Cross Your Heart

A/N: Hello, all! Yeesh, it took me forever to come up with something for this prompt! This will still probably be shorter than I'd like, but at least I've finally got something… This takes place sometime during season five, after the events 100. Enjoy?

Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable. Including, but not limited to: Criminal Minds, the characters, the prompt, a bar, bla bla bla. You get the idea.

Warning: There's, like, one swear in here… just saying.

Prompt: Garcia/Hotch; a leaking ceiling, a rug, a plane ticket

-/\-

Hotch settled into the old, creaking chair in front of the weathered motel desk with a sigh. It had been one hell of case, by anyone's standards. To start, the jet had been down for repairs, causing the team to fly out commercial. From the airport, they'd had to rent SUVs and drive for more than an hour to reach East Bumblefuck, Washington.

They'd felt somewhat unprepared when they reached the tiny town, being as they hadn't been able to have a discussion on the jet, as per usual. However, it really hadn't mattered that they were unprepared being as the police department hadn't actually requested their services. Apparently the detective who'd appealed to them had hoped the team would be accepted onto the case once they were there because everyone would feel too bad to send them back to DC. This was, unfortunately not the case. The chief politely suggested the team got the hell out of his station, but changed his tune when the body of another local women was found on the steps of the station in the pouring rain.

The worst part, though, wasn't the fact that they were most definitely not welcomed by neither the police nor the townsfolk, that it was constantly raining, or even that UnSub had turned out to be a well-respected member of the town. Every member of the team agreed that the most trying part of this case had been the accommodations. More specifically, the ridiculously rundown motel they had spent three nights in.

The owner hadn't been too happy about having to put up the FBI agents and none-too-surreptitiously gave them terrible rooms. The place was already in disrepair due to the lack of visitors the out-of-the-way town got, but Hotch thought this was just ridiculous. Half the rooms leaked as it had been raining nonstop since they arrived and the rooms all smelled of mildew, which was driving Prentiss' allergies crazy.

Just as Hotch was considering getting up and dumping the bucket the janitor had begrudgingly given him for the leak in his ceiling, a knock came at his door. He walked the short distance to the other side of his room, going around the soaked and marshy throw rug, and pulled the door open. Garcia was standing on the other side.

The bright tech had come with the team this time, being as the small town had notoriously poor cell service and reaching her would have been difficult at best. "Hello, sir. Sorry to bother you, but I've come baring a gift." She said cheerfully, waving a piece of paper. "May I come in?"

Hotch nodded and stepped aside, allowing the analyst inside. She surveyed the small room and her eyes came to rest on the bucket which was steadily being filled by a dripping stream from the ceiling. "Wow, has your room been leaking this whole time?" She asked, sounding concerned. "I knew this place was crappy, but talk about your cliché bad motels…"

"None of the rooms are exactly what we're used to. Morgan's room is leaking as well and the air conditioning in Reid's is broken." Hotch replied.

"Well at least it's not hot out…"

"It's been stuck on full-blast, actually."

Garcia winced slightly in sympathy. "That would explain why he's been going on about the correlation between being wet and cold and getting sick in Reid-speak…"

Hotch nodded and when Garcia didn't say anymore, he prompted her to continue. "What, exactly, did you need, Garcia?" He asked, though not impolitely.

"Oh, right, of course, sir!" The peppy woman was jarred out of her thoughts and she handed her piece of paper to him. "JJ asked me to give you this."

The agent regarded the paper in his hands and found it was one of the best things he'd seen in four days- a plane ticket back to DC. "She said that we had to be at the airport by noon tomorrow, so I'm guessing we'll be rolling out sometime before 11." Garcia told him.

Nodding, Hotch watched the colorful tech for a moment and she simply stood there watching him in return. He could tell she was fighting the urge to fidget. After a long, tense silence, Hotch spoke again. "Was there something else you needed, Garcia?"

"Oh, glad you asked, sir." She replied enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up. "The rest of the team- well, Prentiss, JJ, Morgan, Reid and I- thought it would be a good idea to go out and unwind tonight. I even sent Prentiss after Rossi and I think she has a pretty decent chance of convincing him to come…"

"Garcia, you don't need to ask permission to go out to a bar; we're not on a case anymore." Hotch interrupted, turning to place the prized plane ticket on the rickety hotel night stand.

"And I- oh." Garcia sounded disappointed. "Actually, I was kind of hoping I could get you to come along with the rest of us."

Actually, Hotch had known full-well this was what Garcia had been getting at, but had been hoping to avoid the offer. If he didn't stop the question early on, he knew there was no way he would be getting out of the tiny town without having first spent the night in a bar. He decided to play the work-laden boss card and see if it got past the sharp woman standing in his room. "I have a lot of work to do, Garcia. My reports are due before…" He began seriously.

"With all due respect, sir," Garcia cut him off, "That's a load of crap and we both know it."

Hotch turned an irritated glare on her, but she didn't back down. "Your reports can wait until tomorrow. You're a master of paper work, a few hours won't make difference. C'mon, bossman, you used to come out with the team all the time." She prodded.

"That… was a while ago." He replied, his tone a bit quieter.

Garcia's scrutinized the man before her and her expression softened. He could see the debate going on behind her eyes. "Sir, I…" She paused, still seeming unsure. "When my parents died, I wanted to die with them. I… I wanted to whole world to stop because they were gone. I guess, failing that, I wanted to do as little as possible. But… the world doesn't stop. It can't, and neither can you. What good are you doing anyone if you stop enjoying yourself?

"Garcia…"

"I'm not saying you have to go wild or anything," She stopped and extended her arm towards him. "Just one night. I promise you won't regret it. Please?"

In that moment, Hotch was reminded of the way Jack pleaded when the little boy really wanted something. He also remembered all the promises he'd ever made to his son. Jack always demanded that his father cross his heart when he made a promise. For just a second, he was tempted to do ask the same of Garcia and her promise.

Cross your heart?

A childish request to soothe the almost childish belief that, perhaps, he wasn't meant to enjoy himself. As if it wasn't his place to do so.

Instead, he took his room key, tucked it into his pocket and turned his serious stare on Garcia. "If that's a promise." He said to her.

Garcia's expression faltered for a moment before she picked up on the slight note of sarcasm in his voice. She broke into a grin and sashayed over to the door, holding it open for him. "Yes, sir."

He nodded and left the room as Garcia followed him out. "Cross my heart." She continued cheerfully.

Hotch paused for a moment, nearly smiling, and then locked the door behind Garcia. He followed her down the hall as she chattered happily away about how thrilled everyone would be that he was joining them and he felt somehow assured that tonight would be a good one.

-/\-

A/N: Hm… well, that was kind of fun. I've never written anything featuring Hotch like this before. Sorry it took me so long to get around to it… school has started and I've been bombarded with AP homework… :/ Anywho, hope you guys enjoyed!