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geekystudmuffinTitle: The Place You Least Expect (1/3)
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
innerslytherin and severity_softly
Pairing: Reid/Rossi
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Flatter me, and I may not believe you. Criticize me, and I may not like you. Ignore me, and I may not forgive you. Encourage me, and I will not forget you. Love me and I may be forced to love you." ~ William Arthur Ward
Word count: ~25,000
Warning/Kink: Highlight between stars to read: * rimming *
Notes: RP format. Self-betaed, so feel free to point out any errors we may have missed. We wrote this over the fall (so if it contradicts recent canon anywhere, that's why), and is the beginning of a series, the second part of which has already been posted because it was seasonal. :3 This is the first part, which explains how they got together. :)
This is part of the "Conscious of Our Treasures" universe, all of which can be found at this tag. This is part ONE (in spite of being posted second), though each installment may also be read as a stand alone fic. :)
David Rossi was used to ignoring the people who stared and being kind to his fans. However, he wasn't quite sure how to deal with a genius who seemed to be suffering from a serious case of hero worship. Especially since Dave had screwed up his first case with the team badly, and had to be called out for it.
Morgan was watching Dave warily these days. Prentiss was polite but distant. Hotch was the same as he'd always been, of course, though he wore authority more comfortably these days. JJ was almost too friendly, but Dave didn't mind getting attention from a pretty young woman, as long as it was harmless. Penelope was doing Dave a favor and seemed eager to please, even if she was a little different.
But Doctor Reid presented a challenge. The young man was a genius, renowned in the criminal psychology field as an expert in just about everything, and...following Dave around like a puppy. It was sort of amusing, endearing, even, but it was also a little annoying. Did the kid have no ego of his own?
"You know, I've read your work, too, Doctor Reid," Dave said as they walked from the SUV to police station where they were consulting on a case.
"You don't have to call me Doctor all the time. You can call me Reid. Or, ah, Spencer," Reid said quickly, the words rattling off his tongue. It was strange walking along side David Rossi. Reid had probably read all his books a half dozen times, in spite of having them memorized on the first read through. The man was a giant in the field of criminal psychology. And now he was Reid's team mate. And he'd read Reid's articles. It was almost too much for Reid to wrap his mind around, so he focused on keeping stride with Rossi as they walked. He looked over, raising his eyebrows eagerly in interest. "Which ones?" he asked, his lips pulling into a nervous smile.
Dave glanced over at him, smiling faintly. "Well, there were several on the various aspects of auto-erotic asphyxiation, one on crime scene profiling in light of modern technology, three related articles about studies you've collaborated on..." He thought, trying to remember. "Oh, and I think you're considered an expert on schizophrenia and criminal behavior, aren't you?"
"Schizophrenia and other schizo-affective disorders, both the bipolar and depressive types, yes," Reid said, nodding and glancing away for a moment before looking back. "There were, ah, four on auto-erotic asphyxiation, actually, but two of them were written just out of college, sort of offshoots, in a sense, from my dissertation. The, ah, research done since then has far surpassed that that I was working with at the time, though."
Dave nodded slowly, noting the way Spencer's tone changed from the first topic to the second. "I thought your criticism of the 'undifferentiated schizophrenic' diagnosis was quite insightful," he said, wanting to explore that a little. The diagnosis had been a catch-all for years with serial killers.
Reid glanced up at Rossi, wishing Rossi had latched on to anything other than that, then looked ahead of them toward the station. "Thank you," he said. "The diagnosis had been a catch-all for years with serial killers," he quoted automatically from one of Rossi's books. "Linkage of most mental illness and violence is really perpetrated entertainment media, though--people with mental illness who didn't have a criminal record before becoming ill, or substance abuse problems, are really not any more prone to violence than anyone else, and 'undifferentiated schizophrenia' is mostly a bogus diagnosis that fails to really really diagnose anything. But you already know that," he said in one long breath, then looked back and tried to change the subject again. "It must be incredibly frustrating, the advance of research the way it goes; I've only written a few articles, but entire books surpassed by more recent knowledge must be..." He realized what he was saying a moment too late. "Well, not entire books, of course, just parts of them--they're still some of the most important resources in the field. And, you know, there's always second and third editions for the minor stuff, but..." He shook his head. "Never mind."
Dave's eyebrows went further and further up as Spencer talked, and finally he shook his head, smiling faintly. "A lot of what I've written is outdated," he agreed. "It was one of the factors that made me want to come back to active duty with the BAU. It sounds like you really enjoy the theoretical aspect of criminal psychology. Do you prefer that to the hands-on work?"
Reid nodded and looked back, unable to suppress the smile he felt blooming on his face. Rossi hadn't reacted badly to that at all. In fact, he seemed to take it rather lightly. "I, ah, I think the theoretical aspect is probably where my strength lies, sir."
"Oh, I don't know, the articles are all well-informed and skillfully written, but I think you also do good work with the team. You've been involved in some very high profile cases since you joined the BAU, I think." Dave said it more like a question, trying to draw Spencer out some more. He could be a little overwhelming with his enthusiasm, but he was certainly sincere.
"A few, yeah," Reid said. "Nothing like Waco or Ruby Ridge though." He turned around and got a few feet ahead of Rossi to walk backwards while he talked to him, so he could see Rossi's face. "I read somewhere... I can't remember where, that Waco was--"
"Waco was godawful," Dave said, his brows drawing together a little. He looked at Spencer and tried to stop glowering. It was hard to be gruff when someone was looking at you like that. "You're going to walk into something." He made his voice more gentle as he reached out to guide Spencer around a parking meter.
Reid blinked as Rossi's expression changed, and then Rossi was touching him. Reid didn't really do touching often, and it threw him for a brief moment when he automatically moved away, but then he just swiveled on his feet when Dave's hand made contact and he started walking face forward again. "Thanks," he murmured.
"Why don't you take the lead on this consult?" Dave suggested as they reached the doors. "I'm still learning how things have changed in how the BAU does things. I'd rather observe this time around, learn from you."
Reid's eyes widened. Rossi had to be kidding. He glanced over at Rossi, and then back to toward the station. "I-- Sir, I--"
"You can call me David." He gave Spencer a serene smile. "Things have changed a great deal since I was here. I don't want to get back in the saddle only to fall off the horse." Technically speaking, he'd already done that at Halloween. He was hoping to avoid a repeat performance. Not to mention, he really wanted to see Doctor Spencer Reid at work. Maybe then the kid could stop idolizing him and start treating him like a coworker.
Reid looked at Rossi again, not bothering to hide the skepticism in his gaze. He almost argued that Rossi had been doing this longer than he'd been alive, but he luckily caught that statement before it slipped out. Rossi was testing him. Reid wasn't sure if that strengthened his resolve to do well in front of Rossi, or terrified him, but he nodded, silenced his arguments, and headed into the station anyway.
Dave found himself annoyed by the way the local police detective acted like he was some sort of celebrity. He politely but firmly indicated that Doctor Reid was heading the consult, and hoped his air of complete confidence in Spencer would impart confidence to the younger man.
Reid gave the detective a small wave after the detective shook Dave's hand, and they headed into a smaller room to talk. It was difficult to compete with David Rossi... even when Rossi wasn't actually even saying anything. The detective kept glancing back at Rossi every time Reid said anything, like he was waiting for Rossi to confirm it.
That lasted about half the consult, while Reid waited for either the detective to realize Dave wasn't going to say much, or for Dave to just give in and start talking more, and then Reid finally had enough of it. He leaned in towards Rossi to hold the detective's eyes and raised his voice just slightly when the detective turned away. A few times was all it really took before the detective started to focus on Reid.
Dave was inordinately pleased when Spencer stepped up and began really taking charge. It was equally gratifying to see the detective responding to that. Dave found Spencer to be very detailed in his work (if perhaps a little too detailed at times), though he occasionally caught the detective looking a little overwhelmed, at which point Dave broke in gently to clarify a point. Once, partway through the afternoon, he suggested they take a brief break and refresh their coffee, and by six-thirty they'd covered everything they could in their initial consult. The detective thanked them profusely and sent them on their way, with directions to a decent restaurant in town. As they headed back to the SUV, Dave put his hands in his pockets and smiled.
"I'm impressed."
Reid's eyebrows lifted. He was feeling a little drained from fighting to be heard--even after he gained the detectives attention, he still had to work to keep it--but it still sent a little thrill through him that Rossi had just praised him. "Thanks," he said, smiling. "Did I pass?" he asked lightly, hoping he wasn't off base in implying he knew Dave was probably testing him.
Dave's smile widened. "Pass? I don't know what you're talking about." His voice was teasing, and after a moment he looked over at Spencer. "Flying colors. I liked your remarks about the crime scenes, especially. I hadn't noticed the sparkling residue. Medical examiner ought to be looking into that."
"Did you notice the photograph of the detective's daughter on his desk? She looked a lot like that first victim. I find that people often gloss over details when they see someone they love in the crime scene photos. They don't want to see." Reid shook his head. "It's really part of why having several sets of trained eyes look at something can almost never hurt."
Dave glanced appraisingly at him. "Good eye, Spencer." They reached the SUV, where Dave automatically went to the driver's side; he was willing to trust in Spencer's profile, but he had no idea how the man drove. "What do you say we stop for dinner before heading back to Quantico? My treat."
Rossi--no, David--was offing to buy Reid dinner. Reid had to shake himself mentally, and his smile broadened. "Yeah, sure, and I was wondering if you could tell me about the work you did with the Seattle Strangler."
Dave grinned. "Sure. But not before we've ordered our drinks." He started the engine and waited for Reid to get his seat belt on before pulling out of the parking lot.
The drive to the restaurant was short, but Reid found it difficult anyway. It was hard not to just jump into conversation when the only things he could think of to say were things that David had forbidden until a certain point in time.
When they settled in at their table, Reid ordered a coffee, and smiled at the waitress as she walked away, and then turned his gaze on David. "So, how did you know the Seattle Strangler was a woman right off the bat? Female serial killers tend to favor poison. It's less personal, requires less physical strength."
Dave raised his eyebrows, torn between being amused and being slightly annoyed. Spencer was relentless. "Female serial killers also usually kill people they know, family members or someone with a connection to them. But the way the bodies were left after death, with little or no positioning, juxtaposed with the way everything else at the crime scene was so carefully arranged, suggested that the killer was physically unable to move the bodies once they fell. There were elements of sexual motive, which you probably recall from reading about the case, and yet none of the victims were homosexual--though one, Elijah Miller, was bisexual. It didn't rule out that the unsub might be gay, of course, but I just didn't think that was the case. The evidence seemed to point to a woman."
He shifted a little and tried to turn the conversation back to Spencer. "What have you read about the case?"
"I've read all your original case notes, but they're really just bullet points, and most of the post-case research is lacking too. I think when you have such a limited pool of knowledge on any given subject, as we do on the female serial killer, it's important to learn as much as you can," Reid said. "If she lacked the strength to move them after she killed them, how did she have the strength to strangle them? Of course, dead weight is harder to move, but the case notes were vague," he said, realizing after the words were out in a rush that David was just staring at him.
"You read my case notes?" Dave managed finally. When did this guy have time to sleep? After a moment he shook his head. "She was using a garrote that had a stick to twist it, sort of like you use in a tourniquet. Not to mention she had the element of surprise. Their tox screens were negative, but that was long enough ago that Ketamine and other drugs like that weren't as widely used in these cases, so we didn't check for those. They don't show up in a run-of-the-mill screen." He paused and took a sip of his drink. "Seriously, you read my case notes?"
Reid cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "Yeah." His lips twisted for a moment, and he took a sip of his coffee, then frowned and started adding sugar to it. "Of course I did. I've read a lot of them actually." Reid rattled off a few of the many he'd read, and shrugged and tried his coffee again. Then added more sugar. "I wish you'd been a bit more detailed actually, but everyone's note taking style is very different. The, ah... the older the case, the less detail goes into the computer database, but they still have some of the old handwritten reports on microfiche."
"You know, Emily calls me an anal-retentive neat freak," Dave pointed out. "You should see Hotch's notes from back then, if you think mine are bad." He settled back in his seat and tilted his head a little. "How did you end up in the BAU so young, if you don't mind my asking?" he said. Spencer would probably mind his asking, he knew, but maybe he'd have the balls to say so.
Reid shifted a little and looked into his mug for a moment. "It was all I was ever groomed for," he said, and promptly dropped it. He'd dealt with all of this in New Orleans, and didn't really feel like rehashing it. "Why did you leave?" he countered, and somewhere deep inside him he sort of hoped that question made David as uncomfortable as David had just made him, just to make a point
Dave raised his eyebrows again. "You know, you can just tell me to fuck off if you don't want to answer," he said. He sighed and looked away. "You said, when we were in Montana, that you wondered why I'd glossed over Ruby Ridge." He straightened his knife and fork, then looked back at Spencer. "That's why I glossed over it. Ruby Ridge was what made me start thinking about leaving. Waco six months later...we were suddenly the bad guys in the eyes of America. That wasn't why I joined up in the first place."
Reid felt a wash of heat run through him when David so bluntly pointed out he knew what Reid had been trying to say, and it ran up into his cheeks, and God that was embarrassing. But he just cleared his throat and moved on. "You didn't want to stay and be a part of fixing that perception?" he asked quietly.
Dave had to fight not to snicker at the expression on Reid's face. He would actually like it if Reid started feeling comfortable enough to tell him to fuck off. "I tried for a while," he said. He leaned back, remembering. "Things just kept getting worse. McVeigh's bombing the Federal building in Oklahoma City was the last straw for me. I got out as soon as that investigation was finished." He still felt responsible for that in a way, truth be told. He'd been giving a lot of the orders at Ruby Ridge, and he'd been present at Waco. He cleared his throat and took a long drink of water.
Reid nodded and sipped his coffee, then cleared his throat, not sure what to say. The waitress brought their food, and they ate in silence for a while. Reid had a feeling David was going to put a stop to his questions soon enough though, so after a while, he spoke again, gambling on getting a few more questions in. "Did you follow the Footpath Killer case?" Reid glanced up to see David nod. "Why did he stutter?"
"You haven't worked that out yet?" Dave asked, smiling faintly. "Come on, enough about work. I didn't ask you to dinner to talk shop, I asked you to dinner to find out more about Spencer Reid."
"I'm not really all that interesting," Reid said, frowning. Gideon wouldn't tell them the answer either. Never had. And now Gideon never would.
"I'm interested in you," Dave said, tilting his head a little. "Let's see, you're a genius, you have an eidetic memory, you like Asimov. You're interested in psycholinguistics, but I'm guessing you really just like knowing all sorts of things about all kinds of topics." He sipped his drink. "That's what I've observed in the past couple of months. But I don't feel like I really know you."
Reid shrugged and looked at Dave for a moment. "What else is there to know?" he asked, picking at his food.
"What's your favorite thing to do on a night off? What kind of music do you like? Your favorite alcoholic beverage, because, oh yeah, I also know that you like coffee with about six spoons of sugar." Dave shrugged back at Reid. "Who you are, not what you are."
"I like... red wine. Um, margaritas. Elvis Costello, The Beatles, Talking Heads, The Who..." Reid licked his lips. He ignored the first question; he didn't really do much at all.
"Elvis Costello, huh?" Dave nodded. "I'm more of an Elvis Presley fan, but I can see that. The Who, now, that surprises me." He grinned at Reid. "What sort of red? Italian, French, American, anything goes?"
"Anything sweet," Reid replied, and smiled back. "My dad liked Elvis Presley," he said. "I guess that's why I sort of can't stand him." He wasn't quite sure why he said that, and hid his frown in his coffee.
"Ah." Dave looked down at the table for a moment. "I like the Beatles and The Who, though," he said. He wasn't sure he knew who the Talking Heads were. "So what do you do if you have a night off?"
"Read, watch the news, go to movies, on occasion. Play chess." Reid sighed. "Anyone who doesn't like the Beatles isn't breathing."
Dave laughed. "Good point." He looked down at his mostly empty plate. "Feel like dessert?"
Reid smiled. "Yeah, sure."
*****
Spencer Reid continued to be mostly an enigma to Dave, though over the next few weeks he seemed to settle down a little when they were together. Dave found himself requesting Spencer's help on cases, seeking out opportunities to work with him. He knew Hotch had noticed, but so far he'd said nothing to Dave.
It came as a surprise when, on their next out-of-town case, Spencer asked Dave to work with him.
It was weird, Reid thought. Coming to terms with working with someone who'd been an idol of yours for so long was difficult. Realizing that person wanted to know you was even harder. The strangest thing, though, was that David seemed to want to be Reid's friend.
Sure, Reid was close to Hotch and Morgan. But Morgan had gone from 'playful' tormentor to someone who Reid shared a mutual respect and understanding with, and Hotch... for as much as Reid wanted to be closer to Hotch, Hotch was still his boss.
David wasn't either of those things, though. David just seemed to be plain interested in Reid, and not because he was smart, or because he was useful, or because he was easy to tease.
Hotch had given Reid a look he didn't quite understand when Reid had requested to work with David, but then allowed it anyway. David and Reid worked well together, they complimented each other's profiling styles, and Hotch knew that. Reid was spinning in his chair at the field office, letting the blur of color and light distract him from the outside world as he thought over a case, but a dark shape came into his field of vision, and Reid caught the edge of his desk. He looked up to see a fuzzy and divided-looking David. "I think the unsub knows his victims," he said without preamble, then closed his eyes while the room stopped spinning.
Dave liked seeing an almost playful side of Spencer, the way he was spinning in his chair, even if it did make Dave feel sort of queasy just watching him. He smiled faintly and propped his hip against the desk, crossing his arms. "Why?"
"The family photographs," Reid said. "They looked like they were where they were supposed to be, but when I looked closer, they were too faded to have not been facing the sun before. I think they were moved."
"Really? I hadn't noticed that. In all three houses?" Dave wondered if there might be other indications at the homes. They ought to go back to check them out.
"Yeah, and here. The Mallone residence," Reid said, and pulled out a picture of the second crime scene, putting it down near where Dave was leaning. "The other houses were well-kept, and this one wasn't badly-kept, but look at the fine layer of dust. It's everywhere but on the picture frame. It was cleaned."
Dave nodded slowly, studying the pictures. "You're right. Well-spotted." He picked up the last picture, squinting at it. One of these days he was going to have to break down and get some reading glasses. "This is the third victim's house, right?"
Reid shook his head. "Second."
"What do you think we should do with this?" Dave asked. He'd been trying to coax out Spencer's opinion more, before giving his own. The younger man needed more confidence.
"I think we need to go back and look at the house, see if anything else is out of place that we missed," Reid said, and glanced up to see if Dave agreed.
Dave nodded. "Good idea. I'll let Aaron know where we're going." He slipped the photos into the case file and held it out to Spencer, then headed over to where Hotch was talking to the detective in charge of the case.
When they got to the Mallone house, they pulled down the crime scene tape and started combing through the place again. It wasn't long before they noticed pictures moved in other places, and by the time they were ready to leave they were fairly certain their original profile had been wrong.
Morgan was the most difficult to convince, which wasn't unexpected, but everyone else was on board. Hotch sent them all back to the hotel late that night with their assignments for the next day, and Reid followed David into the elevator on their way to their rooms.
Dave leaned against the side of the elevator, watching Reid. "You don't seem to have any trouble arguing with Derek about things," he said, amused. "It's interesting watching the two of you together."
Reid's eyebrows lifted. "Why's that?"
"I don't know, I suppose because he's not the type to back down easily, and you're usually not as assertive with other people as you are with him." There was the physical differences between the two, as well, but Dave wasn't going to point those out, because he had a feeling Spencer wouldn't take it the right way. He was a beautiful young man, but Derek was more traditionally handsome, and Dave had a feeling Spencer wouldn't appreciate the comparison. "You're good friends, aren't you?"
Reid shrugged. "I guess. We don't do anything outside of work, or anything, but... yeah. I think so." He leaned back against the elevator wall and looked sideways at David. "I say what I need to say with anyone, really, but only Morgan ever seems to want actually to argue with me." Which was true, to an extent, though Reid had argued with Hotch on a few occasions. Usually those occasions were completely Reid's fault, though, and Reid didn't want to have to explain why Hotch had even had reason to fight with him before. "I sort of had to learn to fight around Morgan. He really didn't like me at all when I joined the team."
Dave nodded. "You are kind of intimidating at first. He probably had to re-evaluate his position on the team when he realized you know more than he does about a lot of things." He paused. "Was this your first FBI position?"
Reid actually laughed, then shook his head and answered Dave's question first. "I was assigned to the field office in Sacramento--there was nothing open in Vegas--but I wasn't there the typical three years." Or even for my full probationary period, he thought, but didn't say. "More like, ah, five, six months, and then I-- I was moved to Criminal Investigation back at Quantico. A lot of people weren't very happy about that," he said, and shrugged, giving Dave a sheepish smile, mostly because he wasn't sure what else to do. He wasn't particularly comfortable talking about this. His quick advancement within the FBI had mirrored his school career in a lot of ways, always moving forward ahead of everyone else--fast, too; faster than was really supposed to be possible--and leaving quite a bit of bitterness in his wake. "I highly doubt Morgan was intimidated by me, and I have a hard time believing you were either."
Dave laughed and shook his head. "Spencer, you're a genius. Your mind works better and faster than ours. It's intimidating, even to someone who has more field experience than you. Plus, you can be certain Derek knew about your meteoric rise through the FBI ranks. I think it speaks well of you both that you've become such good friends after that beginning."
"After a couple years, I started fighting back." Reid shrugged again. "I think that helped."
Dave nodded. "Probably." The elevator stopped with a ding and he waited for Spencer to step out first.
Reid walked down along the hallway, glancing back to make sure David was following. His room wasn't far, and when he reached it, he found himself reluctant to say goodnight--which was strange, but he didn't really want to examine it. He slid the key in the door and held it cracked open, looking back at Dave, his expression hopeful. "Do you want to come in for a bit?"
Dave's eyebrows went up, but he didn't think Spencer really meant that the way it sounded. "Sure," he said after a moment. Of course, it was possible Spencer did mean it that way, which...was a bizarre thought. It wasn't unusual for people to hit on Dave, simply because he was so damn famous. Jill had, after all. But...well, he didn't want to think that about Spencer.
Reid watched David for a moment, registering the surprise on his face, and then it hit Reid how what he'd just said sounded. And he hadn't meant it that way. Had he? A little thrill went through Reid, and then he told himself emphatically that he hadn't. His lips parted and he looked away. "Um, yeah, okay," he said and headed in the room quickly before he started apologizing.
"Do you have a coffee maker in here?" Dave asked, glancing around. "Or maybe we should raid the minibar." He grinned at Spencer and headed for one of the chairs.
"I have both. Whatever you want," Reid said, still recovering.
"Whichever you're having is fine," Dave said, wanting to see what Spencer would do.
Reid looked at David for a moment. He felt a little like he needed a drink, but went to go make coffee anyway. After a moment, he called out of the bathroom. "We could have both."
"That's fine, too," Dave called back, crossing his legs with an ankle on his knee. "Did you like Sacramento?" he asked when Spencer came back out.
"Yeah, it was nice," Reid said, filling two mugs. He grabbed all the sugar packets and creamers in the bathroom and headed out to put it all awkwardly on the table, then go to the fridge. "It's a lot cooler than Vegas, at least. Ah, temperature wise."
Dave nodded. "Did you get to see any of the sights while you were there? Hit all the tourist locations?" He'd been to Sacramento a few times, but he'd never actually looked around the city much.
"I saw Sutter's Fort. They sort of... glossed over the bit about the Donner Party, but it was interesting anyway. Saw the Philharmonic." He walked back over and put the mini bottles of whiskey between them while he added sugar and creamer to his coffee. He smiled suddenly, unable to suppress it. "And the Trash Film Orgy! I was lucky enough to be there over a summer."
Spencer's smile was infectious, and Dave found himself smiling back. "What's the Trash Film Orgy?" he asked, not sure if he really wanted to know, but curious about something that had excited Spencer like that.
Reid looked up and grinned at David. "A celebration of all things trashy ever committed to film," he said, as if it should have been obvious. "Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine, Women's Prison Massacre, Dead Alive, The Man Who Saves the World, ah, more affectionately know as the Turkish Star Wars. Really, really bad stuff."
Dave laughed. "Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine," he repeated. "And people celebrate things like that. Interesting." He found himself charmed by the light in Spencer's eyes. "You like bad movies, then?"
"I don't really understand how anyone couldn't," Reid said, smiling at Dave. He felt his smile warming. He honestly doubted David could care less about movies with zombie sex and bad writing, but it felt good that Dave was humoring him.
"I don't know, I suppose it depends on how bad we're talking," Dave said, relaxing back in his chair a little. "I hope you don't lump The Thing or Clash of the Titans in with the bad movies category."
"There's bad movie and cult classic," Reid said, then laughed softly. "And sometimes there's a lot of gray area." He gave David a teasing look.
"Watch yourself," Dave said, but he was grinning. "Those are definitely cult classics." He gave Spencer an arch look. "Speaking of cult classics, I don't suppose you like Bakshi's rotoscoped version of Lord of the Rings." He'd always thought it was a fairly faithful rendition, and as good as the technology of the time would allow, but he knew he'd been in the minority, even back in the 80s. It was sort of bizarre, discovering some of the things he and Spencer had in common.
"No, I do. Rotoscope is sadly underused. Did you see Waking Life?" Reid asked.
"No, don't even know what that is," Dave replied, sipping his coffee.
"It was brilliant. Done in rotoscope; came out in 2001. It won a bunch of awards, actually; National Society of Film Critics, Ottowa International Animation Festival, Venice Film Festival..." Reid trailed off for a moment, holding Dave's gaze and suddenly feeling even warmer, and it had nothing to do with the coffee.
Dave got a funny feeling at the look on Spencer's face. He looked back, wondering what the other man was thinking. After a moment he cleared his throat. "It's that recent? I'll have to check it out."
When Dave cleared his throat, Reid looked away. He felt weird, and by all rights, he shouldn't be feeling weird at all. They'd been having a perfectly good conversation, and Reid had been surprised that they shared something like what they were talking about. "Yeah. I, ah, I own it. You can borrow it if you want." That felt like a stupid thing to say, suddenly.
"Or you could come over sometime and watch it with me," Dave suggested, finishing his coffee. "It isn't as much fun watching movies alone." He should know.
A little jolt of excitement shot through Reid. Oh, no. No-no-no-no-no, he told himself, but he smiled anyway. "Yeah, sounds good."
Dave nodded, pleased. He wondered if he ought to suggest they open the alcohol, or if that would be a bad idea at this point. Whatever this point was. He suddenly wasn't sure if Spencer had been hitting on him or not. Spencer wasn't so naive that he didn't know how that had sounded, even if he hadn't meant it that way. It was strange to be so perplexed by someone. At the same time, it was sort of nice.
Reid glanced up at Dave, then away again, laughing softly, mostly to himself because he really didn't know what to say now.
After a moment Dave cleared his throat. "So are you a fan of Bakshi's film because it's rotoscoped, or are you a Tolkien fan, too?" He glanced at the whiskey, but didn't reach for it.
"Ah, well, both." Reid followed Dave's gaze and then picked up one of the bottles. His coffee was about half gone, but he poured a small amount into it anyway.
Dave nodded. "I suppose you've read all the supplemental volumes, as well? The Books of Lost Tales and the Silmarillion and so on? I confess, I've never made it through any of them except the Silmarillion."
"I've read everything," Spencer said indignantly. "The Books of Lost Tales and the Histories of Middle Earth and The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien..." He paused, looking sheepishly at Dave. "I haven't read The Children of Hurin though. It just came out last year."
Dave chuckled. "I can see I have several volumes to go to catch up."
*****
This was dangerous. Not the act itself, but the feelings bubbling just under the surface of Reid's skin. Dave had gone from an idol, to a friend, and then to object of sexual attraction before Reid had even realized it what was happening. Which was exactly why Reid shouldn't be standing at Dave's front door with a copy of Waking Life tucked under his arm.
It wasn't as though Reid didn't know that human sexuality was more fluid than most people thought, but rather that Reid hadn't ever though his sexuality was all that fluid. He'd never been attracted to another man before, especially not one who was old enough to be his father. But the attraction was obviously there. Dave was fascinating, and smart, and once Reid had gotten to know Dave, he'd realized Dave was funny too. Sometimes even when Dave wasn't trying to be funny.
Reid found himself watching Dave every once in a while. Just watching him, thinking he was just staring off into space, and then suddenly focusing on what it was he was looking at and panicking. He hoped Dave wasn't starting to notice too. For that matter, he hoped the team wasn't watching him. Right now, he needed to push all that out of his head though. He was here to watch a movie with a friend. A friend, he told himself, and knocked on the door.
Dave had bought potato salad and hamburger patties, and had the grill all ready to go when Spencer arrived. He'd decided beer was a better idea than wine, which was why he'd opted for hamburgers instead of chops. He'd noticed the change in how Reid looked at him lately, and wine and chops felt too much like a date. He knew Aaron had noticed, too, which made him feel even more on the spot; Dave had just been getting the hang of this team thing, and he didn't want to go screwing it up by ruining his friendship with Spencer.
He genuinely liked Spencer and enjoyed spending time with him, but despite the younger man's slender beauty and quick mind, there couldn't be anything between them. Dave was twice as old as Spencer, for God's sake! Not to mention he'd been married three times and ruined every personal relationship he ever tried to have. Aaron Hotchner was one of the few 'old friends' he had, because he'd alienated so many of them over one thing or another. He didn't want to do that with Spencer.
Not that he wasn't tempted, of course. Spencer was beautiful, and extremely good company. He was entertaining, even if he didn't always understand why Dave laughed at some of the things he said. No, this was just misplaced hero-worship, the very thing Dave had been trying to get rid of by spending more time with Spencer. It was sort of disheartening that it hadn't worked.
When Reid knocked, Muchie burst into loud barks and Sherlock hissed and dove under the couch. Dave went to the door and grabbed Muchie's collar before opening it. "Hey, Spencer, come on in," he said with a smile.
Oh, God. Dave had a dog. How had Reid not known that? He gave the dog a slightly worried look and stepped inside, well away from it. "Hi," he said, wincing slightly as the dog continued to bark at him.
"Muchie, it's okay! It's Spencer!" Dave frowned, then said sharply, "Muchie!" The dog subsided, sinking down onto its haunches and looking up at Dave in confusion. "Quiet," Dave said. "Spencer is a friend." He reached out a hand toward Spencer. "Give me your hand," he ordered.
Reid didn't move. "Dave, they really don't like me. I, ah, try to give them a wide berth, and I--"
"Spencer," Dave said, his tone not much different than when he'd been talking to his dog a moment earlier. When Spencer's hand slipped gingerly into his, Dave tugged it gently down to Muchie's nose. "Friend," he said clearly. Muchie sniffed both of their hands, then let out a whine and licked Spencer's.
Reid made a face. "I, ah... okay, that's enough," he said, but he didn't pull away because he liked the way Dave was holding his hand just a little more than he should be allowing himself, considering he was still trying to convince himself not to let himself keep looking at Dave like he was. "I also really don't like them much either." He wondered how rude it would be to immediately go wash his hand.
Dave straightened, grinning, then realized he was still holding Spencer's hand. He let go and stepped back. "Scratch behind his ears; he likes that. You have to convince him you're a friend."
"No, that's okay," Reid said, wiping his hand on his pants, the back where the dog had licked and then his palm, because Dave's hand had lingered a moment and it had sent a little thrill through Reid that he hoped he could wipe away. "We don't need to be friends," he added, frowning at the dog.
"'Friend' means he won't bite you," Dave said dryly. "How do you feel about cats? Sherlock is hiding under the couch right now."
"Cats are usually fine," Reid said, but what Dave said first was more concerning. "Just the fact that biting me is a possibility makes me less inclined to touch him."
Dave frowned at him. "Just pet him once and then you can ignore him. I told him you're a friend, but you have to reinforce that. He's a hunting dog, Spencer, he's well-trained." He started to head for the kitchen. "I didn't think to ask if you like beer," he called back.
Reid started to follow Dave until he realized the dog was following him. He reluctantly turned back, scratched behind the dog's ears, then held a sigh of relief when the dog walked away. He went into the kitchen. "Beer's fine. I don't drink a lot of it, but I like it." He watched Dave move around the kitchen a moment, and then realized Dave was actually cooking something. He looked away and cleared his throat. "Do you need any help?"
"No, it's fine. I've just got burgers for the grill." Dave went to the fridge and grabbed two bottles with one hand and the burgers with the other, then jerked his head toward the back door. "Want to get the door? You can join me out on the deck."
"Yeah," Reid said, then went to grab the door and took the bottles out of Dave's hands at the same time, letting his fingers brush Dave's. And now I'm purposely touching him. God, this was a bad idea. He settled at the table outside, looking around as he opened one of the bottles, then the other. "Nice house," he said absently. Not that he expected any less.
Dave tried to ignore the way Spencer touched him, though he was beginning to think he was going to have to stop this somehow. "Thanks," he said, starting the grill. "I wanted something comfortable but not too big. I'm not exactly in the market for a fourth wife." He gave Spencer a crooked grin, then turned his attention to his grilling. He'd put a lot of work into the landscaping, building a small pond in the back and putting in more trees than the partially-wooded lot had already had. "There's a hammock back at the back of the property, but I don't get to use it much these days."
Reid squinted towards the back of the yard, but didn't see anything. "Do you have any fish in your pond?" he asked. "Goldfish are better suited to ponds than anything else. They'll get up to about two feet long if they have the room to grow that big. It's actually sort of cruel to keep them in those tiny bowls that are so popular. They're hardy though, in the right conditions."
"Two feet? My God, what will I feed them?" Dave said in mock horror. He grinned. "Yeah, I've got about ten of them out there." He took a sip of beer. "You're saying the size of the bowl keeps them small? Like veal." He wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"Actually, they usually suffocate in their own waste before that can happen. The bigger they get, the more waste they produce, and those little bowls don't get proper air circulation through the water," Reid said, still looking out over the yard. "Nor do they build up the beneficial bacteria required to take care of that waste when the water is changed every day in a futile attempt to keep it clean."
"Huh. That's appetizing," Dave remarked, flipping the burgers. "I hope the pond is big enough for all ten of them. It has a pump for the waterfall, so there ought to be enough air circulation, right?"
"As long as the pump is big enough for size of the pond, yeah. How many gallons?" Reid asked, looking at Dave.
"Hmm, it's about twelve feet by nine feet, and ranges from two to five feet deep," Dave said. "I don't remember enough of my college geometry to work that out in my head."
A slow smile crept over Reid's face, and he pushed out of the chair to go look at the pond, sitting on the stone that lined it and looking in. The fish were obviously well fed, because they all swam up to him expecting food at the sight of a human standing over them. Reid grinned and moved his hand back and forth, a few inches over the surface, watching them follow it, then walked back over to the deck after a moment. "They might be slightly spoiled, but I think they've got plenty of room," he murmured, a little too much fondness creeping into his voice, and pushed his hair back behind his ears.
"Spoiled? How do you spoil fish?" Dave asked, knowing he sounded a little defensive. They were cute, the way they swarmed up to the surface whenever he came over. He couldn't help giving them a reward when they did it. He checked the burgers and then took another sip of his beer. He liked that Spencer felt comfortable enough to tease him.
Reid laughed softly, and walked up to the grill. "They're just obviously happy to be here is all I'm saying," he managed to say seriously, but he was grinning too widely as he looked down at their food, trying to ignore how close they were. I'm happy to be here too.
"Almost done," Dave said, wishing he weren't so aware of Spencer's proximity. God, he shouldn't be noticing things like this. He's too fucking young. He's starstruck. God. He flipped the burgers over and looked around. "Shit, can you watch these while I go get a clean plate?" He didn't wait for an answer, just pushed the spatula into Spencer's hand and headed through the sliding screen door to the kitchen.
"Yeah," Reid answered to no one in particular, and then just stared at the burgers. He didn't cook very well, let alone manage anything over an open flame, and he couldn't remember if you supposed to move them around, or leave them still.
Dave leaned against the counter for a minute, thinking this had been a bad idea. But Spencer hadn't said anything, so he could just ignore it for now. With a sigh, he pulled out a plate and went back outside. "Okay, I think we're good," he said, and held the plate for Spencer to put the burgers on it.
Something felt different when Dave came back out, and Reid frowned, but ignored it. He took the plate and managed to get the burgers on it without dropping them. "Where's the... off?" he asked, looking for a dial on the front of the grill.
"Here," Dave said, reaching over and turning it off. "I thought we could use TV trays so we can eat during the movie. I've got potato salad in the fridge, and chocolate chip cookies. Both store-bought, just so you're warned." He smiled faintly.
"I'm not sure I've ever had homemade cookies," Reid said, smiling a little now that Dave was smiling again. He followed Dave inside.
"Never?" Dave glanced over at him in surprise. He set the plate down on the table and got the potato salad and condiments out of the fridge, then snagged them two more beers. "TV tables are there by the stove." He pointed, then assembled his own hamburger. "Want cheese?"
Reid nodded and grabbed them. "Yeah." He carried the trays awkwardly as he moved back to the counter to put together his burger. "If I ever did, I wasn't aware of it. I didn't brave the oven when I was young if I didn't have to, and I've hardly had the time since." When they were finished, he picked up his plate and the trays again and went out to the living room.
"Your mom never baked you cookies?" Dave asked, carrying the rest after him.
Oh. Right. Dave didn't know about his mother. Reid had started thinking of him like he'd always been a part of the team, and forgotten that detail. "Mmhp, even on her best days, I did most of the cooking," he said, settling what he had in his hands in front of the couch with a frown.
"Ah." Dave set everything down and looked at it. "She wasn't well. I'm sorry."
"She had lucid days." Reid sighed. "It was mostly okay," he said, which wasn't really true, but he'd gotten comfortable with making everything sound like it was fine.
Dave nodded but didn't say anything. So she was mentally unwell. That would explain at least part of Spencer's interest in psychology. And suddenly his interest in schizophrenia clicked into place in Dave's mind. "You brought the DVD, right?" he asked.
"Yeah, yeah," Reid said, putting his plate down to pick the DVD case up from the coffee table where he'd left it after his rather uncomfortable meeting with Dave's dog. "Here."
Dave put the DVD in the player and settled into his recliner, leaving Spencer the couch. It occurred to him a moment later that Sherlock might still be under there, but he decided to cross his fingers and hope Spencer didn't end up with scratched ankles.
Reid found himself mildly disappointed that Dave wasn't sharing the couch... so he sat on the end closest to Dave's recliner and hope he didn't look too needy. Or obvious. The movie played on, and they talked a little, and Reid eventually finished his food and pushed the tray table away. He kicked off his shoes and curled his legs under him on the couch, leaning up against the armrest. After a while, when they both fell silent, he found his eyes drifting a little. He'd already seen the movie a hundred times, and his drifting eyes probably wouldn't have been an issue if he didn't find himself darting furtive glances at Dave every once in a while, telling himself he just wanted to see if Dave was enjoying the movie.
Dave liked the movie, but he kept finding himself distracted by Spencer. First it was just the way Spencer kept glancing at him, but then he found himself looking for Spencer's reaction to things in the movie, and then he caught himself noticing the way Spencer pushed his hair back behind his ear. Get a grip, Dave, he chided himself. You can't even think about this. Aaron would have your head. Just the fact that he was trying to use the thought of Hotch to keep himself accountable was a bad sign. By the time the movie was over, Dave had sworn he wouldn't be doing this again. All contact with Spencer was going to have to be at work, because he couldn't give the other man the wrong idea.
When the credits rolled, Reid was feeling relaxed and oddly happy. He shouldn't feel happy about the way he'd noticed that Dave was watching him back, but he couldn't help it. There was a funny hope brewing in his chest regardless of the way he also felt a little ill because this really was a bad idea.
He stretched once the DVD had gone back to the menu screen, uncurling to his full length, and then looked back at Dave, smiling a little too warmly, but not knowing what to say. After a minute, though, he forced his mind to work. "Did you like it?" he mumbled, feeling too relaxed.
"Yeah, I did," Dave said, trying to keep his gaze from wandering. God, Spencer was tall. He shifted and cut his eyes over to the TV to aim the remote. "Back in my youth I think we would have called it a headtrip." He smiled faintly. It felt strange to be emphasizing his age; normally Spencer made him feel sort of energized. Younger, maybe. At least he didn't usually feel like a grumpy old bastard, which made suddenly acting like one bizarre.
The smile on Reid's face went a little wider and after a moment, he laughed and shook his head. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Far out, man," he said, his tone almost technical even though he was smiling.
Dave snorted, then laughed aloud. Shaking his head, he stood. "Want another beer?"
"Sure. Ah, what time is it?" he asked. He should really go home, and he certainly shouldn't drink beer number three, but he didn't want to leave. "I'll help you clean up," he added, and stood too.
"There's not much to do," Dave said, carrying a plate and his empty bottles back to the kitchen. "It's almost ten," he added when he saw the microwave clock.
Reid picked up his plate anyway and followed Dave with his tray table. He put it back where it belonged and walked over to where Dave was at the sink and put his plate in. He sucked in a breath at how close they were for a moment. Then he walked around Dave to the fridge, lifting his hand to trail his fingertips over Dave's back as he moved, his chest squeezing as he did. He didn't say anything, though. If Dave wanted to take it as an innocent gesture, he could. Reid's heart was thudding in his chest as he pulled open the fridge to grab two more beers anyway, though, and he was suddenly unsure if he'd rather Dave ignore it or acknowledge it.
Dave's breath caught in his throat at that light touch. He closed his eyes briefly, his heart giving a funny jolt and then sinking. He'd thought they were beyond this, that Spencer was seeing him as Dave, not as the great Agent Rossi. He'd hoped the possibility that Spencer really was trying to seduce him was all in his head. Dave kept rinsing the plate he was holding, then stuck it in the dishwasher. God, he didn't want to do this.
He turned and took the beer Spencer was holding out. After a moment, he twisted the cap off and took a healthy swallow. Then he looked straight at Spencer and said quietly, "Don't do this."
For a moment, Reid was pretty sure Dave was just going to ignore the touch, and he'd found himself looking anywhere but Dave. Until Dave spoke. Reid gripped the neck of his bottle before he dropped it and looked back at Dave. His lips parted, and for a moment he tried to work out if Dave was really talking about how Reid was feeling, and not something else, but then he let his gaze drop, feeling a little breathless. "Why?" he whispered. God, this shouldn't ache, but Dave was saying no before he'd even considered it.
Dave hated seeing Spencer's reaction to those three words. But he told himself it would be better if he stopped this now. If he let things continue, the hurt feelings would be worse. "Spencer, I like you. I like you a lot. But you're young, and..." He sighed. "Maybe I seem cool or, I don't know, interesting, but I'm just Dave. There are--you don't need to hang around with me to be a great profiler. And no matter how famous or interesting I am, I'm still just a guy who's old enough to be your father." The look he gave Spencer was full of regret. "You deserve better than that."
Reid had felt his hope building again for a moment. If this was just about age, then there was really no argument. No one Reid had met that was his age seemed to follow him very well, or understand him. As Dave went on, however, a heaviness settled in Reid. He shook his head, frowning and hoping he was misunderstanding. Be a good profiler? Famous? "I don't care how old you are," he said. "And I-- I'm well aware you're 'just Dave'. I--" He bit the inside of his lip and told himself not to get angry, not to jump to conclusions. "This has nothing to do with your... fame. I just like you."
"It's easy to tell yourself that," Dave replied, and took another sip of his beer. "Trust me, I've heard that a lot. But sooner or later, you'll realize I'm not really interesting. I'm obsessive, I'm a neat-freak, and I don't exactly own up to many of my short-comings in my books. Short-comings don't sell well unless you're a recovered addict. Spencer, I'm flattered. I am. But I thought we were getting past this, well, this schoolboy crush."
Reid's chest felt like it was caught in a vice, but when Dave finished, he looked back up at Dave, his mouth dropping open. Schoolboy crush?! How could Dave think that?! It only took a moment for Reid's expression to cloud over, his mouth snapping shut as he glared at Dave. "Oh my God," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "You-- you don't know me at all." He stood there for a moment, and then turned to leave, raising his voice a little. "I'm sorry. My mistake. I thought you did, but I can see I was wrong," he snapped.
Dave felt a kick of guilt as Spencer's eyes flashed with anger. "What? What are you talking about?" he asked, moving to keep Spencer from leaving. "You can't deny the way you've acted in the past has been a little...fannish!"
Reid stopped short of the door when Dave moved in front of him, then crossed his arms over himself. "I didn't know you! And you were impressive at first, yes, but I know you now! It's different!" Reid exclaimed, then his eyes narrowed and he leaned in, holding Dave's gaze with a harsh one of his own. "Look me in the eyes, David. Look me in the eyes, and tell me that you know me, and you honestly believe I'm that shallow."
Dave's first, incredibly shallow thought was, You don't think I'm impressive now? But then Reid leaned in, and the anger in his gaze sent a thrill through Dave. He realized suddenly that he'd never seen Spencer angry before. "I--no, you're not shallow!" he protested. He felt cornered, suddenly, and scrambled for words. "But you're young! It's easy to fool yourself into thinking you feel something--"
"I'm not fooling myself!" Reid shouted, cutting Dave off. His heart was racing and his hands were starting to tremble from the sheer rush of his own anger. "And I've never been young!" Those words surprised even himself, and he forced his voice to lower. "Let me go," he growled, clenching his teeth.
Dave's brows drew together and he moved automatically, unnerved by Spencer's angry assertiveness. But then he caught himself and placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Spencer, I..." He licked his lips. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said lamely. It sounded stupid, but it was true; he'd certainly never wanted to hurt Spencer, or even imagined himself capable of it, at least in this fashion. But as much as he suddenly wanted to apologize, he couldn't bring himself to. He was right to do this. Spencer would see that, and thank him later.
Reid jerked away from Dave's hand. "Too late," he snapped, and headed out the door, slamming it behind him.
"Well, fuck," Dave said, and went over to slump on the couch. He'd really screwed that up. It had been a good evening, too. They'd had fun, and then Dave had had to go and ruin things with his words. He sighed. Reid had left his DVD. God, work on Monday was going to be a nightmare.
Sherlock jumped onto the couch next to him, and after a minute Dave lay down, letting the cat climb on his chest. He stroked the soft fur and played the evening from start to finish in his head, telling himself he wasn't lingering over the expressive nature of Reid's face, or the way his brown eyes danced when he was excited about something. The more he thought about the way he'd fucked up, though, the more he realized just what he'd fucked up. It had been, quite simply, the most rewarding and enjoyable relationship he'd had in years.
"God, I really am stupid," he told Sherlock. The cat just purred at him, and eventually Dave fell asleep, wishing happiness for humans was as easy as happiness for cats.
PART TWO
Authors:
innerslytherin and severity_softlyPairing: Reid/Rossi
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Flatter me, and I may not believe you. Criticize me, and I may not like you. Ignore me, and I may not forgive you. Encourage me, and I will not forget you. Love me and I may be forced to love you." ~ William Arthur Ward
Word count: ~25,000
Warning/Kink: Highlight between stars to read: * rimming *
Notes: RP format. Self-betaed, so feel free to point out any errors we may have missed. We wrote this over the fall (so if it contradicts recent canon anywhere, that's why), and is the beginning of a series, the second part of which has already been posted because it was seasonal. :3 This is the first part, which explains how they got together. :)
This is part of the "Conscious of Our Treasures" universe, all of which can be found at this tag. This is part ONE (in spite of being posted second), though each installment may also be read as a stand alone fic. :)
David Rossi was used to ignoring the people who stared and being kind to his fans. However, he wasn't quite sure how to deal with a genius who seemed to be suffering from a serious case of hero worship. Especially since Dave had screwed up his first case with the team badly, and had to be called out for it.
Morgan was watching Dave warily these days. Prentiss was polite but distant. Hotch was the same as he'd always been, of course, though he wore authority more comfortably these days. JJ was almost too friendly, but Dave didn't mind getting attention from a pretty young woman, as long as it was harmless. Penelope was doing Dave a favor and seemed eager to please, even if she was a little different.
But Doctor Reid presented a challenge. The young man was a genius, renowned in the criminal psychology field as an expert in just about everything, and...following Dave around like a puppy. It was sort of amusing, endearing, even, but it was also a little annoying. Did the kid have no ego of his own?
"You know, I've read your work, too, Doctor Reid," Dave said as they walked from the SUV to police station where they were consulting on a case.
"You don't have to call me Doctor all the time. You can call me Reid. Or, ah, Spencer," Reid said quickly, the words rattling off his tongue. It was strange walking along side David Rossi. Reid had probably read all his books a half dozen times, in spite of having them memorized on the first read through. The man was a giant in the field of criminal psychology. And now he was Reid's team mate. And he'd read Reid's articles. It was almost too much for Reid to wrap his mind around, so he focused on keeping stride with Rossi as they walked. He looked over, raising his eyebrows eagerly in interest. "Which ones?" he asked, his lips pulling into a nervous smile.
Dave glanced over at him, smiling faintly. "Well, there were several on the various aspects of auto-erotic asphyxiation, one on crime scene profiling in light of modern technology, three related articles about studies you've collaborated on..." He thought, trying to remember. "Oh, and I think you're considered an expert on schizophrenia and criminal behavior, aren't you?"
"Schizophrenia and other schizo-affective disorders, both the bipolar and depressive types, yes," Reid said, nodding and glancing away for a moment before looking back. "There were, ah, four on auto-erotic asphyxiation, actually, but two of them were written just out of college, sort of offshoots, in a sense, from my dissertation. The, ah, research done since then has far surpassed that that I was working with at the time, though."
Dave nodded slowly, noting the way Spencer's tone changed from the first topic to the second. "I thought your criticism of the 'undifferentiated schizophrenic' diagnosis was quite insightful," he said, wanting to explore that a little. The diagnosis had been a catch-all for years with serial killers.
Reid glanced up at Rossi, wishing Rossi had latched on to anything other than that, then looked ahead of them toward the station. "Thank you," he said. "The diagnosis had been a catch-all for years with serial killers," he quoted automatically from one of Rossi's books. "Linkage of most mental illness and violence is really perpetrated entertainment media, though--people with mental illness who didn't have a criminal record before becoming ill, or substance abuse problems, are really not any more prone to violence than anyone else, and 'undifferentiated schizophrenia' is mostly a bogus diagnosis that fails to really really diagnose anything. But you already know that," he said in one long breath, then looked back and tried to change the subject again. "It must be incredibly frustrating, the advance of research the way it goes; I've only written a few articles, but entire books surpassed by more recent knowledge must be..." He realized what he was saying a moment too late. "Well, not entire books, of course, just parts of them--they're still some of the most important resources in the field. And, you know, there's always second and third editions for the minor stuff, but..." He shook his head. "Never mind."
Dave's eyebrows went further and further up as Spencer talked, and finally he shook his head, smiling faintly. "A lot of what I've written is outdated," he agreed. "It was one of the factors that made me want to come back to active duty with the BAU. It sounds like you really enjoy the theoretical aspect of criminal psychology. Do you prefer that to the hands-on work?"
Reid nodded and looked back, unable to suppress the smile he felt blooming on his face. Rossi hadn't reacted badly to that at all. In fact, he seemed to take it rather lightly. "I, ah, I think the theoretical aspect is probably where my strength lies, sir."
"Oh, I don't know, the articles are all well-informed and skillfully written, but I think you also do good work with the team. You've been involved in some very high profile cases since you joined the BAU, I think." Dave said it more like a question, trying to draw Spencer out some more. He could be a little overwhelming with his enthusiasm, but he was certainly sincere.
"A few, yeah," Reid said. "Nothing like Waco or Ruby Ridge though." He turned around and got a few feet ahead of Rossi to walk backwards while he talked to him, so he could see Rossi's face. "I read somewhere... I can't remember where, that Waco was--"
"Waco was godawful," Dave said, his brows drawing together a little. He looked at Spencer and tried to stop glowering. It was hard to be gruff when someone was looking at you like that. "You're going to walk into something." He made his voice more gentle as he reached out to guide Spencer around a parking meter.
Reid blinked as Rossi's expression changed, and then Rossi was touching him. Reid didn't really do touching often, and it threw him for a brief moment when he automatically moved away, but then he just swiveled on his feet when Dave's hand made contact and he started walking face forward again. "Thanks," he murmured.
"Why don't you take the lead on this consult?" Dave suggested as they reached the doors. "I'm still learning how things have changed in how the BAU does things. I'd rather observe this time around, learn from you."
Reid's eyes widened. Rossi had to be kidding. He glanced over at Rossi, and then back to toward the station. "I-- Sir, I--"
"You can call me David." He gave Spencer a serene smile. "Things have changed a great deal since I was here. I don't want to get back in the saddle only to fall off the horse." Technically speaking, he'd already done that at Halloween. He was hoping to avoid a repeat performance. Not to mention, he really wanted to see Doctor Spencer Reid at work. Maybe then the kid could stop idolizing him and start treating him like a coworker.
Reid looked at Rossi again, not bothering to hide the skepticism in his gaze. He almost argued that Rossi had been doing this longer than he'd been alive, but he luckily caught that statement before it slipped out. Rossi was testing him. Reid wasn't sure if that strengthened his resolve to do well in front of Rossi, or terrified him, but he nodded, silenced his arguments, and headed into the station anyway.
Dave found himself annoyed by the way the local police detective acted like he was some sort of celebrity. He politely but firmly indicated that Doctor Reid was heading the consult, and hoped his air of complete confidence in Spencer would impart confidence to the younger man.
Reid gave the detective a small wave after the detective shook Dave's hand, and they headed into a smaller room to talk. It was difficult to compete with David Rossi... even when Rossi wasn't actually even saying anything. The detective kept glancing back at Rossi every time Reid said anything, like he was waiting for Rossi to confirm it.
That lasted about half the consult, while Reid waited for either the detective to realize Dave wasn't going to say much, or for Dave to just give in and start talking more, and then Reid finally had enough of it. He leaned in towards Rossi to hold the detective's eyes and raised his voice just slightly when the detective turned away. A few times was all it really took before the detective started to focus on Reid.
Dave was inordinately pleased when Spencer stepped up and began really taking charge. It was equally gratifying to see the detective responding to that. Dave found Spencer to be very detailed in his work (if perhaps a little too detailed at times), though he occasionally caught the detective looking a little overwhelmed, at which point Dave broke in gently to clarify a point. Once, partway through the afternoon, he suggested they take a brief break and refresh their coffee, and by six-thirty they'd covered everything they could in their initial consult. The detective thanked them profusely and sent them on their way, with directions to a decent restaurant in town. As they headed back to the SUV, Dave put his hands in his pockets and smiled.
"I'm impressed."
Reid's eyebrows lifted. He was feeling a little drained from fighting to be heard--even after he gained the detectives attention, he still had to work to keep it--but it still sent a little thrill through him that Rossi had just praised him. "Thanks," he said, smiling. "Did I pass?" he asked lightly, hoping he wasn't off base in implying he knew Dave was probably testing him.
Dave's smile widened. "Pass? I don't know what you're talking about." His voice was teasing, and after a moment he looked over at Spencer. "Flying colors. I liked your remarks about the crime scenes, especially. I hadn't noticed the sparkling residue. Medical examiner ought to be looking into that."
"Did you notice the photograph of the detective's daughter on his desk? She looked a lot like that first victim. I find that people often gloss over details when they see someone they love in the crime scene photos. They don't want to see." Reid shook his head. "It's really part of why having several sets of trained eyes look at something can almost never hurt."
Dave glanced appraisingly at him. "Good eye, Spencer." They reached the SUV, where Dave automatically went to the driver's side; he was willing to trust in Spencer's profile, but he had no idea how the man drove. "What do you say we stop for dinner before heading back to Quantico? My treat."
Rossi--no, David--was offing to buy Reid dinner. Reid had to shake himself mentally, and his smile broadened. "Yeah, sure, and I was wondering if you could tell me about the work you did with the Seattle Strangler."
Dave grinned. "Sure. But not before we've ordered our drinks." He started the engine and waited for Reid to get his seat belt on before pulling out of the parking lot.
The drive to the restaurant was short, but Reid found it difficult anyway. It was hard not to just jump into conversation when the only things he could think of to say were things that David had forbidden until a certain point in time.
When they settled in at their table, Reid ordered a coffee, and smiled at the waitress as she walked away, and then turned his gaze on David. "So, how did you know the Seattle Strangler was a woman right off the bat? Female serial killers tend to favor poison. It's less personal, requires less physical strength."
Dave raised his eyebrows, torn between being amused and being slightly annoyed. Spencer was relentless. "Female serial killers also usually kill people they know, family members or someone with a connection to them. But the way the bodies were left after death, with little or no positioning, juxtaposed with the way everything else at the crime scene was so carefully arranged, suggested that the killer was physically unable to move the bodies once they fell. There were elements of sexual motive, which you probably recall from reading about the case, and yet none of the victims were homosexual--though one, Elijah Miller, was bisexual. It didn't rule out that the unsub might be gay, of course, but I just didn't think that was the case. The evidence seemed to point to a woman."
He shifted a little and tried to turn the conversation back to Spencer. "What have you read about the case?"
"I've read all your original case notes, but they're really just bullet points, and most of the post-case research is lacking too. I think when you have such a limited pool of knowledge on any given subject, as we do on the female serial killer, it's important to learn as much as you can," Reid said. "If she lacked the strength to move them after she killed them, how did she have the strength to strangle them? Of course, dead weight is harder to move, but the case notes were vague," he said, realizing after the words were out in a rush that David was just staring at him.
"You read my case notes?" Dave managed finally. When did this guy have time to sleep? After a moment he shook his head. "She was using a garrote that had a stick to twist it, sort of like you use in a tourniquet. Not to mention she had the element of surprise. Their tox screens were negative, but that was long enough ago that Ketamine and other drugs like that weren't as widely used in these cases, so we didn't check for those. They don't show up in a run-of-the-mill screen." He paused and took a sip of his drink. "Seriously, you read my case notes?"
Reid cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "Yeah." His lips twisted for a moment, and he took a sip of his coffee, then frowned and started adding sugar to it. "Of course I did. I've read a lot of them actually." Reid rattled off a few of the many he'd read, and shrugged and tried his coffee again. Then added more sugar. "I wish you'd been a bit more detailed actually, but everyone's note taking style is very different. The, ah... the older the case, the less detail goes into the computer database, but they still have some of the old handwritten reports on microfiche."
"You know, Emily calls me an anal-retentive neat freak," Dave pointed out. "You should see Hotch's notes from back then, if you think mine are bad." He settled back in his seat and tilted his head a little. "How did you end up in the BAU so young, if you don't mind my asking?" he said. Spencer would probably mind his asking, he knew, but maybe he'd have the balls to say so.
Reid shifted a little and looked into his mug for a moment. "It was all I was ever groomed for," he said, and promptly dropped it. He'd dealt with all of this in New Orleans, and didn't really feel like rehashing it. "Why did you leave?" he countered, and somewhere deep inside him he sort of hoped that question made David as uncomfortable as David had just made him, just to make a point
Dave raised his eyebrows again. "You know, you can just tell me to fuck off if you don't want to answer," he said. He sighed and looked away. "You said, when we were in Montana, that you wondered why I'd glossed over Ruby Ridge." He straightened his knife and fork, then looked back at Spencer. "That's why I glossed over it. Ruby Ridge was what made me start thinking about leaving. Waco six months later...we were suddenly the bad guys in the eyes of America. That wasn't why I joined up in the first place."
Reid felt a wash of heat run through him when David so bluntly pointed out he knew what Reid had been trying to say, and it ran up into his cheeks, and God that was embarrassing. But he just cleared his throat and moved on. "You didn't want to stay and be a part of fixing that perception?" he asked quietly.
Dave had to fight not to snicker at the expression on Reid's face. He would actually like it if Reid started feeling comfortable enough to tell him to fuck off. "I tried for a while," he said. He leaned back, remembering. "Things just kept getting worse. McVeigh's bombing the Federal building in Oklahoma City was the last straw for me. I got out as soon as that investigation was finished." He still felt responsible for that in a way, truth be told. He'd been giving a lot of the orders at Ruby Ridge, and he'd been present at Waco. He cleared his throat and took a long drink of water.
Reid nodded and sipped his coffee, then cleared his throat, not sure what to say. The waitress brought their food, and they ate in silence for a while. Reid had a feeling David was going to put a stop to his questions soon enough though, so after a while, he spoke again, gambling on getting a few more questions in. "Did you follow the Footpath Killer case?" Reid glanced up to see David nod. "Why did he stutter?"
"You haven't worked that out yet?" Dave asked, smiling faintly. "Come on, enough about work. I didn't ask you to dinner to talk shop, I asked you to dinner to find out more about Spencer Reid."
"I'm not really all that interesting," Reid said, frowning. Gideon wouldn't tell them the answer either. Never had. And now Gideon never would.
"I'm interested in you," Dave said, tilting his head a little. "Let's see, you're a genius, you have an eidetic memory, you like Asimov. You're interested in psycholinguistics, but I'm guessing you really just like knowing all sorts of things about all kinds of topics." He sipped his drink. "That's what I've observed in the past couple of months. But I don't feel like I really know you."
Reid shrugged and looked at Dave for a moment. "What else is there to know?" he asked, picking at his food.
"What's your favorite thing to do on a night off? What kind of music do you like? Your favorite alcoholic beverage, because, oh yeah, I also know that you like coffee with about six spoons of sugar." Dave shrugged back at Reid. "Who you are, not what you are."
"I like... red wine. Um, margaritas. Elvis Costello, The Beatles, Talking Heads, The Who..." Reid licked his lips. He ignored the first question; he didn't really do much at all.
"Elvis Costello, huh?" Dave nodded. "I'm more of an Elvis Presley fan, but I can see that. The Who, now, that surprises me." He grinned at Reid. "What sort of red? Italian, French, American, anything goes?"
"Anything sweet," Reid replied, and smiled back. "My dad liked Elvis Presley," he said. "I guess that's why I sort of can't stand him." He wasn't quite sure why he said that, and hid his frown in his coffee.
"Ah." Dave looked down at the table for a moment. "I like the Beatles and The Who, though," he said. He wasn't sure he knew who the Talking Heads were. "So what do you do if you have a night off?"
"Read, watch the news, go to movies, on occasion. Play chess." Reid sighed. "Anyone who doesn't like the Beatles isn't breathing."
Dave laughed. "Good point." He looked down at his mostly empty plate. "Feel like dessert?"
Reid smiled. "Yeah, sure."
*****
Spencer Reid continued to be mostly an enigma to Dave, though over the next few weeks he seemed to settle down a little when they were together. Dave found himself requesting Spencer's help on cases, seeking out opportunities to work with him. He knew Hotch had noticed, but so far he'd said nothing to Dave.
It came as a surprise when, on their next out-of-town case, Spencer asked Dave to work with him.
It was weird, Reid thought. Coming to terms with working with someone who'd been an idol of yours for so long was difficult. Realizing that person wanted to know you was even harder. The strangest thing, though, was that David seemed to want to be Reid's friend.
Sure, Reid was close to Hotch and Morgan. But Morgan had gone from 'playful' tormentor to someone who Reid shared a mutual respect and understanding with, and Hotch... for as much as Reid wanted to be closer to Hotch, Hotch was still his boss.
David wasn't either of those things, though. David just seemed to be plain interested in Reid, and not because he was smart, or because he was useful, or because he was easy to tease.
Hotch had given Reid a look he didn't quite understand when Reid had requested to work with David, but then allowed it anyway. David and Reid worked well together, they complimented each other's profiling styles, and Hotch knew that. Reid was spinning in his chair at the field office, letting the blur of color and light distract him from the outside world as he thought over a case, but a dark shape came into his field of vision, and Reid caught the edge of his desk. He looked up to see a fuzzy and divided-looking David. "I think the unsub knows his victims," he said without preamble, then closed his eyes while the room stopped spinning.
Dave liked seeing an almost playful side of Spencer, the way he was spinning in his chair, even if it did make Dave feel sort of queasy just watching him. He smiled faintly and propped his hip against the desk, crossing his arms. "Why?"
"The family photographs," Reid said. "They looked like they were where they were supposed to be, but when I looked closer, they were too faded to have not been facing the sun before. I think they were moved."
"Really? I hadn't noticed that. In all three houses?" Dave wondered if there might be other indications at the homes. They ought to go back to check them out.
"Yeah, and here. The Mallone residence," Reid said, and pulled out a picture of the second crime scene, putting it down near where Dave was leaning. "The other houses were well-kept, and this one wasn't badly-kept, but look at the fine layer of dust. It's everywhere but on the picture frame. It was cleaned."
Dave nodded slowly, studying the pictures. "You're right. Well-spotted." He picked up the last picture, squinting at it. One of these days he was going to have to break down and get some reading glasses. "This is the third victim's house, right?"
Reid shook his head. "Second."
"What do you think we should do with this?" Dave asked. He'd been trying to coax out Spencer's opinion more, before giving his own. The younger man needed more confidence.
"I think we need to go back and look at the house, see if anything else is out of place that we missed," Reid said, and glanced up to see if Dave agreed.
Dave nodded. "Good idea. I'll let Aaron know where we're going." He slipped the photos into the case file and held it out to Spencer, then headed over to where Hotch was talking to the detective in charge of the case.
When they got to the Mallone house, they pulled down the crime scene tape and started combing through the place again. It wasn't long before they noticed pictures moved in other places, and by the time they were ready to leave they were fairly certain their original profile had been wrong.
Morgan was the most difficult to convince, which wasn't unexpected, but everyone else was on board. Hotch sent them all back to the hotel late that night with their assignments for the next day, and Reid followed David into the elevator on their way to their rooms.
Dave leaned against the side of the elevator, watching Reid. "You don't seem to have any trouble arguing with Derek about things," he said, amused. "It's interesting watching the two of you together."
Reid's eyebrows lifted. "Why's that?"
"I don't know, I suppose because he's not the type to back down easily, and you're usually not as assertive with other people as you are with him." There was the physical differences between the two, as well, but Dave wasn't going to point those out, because he had a feeling Spencer wouldn't take it the right way. He was a beautiful young man, but Derek was more traditionally handsome, and Dave had a feeling Spencer wouldn't appreciate the comparison. "You're good friends, aren't you?"
Reid shrugged. "I guess. We don't do anything outside of work, or anything, but... yeah. I think so." He leaned back against the elevator wall and looked sideways at David. "I say what I need to say with anyone, really, but only Morgan ever seems to want actually to argue with me." Which was true, to an extent, though Reid had argued with Hotch on a few occasions. Usually those occasions were completely Reid's fault, though, and Reid didn't want to have to explain why Hotch had even had reason to fight with him before. "I sort of had to learn to fight around Morgan. He really didn't like me at all when I joined the team."
Dave nodded. "You are kind of intimidating at first. He probably had to re-evaluate his position on the team when he realized you know more than he does about a lot of things." He paused. "Was this your first FBI position?"
Reid actually laughed, then shook his head and answered Dave's question first. "I was assigned to the field office in Sacramento--there was nothing open in Vegas--but I wasn't there the typical three years." Or even for my full probationary period, he thought, but didn't say. "More like, ah, five, six months, and then I-- I was moved to Criminal Investigation back at Quantico. A lot of people weren't very happy about that," he said, and shrugged, giving Dave a sheepish smile, mostly because he wasn't sure what else to do. He wasn't particularly comfortable talking about this. His quick advancement within the FBI had mirrored his school career in a lot of ways, always moving forward ahead of everyone else--fast, too; faster than was really supposed to be possible--and leaving quite a bit of bitterness in his wake. "I highly doubt Morgan was intimidated by me, and I have a hard time believing you were either."
Dave laughed and shook his head. "Spencer, you're a genius. Your mind works better and faster than ours. It's intimidating, even to someone who has more field experience than you. Plus, you can be certain Derek knew about your meteoric rise through the FBI ranks. I think it speaks well of you both that you've become such good friends after that beginning."
"After a couple years, I started fighting back." Reid shrugged again. "I think that helped."
Dave nodded. "Probably." The elevator stopped with a ding and he waited for Spencer to step out first.
Reid walked down along the hallway, glancing back to make sure David was following. His room wasn't far, and when he reached it, he found himself reluctant to say goodnight--which was strange, but he didn't really want to examine it. He slid the key in the door and held it cracked open, looking back at Dave, his expression hopeful. "Do you want to come in for a bit?"
Dave's eyebrows went up, but he didn't think Spencer really meant that the way it sounded. "Sure," he said after a moment. Of course, it was possible Spencer did mean it that way, which...was a bizarre thought. It wasn't unusual for people to hit on Dave, simply because he was so damn famous. Jill had, after all. But...well, he didn't want to think that about Spencer.
Reid watched David for a moment, registering the surprise on his face, and then it hit Reid how what he'd just said sounded. And he hadn't meant it that way. Had he? A little thrill went through Reid, and then he told himself emphatically that he hadn't. His lips parted and he looked away. "Um, yeah, okay," he said and headed in the room quickly before he started apologizing.
"Do you have a coffee maker in here?" Dave asked, glancing around. "Or maybe we should raid the minibar." He grinned at Spencer and headed for one of the chairs.
"I have both. Whatever you want," Reid said, still recovering.
"Whichever you're having is fine," Dave said, wanting to see what Spencer would do.
Reid looked at David for a moment. He felt a little like he needed a drink, but went to go make coffee anyway. After a moment, he called out of the bathroom. "We could have both."
"That's fine, too," Dave called back, crossing his legs with an ankle on his knee. "Did you like Sacramento?" he asked when Spencer came back out.
"Yeah, it was nice," Reid said, filling two mugs. He grabbed all the sugar packets and creamers in the bathroom and headed out to put it all awkwardly on the table, then go to the fridge. "It's a lot cooler than Vegas, at least. Ah, temperature wise."
Dave nodded. "Did you get to see any of the sights while you were there? Hit all the tourist locations?" He'd been to Sacramento a few times, but he'd never actually looked around the city much.
"I saw Sutter's Fort. They sort of... glossed over the bit about the Donner Party, but it was interesting anyway. Saw the Philharmonic." He walked back over and put the mini bottles of whiskey between them while he added sugar and creamer to his coffee. He smiled suddenly, unable to suppress it. "And the Trash Film Orgy! I was lucky enough to be there over a summer."
Spencer's smile was infectious, and Dave found himself smiling back. "What's the Trash Film Orgy?" he asked, not sure if he really wanted to know, but curious about something that had excited Spencer like that.
Reid looked up and grinned at David. "A celebration of all things trashy ever committed to film," he said, as if it should have been obvious. "Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine, Women's Prison Massacre, Dead Alive, The Man Who Saves the World, ah, more affectionately know as the Turkish Star Wars. Really, really bad stuff."
Dave laughed. "Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine," he repeated. "And people celebrate things like that. Interesting." He found himself charmed by the light in Spencer's eyes. "You like bad movies, then?"
"I don't really understand how anyone couldn't," Reid said, smiling at Dave. He felt his smile warming. He honestly doubted David could care less about movies with zombie sex and bad writing, but it felt good that Dave was humoring him.
"I don't know, I suppose it depends on how bad we're talking," Dave said, relaxing back in his chair a little. "I hope you don't lump The Thing or Clash of the Titans in with the bad movies category."
"There's bad movie and cult classic," Reid said, then laughed softly. "And sometimes there's a lot of gray area." He gave David a teasing look.
"Watch yourself," Dave said, but he was grinning. "Those are definitely cult classics." He gave Spencer an arch look. "Speaking of cult classics, I don't suppose you like Bakshi's rotoscoped version of Lord of the Rings." He'd always thought it was a fairly faithful rendition, and as good as the technology of the time would allow, but he knew he'd been in the minority, even back in the 80s. It was sort of bizarre, discovering some of the things he and Spencer had in common.
"No, I do. Rotoscope is sadly underused. Did you see Waking Life?" Reid asked.
"No, don't even know what that is," Dave replied, sipping his coffee.
"It was brilliant. Done in rotoscope; came out in 2001. It won a bunch of awards, actually; National Society of Film Critics, Ottowa International Animation Festival, Venice Film Festival..." Reid trailed off for a moment, holding Dave's gaze and suddenly feeling even warmer, and it had nothing to do with the coffee.
Dave got a funny feeling at the look on Spencer's face. He looked back, wondering what the other man was thinking. After a moment he cleared his throat. "It's that recent? I'll have to check it out."
When Dave cleared his throat, Reid looked away. He felt weird, and by all rights, he shouldn't be feeling weird at all. They'd been having a perfectly good conversation, and Reid had been surprised that they shared something like what they were talking about. "Yeah. I, ah, I own it. You can borrow it if you want." That felt like a stupid thing to say, suddenly.
"Or you could come over sometime and watch it with me," Dave suggested, finishing his coffee. "It isn't as much fun watching movies alone." He should know.
A little jolt of excitement shot through Reid. Oh, no. No-no-no-no-no, he told himself, but he smiled anyway. "Yeah, sounds good."
Dave nodded, pleased. He wondered if he ought to suggest they open the alcohol, or if that would be a bad idea at this point. Whatever this point was. He suddenly wasn't sure if Spencer had been hitting on him or not. Spencer wasn't so naive that he didn't know how that had sounded, even if he hadn't meant it that way. It was strange to be so perplexed by someone. At the same time, it was sort of nice.
Reid glanced up at Dave, then away again, laughing softly, mostly to himself because he really didn't know what to say now.
After a moment Dave cleared his throat. "So are you a fan of Bakshi's film because it's rotoscoped, or are you a Tolkien fan, too?" He glanced at the whiskey, but didn't reach for it.
"Ah, well, both." Reid followed Dave's gaze and then picked up one of the bottles. His coffee was about half gone, but he poured a small amount into it anyway.
Dave nodded. "I suppose you've read all the supplemental volumes, as well? The Books of Lost Tales and the Silmarillion and so on? I confess, I've never made it through any of them except the Silmarillion."
"I've read everything," Spencer said indignantly. "The Books of Lost Tales and the Histories of Middle Earth and The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien..." He paused, looking sheepishly at Dave. "I haven't read The Children of Hurin though. It just came out last year."
Dave chuckled. "I can see I have several volumes to go to catch up."
*****
This was dangerous. Not the act itself, but the feelings bubbling just under the surface of Reid's skin. Dave had gone from an idol, to a friend, and then to object of sexual attraction before Reid had even realized it what was happening. Which was exactly why Reid shouldn't be standing at Dave's front door with a copy of Waking Life tucked under his arm.
It wasn't as though Reid didn't know that human sexuality was more fluid than most people thought, but rather that Reid hadn't ever though his sexuality was all that fluid. He'd never been attracted to another man before, especially not one who was old enough to be his father. But the attraction was obviously there. Dave was fascinating, and smart, and once Reid had gotten to know Dave, he'd realized Dave was funny too. Sometimes even when Dave wasn't trying to be funny.
Reid found himself watching Dave every once in a while. Just watching him, thinking he was just staring off into space, and then suddenly focusing on what it was he was looking at and panicking. He hoped Dave wasn't starting to notice too. For that matter, he hoped the team wasn't watching him. Right now, he needed to push all that out of his head though. He was here to watch a movie with a friend. A friend, he told himself, and knocked on the door.
Dave had bought potato salad and hamburger patties, and had the grill all ready to go when Spencer arrived. He'd decided beer was a better idea than wine, which was why he'd opted for hamburgers instead of chops. He'd noticed the change in how Reid looked at him lately, and wine and chops felt too much like a date. He knew Aaron had noticed, too, which made him feel even more on the spot; Dave had just been getting the hang of this team thing, and he didn't want to go screwing it up by ruining his friendship with Spencer.
He genuinely liked Spencer and enjoyed spending time with him, but despite the younger man's slender beauty and quick mind, there couldn't be anything between them. Dave was twice as old as Spencer, for God's sake! Not to mention he'd been married three times and ruined every personal relationship he ever tried to have. Aaron Hotchner was one of the few 'old friends' he had, because he'd alienated so many of them over one thing or another. He didn't want to do that with Spencer.
Not that he wasn't tempted, of course. Spencer was beautiful, and extremely good company. He was entertaining, even if he didn't always understand why Dave laughed at some of the things he said. No, this was just misplaced hero-worship, the very thing Dave had been trying to get rid of by spending more time with Spencer. It was sort of disheartening that it hadn't worked.
When Reid knocked, Muchie burst into loud barks and Sherlock hissed and dove under the couch. Dave went to the door and grabbed Muchie's collar before opening it. "Hey, Spencer, come on in," he said with a smile.
Oh, God. Dave had a dog. How had Reid not known that? He gave the dog a slightly worried look and stepped inside, well away from it. "Hi," he said, wincing slightly as the dog continued to bark at him.
"Muchie, it's okay! It's Spencer!" Dave frowned, then said sharply, "Muchie!" The dog subsided, sinking down onto its haunches and looking up at Dave in confusion. "Quiet," Dave said. "Spencer is a friend." He reached out a hand toward Spencer. "Give me your hand," he ordered.
Reid didn't move. "Dave, they really don't like me. I, ah, try to give them a wide berth, and I--"
"Spencer," Dave said, his tone not much different than when he'd been talking to his dog a moment earlier. When Spencer's hand slipped gingerly into his, Dave tugged it gently down to Muchie's nose. "Friend," he said clearly. Muchie sniffed both of their hands, then let out a whine and licked Spencer's.
Reid made a face. "I, ah... okay, that's enough," he said, but he didn't pull away because he liked the way Dave was holding his hand just a little more than he should be allowing himself, considering he was still trying to convince himself not to let himself keep looking at Dave like he was. "I also really don't like them much either." He wondered how rude it would be to immediately go wash his hand.
Dave straightened, grinning, then realized he was still holding Spencer's hand. He let go and stepped back. "Scratch behind his ears; he likes that. You have to convince him you're a friend."
"No, that's okay," Reid said, wiping his hand on his pants, the back where the dog had licked and then his palm, because Dave's hand had lingered a moment and it had sent a little thrill through Reid that he hoped he could wipe away. "We don't need to be friends," he added, frowning at the dog.
"'Friend' means he won't bite you," Dave said dryly. "How do you feel about cats? Sherlock is hiding under the couch right now."
"Cats are usually fine," Reid said, but what Dave said first was more concerning. "Just the fact that biting me is a possibility makes me less inclined to touch him."
Dave frowned at him. "Just pet him once and then you can ignore him. I told him you're a friend, but you have to reinforce that. He's a hunting dog, Spencer, he's well-trained." He started to head for the kitchen. "I didn't think to ask if you like beer," he called back.
Reid started to follow Dave until he realized the dog was following him. He reluctantly turned back, scratched behind the dog's ears, then held a sigh of relief when the dog walked away. He went into the kitchen. "Beer's fine. I don't drink a lot of it, but I like it." He watched Dave move around the kitchen a moment, and then realized Dave was actually cooking something. He looked away and cleared his throat. "Do you need any help?"
"No, it's fine. I've just got burgers for the grill." Dave went to the fridge and grabbed two bottles with one hand and the burgers with the other, then jerked his head toward the back door. "Want to get the door? You can join me out on the deck."
"Yeah," Reid said, then went to grab the door and took the bottles out of Dave's hands at the same time, letting his fingers brush Dave's. And now I'm purposely touching him. God, this was a bad idea. He settled at the table outside, looking around as he opened one of the bottles, then the other. "Nice house," he said absently. Not that he expected any less.
Dave tried to ignore the way Spencer touched him, though he was beginning to think he was going to have to stop this somehow. "Thanks," he said, starting the grill. "I wanted something comfortable but not too big. I'm not exactly in the market for a fourth wife." He gave Spencer a crooked grin, then turned his attention to his grilling. He'd put a lot of work into the landscaping, building a small pond in the back and putting in more trees than the partially-wooded lot had already had. "There's a hammock back at the back of the property, but I don't get to use it much these days."
Reid squinted towards the back of the yard, but didn't see anything. "Do you have any fish in your pond?" he asked. "Goldfish are better suited to ponds than anything else. They'll get up to about two feet long if they have the room to grow that big. It's actually sort of cruel to keep them in those tiny bowls that are so popular. They're hardy though, in the right conditions."
"Two feet? My God, what will I feed them?" Dave said in mock horror. He grinned. "Yeah, I've got about ten of them out there." He took a sip of beer. "You're saying the size of the bowl keeps them small? Like veal." He wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"Actually, they usually suffocate in their own waste before that can happen. The bigger they get, the more waste they produce, and those little bowls don't get proper air circulation through the water," Reid said, still looking out over the yard. "Nor do they build up the beneficial bacteria required to take care of that waste when the water is changed every day in a futile attempt to keep it clean."
"Huh. That's appetizing," Dave remarked, flipping the burgers. "I hope the pond is big enough for all ten of them. It has a pump for the waterfall, so there ought to be enough air circulation, right?"
"As long as the pump is big enough for size of the pond, yeah. How many gallons?" Reid asked, looking at Dave.
"Hmm, it's about twelve feet by nine feet, and ranges from two to five feet deep," Dave said. "I don't remember enough of my college geometry to work that out in my head."
A slow smile crept over Reid's face, and he pushed out of the chair to go look at the pond, sitting on the stone that lined it and looking in. The fish were obviously well fed, because they all swam up to him expecting food at the sight of a human standing over them. Reid grinned and moved his hand back and forth, a few inches over the surface, watching them follow it, then walked back over to the deck after a moment. "They might be slightly spoiled, but I think they've got plenty of room," he murmured, a little too much fondness creeping into his voice, and pushed his hair back behind his ears.
"Spoiled? How do you spoil fish?" Dave asked, knowing he sounded a little defensive. They were cute, the way they swarmed up to the surface whenever he came over. He couldn't help giving them a reward when they did it. He checked the burgers and then took another sip of his beer. He liked that Spencer felt comfortable enough to tease him.
Reid laughed softly, and walked up to the grill. "They're just obviously happy to be here is all I'm saying," he managed to say seriously, but he was grinning too widely as he looked down at their food, trying to ignore how close they were. I'm happy to be here too.
"Almost done," Dave said, wishing he weren't so aware of Spencer's proximity. God, he shouldn't be noticing things like this. He's too fucking young. He's starstruck. God. He flipped the burgers over and looked around. "Shit, can you watch these while I go get a clean plate?" He didn't wait for an answer, just pushed the spatula into Spencer's hand and headed through the sliding screen door to the kitchen.
"Yeah," Reid answered to no one in particular, and then just stared at the burgers. He didn't cook very well, let alone manage anything over an open flame, and he couldn't remember if you supposed to move them around, or leave them still.
Dave leaned against the counter for a minute, thinking this had been a bad idea. But Spencer hadn't said anything, so he could just ignore it for now. With a sigh, he pulled out a plate and went back outside. "Okay, I think we're good," he said, and held the plate for Spencer to put the burgers on it.
Something felt different when Dave came back out, and Reid frowned, but ignored it. He took the plate and managed to get the burgers on it without dropping them. "Where's the... off?" he asked, looking for a dial on the front of the grill.
"Here," Dave said, reaching over and turning it off. "I thought we could use TV trays so we can eat during the movie. I've got potato salad in the fridge, and chocolate chip cookies. Both store-bought, just so you're warned." He smiled faintly.
"I'm not sure I've ever had homemade cookies," Reid said, smiling a little now that Dave was smiling again. He followed Dave inside.
"Never?" Dave glanced over at him in surprise. He set the plate down on the table and got the potato salad and condiments out of the fridge, then snagged them two more beers. "TV tables are there by the stove." He pointed, then assembled his own hamburger. "Want cheese?"
Reid nodded and grabbed them. "Yeah." He carried the trays awkwardly as he moved back to the counter to put together his burger. "If I ever did, I wasn't aware of it. I didn't brave the oven when I was young if I didn't have to, and I've hardly had the time since." When they were finished, he picked up his plate and the trays again and went out to the living room.
"Your mom never baked you cookies?" Dave asked, carrying the rest after him.
Oh. Right. Dave didn't know about his mother. Reid had started thinking of him like he'd always been a part of the team, and forgotten that detail. "Mmhp, even on her best days, I did most of the cooking," he said, settling what he had in his hands in front of the couch with a frown.
"Ah." Dave set everything down and looked at it. "She wasn't well. I'm sorry."
"She had lucid days." Reid sighed. "It was mostly okay," he said, which wasn't really true, but he'd gotten comfortable with making everything sound like it was fine.
Dave nodded but didn't say anything. So she was mentally unwell. That would explain at least part of Spencer's interest in psychology. And suddenly his interest in schizophrenia clicked into place in Dave's mind. "You brought the DVD, right?" he asked.
"Yeah, yeah," Reid said, putting his plate down to pick the DVD case up from the coffee table where he'd left it after his rather uncomfortable meeting with Dave's dog. "Here."
Dave put the DVD in the player and settled into his recliner, leaving Spencer the couch. It occurred to him a moment later that Sherlock might still be under there, but he decided to cross his fingers and hope Spencer didn't end up with scratched ankles.
Reid found himself mildly disappointed that Dave wasn't sharing the couch... so he sat on the end closest to Dave's recliner and hope he didn't look too needy. Or obvious. The movie played on, and they talked a little, and Reid eventually finished his food and pushed the tray table away. He kicked off his shoes and curled his legs under him on the couch, leaning up against the armrest. After a while, when they both fell silent, he found his eyes drifting a little. He'd already seen the movie a hundred times, and his drifting eyes probably wouldn't have been an issue if he didn't find himself darting furtive glances at Dave every once in a while, telling himself he just wanted to see if Dave was enjoying the movie.
Dave liked the movie, but he kept finding himself distracted by Spencer. First it was just the way Spencer kept glancing at him, but then he found himself looking for Spencer's reaction to things in the movie, and then he caught himself noticing the way Spencer pushed his hair back behind his ear. Get a grip, Dave, he chided himself. You can't even think about this. Aaron would have your head. Just the fact that he was trying to use the thought of Hotch to keep himself accountable was a bad sign. By the time the movie was over, Dave had sworn he wouldn't be doing this again. All contact with Spencer was going to have to be at work, because he couldn't give the other man the wrong idea.
When the credits rolled, Reid was feeling relaxed and oddly happy. He shouldn't feel happy about the way he'd noticed that Dave was watching him back, but he couldn't help it. There was a funny hope brewing in his chest regardless of the way he also felt a little ill because this really was a bad idea.
He stretched once the DVD had gone back to the menu screen, uncurling to his full length, and then looked back at Dave, smiling a little too warmly, but not knowing what to say. After a minute, though, he forced his mind to work. "Did you like it?" he mumbled, feeling too relaxed.
"Yeah, I did," Dave said, trying to keep his gaze from wandering. God, Spencer was tall. He shifted and cut his eyes over to the TV to aim the remote. "Back in my youth I think we would have called it a headtrip." He smiled faintly. It felt strange to be emphasizing his age; normally Spencer made him feel sort of energized. Younger, maybe. At least he didn't usually feel like a grumpy old bastard, which made suddenly acting like one bizarre.
The smile on Reid's face went a little wider and after a moment, he laughed and shook his head. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Far out, man," he said, his tone almost technical even though he was smiling.
Dave snorted, then laughed aloud. Shaking his head, he stood. "Want another beer?"
"Sure. Ah, what time is it?" he asked. He should really go home, and he certainly shouldn't drink beer number three, but he didn't want to leave. "I'll help you clean up," he added, and stood too.
"There's not much to do," Dave said, carrying a plate and his empty bottles back to the kitchen. "It's almost ten," he added when he saw the microwave clock.
Reid picked up his plate anyway and followed Dave with his tray table. He put it back where it belonged and walked over to where Dave was at the sink and put his plate in. He sucked in a breath at how close they were for a moment. Then he walked around Dave to the fridge, lifting his hand to trail his fingertips over Dave's back as he moved, his chest squeezing as he did. He didn't say anything, though. If Dave wanted to take it as an innocent gesture, he could. Reid's heart was thudding in his chest as he pulled open the fridge to grab two more beers anyway, though, and he was suddenly unsure if he'd rather Dave ignore it or acknowledge it.
Dave's breath caught in his throat at that light touch. He closed his eyes briefly, his heart giving a funny jolt and then sinking. He'd thought they were beyond this, that Spencer was seeing him as Dave, not as the great Agent Rossi. He'd hoped the possibility that Spencer really was trying to seduce him was all in his head. Dave kept rinsing the plate he was holding, then stuck it in the dishwasher. God, he didn't want to do this.
He turned and took the beer Spencer was holding out. After a moment, he twisted the cap off and took a healthy swallow. Then he looked straight at Spencer and said quietly, "Don't do this."
For a moment, Reid was pretty sure Dave was just going to ignore the touch, and he'd found himself looking anywhere but Dave. Until Dave spoke. Reid gripped the neck of his bottle before he dropped it and looked back at Dave. His lips parted, and for a moment he tried to work out if Dave was really talking about how Reid was feeling, and not something else, but then he let his gaze drop, feeling a little breathless. "Why?" he whispered. God, this shouldn't ache, but Dave was saying no before he'd even considered it.
Dave hated seeing Spencer's reaction to those three words. But he told himself it would be better if he stopped this now. If he let things continue, the hurt feelings would be worse. "Spencer, I like you. I like you a lot. But you're young, and..." He sighed. "Maybe I seem cool or, I don't know, interesting, but I'm just Dave. There are--you don't need to hang around with me to be a great profiler. And no matter how famous or interesting I am, I'm still just a guy who's old enough to be your father." The look he gave Spencer was full of regret. "You deserve better than that."
Reid had felt his hope building again for a moment. If this was just about age, then there was really no argument. No one Reid had met that was his age seemed to follow him very well, or understand him. As Dave went on, however, a heaviness settled in Reid. He shook his head, frowning and hoping he was misunderstanding. Be a good profiler? Famous? "I don't care how old you are," he said. "And I-- I'm well aware you're 'just Dave'. I--" He bit the inside of his lip and told himself not to get angry, not to jump to conclusions. "This has nothing to do with your... fame. I just like you."
"It's easy to tell yourself that," Dave replied, and took another sip of his beer. "Trust me, I've heard that a lot. But sooner or later, you'll realize I'm not really interesting. I'm obsessive, I'm a neat-freak, and I don't exactly own up to many of my short-comings in my books. Short-comings don't sell well unless you're a recovered addict. Spencer, I'm flattered. I am. But I thought we were getting past this, well, this schoolboy crush."
Reid's chest felt like it was caught in a vice, but when Dave finished, he looked back up at Dave, his mouth dropping open. Schoolboy crush?! How could Dave think that?! It only took a moment for Reid's expression to cloud over, his mouth snapping shut as he glared at Dave. "Oh my God," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "You-- you don't know me at all." He stood there for a moment, and then turned to leave, raising his voice a little. "I'm sorry. My mistake. I thought you did, but I can see I was wrong," he snapped.
Dave felt a kick of guilt as Spencer's eyes flashed with anger. "What? What are you talking about?" he asked, moving to keep Spencer from leaving. "You can't deny the way you've acted in the past has been a little...fannish!"
Reid stopped short of the door when Dave moved in front of him, then crossed his arms over himself. "I didn't know you! And you were impressive at first, yes, but I know you now! It's different!" Reid exclaimed, then his eyes narrowed and he leaned in, holding Dave's gaze with a harsh one of his own. "Look me in the eyes, David. Look me in the eyes, and tell me that you know me, and you honestly believe I'm that shallow."
Dave's first, incredibly shallow thought was, You don't think I'm impressive now? But then Reid leaned in, and the anger in his gaze sent a thrill through Dave. He realized suddenly that he'd never seen Spencer angry before. "I--no, you're not shallow!" he protested. He felt cornered, suddenly, and scrambled for words. "But you're young! It's easy to fool yourself into thinking you feel something--"
"I'm not fooling myself!" Reid shouted, cutting Dave off. His heart was racing and his hands were starting to tremble from the sheer rush of his own anger. "And I've never been young!" Those words surprised even himself, and he forced his voice to lower. "Let me go," he growled, clenching his teeth.
Dave's brows drew together and he moved automatically, unnerved by Spencer's angry assertiveness. But then he caught himself and placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Spencer, I..." He licked his lips. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said lamely. It sounded stupid, but it was true; he'd certainly never wanted to hurt Spencer, or even imagined himself capable of it, at least in this fashion. But as much as he suddenly wanted to apologize, he couldn't bring himself to. He was right to do this. Spencer would see that, and thank him later.
Reid jerked away from Dave's hand. "Too late," he snapped, and headed out the door, slamming it behind him.
"Well, fuck," Dave said, and went over to slump on the couch. He'd really screwed that up. It had been a good evening, too. They'd had fun, and then Dave had had to go and ruin things with his words. He sighed. Reid had left his DVD. God, work on Monday was going to be a nightmare.
Sherlock jumped onto the couch next to him, and after a minute Dave lay down, letting the cat climb on his chest. He stroked the soft fur and played the evening from start to finish in his head, telling himself he wasn't lingering over the expressive nature of Reid's face, or the way his brown eyes danced when he was excited about something. The more he thought about the way he'd fucked up, though, the more he realized just what he'd fucked up. It had been, quite simply, the most rewarding and enjoyable relationship he'd had in years.
"God, I really am stupid," he told Sherlock. The cat just purred at him, and eventually Dave fell asleep, wishing happiness for humans was as easy as happiness for cats.
PART TWO
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Date: 2009-01-12 11:02 am (UTC)Anyway - there's some wonky html near the bottom of the piece
You don't think I'm impressive now?
Off to read the next part.
la-di-da
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Date: 2009-01-12 07:13 pm (UTC)And yay, another convert! <3
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Date: 2009-01-12 11:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-12 02:11 pm (UTC)That last part almost had me crying. Poor Reid.
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Date: 2009-01-12 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-12 11:57 pm (UTC)for the most partno subject
Date: 2009-01-24 08:34 am (UTC)And you guys completely rocked the transition from friendship to attraction. Rossi's defense mechanisms - thinking about Hotch and acting like a grumpy old bastard - were phenomenal, as they show so much insight into him and also how badly he is failing at denying that attraction ;D And he misreads the situation so badly...*sigh* Sometimes stubborn Dave is not such a great thing, after all. But this line?
It was strange to be so perplexed by someone. At the same time, it was sort of nice.
I think this line really stands out because we all sort of expect Reid to be the "perplexed" one when it comes to relationships, but so far, Reid seems to be the one who understands what's going on and Rossi truly is thrown off balance, and not correctly interpreting what's going on. LOVE the role reversal.
Other little things that for whatever reason I especially like:
The bit with Rossi helping Reid with Muchie – although dude I still think that’s a stupid name for a dog, but I guess it’s better than Munchie, which is what I thought Rossi said the first time I saw the episode – anyway it's great to see Rossi helping Reid with one more of his insecurities, and not letting Reid wiggle his way out of making friends with Muchie. I love stubborn, helpful Dave!
OMG Reid never having had homemade cookies. THAT’S SOME FUCKING DEPRESSING STUFF TO BE SNEAKING IN THERE, GUYS. But extremely well done...and now I really want to make Reid some ginger snaps. =/
Spinning-chair-Spencer! Woot!
You like bad movies, then? ---> I sense a theme here. Personal canon, much? XD But it’s very believable. I mean after all, the man likes Star Trek: TOS.
THIS LINE: Anyone who doesn't like the Beatles isn't breathing.
OMFG SERIOUSLY GUYS. WORD. SO MUCH. My little Beatles fangirl heart exploded when Reid said that. ABSOLUTE PROOF THAT HE'S A GENIUS.
Okay yeah I'm going to shut up now and read the next section. I'm incredibly excited about the prospect of what's to come ^_^
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Date: 2009-01-25 04:40 am (UTC)My theory for Rossi's dog's name (which I realize is probably wrong, but I don't care) is that he's named for Col. Henry Mucci, the hero of Bataan. I just forgot to edit the spelling in this fic. *G*
I do think it's our personal canon that Reid likes bad movies. *G*
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Date: 2009-04-05 11:24 pm (UTC)LMFAO Then I'm not breathing!!! XD
"Dave's first, incredibly shallow thought was, You don't think I'm impressive now?"
OMG That is totally shallow (and totally him at the same time haha XD).
And I'm not even fan of this pairing, actually, your fic are the only one I read with this pairing!!! *is more a Morgan/Reid fan most of the time*
I adore the "Aaron would have your head." coz yeah, I can totally see Hotch like that, with the whole "anyone trying to woo our genius will be hunt and sentence to a very painful death by my own hand" haha.
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Date: 2009-04-06 03:43 am (UTC)I definitely think Hotch is protective of Reid. :)
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Date: 2009-05-14 06:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-18 12:31 am (UTC)Well written, compelling and easy to see this as happening behind the scenes in one of the current seasons of CM.
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Date: 2010-01-18 12:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-18 12:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-08 01:09 am (UTC)It's VERY possible that we have some borked tags. Of course, LJ has been giving me fits lately, so I have barely been able to answer comments, let alone check those. :(
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Date: 2011-04-08 03:44 pm (UTC)