Maximum Gain (1/3) Reid/Rossi, NC-17
Oct. 23rd, 2008 10:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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geekystudmuffinTitle: Maximum Gain (1/3)
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
innerslytherin and severity_softly
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Reid/Rossi
Spoilers: Minimal Loss
WC: ~15,800
Summary: Dave and Spencer try to deal with the immediate aftermath of "Minimal Loss". They end up dealing with it together.
Dave Rossi had thought it didn't get worse than Ruby Ridge. Waco had been bad, but he'd been calling the shots at Ruby Ridge, so that had always been the heavier burden. McVeigh's bombing of the federal building in Oklahoma City had added to the load of guilt, and had been what ultimately drove Dave out of the FBI. He had thought, at that point, there could be nothing worse.
That was before he'd stood outside a separatist compound and had to listen to the man he loved fake Stockholm Syndrome, praying the whole time that he wouldn't be found out.
Dave's hands had started shaking the moment he realized Morgan and Reid had gotten out of the compound alive. He'd hidden it behind his anger for a time, but eventually he'd had to resort to folding his arms across his chest and not meeting anyone's eyes.
They hadn't stopped shaking once they got on the jet. Hotch had noticed, of course, and had kindly brewed him a cup of tea and bathed him in warm approval for the negotiation job he'd done. It hadn't helped. Eventually Hotch had left him alone found a place to sleep, which was what Morgan and JJ were already doing.
He'd watched as Prentiss approached Spencer. She was obviously trying to reassure him, but one thing Dave had observed early on in Spencer Reid was his tendency to carry guilt over things he had no control over. Dave sighed and turned his attention back to the dark emptiness outside the jet window.
Finally, some time after Emily walked past him and went to stretch out on the empty couch, Dave judged it safe to approach Spencer himself. Just to reassure himself, he thought. Just to see that he was really here with them, mostly unharmed. Just to stop the shaking of his damn traitorous hands. Spencer wouldn't know how much Dave had worried about him. He wouldn't know the agonies Dave had gone through, wanting to storm in there and save him, but knowing it would cost too many lives if they did. It was all right. Dave had already proved that he fucked up every relationship he tried to have. He was comfortable loving Spencer from behind a wall of professional respect and concern.
Spencer was trying--trying--to focus on his book, though anyone on the jet could probably see that he wasn't quite able. His eyes weren't speeding over the pages in a rush, he was just... staring at it and reading the same sentences over and over. He was using it as a shield, and he knew it, but that didn't make it any easier to make himself stop. And when Prentiss had talked to him, he hadn't even been able to make himself respond. He'd just given her a look he hoped she'd interpret as understanding, and then let it drop.
When she'd left, he was relieved, but then Dave slid into the seat across from his... and again Spencer tried to stare at his book, but he eventually looked up at Dave, his lips parting to say so many things that felt completely ridiculous to say. His heart had jolted when he saw Dave walk into that compound. He'd studied Dave before they'd been colleagues--even friends; he hoped they were friends--and if anyone could save them, it was Dave. But now, Spencer was torn between the guilt he was feeling, the odd emptiness that being in that compound for days had left him with, and the overwhelming gratitude that he and Prentiss had been saved. That most of the people there had been saved.
He shifted in his seat, knowing his thoughts were probably plain on his face for a moment, and then swallowed and forced himself a little more steady, a little stronger. "Thanks," he murmured.
Dave sat for a moment just studying Spencer's face, telling his hands they could stop shaking now, Spencer was alive and here. "You and Emily are the reason this didn't end up like Waco," he said quietly. It wasn't what he'd meant to say, but his chest felt tight, and he didn't think he could force out a question that would just prompt Spencer to lie ("are you all right?") or a banal greeting ("can't sleep either?"). Even worse would be something that might tell Spencer just how close Dave feared he had come to seeing things fall apart.
That statement stripped Spencer of the little bit of calm he'd managed to find, and his eyes snapped up to Dave's. He suddenly wasn't sure why he felt ill, but his stomach gave a weird sort of clench, and his mouth fell open again. He tried to say something, but words didn't come out at first, and he looked back down at the book, forgotten on the table, and stared at the page number. Finally, he cleared his throat. "You would have saved those people regardless," he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
"No, Spencer, I wouldn't have." Dave met his gaze seriously, hating himself for not being able to say the really important things. "I fucked up at Ruby Ridge. I fucked up at Waco. Hell, I tried to talk Hotch out of putting me in charge of the negotiations here." He shook his head, not taking his gaze from Spencer's. "You saved this."
Spencer frowned, but looked back up at Dave, and now he was just confused, and he really wished he could just settle on one emotion and stick with it, but he seemed incapable at the moment. He wondered how long that would take to go away. "I just..." He shook his head. "I could have just as easily gotten myself killed."
A shaky breath escaped Dave before he could catch it. "Believe me, I know that," he murmured. After a moment he wiped a hand down his jaw and shook his head. "But you stayed calm. You kept talking to me. That made the difference."
"I was trained well in procedure you helped write," Spencer said. He swallowed, watching Dave. He was shaky. They all were, but Dave had a history with this sort of thing, and Spencer wondered if maybe putting his focus on Dave might alleviate some of his own unsteadiness.
Dave huffed a noise that was supposed to be a laugh. It fell far short of the mark. He kept looking at Spencer. His hands were itching to reach out and touch him, reassure themselves that Spencer was okay. It was a ridiculous idea, because Spencer didn't do touching, and Dave hadn't any right to touch him, anyway. "Hotch was worried about you two," he said finally. He forced himself to look back up at Spencer. "We both were. If..." He trailed off and shook his head, still staring at Spencer but giving up on trying to speak.
Spencer held Dave's gaze, his eyebrows lifting. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Dave look like this before, but he somehow didn't think explaining the true physiological reasoning behind the way that stress really could make you sick would help much. "You... We don't need to talk about this," he whispered finally. "I feel..." He frowned, but then just admitted it because Dave didn't look much better himself. "I feel a little nauseated myself, so..." The butt of the gun being rammed into his stomach hadn't helped, but he doubted that was the reason. He shrugged and sank a little in his seat. "It's fine."
A pang of anxiety hit Dave at those words. He leaned across the table and touched Spencer's shoulder, even though he knew he shouldn't. "You're not feeling good physically? Spencer, did they hurt you, too?" Maybe it was just stress. God knew, they were all going to be feeling the aftereffects of this for a while.
Spencer sucked in a breath and stared at Dave for a moment, surprised by the touch. He didn't pull away, but it left him breathless for a moment--Dave was touching him; Dave didn't touch him--before he could manage to stammer a lie. "N--no. No, they didn't." His injuries seemed inconsequential compared to Prentiss, and he hadn't wanted to deal with having to be looked at.
"You're sure?" Dave asked, letting his hand linger for a moment longer before he squeezed and pulled away. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying again to push away the confusing riot of emotions. He's almost half your age, he reminded himself as usual. As usual, the reminder did nothing to squelch his feelings.
Spencer's eyes widened at the way Dave's fingers didn't pull away cleanly, and at the slight waver he felt in them for a second through his shirt. He nodded at Dave's question, but he wasn't thinking about that anymore. Dave was clearly having trouble with what had happened, maybe too many memories getting rehashed. Spencer leaned over the table to try to hold Dave's gaze. "David, are you okay?" he whispered as gently as he could.
Dave looked back at Spencer and sighed. No, he wasn't okay. But at this point he wasn't even sure how much of being 'not okay' was normal for him, any more. "I had to walk in there and act like I didn't know you," he murmured finally. "I had to walk out and leave you there. I don't think I'll ever do anything harder than that in my life."
Spencer shook his head, about to protest that if Dave had done anything else, it would have been the end. But then Dave finished with that. He stared for a moment. "I-- I--You--" He cleared his throat. "It's what you had to do. I would have been incredibly mad at you if you'd done anything different," he said finally, hoping his tone was sufficiently light, even though it didn't sound that way.
"When have I ever been afraid of making someone mad?" Dave asked, feeling a little better. He managed a small smile, though he still wanted to pull Spencer into his arms just to reassure himself. He was silent for a minute, reflecting. "When he offered to let you go... God, I wanted you to say yes." He forced himself to meet Spencer's gaze. "I admire that you chose to stay."
Spencer still couldn't quite stop staring at Dave, trying to figure out where all this was coming from. "I couldn't have done anything on the outside. I'm not a negotiator."
"And the fact that Emily was stuck there had nothing to do with it," Dave said, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his tone. Good, there, he was sounding more like himself.
The expression of muddled surprise and confusion broke on Spencer's face, and he allowed a tiny smile and looked at the table. "She was included in the 'I couldn't have done anything on the outside' part. I couldn't have done anything for her." His smile slipped, and he felt sick again. He hadn't done anything for her.
"Hey," Dave said, frowning at the way Spencer's expression changed. "She chose to speak first. Whatever was going on in her head when she volunteered her identity, she was trained to handle it, just like you were." He smiled again faintly. "I know it must rock the very foundations of your world to hear someone who was virtually a Hoover-era agent say something like this, but female agents are actually tougher than we are." He still didn't think he would ever forget the grunts of pain and her breathy assertions that she could take it, and he had a feeling Spencer wouldn't either.
Spencer laughed mirthlessly. "I don't question her strength. I hadn't even taken gender into account," he said, and reached out to fiddle with the pages of his book, his lips pressing together. "He pointed a gun at my head. She said it to save me. And it..." It got her beaten for saving me when I would have rather it been me.
Dave nodded. "How do you think she would feel if she'd hesitated? If Cyrus had pulled that trigger?" His gut twisted at the thought. "Do you think we'd be flying home one team member short, or two?" He ducked his head slightly, trying to get Spencer to look back at him. "Because I've seen people lose partners before. In a situation like this, unless Emily Prentiss is a hell of a lot stronger than I am, she wouldn't have come out of that compound if she'd lost her partner."
Spencer didn't look up at Dave for a moment. He didn't want to think about this. There were no right answers. He wanted to go home and sink into a bubble bath, and just try to release the tension that had coiled inside him while he'd been in the compound. And he was feeling more nauseated the more they kept on this subject. "Can we stop talking about this?" he asked after a moment, looking up at Dave finally.
Dave held Spencer's gaze for several heartbeats, then nodded. "Sure. But Spencer...this isn't an offer I make lightly. If you ever want to talk about this..." He paused again. "I hope you'll come to me."
He subsided into silence, but he didn't get up. He thought maybe Spencer could use the company, and he knew he needed the company. He just turned, looking out the window until his eyelids grew heavy and he finally allowed them to close.
By the time the plane was landing, Spencer found he was just watching Dave sleep. Well, he didn't find himself doing it. Hotch did. Spencer jolted out of a daze when Hotch nudged his shoulder to tell him they were about to land, and Spencer mumbled something in reply and nudged Dave under the table to wake him up. "Landing," he murmured, when Dave started.
"Mm," Dave managed, and inhaled deeply. "Thanks." He scrubbed his hands over his face and then ran them distractedly through his hair. "Time s'it?" he asked.
"Does it matter?" Spencer asked, the jet bumping against the tarmac under them.
Dave just grunted, hoping it sounded like a reply, and yawned. By the time the jet had come to a stop, he thought he was mostly awake. The team moved in a mostly silent group to their cars, and once Dave reached his he slumped in the seat for a minute, trying to wake up fully.
Reid said a quiet goodbye to the team and headed for his car, slipping inside it and turning the key in the ignition. It didn't start. It amazed him sometimes how the human brain could sometimes trick you into believing trying the same thing over and over might produce different results, because even when he knew the old car was fickle, he still tried to start it several more times to no avail. Finally he sighed and thumped his fist lightly against the steering wheel, then dropped his head against it. "Damn it," he hissed, drawing in a few deep breaths and trying not to get upset, which was harder than it should have been. He was tired and just wanted to go home.
Dave frowned at the noise from Spencer's car. He climbed out of his truck and went over to tap on the driver's side window. When Spencer rolled the window down, Dave leaned down. "Let me take you home. We can come back for it in the morning." He'd prefer to take Spencer to his home, though he didn't specify that.
"It's not starting," Reid said, sounding frustrated and feeling too tired to care that it was an obvious and unnecessary comment. He pushed in on the clutch and tried it again, then mentally rolled his eyes at himself and got out. "I know how the engine works, but I couldn't work on it to save my life." He felt like kicking the thing, but he refrained.
"Hey, me neither," Dave said. "I have a cousin who's a mechanic, and I pay him good money to know how to fix my truck. Get your bag and come on. I'll bring you back here in the morning."
Spencer sighed and looked at Dave, then turned and locked his car. "Okay," he murmured finally. It would be more comfortable riding with Dave than taking a cab.
Dave nodded and let Spencer in the passenger side of his truck. He didn't head for Spencer's apartment, though, which was a good twenty-five minutes in the wrong direction; he headed for his own house. He had a guest suite, and if he had more selfish motives than that...well, he didn't inspect them too closely. Spencer figured out where they were going within the first few minutes of the drive, but Dave just explained about the guest suite and waved off any arguments. When they arrived at his house, he led the way inside, only flipping on a couple of lights.
"Want a drink before bed?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
Spencer was looking around the living room, feeling oddly exposed. He wasn't quite sure why, but after what Dave had said to him on the jet, and now this, he wasn't sure what to think. It sent a funny little thrill through him at the idea that maybe it meant more than what it was, but then he told himself he was being stupid, that he was grasping for something more out of a stress reaction to what had happened the last few days.
He ran his hand absently over the bruised area across his stomach and smiled faintly at Dave. "Yeah, I do," he murmured. He didn't suppose he could sink into Dave's tub, but this would work.
Dave nodded and went over to the well-stocked drinks cabinet. "How do you feel about bourbon?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder. He was dying for a glass of good scotch, but somehow he didn't take Spencer for a big drinker. Maybe he should have offered wine. "Or I think I have a bottle of red already chilled."
"Um... straight bourbon?" Spencer asked. "I don't think I've had it like that before." He thought the stronger the better, but didn't say that, and glanced around awkwardly. "I'll, ah, have what you're having."
Dave nodded and chose the Buffalo Trace Single Barrel, pouring them each a double. He wouldn't inflict scotch on Spencer, if he'd not even had straight bourbon. "Sit," he suggested, making his voice gentler than usual, and sat on the couch, his bearing suggesting that he expected Spencer to join him there.
Behave yourself, Dave, he thought. He's likely not even interested in someone like you. Still, Dave chose to take comfort where he could get it, and having Spencer Reid drinking with him on his couch was definitely comforting.
Spencer walked over to join Dave on the couch, taking a sip of his drink. It was strong, and he swallowed a shallow little cough of surprise, but it was good too. He shifted to bring his knee up onto the couch to face Dave. He was silent for a bit, just looking down into his glass, then said, "Thanks." This was nice, and somehow Spencer didn't think it would be this nice with anyone else on the team. Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ might have tried to talk him into the ground, and Hotch... well, Hotch had a way of making people feel like they had to talk. Dave didn't do either of those things, at least not when he was relaxed, not at work. "I thought I wanted to be alone, but..." He shrugged, not sure he should say that Dave somehow felt more comfortable. "You didn't have to do this."
Dave shrugged. "You may not believe this," he said after a moment, "but it makes me feel better having you here and knowing you're not still stuck in that damn compound." He smiled faintly at Spencer, wishing absurdly that the couch were shorter, wishing that Spencer felt like he was within reach.
Spencer looked up to meet Dave's gaze and smiled, the expression on Dave's face warming him. "I think I'd have to agree," he murmured, smiling back warmly.
Dave's smile strengthened. He didn't say anything, though, partly because he wasn't sure Spencer really wanted to talk, and partly because it was true that just having Spencer here was enough.
Spencer smiled and nodded at nothing in particular, then took another sip of his drink. It was good once he got beyond the strength of it. "Thanks." He'd probably said that at least a half a dozen times already, but he kept feeling like he needed to say it. After a moment he swallowed, looking back into his glass. "When I saw you, when you looked at us, I knew we'd be safe." He paused a moment. "As much as I could know, I guess, but..." He shook his head, not knowing exactly how to express what he meant.
Dave had to suppress a shiver at those words. God, how could Spencer have such faith in him? It was humbling. "I didn't know that," he said quietly. "But I knew I'd do anything I had to do to get you out safely." He took another sip, then nodded towards the drink in Spencer's hand. "What do you think of it?"
"It's good," Spencer murmured, but something kept tugging in his chest when Dave said things like what he'd just said, and Spencer had just finally pinpointed it. "Me and Prentiss. To get me and Prentiss out safely," he said, looking at Dave again, his gaze half-questioning.
Dave blinked, then took a quick breath. "Yeah, of course, you plural, both of you." He held Spencer's gaze for a long moment, then looked away. "But mostly you, Spencer," he added, his voice barely a murmur. His heart gave a funny jump in his chest and began to pound. God, what was he doing?
A strange thrill swept through Spencer again, his heart jumping into his throat. For a moment he couldn't speak, he just stared at Dave, his lips parting. Finally he drew a shaky breath. "Why?" he asked, his voice coming out barely above a whisper.
It took a moment, but Dave made himself look back at Spencer. Because you're beautiful and fascinating, he thought, but that didn't seem like the thing to say. He cleared his throat. "Because...I like being around you. You're a very special person." He cleared his throat again. "To me."
The same little jolt of excitement went through Spencer again, and he stared at Dave a long moment. He wasn't sure where all of this had come from, but he had no doubt it was coming out because of what had happened over the last three days. Spencer cleared his throat, his chest feeling tight. "Is that why I'm here?" he murmured.
The question sent a chill through Dave, and he jerked his head in a gesture halfway between nodding and shaking no. "Not--I mean, it isn't--I don't expect anything from you," he said, the words falling over themselves. Spencer would probably laugh to hear Dave admit he had been intimidated by meeting the genius Doctor Reid, but somehow the unflappable David Rossi found himself bewildered by Spencer, and in this moment of sheer stupidity, actually flustered. "I would have helped anyone on the team if their car wouldn't start. I didn't bring you here expecting gratitude. I just..." He shrugged and wiped his palm down his chin. "I just wanted reassurance. That you're okay. Like I said."
"I'm not, but I will be," Spencer said, and then shook his head. "I, ah-- and that's not what I meant. I mean-- I know you don't expect anything of--" He shook his head again. "David, I--" He reached out and pressed the back of his hand to Dave's upper arm, the confusion that was settling in plain on his face. "When did this happen?" he murmured.
Dave would have shrugged, but Spencer had just touched him, and Spencer didn't touch people. It was probably adolescent and ridiculous, but Dave just wanted to prolong that contact. "Hell if I know," he muttered, but his lips quirked. "Maybe when we had to drive up to Pennsylvania together. Maybe when you tried to make me feel better after Jill Morris got herself abducted." He glanced away. "Look, I shouldn't have said anything. I..."
"David," Spencer murmured, and then before he even realized he was doing it, he reached up to brush his knuckles down Dave's jaw. The touch felt like electricity surging through him; he'd never really considered this before, but somehow it wasn't frightening. It felt safe, and Spencer hoped to God this wasn't just a stress reaction. "You didn't listen to me about Agent Morris," he said, smiling faintly.
Dave's gaze jerked back to Spencer's face when Spencer touched his face. He licked his lips and, after a moment, murmured, "You're a genius, but I'm not convinced you're always right."
Spencer pressed his lips together, but he was still smiling a little. He dropped his hand. "If you want me to keep touching you, you're going to have to retract that," he murmured, feeling suddenly like he couldn't breathe once the words were out.
The words made Dave's eyes widen as he stared at Spencer. "You..." He swallowed the words before they escaped: you want to touch me? "I'm certain you must have been wrong at least once in your life," he managed finally. "Or you wouldn't be human."
"Sometimes I'm not sure I am," Spencer said with a shrug. He glanced back up and gave Dave an awkward smile. "W-- Dave... why? You could-- I mean--"
The question reminded Dave that Spencer wasn't exactly a highly confident man. He laughed faintly, and it made him more comfortable. "You have a lot of attractive qualities," he said, reaching down to curl his fingers loosely around Spencer's. "For one thing, I enjoy spending time with you. I like the way you look at the world. I like your unquenchable thirst to know things. And it doesn't hurt that you're handsome." He gave Spencer a warm smile.
Spencer sucked in a breath at the last statement, and then let it out in an uncomfortable laugh.
Dave tilted his head, tightening his fingers on Spencer's. "What? You don't believe me? I've never lied to you, Spencer. I'm certainly not going to start now, after you've had one of the worst experiences in your life."
"Comparatively, there's been worse," Spencer said, feeling breathless. "You're telling me I'm handsome. I'm not... really... I..." He was tall, but slight, not exactly conventionally handsome, and Dave--Ladies' Man Dave, who was the reason for the BAU's fraternization rules--thought he was handsome?
Dave shifted closer and set his bourbon aside so he could touch his fingers lightly to Spencer's cheek. "You are handsome," he said, smiling. He traced his fingers along one cheekbone. "And I like seeing you smile."
Spencer sucked in another shaky breath and closed his eyes. "You're straight," he said.
Dave raised his eyebrows. "You're so sure of that?"
"You--" Spencer swallowed and looked at Dave from under his lashes. "Not anymore." He turned his head so that his cheek was pressed to the inside of Dave's palm, closing his eyes again.
Dave smiled faintly. "Then I can't retract my earlier statement," he said quietly. "You were wrong in saying I'm straight." He stroked his thumb along Spencer's cheek. "Maybe I am mostly straight, but there have been men I've felt attracted to before. I've never felt this fascination with another man before you, though." He paused and drew in a breath. "I'd like to kiss you, Spencer," he murmured.
Spencer drew a breath that caught in the middle, and then let it out in a shaky gust. "I've never... thought of... I could be reacting to stress of what just happened, grasping for..." He opened his eyes again and looked at Dave, and then leaned in before he could stop himself and brushed his lips against Dave's.
Dave sucked in a breath, surprised that Spencer had made the first move, but pleased. A thrill went through his whole body and he leaned into the kiss, sliding his fingers into Spencer's hair and kissing him back eagerly. He didn't deepen the kiss, though, unsure how slow to take this.
Spencer whimpered slightly, his lips soft, teasing against Dave's, then pulled back enough to speak. "Aren't you worried?" he whispered.
"Worried about what?" Dave matched Spencer's tone, fingers brushing through his tangled hair. He was worried about a lot of things.
"You saved my life. This could be... transference," he whispered. Except that he'd always liked Dave, always respected Dave. And Dave was attractive. "David," he murmured, and kissed Dave again.
"Mm," Dave managed. He lifted his other hand from Spencer's to grip his shoulder. "It could be," he murmured when the kiss broke. "Should I put you to bed now--" He kissed Spencer again. "--and see how you feel about this tomorrow?" Another kiss.
Spencer swallowed and kissed Dave again, this time more deeply, humming softly into it. God, it felt good to kiss Dave. He slid his hand around Dave's waist. "Are you... talking about sex?" he whispered, his stomach flipping with a mix of nerves and excitement.
Dave's eyes widened again and he pulled back enough to study Spencer's face. Spencer Reid was always surprising him. "I'm not at the moment," he said, though the very idea thrilled him. "I would like very much to have sex with you, that's not the question. But what I meant just now was, should we stop this tonight, if you're afraid this is just transference? I don't want you to have regrets tomorrow."
Spencer felt heat rise into his cheeks, and he wasn't sure if he was embarrassed because of what he'd said, of because Dave had just said he wanted to have sex with him. He kissed Dave again, stroking his fingers through Dave's hair and knowing he should stop. "Probably."
Dave nodded and wrapped his arms around Spencer, indulging in the urge he'd had all night to hug him tightly and reassure himself that Spencer was okay. "It's not like I'm going anywhere," he murmured into Spencer's ear. After a moment he let out a quiet noise of contentment. "Thank God you're all right."
Spencer couldn't remember the last time he'd been hugged like this. Sure, Prentiss had hugged him just earlier today, but Dave was holding him in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. Spencer hesitated a moment, the feeling overwhelming at first, and then slid his arms around Dave's shoulders, pressing his face to Dave's hair and pulling Dave against his body more tightly.
Sighing, Dave closed his eyes and just held Spencer for a while longer, grateful that Spencer was hugging him back. Finally he pulled away and offered Spencer a shaky smile. "I should show you to the guest suite," he murmured.
Spencer brushed his fingers through Dave's hair again, not able to stop running his fingers through the short, coarse locks. He nodded after a moment, and resisted kissing Dave again, wondering if Dave thought they should stop that too. "And your shower," he said, smiling.
"The guest suite has a full bath," Dave said, his smile strengthening. He leaned in to brush his lips lightly against Spencer's, then stood and offered Spencer a hand up.
Spencer, let Dave pull him up, finishing the rest of his drink before putting his empty glass down. "Wow," he said softly.
"Hey, it's a miracle anyone ever wants to visit me," Dave said lightly. "Why would I punish them by making them share a bathroom with me?" He grabbed Spencer's ready bag and led the way down the hall to the guest rooms. "Bedroom, reading nook with recliner, bathroom," he said, pointing them out. He set the bag on the bed, then turned to smile at Spencer. "Master suite is at the end of the hall. Don't be shy about letting me know if you need anything. Kitchen's to the left of where we came in, so if you need a drink, feel free to help yourself. Coffee-maker's on a six-thirty timer." He paused, trying to think of anything else Spencer might need to know.
Spencer looked around, trying not to look as wide-eyed as he felt. He shouldn't be surprised that Dave had a really nice house. He turned back to look at Dave and smiled a bit. "I'm fine," he said, drawing his hand down Dave's arm.
Dave smiled, though Spencer's touch sent another shiver through him. "Okay." He studied Spencer's face for a moment. "Good night," he said softly. He hesitated, then stepped closer, cupping a hand against Spencer's jaw, and kissed him. If Spencer had come to his senses in the morning, at least Dave would have this.
Spencer made a noise of need mixed with apprehension, but slid his arm around Dave's shoulders to deepen the kiss before his pulled back. He stroked his fingertips through Dave's hair again. "Night," he said, and stepped back, letting Dave go.
Part Two
Authors:
innerslytherin and severity_softlyRating: NC-17
Pairing: Reid/Rossi
Spoilers: Minimal Loss
WC: ~15,800
Summary: Dave and Spencer try to deal with the immediate aftermath of "Minimal Loss". They end up dealing with it together.
Dave Rossi had thought it didn't get worse than Ruby Ridge. Waco had been bad, but he'd been calling the shots at Ruby Ridge, so that had always been the heavier burden. McVeigh's bombing of the federal building in Oklahoma City had added to the load of guilt, and had been what ultimately drove Dave out of the FBI. He had thought, at that point, there could be nothing worse.
That was before he'd stood outside a separatist compound and had to listen to the man he loved fake Stockholm Syndrome, praying the whole time that he wouldn't be found out.
Dave's hands had started shaking the moment he realized Morgan and Reid had gotten out of the compound alive. He'd hidden it behind his anger for a time, but eventually he'd had to resort to folding his arms across his chest and not meeting anyone's eyes.
They hadn't stopped shaking once they got on the jet. Hotch had noticed, of course, and had kindly brewed him a cup of tea and bathed him in warm approval for the negotiation job he'd done. It hadn't helped. Eventually Hotch had left him alone found a place to sleep, which was what Morgan and JJ were already doing.
He'd watched as Prentiss approached Spencer. She was obviously trying to reassure him, but one thing Dave had observed early on in Spencer Reid was his tendency to carry guilt over things he had no control over. Dave sighed and turned his attention back to the dark emptiness outside the jet window.
Finally, some time after Emily walked past him and went to stretch out on the empty couch, Dave judged it safe to approach Spencer himself. Just to reassure himself, he thought. Just to see that he was really here with them, mostly unharmed. Just to stop the shaking of his damn traitorous hands. Spencer wouldn't know how much Dave had worried about him. He wouldn't know the agonies Dave had gone through, wanting to storm in there and save him, but knowing it would cost too many lives if they did. It was all right. Dave had already proved that he fucked up every relationship he tried to have. He was comfortable loving Spencer from behind a wall of professional respect and concern.
Spencer was trying--trying--to focus on his book, though anyone on the jet could probably see that he wasn't quite able. His eyes weren't speeding over the pages in a rush, he was just... staring at it and reading the same sentences over and over. He was using it as a shield, and he knew it, but that didn't make it any easier to make himself stop. And when Prentiss had talked to him, he hadn't even been able to make himself respond. He'd just given her a look he hoped she'd interpret as understanding, and then let it drop.
When she'd left, he was relieved, but then Dave slid into the seat across from his... and again Spencer tried to stare at his book, but he eventually looked up at Dave, his lips parting to say so many things that felt completely ridiculous to say. His heart had jolted when he saw Dave walk into that compound. He'd studied Dave before they'd been colleagues--even friends; he hoped they were friends--and if anyone could save them, it was Dave. But now, Spencer was torn between the guilt he was feeling, the odd emptiness that being in that compound for days had left him with, and the overwhelming gratitude that he and Prentiss had been saved. That most of the people there had been saved.
He shifted in his seat, knowing his thoughts were probably plain on his face for a moment, and then swallowed and forced himself a little more steady, a little stronger. "Thanks," he murmured.
Dave sat for a moment just studying Spencer's face, telling his hands they could stop shaking now, Spencer was alive and here. "You and Emily are the reason this didn't end up like Waco," he said quietly. It wasn't what he'd meant to say, but his chest felt tight, and he didn't think he could force out a question that would just prompt Spencer to lie ("are you all right?") or a banal greeting ("can't sleep either?"). Even worse would be something that might tell Spencer just how close Dave feared he had come to seeing things fall apart.
That statement stripped Spencer of the little bit of calm he'd managed to find, and his eyes snapped up to Dave's. He suddenly wasn't sure why he felt ill, but his stomach gave a weird sort of clench, and his mouth fell open again. He tried to say something, but words didn't come out at first, and he looked back down at the book, forgotten on the table, and stared at the page number. Finally, he cleared his throat. "You would have saved those people regardless," he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
"No, Spencer, I wouldn't have." Dave met his gaze seriously, hating himself for not being able to say the really important things. "I fucked up at Ruby Ridge. I fucked up at Waco. Hell, I tried to talk Hotch out of putting me in charge of the negotiations here." He shook his head, not taking his gaze from Spencer's. "You saved this."
Spencer frowned, but looked back up at Dave, and now he was just confused, and he really wished he could just settle on one emotion and stick with it, but he seemed incapable at the moment. He wondered how long that would take to go away. "I just..." He shook his head. "I could have just as easily gotten myself killed."
A shaky breath escaped Dave before he could catch it. "Believe me, I know that," he murmured. After a moment he wiped a hand down his jaw and shook his head. "But you stayed calm. You kept talking to me. That made the difference."
"I was trained well in procedure you helped write," Spencer said. He swallowed, watching Dave. He was shaky. They all were, but Dave had a history with this sort of thing, and Spencer wondered if maybe putting his focus on Dave might alleviate some of his own unsteadiness.
Dave huffed a noise that was supposed to be a laugh. It fell far short of the mark. He kept looking at Spencer. His hands were itching to reach out and touch him, reassure themselves that Spencer was okay. It was a ridiculous idea, because Spencer didn't do touching, and Dave hadn't any right to touch him, anyway. "Hotch was worried about you two," he said finally. He forced himself to look back up at Spencer. "We both were. If..." He trailed off and shook his head, still staring at Spencer but giving up on trying to speak.
Spencer held Dave's gaze, his eyebrows lifting. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Dave look like this before, but he somehow didn't think explaining the true physiological reasoning behind the way that stress really could make you sick would help much. "You... We don't need to talk about this," he whispered finally. "I feel..." He frowned, but then just admitted it because Dave didn't look much better himself. "I feel a little nauseated myself, so..." The butt of the gun being rammed into his stomach hadn't helped, but he doubted that was the reason. He shrugged and sank a little in his seat. "It's fine."
A pang of anxiety hit Dave at those words. He leaned across the table and touched Spencer's shoulder, even though he knew he shouldn't. "You're not feeling good physically? Spencer, did they hurt you, too?" Maybe it was just stress. God knew, they were all going to be feeling the aftereffects of this for a while.
Spencer sucked in a breath and stared at Dave for a moment, surprised by the touch. He didn't pull away, but it left him breathless for a moment--Dave was touching him; Dave didn't touch him--before he could manage to stammer a lie. "N--no. No, they didn't." His injuries seemed inconsequential compared to Prentiss, and he hadn't wanted to deal with having to be looked at.
"You're sure?" Dave asked, letting his hand linger for a moment longer before he squeezed and pulled away. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying again to push away the confusing riot of emotions. He's almost half your age, he reminded himself as usual. As usual, the reminder did nothing to squelch his feelings.
Spencer's eyes widened at the way Dave's fingers didn't pull away cleanly, and at the slight waver he felt in them for a second through his shirt. He nodded at Dave's question, but he wasn't thinking about that anymore. Dave was clearly having trouble with what had happened, maybe too many memories getting rehashed. Spencer leaned over the table to try to hold Dave's gaze. "David, are you okay?" he whispered as gently as he could.
Dave looked back at Spencer and sighed. No, he wasn't okay. But at this point he wasn't even sure how much of being 'not okay' was normal for him, any more. "I had to walk in there and act like I didn't know you," he murmured finally. "I had to walk out and leave you there. I don't think I'll ever do anything harder than that in my life."
Spencer shook his head, about to protest that if Dave had done anything else, it would have been the end. But then Dave finished with that. He stared for a moment. "I-- I--You--" He cleared his throat. "It's what you had to do. I would have been incredibly mad at you if you'd done anything different," he said finally, hoping his tone was sufficiently light, even though it didn't sound that way.
"When have I ever been afraid of making someone mad?" Dave asked, feeling a little better. He managed a small smile, though he still wanted to pull Spencer into his arms just to reassure himself. He was silent for a minute, reflecting. "When he offered to let you go... God, I wanted you to say yes." He forced himself to meet Spencer's gaze. "I admire that you chose to stay."
Spencer still couldn't quite stop staring at Dave, trying to figure out where all this was coming from. "I couldn't have done anything on the outside. I'm not a negotiator."
"And the fact that Emily was stuck there had nothing to do with it," Dave said, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his tone. Good, there, he was sounding more like himself.
The expression of muddled surprise and confusion broke on Spencer's face, and he allowed a tiny smile and looked at the table. "She was included in the 'I couldn't have done anything on the outside' part. I couldn't have done anything for her." His smile slipped, and he felt sick again. He hadn't done anything for her.
"Hey," Dave said, frowning at the way Spencer's expression changed. "She chose to speak first. Whatever was going on in her head when she volunteered her identity, she was trained to handle it, just like you were." He smiled again faintly. "I know it must rock the very foundations of your world to hear someone who was virtually a Hoover-era agent say something like this, but female agents are actually tougher than we are." He still didn't think he would ever forget the grunts of pain and her breathy assertions that she could take it, and he had a feeling Spencer wouldn't either.
Spencer laughed mirthlessly. "I don't question her strength. I hadn't even taken gender into account," he said, and reached out to fiddle with the pages of his book, his lips pressing together. "He pointed a gun at my head. She said it to save me. And it..." It got her beaten for saving me when I would have rather it been me.
Dave nodded. "How do you think she would feel if she'd hesitated? If Cyrus had pulled that trigger?" His gut twisted at the thought. "Do you think we'd be flying home one team member short, or two?" He ducked his head slightly, trying to get Spencer to look back at him. "Because I've seen people lose partners before. In a situation like this, unless Emily Prentiss is a hell of a lot stronger than I am, she wouldn't have come out of that compound if she'd lost her partner."
Spencer didn't look up at Dave for a moment. He didn't want to think about this. There were no right answers. He wanted to go home and sink into a bubble bath, and just try to release the tension that had coiled inside him while he'd been in the compound. And he was feeling more nauseated the more they kept on this subject. "Can we stop talking about this?" he asked after a moment, looking up at Dave finally.
Dave held Spencer's gaze for several heartbeats, then nodded. "Sure. But Spencer...this isn't an offer I make lightly. If you ever want to talk about this..." He paused again. "I hope you'll come to me."
He subsided into silence, but he didn't get up. He thought maybe Spencer could use the company, and he knew he needed the company. He just turned, looking out the window until his eyelids grew heavy and he finally allowed them to close.
By the time the plane was landing, Spencer found he was just watching Dave sleep. Well, he didn't find himself doing it. Hotch did. Spencer jolted out of a daze when Hotch nudged his shoulder to tell him they were about to land, and Spencer mumbled something in reply and nudged Dave under the table to wake him up. "Landing," he murmured, when Dave started.
"Mm," Dave managed, and inhaled deeply. "Thanks." He scrubbed his hands over his face and then ran them distractedly through his hair. "Time s'it?" he asked.
"Does it matter?" Spencer asked, the jet bumping against the tarmac under them.
Dave just grunted, hoping it sounded like a reply, and yawned. By the time the jet had come to a stop, he thought he was mostly awake. The team moved in a mostly silent group to their cars, and once Dave reached his he slumped in the seat for a minute, trying to wake up fully.
Reid said a quiet goodbye to the team and headed for his car, slipping inside it and turning the key in the ignition. It didn't start. It amazed him sometimes how the human brain could sometimes trick you into believing trying the same thing over and over might produce different results, because even when he knew the old car was fickle, he still tried to start it several more times to no avail. Finally he sighed and thumped his fist lightly against the steering wheel, then dropped his head against it. "Damn it," he hissed, drawing in a few deep breaths and trying not to get upset, which was harder than it should have been. He was tired and just wanted to go home.
Dave frowned at the noise from Spencer's car. He climbed out of his truck and went over to tap on the driver's side window. When Spencer rolled the window down, Dave leaned down. "Let me take you home. We can come back for it in the morning." He'd prefer to take Spencer to his home, though he didn't specify that.
"It's not starting," Reid said, sounding frustrated and feeling too tired to care that it was an obvious and unnecessary comment. He pushed in on the clutch and tried it again, then mentally rolled his eyes at himself and got out. "I know how the engine works, but I couldn't work on it to save my life." He felt like kicking the thing, but he refrained.
"Hey, me neither," Dave said. "I have a cousin who's a mechanic, and I pay him good money to know how to fix my truck. Get your bag and come on. I'll bring you back here in the morning."
Spencer sighed and looked at Dave, then turned and locked his car. "Okay," he murmured finally. It would be more comfortable riding with Dave than taking a cab.
Dave nodded and let Spencer in the passenger side of his truck. He didn't head for Spencer's apartment, though, which was a good twenty-five minutes in the wrong direction; he headed for his own house. He had a guest suite, and if he had more selfish motives than that...well, he didn't inspect them too closely. Spencer figured out where they were going within the first few minutes of the drive, but Dave just explained about the guest suite and waved off any arguments. When they arrived at his house, he led the way inside, only flipping on a couple of lights.
"Want a drink before bed?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
Spencer was looking around the living room, feeling oddly exposed. He wasn't quite sure why, but after what Dave had said to him on the jet, and now this, he wasn't sure what to think. It sent a funny little thrill through him at the idea that maybe it meant more than what it was, but then he told himself he was being stupid, that he was grasping for something more out of a stress reaction to what had happened the last few days.
He ran his hand absently over the bruised area across his stomach and smiled faintly at Dave. "Yeah, I do," he murmured. He didn't suppose he could sink into Dave's tub, but this would work.
Dave nodded and went over to the well-stocked drinks cabinet. "How do you feel about bourbon?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder. He was dying for a glass of good scotch, but somehow he didn't take Spencer for a big drinker. Maybe he should have offered wine. "Or I think I have a bottle of red already chilled."
"Um... straight bourbon?" Spencer asked. "I don't think I've had it like that before." He thought the stronger the better, but didn't say that, and glanced around awkwardly. "I'll, ah, have what you're having."
Dave nodded and chose the Buffalo Trace Single Barrel, pouring them each a double. He wouldn't inflict scotch on Spencer, if he'd not even had straight bourbon. "Sit," he suggested, making his voice gentler than usual, and sat on the couch, his bearing suggesting that he expected Spencer to join him there.
Behave yourself, Dave, he thought. He's likely not even interested in someone like you. Still, Dave chose to take comfort where he could get it, and having Spencer Reid drinking with him on his couch was definitely comforting.
Spencer walked over to join Dave on the couch, taking a sip of his drink. It was strong, and he swallowed a shallow little cough of surprise, but it was good too. He shifted to bring his knee up onto the couch to face Dave. He was silent for a bit, just looking down into his glass, then said, "Thanks." This was nice, and somehow Spencer didn't think it would be this nice with anyone else on the team. Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ might have tried to talk him into the ground, and Hotch... well, Hotch had a way of making people feel like they had to talk. Dave didn't do either of those things, at least not when he was relaxed, not at work. "I thought I wanted to be alone, but..." He shrugged, not sure he should say that Dave somehow felt more comfortable. "You didn't have to do this."
Dave shrugged. "You may not believe this," he said after a moment, "but it makes me feel better having you here and knowing you're not still stuck in that damn compound." He smiled faintly at Spencer, wishing absurdly that the couch were shorter, wishing that Spencer felt like he was within reach.
Spencer looked up to meet Dave's gaze and smiled, the expression on Dave's face warming him. "I think I'd have to agree," he murmured, smiling back warmly.
Dave's smile strengthened. He didn't say anything, though, partly because he wasn't sure Spencer really wanted to talk, and partly because it was true that just having Spencer here was enough.
Spencer smiled and nodded at nothing in particular, then took another sip of his drink. It was good once he got beyond the strength of it. "Thanks." He'd probably said that at least a half a dozen times already, but he kept feeling like he needed to say it. After a moment he swallowed, looking back into his glass. "When I saw you, when you looked at us, I knew we'd be safe." He paused a moment. "As much as I could know, I guess, but..." He shook his head, not knowing exactly how to express what he meant.
Dave had to suppress a shiver at those words. God, how could Spencer have such faith in him? It was humbling. "I didn't know that," he said quietly. "But I knew I'd do anything I had to do to get you out safely." He took another sip, then nodded towards the drink in Spencer's hand. "What do you think of it?"
"It's good," Spencer murmured, but something kept tugging in his chest when Dave said things like what he'd just said, and Spencer had just finally pinpointed it. "Me and Prentiss. To get me and Prentiss out safely," he said, looking at Dave again, his gaze half-questioning.
Dave blinked, then took a quick breath. "Yeah, of course, you plural, both of you." He held Spencer's gaze for a long moment, then looked away. "But mostly you, Spencer," he added, his voice barely a murmur. His heart gave a funny jump in his chest and began to pound. God, what was he doing?
A strange thrill swept through Spencer again, his heart jumping into his throat. For a moment he couldn't speak, he just stared at Dave, his lips parting. Finally he drew a shaky breath. "Why?" he asked, his voice coming out barely above a whisper.
It took a moment, but Dave made himself look back at Spencer. Because you're beautiful and fascinating, he thought, but that didn't seem like the thing to say. He cleared his throat. "Because...I like being around you. You're a very special person." He cleared his throat again. "To me."
The same little jolt of excitement went through Spencer again, and he stared at Dave a long moment. He wasn't sure where all of this had come from, but he had no doubt it was coming out because of what had happened over the last three days. Spencer cleared his throat, his chest feeling tight. "Is that why I'm here?" he murmured.
The question sent a chill through Dave, and he jerked his head in a gesture halfway between nodding and shaking no. "Not--I mean, it isn't--I don't expect anything from you," he said, the words falling over themselves. Spencer would probably laugh to hear Dave admit he had been intimidated by meeting the genius Doctor Reid, but somehow the unflappable David Rossi found himself bewildered by Spencer, and in this moment of sheer stupidity, actually flustered. "I would have helped anyone on the team if their car wouldn't start. I didn't bring you here expecting gratitude. I just..." He shrugged and wiped his palm down his chin. "I just wanted reassurance. That you're okay. Like I said."
"I'm not, but I will be," Spencer said, and then shook his head. "I, ah-- and that's not what I meant. I mean-- I know you don't expect anything of--" He shook his head again. "David, I--" He reached out and pressed the back of his hand to Dave's upper arm, the confusion that was settling in plain on his face. "When did this happen?" he murmured.
Dave would have shrugged, but Spencer had just touched him, and Spencer didn't touch people. It was probably adolescent and ridiculous, but Dave just wanted to prolong that contact. "Hell if I know," he muttered, but his lips quirked. "Maybe when we had to drive up to Pennsylvania together. Maybe when you tried to make me feel better after Jill Morris got herself abducted." He glanced away. "Look, I shouldn't have said anything. I..."
"David," Spencer murmured, and then before he even realized he was doing it, he reached up to brush his knuckles down Dave's jaw. The touch felt like electricity surging through him; he'd never really considered this before, but somehow it wasn't frightening. It felt safe, and Spencer hoped to God this wasn't just a stress reaction. "You didn't listen to me about Agent Morris," he said, smiling faintly.
Dave's gaze jerked back to Spencer's face when Spencer touched his face. He licked his lips and, after a moment, murmured, "You're a genius, but I'm not convinced you're always right."
Spencer pressed his lips together, but he was still smiling a little. He dropped his hand. "If you want me to keep touching you, you're going to have to retract that," he murmured, feeling suddenly like he couldn't breathe once the words were out.
The words made Dave's eyes widen as he stared at Spencer. "You..." He swallowed the words before they escaped: you want to touch me? "I'm certain you must have been wrong at least once in your life," he managed finally. "Or you wouldn't be human."
"Sometimes I'm not sure I am," Spencer said with a shrug. He glanced back up and gave Dave an awkward smile. "W-- Dave... why? You could-- I mean--"
The question reminded Dave that Spencer wasn't exactly a highly confident man. He laughed faintly, and it made him more comfortable. "You have a lot of attractive qualities," he said, reaching down to curl his fingers loosely around Spencer's. "For one thing, I enjoy spending time with you. I like the way you look at the world. I like your unquenchable thirst to know things. And it doesn't hurt that you're handsome." He gave Spencer a warm smile.
Spencer sucked in a breath at the last statement, and then let it out in an uncomfortable laugh.
Dave tilted his head, tightening his fingers on Spencer's. "What? You don't believe me? I've never lied to you, Spencer. I'm certainly not going to start now, after you've had one of the worst experiences in your life."
"Comparatively, there's been worse," Spencer said, feeling breathless. "You're telling me I'm handsome. I'm not... really... I..." He was tall, but slight, not exactly conventionally handsome, and Dave--Ladies' Man Dave, who was the reason for the BAU's fraternization rules--thought he was handsome?
Dave shifted closer and set his bourbon aside so he could touch his fingers lightly to Spencer's cheek. "You are handsome," he said, smiling. He traced his fingers along one cheekbone. "And I like seeing you smile."
Spencer sucked in another shaky breath and closed his eyes. "You're straight," he said.
Dave raised his eyebrows. "You're so sure of that?"
"You--" Spencer swallowed and looked at Dave from under his lashes. "Not anymore." He turned his head so that his cheek was pressed to the inside of Dave's palm, closing his eyes again.
Dave smiled faintly. "Then I can't retract my earlier statement," he said quietly. "You were wrong in saying I'm straight." He stroked his thumb along Spencer's cheek. "Maybe I am mostly straight, but there have been men I've felt attracted to before. I've never felt this fascination with another man before you, though." He paused and drew in a breath. "I'd like to kiss you, Spencer," he murmured.
Spencer drew a breath that caught in the middle, and then let it out in a shaky gust. "I've never... thought of... I could be reacting to stress of what just happened, grasping for..." He opened his eyes again and looked at Dave, and then leaned in before he could stop himself and brushed his lips against Dave's.
Dave sucked in a breath, surprised that Spencer had made the first move, but pleased. A thrill went through his whole body and he leaned into the kiss, sliding his fingers into Spencer's hair and kissing him back eagerly. He didn't deepen the kiss, though, unsure how slow to take this.
Spencer whimpered slightly, his lips soft, teasing against Dave's, then pulled back enough to speak. "Aren't you worried?" he whispered.
"Worried about what?" Dave matched Spencer's tone, fingers brushing through his tangled hair. He was worried about a lot of things.
"You saved my life. This could be... transference," he whispered. Except that he'd always liked Dave, always respected Dave. And Dave was attractive. "David," he murmured, and kissed Dave again.
"Mm," Dave managed. He lifted his other hand from Spencer's to grip his shoulder. "It could be," he murmured when the kiss broke. "Should I put you to bed now--" He kissed Spencer again. "--and see how you feel about this tomorrow?" Another kiss.
Spencer swallowed and kissed Dave again, this time more deeply, humming softly into it. God, it felt good to kiss Dave. He slid his hand around Dave's waist. "Are you... talking about sex?" he whispered, his stomach flipping with a mix of nerves and excitement.
Dave's eyes widened again and he pulled back enough to study Spencer's face. Spencer Reid was always surprising him. "I'm not at the moment," he said, though the very idea thrilled him. "I would like very much to have sex with you, that's not the question. But what I meant just now was, should we stop this tonight, if you're afraid this is just transference? I don't want you to have regrets tomorrow."
Spencer felt heat rise into his cheeks, and he wasn't sure if he was embarrassed because of what he'd said, of because Dave had just said he wanted to have sex with him. He kissed Dave again, stroking his fingers through Dave's hair and knowing he should stop. "Probably."
Dave nodded and wrapped his arms around Spencer, indulging in the urge he'd had all night to hug him tightly and reassure himself that Spencer was okay. "It's not like I'm going anywhere," he murmured into Spencer's ear. After a moment he let out a quiet noise of contentment. "Thank God you're all right."
Spencer couldn't remember the last time he'd been hugged like this. Sure, Prentiss had hugged him just earlier today, but Dave was holding him in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. Spencer hesitated a moment, the feeling overwhelming at first, and then slid his arms around Dave's shoulders, pressing his face to Dave's hair and pulling Dave against his body more tightly.
Sighing, Dave closed his eyes and just held Spencer for a while longer, grateful that Spencer was hugging him back. Finally he pulled away and offered Spencer a shaky smile. "I should show you to the guest suite," he murmured.
Spencer brushed his fingers through Dave's hair again, not able to stop running his fingers through the short, coarse locks. He nodded after a moment, and resisted kissing Dave again, wondering if Dave thought they should stop that too. "And your shower," he said, smiling.
"The guest suite has a full bath," Dave said, his smile strengthening. He leaned in to brush his lips lightly against Spencer's, then stood and offered Spencer a hand up.
Spencer, let Dave pull him up, finishing the rest of his drink before putting his empty glass down. "Wow," he said softly.
"Hey, it's a miracle anyone ever wants to visit me," Dave said lightly. "Why would I punish them by making them share a bathroom with me?" He grabbed Spencer's ready bag and led the way down the hall to the guest rooms. "Bedroom, reading nook with recliner, bathroom," he said, pointing them out. He set the bag on the bed, then turned to smile at Spencer. "Master suite is at the end of the hall. Don't be shy about letting me know if you need anything. Kitchen's to the left of where we came in, so if you need a drink, feel free to help yourself. Coffee-maker's on a six-thirty timer." He paused, trying to think of anything else Spencer might need to know.
Spencer looked around, trying not to look as wide-eyed as he felt. He shouldn't be surprised that Dave had a really nice house. He turned back to look at Dave and smiled a bit. "I'm fine," he said, drawing his hand down Dave's arm.
Dave smiled, though Spencer's touch sent another shiver through him. "Okay." He studied Spencer's face for a moment. "Good night," he said softly. He hesitated, then stepped closer, cupping a hand against Spencer's jaw, and kissed him. If Spencer had come to his senses in the morning, at least Dave would have this.
Spencer made a noise of need mixed with apprehension, but slid his arm around Dave's shoulders to deepen the kiss before his pulled back. He stroked his fingertips through Dave's hair again. "Night," he said, and stepped back, letting Dave go.
Part Two
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Date: 2008-11-02 09:58 pm (UTC)-Carina
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Date: 2008-11-02 11:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-22 09:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-01 01:19 am (UTC)