A/N: So, this came to me when I was, you guessed it, babysitting. Go figure. I just had this image. It didn't quite come out the way I wanted it too, though: I'd imagined the image being the climax. Then I had the muhaha idea. I'd spent hours practising my evil laugh. You can thank chocolate fish for the title. And the computer on which I typed this. I love you more than words can wield the matter, seeing as we're the quoting geniuses. What's the plural of genius? It sould be genii. That sounds cool. Anywho. Enjoy the pointless HWF. (Heart-Warming Fluff. Watch the darn movie already.)

-for you!

They were just getting used to the idea that they might actually be going out together for once when the babysitter phoned to say she couldn't make it. FBI agent Aaron Hotchner was about ready to throw something. "It's okay," his wife Hailey said tried, failing dismally due to the look of abject disappointment on her face. "We'll do it another night." Hotch looked at her, a smile wavering timidly on her perfect lips. She knew and he knew that they'd never get another chance. The Behavioural Analysis Unit didn't allow for quiet dates with your wife.

He sat down next to her on the bed, his head falling into his hands. Then he lifted it up again. "No," he said determinedly, "we'll do it tonight. There's got to be someone else we can call. I booked the restaurant. I booked the movie. I prayed to everybody who could possibly be listening that nothing would come up at work. We're going out tonight, Hailey."

She smiled faintly, love glowing in her soft eyes. "Who are we going to call, Aaron? Megan's in Paris." She referred, of course, to her sister, who had babysat for them before. Well, offered to; something had always managed to happen that would pull Hotch away from his family again. He didn't know who to call. He sighed.

"Just when I was starting to think it might actually happen," he said forlornly. Hailey rubbed his back gently and kissed him on the cheek. He picked up his phone from where it lay sadly on the dresser, as though it, too, knew that it held no solution. The recent calls list was still open on the screen. He was about to throw it away when a name near the top of the list caught his eye: Spencer Reid. He paused. It was a long shot. But Aaron Hotchner's long shots had a habit of working out.

He stood up, the phone pressed to his cheek, and listened to the steady ring at the other end, once, twice, before it was interrupted by a quiet voice. "Reid," Hotch acknowledged, in a way that would have made any other member of the BAU cringe, "I wonder if you could do something for me."

The doorbell rang at exactly six o-clock, just as Hotch had known it would. Three-year-old Jack Hotchner ran to open it. "Reid!" he shouted happily. The taller man looked down through his glasses and smiled, then crouched down to the boy's level.

"Hey, buddy," he said, poking Jack gently on the chest. Reid looked up as Hailey and her husband came around the corner, dressed formally, hand in hand. "Evening, sir," he said politely.

"Are you gunna be my babysitter?" Jack asked, reclaiming Reid's attention.

"Yes," he replied seriously. "I am going to sit on you until your parents get back." Jack squealed in delight.

"Thank you so much for coming, Dr. Reid," Hailey said gratefully. "You can't possibly know what it means to me. Aaron and I never go out." Reid blinked embarrassedly.

"Just make sure you have him in bed by eight," Hotch added sternly, "we'll be back by eleven. And Reid?"

The profiler looked up from where he still crouched in the doorway, his hand intertwined with the toddler's. "Don't sit on him too hard."

As soon as the door swung shut behind them, Reid turned to the little boy. "Have you had dinner yet?" he asked. Jack nodded. "Yeah? What did you have?"

"Macarooney Cheese." Jack announced proudly.

"Yeah? That sounds yummy. So what do you want to do, Jack?" Reid smiled at the ponderous frown that possessed the little boy's face as he considered the question. Then it seemed to light up like a Christmas tree.

"Can we do like we did last time you looked after me? The physics magic?" It took his little tongue a few tries to get around the word 'physics', which he eventually managed in halting, awkward syllables. Reid grinned, remembering the time he had made film canister rockets for the little boy.

"I'm sorry, Jack, but I didn't bring any of the stuff for that today. I'll tell you what. Mummy and Daddy have gone to the movies. Why don't we pretend that we're at the movies too?"

Jack smiled. "Yeah!"

So they traipsed up the stairs and into a living room. "Wow," Reid exclaimed, "you guys have a big TV! Which movie shall we watch? Do you have a favourite one?"

Jack ran to the cupboard under the TV, which was mounted on the wall, and pulled out a box. "That one?" the boy pushed it into his hands. "Monsters vs. Aliens. Is it good?"

"It's funny," Jack replied enthusiastically, grabbing Reid's arm and pulling him onto the sofa. "He doesn't have a brain."

Reid smiled at the way the toddler pronounced 'brain' as 'bwain'. "Hang on, I have to put it in first," he said. "Who doesn't have a brain?"

Jack happily jumped onto the sofa. "The blue one."

Reid joined him with the now-empty DVD box. "This one?" He pointed to the blue lump of jelly sporting one eye. He looked pretty brainless. Jack murmured his assent. "He looks funny, doesn't he?"

The Dreamworks logo had lit up the screen before Reid realised what they were missing. "Hey, Jack," he whispered, leaning closer to the boy's ear, "You can't have a movie without popcorn, can you?"

Jack turned to look at him, horror spreading across his innocent face. "But we don't have any popcorn," he whispered. Reid smiled.

"We could make some," he suggested. He watched the boy's mind work visibly as he processed the idea. "Do you know why it's called popcorn?" Jack shook his head. "Well, it's made from kernels of corn, and when you heat them up, they go 'pop'." Jack thought about this. "Shall we go try it?"

The toddler's brown eyes flashed. "Yeah!"

Back in the kitchen, Reid found Jack a stool so he could see while he poured some of the yellow kernels into a saucepan, followed it with some butter and put the lid on. The little boy watched, his eyes wide. Reid leaned on the bench and waited for it to start popping. "You know," he mused, "popcorn is a kind of physics magic too, because it's the pressure caused by the heat that makes the kernels explode." Jack just blinked, so he tried to explain the process in more detail.

"…and then it's easier to eat, because it's crunchy instead of hard," he finished. Just then, on the bench behind him, something went 'pop'.

Jack's attention was instantly diverted. "It's popping! It's popping!" he yelled excitedly, jumping up and down on the stool as several more soft bangs came from the pot.

"Careful, Jack, don't fall off the stool," Reid cautioned. "Shall we take the lid off and see?" he wasn't entirely sure that this was his most brilliant idea ever, but Jack was, so he carefully lifted off the lid.

Snap! A kernel exploded right in front of their eyes and flew over their heads. "Cool!" Jack exclaimed. Reid laughed as more popcorn leapt out of the pot, jumping around and making random bids for freedom.

"Yeah, but I think we should put the lid back on now, or it'll all escape and there won't be any for us to eat," he explained. Jack watched it for a few seconds then agreed. Reid's last thought before he dropped the lid on the pan was that he probably needn't have put quite so much into the pot.

Another kernel exploded with the biggest bang yet; it knocked the lid right off the pan again and a droplet of boiling butter hit Reid's outstretched arm, making him yelp and jerk it reflexively back. The popcorn continued to jump out of the pan and onto the floor. "Oh, no, Jack," Reid moaned, crouching on the floor again, "this physics magic is out of control!"

Jack laughed, but flinched at another snap from the pan, unsure whether or not Reid was joking. He wasn't quite sure himself. The two of them huddled in the middle of the kitchen floor as popcorn whizzed over their heads. Reid tried to make a joke out of the situation. "Jack, our popcorn is trying to escape! Quick! Catch it!" He reached out a hand and made a wild grab in the general direction of the flying food, but missed and the offending kernel bounced off his head. Jack laughed again, tried the trick himself, but got a shock when the saucepan emitted a final bang, squealed in fright and pulled the hand back in, cuddling up against Reid's chest. The profiler clutched the little boy to him as the saucepan finally quieted.

He stood up tentatively and turned off the heat. The pan was full to the brim, and some had overflowed onto the stovetop. Popcorn littered the kitchen floor. Reid gave a hollow laugh. "I think we put too much in," he assessed guiltily.

After waiting a few moments to make sure it was really safe, Jack stood back on the stool. "Yes," he said matter-of-factly, "you did."

Reid snorted. "Oh, you being the expert and all," he said sarcastically, but the boy didn't respond. He sighed. "Well, let's get a bowl, then."

They watched Monsters vs. Aliens, and then the short movie that came with it. Reid twitched his nose. 3D glasses didn't work so well on top of normal glasses. The short film ended with an invisible man playing charades. "I love the 'muhaha'!" the jelly announced. "This is the best birthday ever!"

The credits finished rolling and Reid switched off the TV. Jack was still giggling. "…the muhaha..." he repeated, amid gusts of laughter. Reid chuckled.

"Can you do a good 'muhaha'?" he asked. The boy looked at him. "Like this – MUAHAHAHAHA!" he forced out his best evil laugh. It was a skill he was rather proud of. "Was that a good one?"

Jack Hotchner was still helpless with giggles. "No," he reprimanded, "you're silly."

"I'm silly," Reid repeated, put out. "Great. Well, I'd like to see you do better."

"I can," the boy insisted. "See? Moo-haha! Moo-haha!"

Reid laughed at his endearingly enthusiastic attempts. "Okay," he conceded, "you're pretty good." He glanced at his watch. Eight-thirty. Already past the time Hotch had insisted his son be in bed by. He could easily just put him to sleep now… "Hey, Jack?" he asked brightly. "Wanna play charades? Like the invisible man?"

By ten-thirty, the boy's eyes were drooping, so Reid finished off reading The Gruffalo ("he had terrible tusks and terrible claws / and terrible teeth in his terrible jaws / his eyes are orange, his tongue is black / he has purple prickles all over his back…") and tucked him into bed.

"And if Daddy asks what we did all night," he whispered, "I sat on you until eight o'clock and then I put you to bed, okay?"

"Okay," Jack mumbled, and within moments was fast asleep.

Reid had just picked up the last kernel of popcorn from the kitchen floor when the Hotchners returned, arm in arm with goofy, loving smiles on their faces. Reid felt his own mimic them; he hardly ever saw Hotch look this happy. "How was it?" he asked.

"It was great, thank you, Reid," Hotch replied, smiling. "Was Jack okay?"

"Oh, he's an angel. We played games for a while, then I put him to bed." Partly true, Reid reasoned.

"At eight?"

"Of course," Reid lied smoothly. Hailey smiled.

"Thank you so much," Hotch said earnestly. "I'm going to go check on him."

As soon as he left, Hailey turned to Reid and asked, "So, what time did he really go to bed?"

Reid flinched. "About half an hour ago." She laughed.

"Thank you," she reiterated. "We had a wonderful time."

Upstairs, Agent Aaron Hotchner sat by his son's bed and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept. Then he leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on the boy's forehead. Jack stirred and opened his eyes. "Daddy," he whispered.

"Hey, sport. You have fun with Reid?"

"Uh-huh. When can he come again?" Hotch smiled at the eager note to the boy's voice.

"Soon, if you like. What did you guys do?

"He sat on me until eight and then I went to bed," Jack replied in a well-rehearsed manner. Hotch laughed softly.

"I'll bet he did," he said, looking through the gap in the boy's curtains to where he could see the young profiler glance around, fumbling for his keys in the semi-dark of the street. "I'll bet he did."

A/N: For those of you who are following my work across several categories, I have now completed the Criminal Minds chapter fic I was writing, Draw Me A Star, and am back onto the Harry Potter one, Black Thoughts. However, my lack of a computer explains why DMAS is still only displaying 6 chapters. It's because I still haven't typed up the other 8 yet. But they're there. Just so's you know.

Anywho. Have a nice life, all of you. Thanks, Mima, for having a little brother with a 'pedache' that can only be solved by 'aditdit'. Sorry I couldn't realise in time that what he meant was that I should put on Bob the Builder to get rid of his headache. That, to all you others out there, is why Jack Hotchner doesn't appear to talk in three-year-old speech. It's just too hard to understand. Love you all!

-for you!