps. As he closes the phone, he takes a few moments to just breathe. It still won’t be a real Halloween, at least not like the one they originally had planned. Still, he looks over at his kids. With sad eyes and despondence, they’re playing poker in the station’s break room. He can see their unspoken disappointment. Even if they can’t give them a real Halloween, they can give them this. He just hopes it will be enough. (Who is he kidding, of course, it will be enough. They’re good kids. They will appreciate that they even tried).

Now he just had to figure out a convenient excuse for getting out of here. That could be tricky. Thankfully, he walks right into one. Casually walking into the break room to tell his kids he’s going out, he overhears their conversation.

“—kay, so it’s not exactly fall weather down here, but the fall always has me craving warm curries.” Derek says. “Sue me.”

Emily nods along. “They don’t deliver, though, and we’ve gotta stay here until our reports pass. So our options are to text Hotch and ask him to pick some up, or order something else.”

Rossi interjects. “I need to go across town anyway — what is it you guys wanted?”

“Derek and I got some takeout from the Indian restaurant across town the other day, and now we’re craving it.”

“I’ll pick some up?”

No one stops to question why he needed to go out in the first place. Instead, they started discussing the menu. Rossi left with a hand-written list of their choices and a very convenient alibi. In short, he slipped away without anyone being the wiser.

Thankfully, the restaurant was right near the toy store. Timing wouldn’t ruin their plan. He placed his order to-go and walked the short distance to the store whilst it was being prepared. The non-descript white bags that the costumes went into blended right in with the takeout. 

Surprise intact, at least this far.

Chapter Text

Spencer isn’t mad, he’s just disappointed. Yeah. Actually, that’s a lie. He’s mad and disappointed. And frustrated. Oh, and overtired. He’s a mess. If he were in headspace right now, he’d probably be having a bit of a tantrum. Maybe a lot of a tantrum. Okay, definitely a lot of a tantrum. 

It’s probably a good thing we aren’t going trick-or-treating tonight.

At least he isn’t the only one with a bad attitude. They’ve known since the morning that they aren’t making it home. Spencer feels like he always knew. Things just don’t work out like that. The letdown still hit hard, though. The surprise has worn off, but the disappointment is only growing — doubly so since they got dismissed. 

It’s time to leave the station. Their paperwork has cleared, the suspect has been processed, and they no longer have an official reason to be here. They should be glad to leave. Still, leaving the station drags away any illusion that there’s anything keeping them here except for sheer dumb luck. That’s weighing heavy on them all.

The mid-afternoon sun is beating down. It’s completely without warmth. Their shadows stretch long on the pavement, dark and high and sullen. Most of the day is wasted. There’s nothing left to do but wait for it to be over. Without much discussion, they all start to meander back in the direction of the hotel — why bother to pay for a taxi when they can just waste more of the day? It’s a slow slog. No one has the energy or the drive to move quickly. They’re just drifting down the streets, full of their own gloomy funk.

The most fun they have is kicking a rock around between them all. It was a glimpse of joy. JJ kicked it back to Derek, Derek to Emily, and Emily to Spencer. Spencer hoofed it right down a storm drain with his clumsy feet. No one even has the energy to laugh at their continued misfortune.

The caregivers are trying to keep the mood high. Hotch seems to have put on his excited caregiver mask. He laughs and chatters to Rossi, pretending everything is good and fine and happy. It’s even more depressing than the alternative. Spencer wishes Hotch would just let them all see the frustration they know is under the surface. The faux-happiness is just making him feel guilty about his attitude. He walks ahead to just to get away from it.

Rossi’s attempts to cheer them up have at least been less invasive. He brought takeout. He keeps sneaking sticks go gum into their coat pockets — that even got a breath of air out of his nose, almost a laugh. As they turn the corner to the hotel, Rossi huddles them up for his last attempt to save the day.

“Everyone go have a shower, take a nap, and we’ll come get you later in the evening — we’ve got a surprise for you all.”

JJ, the unofficial spokesperson for the group, asked the question on everyone’s lips.

“We’re going out for dinner?”

Rossi winks. “That’s a secret.”

She rolls her eyes. “Let me guess — Taco Bell?”

It’s one of the only things on the street, so its a fair guess. Rossi simply puts a finger to his lips.

“Fine, but if it’s Taco Bell don’t bother waking me.”

Hotch laughs. “It’s not Taco Bell. C’mon, showers and bed. We’ll lay some clothes out for you guys.”

It’s a little weird to be told to go to bed at 3pm, but Spencer can’t bring himself to protest. He didn’t sleep last night. He’s way overtired. Sleep is probably the best thing for him. Still, the process to get clean and tucked in sounds like the worst thing in the world. Thankfully, Hotch — with whom he’s sharing a room — catches that.

“You need a hand?” He asks in his Daddy Voice. Spencer feels himself immediately slipping out of adulthood. He hits Hotch with his very best toddler-pout.

“Oh, baby.”

Daddy pulls him close, tucking him into his side with a gentle squeeze. He burrows in, letting all his sadness settle.

“Today sucks.” He whines.

Daddy hums. “Well, let’s see if you can’t turn that around.”

The gentle process of getting clean, warm and dry happens around him. Daddy puts up with his fussiness and attitude, and doesn’t push for him to cheer up. Before he knows it, he’s being tucked into bed. Against his will, he’s feeling a little better. He tries to keep his pout going, but he doesn’t have the energy. Heavy eyelids drag him right under as Daddy whispers him a lullaby.

———

Spencer wakes quite suddenly, but he can’t tell why. Clearly time has passed — the light coming through the gap in the curtains has shifted to the cool tones of evening. He shifts around, searching for what it could’ve been that woke him. And he hears it. Laughter. Full bodied, giddy laughter right outside of his door. He knows those voices. His siblings.

“Spence!” Calls Derek, sounding very young. Which, yep, now he’s confused.

“‘M coming, give me a minute.”

He throws off his blanket, intent on walking to the hall to see what’s going on. However, the movement of blanket disturbs something at the end of his bed. He doesn’t immediately recognise it.

A piece of paper falls away from the unidentified object. 

They were out of astronaut costumes at the store, Rossi’s distinctive handwriting tells him., so I went with your second choice. Daddy put it through the machine downstair, so it should be nice and soft for you - Papa

He inspects the lump at the end of his bed.

A little checkered shirt, some jeans, and a red handkerchief. Next to it, his work boots — completed with temporary spurs made out of gum wrappers. Finally, a ten-gallon hat right on top of the rest. 

A cowboy costume.

“Spencer!” Calls Emily, banging on the door and singing nonsense loudly. “Spencerrrrrrrr!”

He scrambles to get dressed, bubbling with excitement.

———

Aaron’s kids look way too cute.

One of his favourite moments in the year is seeing them all gathered in their Halloween costumes, ready to go. It’s always such a sweet, soft moment. This year included. It might not have been the original plan, but it’s good enough. And he has to admit, David really pulled through with these costumes. 

The kids are all standing around — except for Spencer, who he can hear just beyond the door — looking confused but adorable.

Derek looks just as he always does. His firefighter’s costume is lower-budget than usual, and missing Smokey. Still, he doesn’t look out of place. This is quintessential Halloween Derek. He’s playing with the straps of his helmet. The brightness in his eyes give away his youngness. Only moments before he had been pestering Aaron about what the plans for the evening, but has given up on that for now. Instead, he’s wobbling his head around, shifting his helmet back and forth. Too cute.

Speaking of too cute, Penny’s dressed up as a fairy. She is completely unfazed by the change of costume plans. She plays happily with the hem of her skirt, twirling ever to slightly and talking JJ’s ear off about the difference between this fairy dress and all her others. The periwinkle blue is subtle and frankly very pretty. She looks very regal. The sparkles catch the light, twinkling serenely. She’s clearly feeling little, but Aaron can’t put a finger on just how little she’s feeling — he suspects she might be holding off a little to see what the plans for the evening are. Still, it doesn’t truly matter. She’s happy. That’s what matters.

JJ nods along with Penny, but is sneaking glances at her caregivers. Her skepticism is warranted — they’ve been told next to nothing. And while she’s probably pieced something together from seeing her siblings, but her outfit wouldn’t have given anything away. It looks like David has sourced her a simple black dress; hell, Aaron isn’t even sure David sourced it. The dress could be the one she wore for their press conference earlier in the week. He has no idea what she’s dressed up as — props to David, he’s nailed her vibe. She’s wearing a black dress. That’s it. It’s just… a black dress. His best guess is that she’s dressed up as herself.

And then there’s Emily. She’s really in the spirit, her cheeky grin lighting up the room. She’s wearing a pirate costume that was clearly designed for a boy, and a child. It’s doesn’t quite fit right — it’s become a cropped any place it could be cropped. However, it was David’s best option for her, as it was one of the only options left in the “sensory friendly” section. Aaron had signed off on it, and it was the only one he saw before purchase. Emily is clearly comfortable in it. And a very playful touch, she’s drawn what looks like a treasure map on her stomach, with an X marking a spot near her gut labelled “here be the candy”. He loves her deeply. She catches him looking at her, and gives him a cheeky yo ho ho.

Spencer’s door flings open and a very clumsy cowboy comes tumbling out.

“Sorry,” he breathes, “are we goin’ to dinner now?”

Aaron’s heart has never felt bigger. (Truthfully, it probably has. He’s a sentimental man and he loves his family.)

“Actually,” he says, pulling some buckets out from behind a pot plant in the hall, “I thought we could go trick-or-treating.”

He spent most of the day dreaming of this moment. He expected cheering and squealing, and… well, he’s getting a lot of confusion. It doesn’t stop him any.

“We’ve been told to start in the lobby, they’ve set up a few stations where you can go and get your candy — note, the manager is in the office and has said she expects her door to be treated like a residence, knock and greet. When we’ve wrapped up there, we can head upstairs and find the decorated doors. Finally, if we’re not too tired, I’ve got a list of businesses up the street.”

Everyone stayed very quiet. Aaron wondered if maybe this wasn’t going to go down as well as he’d hoped.

“We know it’s not perfect,” David starts, but gets cut of by a sharp laugh from JJ.

“We know it’s not perfect,” JJ mocked in a very bad impression, “are you shitting me?”’

“Language.”

“Fuck that — you got us Halloween. Of course it’s good enough. And as soon as the shock wears off, I plan to enjoy my arse off.”

Aaron barks a laugh. Slowly, the kids start to catch up to what’s going on, and echo JJ’s sentiment. They all take a moment to adjust, and to get very excited out of nowhere. Slowly, their confusion turns into raucous happiness.

“Bucket me, Daddy.” JJ smiles.

And who is he to deny her now?

———

Spencer is having the best night of his life.

For all the bad there is in the world, there is also good. You can’t always see it. Sometimes, though, if you come at a situation with hope and honesty, you can pull all that goodness together. That’s exactly what Daddy and papa have done. Right here, in this hotel in Texas, there’s nothing but joy.

Immediately after the first wave of excitement, he started to feel uneasy. It’s a familiar feeling, but getting less so. It only crops up when he’s doing something new. And boy is this new. He’s never really been little in public. A few scattered hours at the toy store or the park, sure, but nothing like this. Besides, there are other kids — real kids he tries not to think — and he hasn’t ever been little in circumstances like these. His first response was to shut down. His brain wanted to stop him. He vetoed that. No matter what happens here tonight, he’s determined to keep going.

So he went with his second response — hide behind Daddy. This is very effective.

The lobby is bustling. Employees at every station wave to them and shake bowls of candy and invite them over. Other kids — and other Littles — are running around filling their buckets and pillowcases with goodies. He follows where Daddy leads. He also tries his best not to be seen, which even he can admit is a bit of a tall order when you’re dressed up. Still, the comfort of being seen second helps. He doesn’t know where in his headspace he is. Not up, not down, just here. Waddling around like a little duck, he watches his siblings cackle and laugh as they collect their candy. His bucket fills, too — none of the employees seem fazed my his lack of engagement. Slowly, he settles.

A long breath of joy passes, and they got to the final boss of the lobby: The General Manager’s office. Daddy hung back with him whilst his siblings ran ahead. 

“You doing okay?”

Spencer nodded, nervously but honestly.

“You want to try leading on this one?”

A nervous giggle bubbles out. He shoved his head into Daddy’s armpit. He’s tries to come up with some way to protest, something to say, but it all falls short. Tonight’s about trick or treating, and he’s gotta get into it. He wants to get into it. 

So he nods.

As his siblings leave the door behind, he steels himself. Putting his shaking body between Daddy and the door, he walks up. What a rush. A stomach-flopping, exhilarating wave of nerves and courage war in his gut. He looks back at Daddy for some reassurance. He gets a soft nod. He doesn’t remember ever doing this. When he was younger, it was always Mom who knocked. 

Still, he knocks. Two almost-steady raps.

The door swings open to reveal a very normal, not at all intimidating woman. She has a kind face and a devil-horn headband. The smile on her face is sweet and kind. Spencer is still inexplicably afraid of her. He stands in total terrified silence for a second. Then, as it looks like she might speak, he finds some courage somewhere.

“TRICKORTREAT.” He squeals, closing his eyes and thrusting his bucket out.

She laughs. “Yeehaw, little man, and right on.”

Two treats thunk gently into his bucket. He succeeded. And because Spencer is as polite as he is nervous, he makes sure to shout his thanks before running away. He runs right back into Daddy’s arms and hides there a little bit. Daddy picks him up and swings him around happily.

“Good job, buddy.”

Suddenly it doesn’t seem quite as hard as it had before. Like most things, trick-or-treating only seems strange and scary when he’s hellbent on remember he’s not a kid all the time. No one’s judging him for that. He’s the only one fixated on it. When he lets go of that, it’s easier. It’s even fun. He’s gotta remember that.

The second floor comes easy, then. Having thoroughly pillaged the lobby, they head up to seek out the decorated doors. When Daddy first mentioned it, Spencer expected maybe one or two doors. Some small part of him viewed their fun as a burden; the sheer willingness of people to be put out by their joy is amazing. There are dozens of doors. He looks up at Daddy and Papa in disbelief.

“Apparently they’re hosting some sort of corporate retreat,” Papa muses, “and all the attendees are very bored.”

He ends up being right. Three whole floors of finance bros are waiting for them, excited to hand out a few pieces of candy. It’s healing. The volume of doors gives him plenty of opportunities to follow his siblings while he warms up. Spencer even gets up confidence as he knocks on doors. People answer — tired, working people — with big smiles on their faces. 

“Trick or Treat?”

And they happily gave over candy, commenting on costumes and laughing with them. 

Derek hangs back occasionally, haggling with Spencer for different candies in his bucket. Apparently, Derek loves liquorice. Spencer doesn’t. However, he sees his opportunity to pretend he does to trade his unwanted goods for better candies. He doesn’t think Derek’s totally sold, but he stills gives Spencer all his soft caramels.  

Some doors have no one home, but instead have buckets sitting outside. Please take one say most. One, notably, has two buckets — one of candy, and one of corporate branded stress balls. The sign over the second says please take as many as you can carry!!! Spencer giggles at that.

Noise hits them as soon as they reach the fourth floor. A bachelorette weekend is well in swing. Gorgeous, slightly drunk women in sashes hand out candy and gush over them. 

“Oh my god, you are so cute,” screams the bride to be, “don’t let my fiancée see you or we might have to steal you for ourselves.” 

She gives him three pieces of a candy and (accidentally, he thinks) a small bottle of vodka. Daddy pockets that one for him. He’s okay with that - alcohol is yucky no matter what age he’s feeling. Besides, Daddy probably deserves it. He’s organised all this. Someone should make sure he gets his treat for pulling this trick off. 

JJ laughs along with the young women, looking to all the world like she belongs in their group. It’s easy to forget that she’s got a quite a mature headspace. She gets swept up in all their kid-stuff; however, she loves feeling like a grown-up-kid far more than the rest of them. He hopes she’s having fun. She locks eyes with him and pulls him over to meet the maid-of-honour.

“This is my baby brother, isn’t he so cute?” She shouts. “I wish I could just carry him around in my pocket.”

Yeah, he loves her, too. He gives her a big hug and totally doesn’t steal a stick of sherbet out of her bucket. (She doesn’t like them anyway).

He finds himself enjoying the chaotic energy of the bachelorette party. It wears him down, sure, but it’s nice to see all the different Halloween celebrations going on around them. That thought carries on as they wrap up their hotel crawl and head for the street. Local businesses were already going all-out before they even got here. Adults in costume fill the streets, funnelling in and out of bars and restaurants and the small, independent cinema across the street. It’s perfect. Halloween is in the air everywhere they go. He feels right at home, surrounded by the theatre of the night.

His tiredness is catching up with him, though. His heels are dragging with exhaustion by the time to get to last business on the block. His bucket feels so heavy in his hands. Daddy picks him up eventually, carrying him into the restaurant.

“I think Papa wants to get some real food into Penny and Emily — they hardly have any candy left between them.” Daddy whispers to him.

Spencer giggles. It’s an exaggeration, but Emily and Penny have definitely been snacking as they go. One of his fondest memories of the night will be them throwing skittles back and forth into each others’ mouths in the stairwell between floors.

“Look how cute y’all are,” smiles the waitress, as they get seated in a diner booth. “did you get a good haul?”

Derek holds up his very-full bucket. He also tips off his helmet to reveal a smaller, secret stash.

“My oh my, that must’ve been fun. Well, you probably don’t need any more candy, but kids do get a free dessert.”

Spencer is so tired. He cheers at the mention of free dessert, his brain only catching up to his actions at the very end. Thankfully, everyone is laughing with him.

“This young man has his priorities straight.” The waitress smiles.

They order their entrees and eat with idle chatter. Spencer curls up against Daddy. He /is/ hungry, but he’s also so, so tired. He ends up falling asleep there. However, just before he drifts off, Hotch asks him a question.

“Did you have fun?”

Spencer giggles. “Best Halloween ever.”

When he wakes up the next morning in the hotel, he has a bucket full of candy, and a piece of pie in his mini fridge. And that’s a pretty sweet haul, he thinks.